The wind by this time was blowing fresh, directly off shore, we stood in and passed the
Anson
, a good way to windward of her; she seemed to have suffered very much less than I should have suspected, considering the heavy fire she had had on her the evening before. The
Foudroyant
and
Canada
continued on the opposite tack, as I believed in chase of the two ships to windward, one of which had no mizzen top sail set, and we soon lost sight of them and the
Anson.
At sun set we were in sight of the entrance of Killybegs, but not near enough to see what was there. I declared my intention, if there was one frigate to go and anchor alongside of her, and if there were two or three to block them up until Sir John Warren should rejoin us, and to fight them at all events if they came out. We continued during the night to stand across and across the Bay keeping a very sharp lookout. At midnight we saw a large ship coming down upon us, as soon as she drew near she hauled up on the opposite tack, and we saw another at a little distance to windward of her. Being convinced that they were two of the Enemy’s frigates endeavouring to get off the coast in the night, I thought it became me instantly to attack the nearest and endeavour to secure at least one of them. We tacked and gave chase, the wind blowing as much as we could show close reefed topsails and courses to. We shot up alongside of the nearest one, going at least ten knots, hailed and received no intelligible answer, but seeing her to be a large frigate and that she wanted to cross our stern and get to leeward of us, I fired one shot into her and repeatedly ordered her to bring to. No answer – a broadside – hailed again, ordered her in French to bring to – no answer. Saw the other ship make a signal – fired two more broadsides into her without receiving a shot in return. We heard them cry out and they hoisted a light and hauled it down again. I supposed at the time that that was meant as token of having surrendered, but as she did not heave to and the two ships at no time were going less than five knots, I told them in French and English that I would sink them if they did not put their helm a starboard and heave to. This, however, although she never fired at us, she did not do until she had received five or six broadsides and been cut to pieces in her sails and rigging, when she threw up in the wind, and we sent the second lieutenant and 20 men on board of her, at a very considerable risk, as the wind had increased to a hard gale at SE. We saw no more of the other ship, but lay to in a very great anxiety close to the Prize until daylight, when we ran down under her stern and found her to be a 36 gun frigate, and that her sails were cut into ribbands. I had ordered the Lieutenant, if possible, to send the French Officers on board, but the Gale had increased so much that one of the boats was stove alongside and the wreck of the mizzen mast on the morning of the 14th October carried away the tow rope of the other boat (my eight oared cutter) and broke her adrift. It was two days before we could get the Officers out of her and increase the number of our men on board of her to 50. We found her to be
La Resolue
of 36 long guns, 12 pounders on the Main deck, and four 36 pounder Carronades making 40 in all, with 500 men, of whom 265 were the Quadre of the Regiment de Lee, that is to say L’Etat major and the rest Grenadiers. The Regiment to be filled up with Rebels. The other ship which left us so civilly was
L’Immortalite
of 40 guns, 24 pounders on the Main deck. I think it was the third day a fter we took her that we towed her abreast of Lough Swilly where we saw two ships beating in, which I have no doubt were the
Canada
and
Foudroyant
. We made the private signal and our own particular signal to show what ship we were, they did not bear up for us but continued to beat into the Lough.
In the action, although we had our share of it we had not a single man killed or wounded by the enemy’s shot. One man lost his arm in ramming home one of the carronades that hung fire, and was otherwise dreadfully burnt by the explosion he is however likely to do well. Our men behaved most admirably throughout the whole affair, and it is my opinion that not one of the French frigates could have lain alongside of the
Melampus
half an hour.
77
Moore, with the
Resolue
in tow, headed for Lough Swilly, but the weather became too bad and, casting off the tow rope the two ships headed across to Greenock instead. The arrival of the two frigates there on 19 October brought the first intimation of Warren’s victory over the French squadron and, arriving just days after news of Nelson’s victory at the Nile, prompted exultant celebrations in the town. Moore was welcomed in a
‘highly flattering’
manner and at night the town was illuminated with transparencies displayed at the windows with Warren’s name alongside those of Howe, Jervis, Duncan and Nelson. A few days later, Moore travelled to Glasgow, to revisit the scenes of his boyhood, and whilst he was there the town awarded him the Freedom of the City.
The
Amelia
arrived several days later carrying 450 French prisoners of war and news about the rest of the squadron. The
Immortalite
had been captured by Captain Byam Martin in the frigate
Fisgard
on 20 October; the frigate
Mermaid
, commanded by Captain James Newman, had attacked the much heavier frigate
Loire
on 17 October and had fought stubbornly until the gale intervened preventing a conclusion to the action. The
Loire
was taken on the following day by Captain Philip Durham in the
Anson
.
At Greenock, Moore was able to land his own prisoners of war, but he also lost thirteen seamen who took this opportunity to desert;
I was exceedingly chagrined at the desertion, indeed I cannot account for the desertion that has prevailed in this ship where they certainly are treated with very great lenity and indulgence.
Certainly, desertion at this point seems a little odd, for the crew of the
Melampus
stood to profit a good deal from their prize. On the other hand, it is possible that there were those on board the frigate who, having gone through the experience of one engagement, really could not cope with the thought of more. Moore simply pressed eleven men at Greenock to make up for the loss, and then proceeded with the
Resolue
to Plymouth, where he had been ordered to refit. Arriving in Plymouth Sound on 12 November, he waited anxiously while the dockyard surveyors inspected the
Melampus
. Hearing that she could be made good in three weeks, he immediately applied for leave to travel to London, for there was business there which he could delay no longer.
