Percival Keene

During the evening the master said, “I hear there are plenty of good men stowed away by the crimps at different places. I wish we could only find out where they are, and get hold of them. I fear, if we do not, we shall either be badly manned in haste from the Tower tender, or have to wait a long while before we sail. Now, Keene, don’t you think you could manage so as to get us some men?”

“I’ve got one already,” replied I: “Bob Cross, the captain’s coxswain.”

“And a real good one too,” replied the master; “the best helmsman we had in the Calliope. You and he were very thick together.”

“Yes,” replied I: “when I came on board, a mere lad, he was very kind to me, and I am very partial to him in consequence.”

That night after the master and I had parted, I thought over the question he had put to me, as to obtaining good seamen for the ship, and I made up my mind that I would wait till Cross arrived, and consult with him as to a project which I had in my head. In the mean time I went to a slop-shop by the dockyard wall, and provided myself with a common sailor’s toggery, of the real cut, with a banyan covered hat, and all complete. Three days afterwards Cross joined me, having found a passage round in a cutter; and as soon as I had talked over his affairs, I proposed my plan to him, in which he heartily coincided.

That I did this to please the captain is certain: I had no other view. It was necessary, however, that I obtained the captain’s permission, and I went to him and explained my ideas. The captain was too willing to let me try it, and thanked me for my zeal.

“Go on board, Mr Keene, and tell them I have given you six weeks’ leave of absence, and then you can do as you propose.”

I did so, for it was absolutely necessary that as few as possible should be acquainted with what I was about, as I ran a great risk. I have no hesitation in saying that I should have been made away with by the crimps, had they discovered me.

I dressed myself as a common seaman, darkened my face, and dirtied myself a little, especially on the hands, and Bob Cross and I then went at night into one of the low public houses, with which the town is filled; there we pretended to be much alarmed lest we should be pressed, and asked for a back-room to smoke and drink in. We called in the landlord, telling him we were second mates of vessels, and not secure from the impress; that we never were at Plymouth before, our ships having put in damaged, and that the crew were discharged; and asked if there was no safe place where we could be stowed until we could find another vessel ready to start.

He replied, that there was a house at Stonehouse where we could be quite safe; but that, of course, we must pay the crimps well for our board and lodging and that they would find us a ship when we wished to go; and further, that we must give him something handsome for taking us there. To this we agreed, and at midnight we set off in company with our landlord, each of us carrying our bundles, and in less than an hour arrived at a sort of farm-house detached from the road.

After a short parley we obtained entrance, and were taken into a small room where the crimp inquired of us what money we had, and then told us what his charges were. The reason of his doing this was, because if we had no money, or very little, he would have disposed of us very soon by sending us on board of some ship, and obtaining an advance of our wages from the captain as his indemnification; but if we had plenty of money, he would then keep us as long as he could that he might make his profit of us; his charges were monstrous, as may be supposed, and we had replied that we had very little money. We contrived to look as careless and indifferent as we could, agreed to everything, paid the landlord of the pothouse a guinea each for taking us to the house, and were then ushered into a large room, where we found about twenty seamen sitting at a long table, drinking, and playing cards and dominoes.

They did not appear to notice us, they were so busy either playing or looking on. Cross called for a pot of ale, and we sat down at the farther end of the table.

“What a dislike the men must have to the press,” said Cross to me, “when they submit to be mured up here in prison.”

“Yes, and cheated by such a scoundrel as the crimp appears to be.”

“Don’t talk so loud, Jack,” replied Cross; for I had insisted upon his calling me Jack, “lest we should be overheard.”

We then asked to go to bed, and were shown by the crimp into a room which had about fourteen beds in it.

“You may take your choice of those five,” said he, pointing to five nearest the door: “I always come up and take away the candle.”

As we found some of the other beds occupied, we did not resume our conversation, but went to sleep.

The next morning we found that we mustered about thirty-five, many of the more steady men having gone to bed before we arrived. After breakfast, Cross and I each entered into conversation with a man, and pumped them very cleverly. Our chief object was, to ascertain the houses of the other crimps, and, as the men knew most of them, having invariably resorted to them at the end of their voyages, we obtained the locality of five or six, all apparently public-houses, but having back premises for the concealment of seamen: all these were carefully noted down.

As we became more intimate, the seamen, who were glad to talk, from weariness of confinement, asked us many questions. We said that we had deserted from a man-of-war, and then a hundred questions were asked us as to our treatment. I allowed Bob Cross to be spokesman, and his replies were very sensible. He told them that all depended upon what sort of captains and first lieutenants were on board; that he had been pressed twice: the first time he was comfortable enough, and made 200 pounds prize-money in eight months; but in the last man-of-war he was very uncomfortable, and had therefore cut and run. Altogether, he made the service appear much more favourable than they supposed, although the crimp, who had stood by, did all he could to persuade the men to the contrary.

