Frigate Commander (29 page)

The problem was overcome by sending the squadron’s boats closer inshore, armed with carronades and under the direction of the
Endymion
’s First Lieutenant.

By the 22nd, news came that Wexford had been taken by General Moore, and it was arranged for the squadron’s captains to be taken up to the town in the
Endymion
’s barge. The town itself was full of soldiers and Moore soon heard about the engagement. After their defeat at Vinegar Hill, the rebels had thought that they might have to abandon Wexford, so they

. . . took the abominable resolution of murdering all their Prisoners, accordingly they were dragged out in groups of 15 or 20 and massacred with pikes on the bridge
[at Wexford]
and their bodies tossed into the River to the number of near 100.

While this was going on, General Moore’s force had arrived. The rebels sent out a flag of truce, offering to surrender and mentioning, by way of an incentive, that they had Lord Kingsborrow as prisoner. Moore had refused to accept the surrender terms offered and ordered his force to advance. The nervous rebel force, hearing the approach of the loyalist drums, panicked and fled, leaving their prisoners behind. It was a comparatively bloodless victory, but not without its share of brutality. Wandering the streets, Moore had found his brother and managed to spend an hour with him until the General was suddenly called away. A rebel officer by the name of Hay had been captured, and within the space of an hour he was tried by court martial and hanged.

I saw this miserable scene, he was led off by some Dragoons and taken to the Bridge at Wexford, the planks and rails of which were drenched and clotted with the blood of those who had been cut to pieces on it in cold blood by the rebels the day before. A halter was thrown over a lamp iron at the end of the bridge, some of Williams’s Barge’s crew
⁶¹
made the knot and assisted. Hay was led under it on horseback and as soon as the halter was adjusted the horse was whipt from under him, the rope broke and the wretched man fell, his eyes staring wildly and quite alive, he was lifted up, the broken part knotted again and he suspended as before. I was very much shocked, some of the Wexford people crying, ‘many a life has he to answer for’. Others saying ‘what a pity that Jemmy (or Willy) Hay should bring himself to this’. He was a stout middle sized man with rather good countenance, about 35 years of age, with a landed estate to a very considerable amount in the County and heir to more than double at the death of his Father. He never appeared to me to be affected either with rage, fear or sorrow from the time I saw him taken before the Court martial until he was hanged. Not the slightest degree of pity or concern was shown him at his death, he seemed unwilling to die, as a man might appear rather unwilling to set off on a long journey, but no symptom of violent agitation. After he was dead, he was stript and thrown into the River among the murdered loyalists without any kind of ceremony.

On the following day, the squadron’s launches intercepted a sloop sailing from Wexford and its Master was arrested and sent in to Wexford, under suspicion. He was immediately court-martialled, convicted of being
‘a very active rebel’
and handed back to the navy for execution. Moore, seeing the man hanged from the yardarm of a gunboat, commented with helpless despair,
‘Dismal work! But what remedy?’

By 25 June it seemed as though the rebel forces had been crushed in the Wexford area, and the squadron weighed anchor to resume their patrol of the coast. From the town itself, boats delivered a gift of a cow and a pipe of cider to each of the frigates. On the
Melampus
, Moore ordered that this be given to the crew and warrant officers. Sailing south, Williams ordered the
Unicorn
to keep position off the Tuskar, while the rest of the squadron carried on westwards towards the Hook lighthouse. Off Waterford Harbour, everything seemed quiet so the squadron’s captains (incredibly) decided to go on shore in search of refreshments. However, once landed they became nervous and were clearly unhappy about moving too far from the beach. Even so, they attempted to purchase some provisions but found,
‘Everything was extravagantly dear, and the Country people endeavoured to impose upon us as much as they possibly could’
, and with suspicion beginning to break through his naïveté, Moore noted in his journal,
‘I do not like their looks.’

