Nelson (56 page)

Parry was a big disappointment. Horatio had enjoyed a good relationship with him, and in 1785 shuttled the governor’s family between Barbados and Nevis a number of times. Parry had even extended an open invitation to Nelson to visit his house, Pilgrim. During Nelson’s visits the family seemed to like him, and it was natural that on 15 April he should appeal to Parry to break the deadlock in the vice-admiralty court.
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Parry floundered helplessly, and worse. For at this point the two men were divided forever by a brutal incident that has escaped the notice of every previous scholar. A man was killed on the waterfront.

The evening of Friday 14 April 1786 was mild but dark in Bridgetown, and Horatio Nelson was ashore with one of his officers. He was not without apprehension. Enforcing the navigation laws had not made the men of the
Boreas
popular in the town, and a number of ugly incidents had occurred. Nelson himself had once been waylaid in the streets, and he and his officers were in the habit of carrying pistols with them. That night a number of men were hurrying here and there, but nothing unusual troubled the captain of the
Boreas
until about seven o’clock, when he heard a shot from close by. It came from the marketplace near St Michael’s churchyard, only about one hundred yards away.

Rushing to the scene, Nelson and his officer saw several people from adjacent houses gathering about a wounded man being supported by John Scotland, the boatswain of the
Boreas
. Scotland was one of the captain’s prime men. He had joined the ship in 1783 and been promoted to boatswain on 14 August of the following year at English Harbour, proving himself among the ‘best’ Nelson ‘ever saw’. In that capacity, Scotland had gone ashore earlier in the day to punish some of the ship’s company in hospital; that job done, he had Lieutenant Dent’s permission to remain in the town off duty until the evening gun was fired at eight o’clock. As for the injured man, bleeding heavily from his right side, Nelson did not recall seeing him before, but he was James Elliott, a young sailor belonging to the army brig
Fortitude
of Grenada. A single pistol ball had passed between his two lowest ribs, cut through the right lobe of his liver and penetrated the upper stomach.
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Nelson asked who had shot him and Scotland admitted that his pistol had ‘gone off by accident, and that he had done it’. Nelson ordered the wounded man to be taken to the naval hospital, and, aided by a few onlookers, Scotland carried Elliott away in his arms. Eventually, he found Nelson again. The boatswain was in serious trouble, with none but his captain to help him. He apparently told Nelson that in hospital he had supported Elliott while the surgeon probed and extracted the ball; moreover, he had surrendered his pistols to the hospital steward. He was ready to give himself up to the authorities, but begged Nelson’s advice. Horatio said it was ‘too late’ and sent him back to the
Boreas
, but the following day Elliott died without leaving hospital.

On board Scotland told his story in the presence of Lieutenant Dent. He had been crossing the old churchyard and encountered a number of armed men running about in all directions and shouting out that a press gang was ashore. Passing him, one of the men said, ‘That’s one of them’, and another – looking closer, ‘the boatswain of the
Boreas
, by God!’ Scotland drew his pistol to warn the mob to keep its distance, and then bolted in the direction of one of the ship’s boats some one hundred and fifty yards away. He slipped, pistol in hand, and a man was hit. ‘This is his story,’ Nelson wrote, ‘and I think it most probably to be true. He could have no reason for shooting any person, more especially one whom he never saw before in his life.’

Credible or not, that, at least, is how Nelson represented the whole affair more than four months later, but the depositions taken at the time tell a different story. Only two witnesses were material: James McCormick, a twenty-one-year-old sailor, and John Mitchell, an illiterate sailor of twenty-four who had shared lodgings with the dead man. They did not impress Captain Nelson, who thought them men of ‘infamous character, one . . . what is vulgarly called [a] “bully to a house of ill fame”, and the other a street vagabond’, but that was not the opinion of the civil authorities. They seem to have accepted the depositions at face value, and the story of press-gang violence and wilful murder they contained.