11
Love’s Labours (November 1798 – November 1799)
Moore’s main intention now was to see the woman he described as
‘my goddess’
, Miss M. Her family received him with the greatest kindness and hospitality – not surprising since he had just been ‘gazetted’ following his capture of
La Resolue
. Nevertheless, whenever he was in the presence of the lady herself, he could not be certain about her affection;
I could not find a favourable opportunity of convincing myself on the subject most interesting to me, but I was treated by the Damsel with the apparent cordiality of a sister.
Confused, he decided that the only recourse was to write an open declaration of his love for her. He then retreated to his parents’ house, while he waited with considerable anxiety for the response.
The answer came on 15 December, but it was not exactly the answer he had been hoping for. Miss M wrote expressing both
‘. . . the highest esteem, the warmest friendship’
but could not give any indication that she loved him. She continued, explaining that she was persuaded that
‘Peace and a connexion with a Person of my
[i.e. Moore’s]
profession is incompatible.’
This last was explained further when she added that the fact that neither of them possessed wealth could only render them both miserable. Although this may seem a little harsh to us today, it has to be remembered that a naval officer in peacetime was often a very poor animal indeed. Many officers simply refused to serve because unless they had the chance of commanding a ship of the line with a regular income, the inability to make prize money meant that their profession could cost more than it paid.
78
On shore, the officer and his wife would be expected to maintain a certain standard of living, without which they might find themselves ostracized within a socially over-conscious society. Moore’s only hope was to make more prize money. He was dismayed at Miss M’s response, but at the same time he found her response to his letter admirably sensible. Paradoxically, her letter
‘. . . increased my esteem for her, and cut me to the soul’
and he found himself worshipping her more as a result of it. The problem, he concluded, was not that she did not love him, but that they had no money.
With that form of insanity that naturally afflicts those so obsessed, Moore responded to this rejection by spending yet more time with the Ms who, perhaps unconsciously, continued to entertain him in their
‘highly prosperous state’.
He applied for, and was granted, two more weeks leave by the Admiralty, and then he received more news which he could have done without. The
Coquille
, one of the prizes taken on the
Melampus
’ last cruise, had been
. . . burnt to ashes in the harbour of Hamoaze; this accident was occasioned by the carelessness and bad conduct of those who had her in charge, which I believe were part of the crews of the
Amelia
and
Magnanime
. I look upon her destruction as £300 . . . out of my pocket. I am low in spirit.
Just as Moore had been hoping to make enough money to win Miss M, he had lost the equivalent of nearly £10,000 (at modern-day prices) – it was hardly surprising that he was depressed.
Seeking diversion, Moore visited his acquaintance Fuseli , but now found the painter’s company of little relief and a day or two after Boxing Day, 1798, Moore returned to Plymouth in a gloomy state of mind. Although the
Melampus
was ready for sea by 10 January, no orders arrived. Moore’s financial prospects seemed to be getting worse. He had submitted a request that the
Melampus
should alone receive the prize money for
La Resolue
, but this had been declined. The money was to be shared with the entire squadron. He had also lodged a claim to share with the
Anson
, the prize money for
La Loire
, but he didn’t seriously think that this would be granted, though he did believe that they had a right to it.
I think I shall not touch above £2000
79
for the Irish cruise, we did expect three or four thousand, and, certainly, if the business had been well managed we might have secured more ships. Two capital blunders were made on the day of the action, the first, in not engaging in the morning to leeward with the
Canada
,
Foudroyant
and
Melampus
, leaving the rest of the squadron to get into the action according to circumstances, the next blunder was after the
Canada
had got ahead and to windward of the French van that she did not bring them to close action, instead of taking a long sweep to get at
La Hoche
in the rear which was already fully occupied by the
Robust
and
Magnanime
and could not escape. It has been an excellent letter
[i.e. lesson]
to me which I could not have got either by book or precept.
As if things could not get worse, he received a letter informing him that two of the
Melampus
’ prizes,
La Bellone
and
La Resolue
had been surveyed by the Officers of the Dockyard at Plymouth and had been undervalued because of their poor condition;
‘Both together have been valued under the sum which the
Volage
alone produced.’
The value placed on the ships had, he knew, been influenced by their age and condition; but there was a more suspect influence, whereby the value was reduced
. . . very considerably by a schism that has taken place among the officers of the yard who are at present jealous and afraid of each other. At one time, ships, that were captured and purchased by the Government, were valued here even too highly, but now, owing to this jealousy, they do not even do us bare justice.
Eventually, Moore could wait no longer for a resolution to his obsession. Ignoring his mother’s entreaties to wait, he wrote directly to Miss M for a final decision on his marriage proposal. The letter was agony to write, but he had to bring his mental turmoil to an end, because it was again distracting him from his duties;
God knows how it will end, but I am sick of suspense which torments and unhinges me . . . I am good for nothing in this state of mind.
Miss M’s reply brought no end to Moore’s heartache, for she simply reiterated her previous letter. Moore decided that his only recourse now was to make a direct approach to the young woman’s father. He wrote a detailed letter, outlining his financial prospects in the hope that this would appeal to the paternal interest and received what appeared to be an inconclusive but not discouraging response.
Meanwhile his professional responsibilities imposed themselves on his attention. The
Melampus
had been waiting for stores and new sails, and these were all stowed on board by 8 February. Moore decided to take the frigate out into Cawsand Bay while waiting for orders, probably because this would move the crew a little further from temptation. However, this time he was not sorry to have been in port for so long, for there had been severe weather in the Channel. This continued, and on the 11th