There was still no firm news about the whereabouts of the French Toulon fleet. It was said that St Vincent also had gone up the Mediterranean looking for them, and a packet reported that he had met the French and captured thirty transports – but nothing was certain. While they waited, Moore had the opportunity of casting a professional and critical eye over Williams’ frigate;

The
Endymion
appears to me to sail faster than any ship we have ever been in company with, with the wind large, but in a chace to windward I think we beat her, if it does not overblow; for she could certainly outcarry any of us. Upon the whole I think her the finest frigate I have ever sailed with, and in excellent order.

On 1 July, Williams’ impatience drove him to a decision. He divided the squadron up so that the individual frigates could patrol in different sectors of the coast for two days. Privately, Moore thought this imprudent because if the French did arrive, a single frigate would be useless against them. On the other hand, he was increasingly doubtful of the value of keeping such a powerful frigate squadron on its present station;

I hope that we shall be removed from this station in consequence of the suppression of the Rebellion; it would be a great thing for the French if they could force us to employ so great a force as is now on the coast of Ireland merely to prevent their threatened invasion instead of hunting down their Cruisers and protecting our Foreign Trade.

One advantage of the station was that they seemed to get newspapers reasonably quickly. By 4 July, Moore was conscious that public attention in England had turned to focus on Admiral Nelson’s search for the Toulon fleet, which was now known to be conveying an expedition under the command of Bonaparte. He sincerely hoped that Admiral St Vincent

. . . is gone himself on that important service. The extraordinary courage and activity of Nelson is well established, but I wish to see the judgement and clear headed conduct of the Admiral employed on so great an occasion.

Despite his misgivings he had no doubt that Nelson’s squadron would deal with Bonaparte’s expedition and that the French would be
‘roughly handled’
. But he simply could not understand how it was that nobody knew of Bonaparte’s destination;

I cannot for a moment believe the Egyptian story, and it appears to me that it cannot be destined for so long and dangerous a voyage as Ireland.

Wherever the French were bound, the Admiralty seemed to be taking no chances, for Sir Charles Thompson’s squadron at Cork had been withdrawn to reinforce Admiral Bridport’s fleet off Brest. Moore was less pleased to read the parliamentary news, where opposition MPs were making speeches which could only give succour to the rebels. As this could only serve to undermine the general war effort, he could not understand how such criticisms of government policy were allowed. He was particularly incredulous and incensed about one opposition MP who had asked in the house,
‘As we have no authentic documents laid before us, how do we know that the Irish are not making use of a justifiable resistance’.
To Moore’s mind, this was as seditious as the rebellion itself.

Operating so close to the theatre of the rebellion was, however, beginning to generate problems on board the
Melampus
itself. From one of his officers Moore learned that one of the seamen, who had been sent in the frigate’s launch to assist at Wexford, had been abused by other members of the crew on his return. Moore sent for the man and questioned him on the subject but

. . . he either did not know or would not tell me who had reproached him, but he said he had been railed at. Being under the necessity of punishing a seaman this day for drunkenness and disobedience of orders, I took the opportunity of speaking to the ship’s company on the other business. I told them I could no other way account for the conversation that had been held on that occasion, although the authors were unknown to me, than by supposing that we had some villains in the ship who wished well to the cause of these Rebels and Murderers; that I had but an indifferent opinion of the man himself, that the words had been used to, for not coming openly and manfully to me and telling me of the circumstance, for I could not believe that he did not know their names
⁶²
. That I had long known we had a set of villains in the ship, but at the same time I was convinced that the great body of the Ship’s Company were good men and good subjects, and it particularly became the duty of every good English man or good Irish man, to bring forward any Rascal whom they should ever hear making use of any language of that nature, which was most disgraceful to the ship and injurious to our Country. That for my own part I was determined to bring any man to a most severe account that I ever knew in word or deed to favour the cause of the Rebels, whom we were employed against, and I expected the ship’s company would do the same. – The man who occasioned all this is himself an Irish man, and I am convinced that the fellows who abuse him are some of the Irish whom we received 13 or 14 months ago at Portsmouth from the
Puisant
; however, I was not anxious to bring it home to them, that they may have it in their power to try back and endeavour to wipe off the impressions I may have conceived against them. I am not at all afraid of them, they are few in number and not at all leading men.