According to McCormick and Mitchell two press gangs from the
Boreas
were raiding the waterfront for recruits that fatal evening, one led by a midshipman, the other by Scotland. The officers clapped pistols to the heads or chests of local sailors, demanding to know whether they belonged to any of the ships in the bay.
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Scotland, armed with a brace of pistols, with two marines and
several cutlass-carrying sailors at his back, twice stopped McCormick, who protested – with a pistol in his ear – that he belonged to the
Latona
, one of Hughes’s squadron. At about the same time another gang consisting of the midshipman and two stalwart tars intercepted three more seamen in St Michael’s churchyard – Mitchell, Elliott and one Robert Hall. These last had been warned about the press gang, but with the midshipman’s pistol pointing at him, Mitchell stood still. Elliott, unfortunately, ran down an alley and straight into Scotland’s party as it was taking the unfortunate McCormick in tow. The boatswain flourished his pistol at Elliott and demanded to know the name of his ship. ‘The general’s brig,’ Elliott replied, catching his breath. Scotland did not believe him, and pronounced him a prisoner, and it was then that Elliott made his fatal mistake. He promised to go quietly, begging not to be dragged away ‘like a dog’, but as his captors relaxed he suddenly darted away and made a dash for freedom. Scotland raised his pistol, shouting that if Elliott did not stop he would ‘drop him’. The fugitive ignored him, and Scotland fired. Elliott staggered into the marketplace and collapsed.

Nelson’s story that Scotland took Elliott to hospital received no support at the inquest on 16 April, which merely implied that the truculent boatswain fled after the shooting. According to the statement of the doctor who attended Elliott, a hospital steward reported that ‘a gentleman whom he did not know who addressed him as a doctor’ asked for assistance to be given a wounded man. Since Scotland was known in the naval hospital, and indeed was said to have been there that very day, this hardly converges with Nelson’s claim that Scotland took Elliott to hospital, assisted in the operation to remove the bullet and surrendered his pistols to the steward. At the inquest the doctor did testify that he was personally acquainted with the boatswain of the
Boreas
, who was supposed to have shot Elliott, but failed to mention his presence in hospital. Had Scotland acted as Nelson said, it seems inconceivable that the doctor would not have mentioned it.

Mystification only increased during the following days. When the inquest was finished Governor Parry was called upon to bring the murderer to justice. He heeded protocol, and applied to Rear Admiral Hughes, asking that a boatswain named Scotland, said to belong to the
Boreas
, be surrendered for a civil trial. On 20 April Sir Richard went aboard the frigate, partly on the business of a court martial being held there to try three deserters from the
Rattler
, and spoke with
Nelson about the killing. Later the same day the admiral reported back to Parry that no one ‘answering the description’ given in the coroner’s investigation was known, but if such a person was found aboard any of His Majesty’s ships at Barbados Hughes would certainly hand him over.

This, of course, was pure prevarication, at least on the part of Nelson, who knew very well that the offender was his boatswain. The admiral himself might have been an innocent party, because the following day he addressed a letter to the captains of the squadron informing them that ‘a man called Scotland, said to belong to one of His Majesty’s ships in this bay’ was charged with murder. ‘It is therefore my particular direction that if there is any person of that name on board the respective ships and vessels under your commands, that you do immediately acquaint me therewith in order that he may be delivered to the civil power to take his trial.’
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Yet even this order failed to produce the fugitive and Nelson continued to shield Scotland. Secrets, unfortunately, have a way of slipping out. On the 21st the same Mitchell and McCormick who had deposed to Elliott’s last moments got talking to seamen belonging to watering parties from the
Boreas
. Someone blabbed that Scotland was still aboard their frigate, but ‘kept himself close in his cabin to prevent his discovery’. Messrs Mitchell and McCormick swore to what they had heard before a justice of the peace, and Parry not only relayed the information to Hughes, but also directed Judge Weeks to issue a warrant for the boatswain’s arrest.
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Both tactics failed miserably. Hughes probably asked his flag-captain to tackle Horatio about the subject when he went aboard the
Boreas
on the 22nd to participate in a trial of the officers of the
Cyrus
, a government store ship wrecked on the coast a few days before. At any rate, the same day Hughes wrote to Parry saying that no such person as Scotland was on board any naval vessel in Carlisle Bay, nor could the admiral say what had become of him.

On 23 April, Weeks ordered Marshal Thomas Gretton to board the
Boreas
and apprehend the wanted man, but though under marshals Arthur and Jones immediately took the warrant and copies of relevant depositions to the ship they got no more satisfaction. Nelson was suffering from a violent migraine produced by the trial of the previous day and was nowhere to be seen. Lieutenant Dent received the marshals and disappeared with their papers to consult the sick captain. He returned shortly with the report that Nelson had said ‘it was very
well, and he would send the papers to the admiral’. Scotland’s presence on board was neither denied nor admitted, and the marshals were forced to retreat without even recovering their documents.
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Nelson certainly did send the sequestrated papers to the admiral, and Hughes responded by telling Parry that a ‘report had been made from Capt. Nelson that the said Scotland was not on board her’. Parry did not believe it, but he could only publish a proclamation on 23 April. It called upon justices and officials to cause ‘all and any places and place throughout the island’ to be scoured for the offender, and cautioned all merchant ships against taking him aboard. A reward of £20 was offered for information about the fugitive, or for his apprehension.

When Parry wrote to Lord Sydney, the home secretary could not believe that Nelson or Hughes would have contrived Scotland’s escape, but on that subject Parry had the surer view. Despite the reward, the searches and the warnings to merchant ships Scotland was never seen again in Barbados. Nelson, who later admitted dissuading Scotland from surrendering to the authorities on the day of the shooting, unquestionably facilitated his subsequent escape and reported dishonestly on his whereabouts. His responses to Hughes and the under marshals were transparently obstructive, and he was no more candid in writing to Fanny on the 23rd. The Parrys were relatives and friends of the Herberts, and Horatio’s dilemma was to explain his estrangement from them. He claimed to be one of four naval captains who had experienced ‘a little difference’ with the governor, and that he would never set foot in Pilgrim again unless Parry tendered ‘a very handsome apology’. If Fanny ever heard the true story, she never held it against him.
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Given the entrenched contradictions in our primary sources, the Scotland affair remains puzzling today. None of the essential questions can be answered satisfactorily. How was Elliott really shot? What happened to Scotland? And why did Nelson shield the fugitive? Yet this was the most extreme example of Nelson’s willingness to intervene on behalf of distressed followers. It reflects upon both his commitment to his men, and their loyalty to him, and it is worth pursuing in detail.

While the McCormick–Mitchell account of Elliott’s death may have
been inaccurate, Nelson’s own version of the shooting is the least convincing of the two, and vulnerable at every stage. To begin with, Nelson denied that his men were hunting recruits that night. His complement was complete ‘to a man or two’ and ‘dozens [of applicants] were daily refused from merchant ships’. Horatio went so far as to admit that a master and some marines with side arms had been sent ashore on the night of the shooting, but that was to search for a deserter who had swum from the ship. This expedition, Nelson claimed, ‘they turned into a press gang’.

But this would seem to have been at best only a half-truth. The muster of the
Boreas
does record that Able Seaman Hugh Robinson fled the ship the day of the shooting, and men were probably sent to search for him. But the muster also contains other telltale facts. We learn, for example, that four men were recruited that same night. Their names were John Jones, Robert Anderson, George Devereaux and George Long, and they were certainly not all volunteers. Anderson deserted five days later, and Devereaux was discharged on 7 May as ‘unfit for His Majesty’s service through drunkenness’. These entries alone suggest that parties from the
Boreas
were pressing sailors into service the day Elliott was shot.

More than this, the muster contains the name of a fifth man enrolled that night. He was none other than James Elliott, the unfortunate victim who died in hospital without ever setting foot on the ship. Incredibly, on 14 April Elliott was rated on the books of the
Boreas
as no. 361, a captain’s servant, and discharged dead the following day. Why Nelson should have officially recorded a dead man as a member of his ship’s company is a mystery. It is just possible that he was trying to represent the matter as a purely naval affair, between Scotland, a petty officer, and his subordinate, and thereby to remove the shooting from civil jurisdiction to the more lenient and malleable environment of a naval courts martial. Whatever the case, this remarkable entry supports the view that, notwithstanding Nelson’s smoke screen, there had been an element of recruitment in the waterfront fracas.
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