The issue was an additionally sensitive one, for there had been rumours that Irish dissidents among the crews of ships on the Cork station might make an attempt to seize their ships. Moore refused to believe the rumour, pointing out that the proportion of Irishmen on board the ships was too small to make the attempt. He did think that some of them might have taken the Oath of the United Irishmen before they joined their ships and, indeed, many might join a mutiny, but he did not think they were motivated enough to lead such an attempt and risk the gallows. He also strongly disputed any suggestion that other seamen might be encouraged in any way to join them:

The British Seaman will not be easily induced to join the cause of the Irish Rebels, which is avowedly that of the French. Besides, I hope and trust it is a lost cause.

Although this may sound naïve, one has to remember that, fresh in all naval officers’ memories was the experience of the Spithead mutiny where the seamen had dutifully sworn to put to sea to attack the French if need arose. The officers of the squadron had heard just before this that the Americans had finally declared war on the French. Moore was glad for, as he had previously noted, they had suffered provocation for some time;

The French are very foolish in driving their friends the Yankees to the wall, they will not easily forgive the outrages that have been committed upon them, and the insolent and contemptuous treatment their Envoys received at Paris.
⁶³

The squadron lay at anchor until 6 July when a fresh wind blew up from the west-south-west,
‘. . . and a considerable swell was tumbling in to the bay’.
⁶⁴
Williams ordered the squadron to weigh anchor, but the
Endymion
could not bring home their anchor before the tide turned and the frigate was forced to remain in position until the tide slackened. The
Unicorn
was ordered to remain in company to give her some support if an enemy vessel appeared on the scene before she could sail. The other frigates managed to put to sea, but as the weather became boisterous during the night, Moore was concerned that
Endymion
and
Unicorn
would be having a difficult time and would find it even harder to get to sea the next day.

The squadron reformed three days later, and on the evening of 9 July the
Unicorn
was sent to stand guard off the Tuskar. Despite the urgency of their situation, Moore’s fixation with Miss M was beginning to haunt him with greater frequency. He sat and drafted a letter declaring his feelings for her, but having finished it, he knew he could not send it; yet at the same time, he could not bring himself to destroy it. Instead he took the unusual step of sending it to his mother. Although, in the journal, he attempted to reduce the significance of this by stating that she might find it amusing, and then either keep it safe or destroy it, there can be little doubt that he secretly hoped she would forward it to Miss M. Such a move would remove him from the immediate responsibility for what happened when Miss M received it;

To say the truth I feel very ridiculous with this love of mine; the only thing that can do away the ridicule is success, this is very precarious . . . I am dog sick of this cruise, would it were over, or would lead to some end. No society. With the high minded old Ossian, I talk very little with men. O how I feel the melancholy enthusiasm of the old blind Warrior . . . but how dreadful it must be to die of a broken heart which often occurs in his sublime tales!

At this point several pages were cut from the journal, but where it resumes, we learn that Moore finally dispatched the letter to his mother with a request that she forward his declaration to Miss M if she thought fit. Moore’s agonizing was becoming too embarrassing even for himself.

Over the next few days, Moore tried to distract himself with thoughts about his professional duties and the potential for the current cruise. He decided that he would very much like to cruise in company with the
Endymion
and Captain Thomas Williams, whom he described as
‘. . . an intelligent clever fellow in his business, with a good deal of ambition, without which few men rise to any eminence’.
But inevitably his thoughts returned to Miss M and now he was doubly anxious that the letter, which had by this time been dispatched, would represent him very feebly. He began to wish that he hadn’t sent it after all. More pages had to be cut from the journal;