We remained in this house for more than a week, and then declared that we had no more money, and must find a ship. The crimp said that he had a berth for one of us as second mate of a brig, and I agreed to take it, leaving Bob Cross to get a berth for himself as soon as he could. As I raid up, there was no demand upon the owners of the vessel, and it was arranged that I should be down at a certain wharf at three o’clock in the morning, when I should find a boat waiting for me. I waited up with Bob Cross until the clock had struck two, and then the crimp let me out. He did not offer to go down with me, as he had no money to receive; and, as it was pitch-dark, there was little chance of my being picked up by a press-gang at that hour. I wished Cross good-bye, and set off for Plymouth Dock with my bundle on my stick.

Not knowing where to go at such an hour, I walked about to see if I could perceive a light in any house: I did so at last through the chinks of the shutters of a small ale-house, and tapped at the door; it was opened, I was ushered in, and the door closed immediately upon me. I found myself in the presence of several marines with their side-arms, and seamen with cutlasses. An officer started up from his seat, and collaring me said, “You’re just the fellow we want. We’re in luck to-night.” In fact, I was in the hands of a press-gang, and I was pressed myself.

“Yes, he’ll do: he’ll make a capital maintop-man,” said a midshipman, getting up and surveying me.

I looked at him, and perceived my old acquaintance Mr Tommy Dott, grown a great deal taller; I perceived that he did not recognise me. “But, sir,” said I to the officer of the party, who was so disguised that I could not tell his rank, “suppose I belong to a man-of-war already?”

“That you do not; or if you do, you must be a deserter, my good fellow; that is evident by your stick and bundle. Now sit down and drink some beer, if you like; you are going to serve in a fine frigate—you may as well make yourself comfortable, for we shall not go on board yet, for this hour.”

I determined to keep up my incognito, as it amused me. I sat down, and it then occurred to me that my not going on board of the vessel might lead to an explanation with the crimp, and that an alarm might be created and the men dispersed in consequence. There were still two hours to daylight, and if I could take up the press-gang, we might secure all the men in the house before the dawn of day.

As I had just made up my mind to act, there was a stamping of feet outside and a knock at the door. When it was opened, another portion of the press-gang, headed by another officer, entered. I counted heads, and found that they mustered thirty hands—quite sufficient, as they were armed, to secure all my late companions. I therefore went up to the officer, and begged to speak with him aside.

I then told him that I had just come from a crimp’s house near Stonehouse, where I left in their beds thirty-five as fine men as ever walked a plank, and that, as I was pressed myself, I did not mind telling him where they were, and he could take them all.

The officer curled up his lip, as if to say, “You’re a pretty scoundrel to betray your companions,” but immediately resolved to act upon it. Without stating his intentions, he ordered all the men out, and putting me between two marines, so as to prevent my escaping, I was desired to lead on. I did so, and we proceeded in silence until we arrived near to the house. I then pointed out to the officer that it must be surrounded, or the men would escape, and that it must be done very carefully, as there was a large dog which would be sure to give the alarm. My advice was attended to, and when all the men were at their stations, the whole advanced slowly towards the house. The dog commenced baying, as I had foreseen, and shortly afterwards the crimp put his head out of a window, and perceived that the press-gang were below. But all attempts to force an entrance were in vain, every window below, and the doors, being secured with iron bars.

“Is there no way of getting into this den?” said the officer to me.

“Why sir, I’ll try.”

As Bob Cross had given another name, I knew that I risked nothing in calling out his, and I therefore requested the officer to impose silence, and when it was obtained, I cried out, “Bob Cross! Bob Cross!! Where’s Bob Cross?”

After that, I went to the small door at the side of the house, which led to the homestead, and again cried out, “Bob Cross!—where’s Bob Cross?”

I then told the officer that we must wait patiently, and that if it was daylight before we got in, all the better.

About ten minutes after that, as I remained at the small door, I heard the bars quietly removed; I then requested the officer to attempt to force the small door, and it yielded almost immediately to their efforts.

“Now, sir, leave a guard at the other door, that they may not open it, and escape by it, also five or six hands to catch any who may jump out of the upper windows, and then enter with the rest of your party.”

“You know what you are about, at all events,” said he, giving the directions which I had pointed out, and then entering with the remainder of his party, with the exception of one marine that held me by the arm, with his bayonet drawn.

The scuffle within was very severe, and lasted for many minutes: at last, the armed force, although not so numerous, prevailed, and one by one, the men were brought out, and taken charge of by the marines, until the whole of them were discovered in their retreats, and secured.

Day now dawned, and it was time to be off. To make more secure, the pressed men were lashed two and two, with small rope, which had been provided on purpose. Bob Cross, who, of course, had not mixed in the affray, gave me a nod of recognition, and we set off as fast as the men could be persuaded to move; certainly not a very gay procession, for although the wounds were not dangerous, there was scarcely one of the party, amounting in all to upwards of sixty men, who was not bleeding. Hardly a word was exchanged. We were all put into the boats, and rowed off to the hulk appropriated to the crew of the frigate, until she was rigged, and as soon as we were on board, we were put below under the charge of sentries.

“What! you here?” said some of the pressed men.

“Yes,” replied I: “they picked me up as I went to ship myself last night.” The crimp, who had been brought on board with the others, then started forward. “It is he who has blown upon us; I’ll swear to it.”

“You may swear if you please,” replied I; “that will do you no good, and me no harm.”

The crimp talked with the other men, and then indignation was levelled against me. Most of them swore they would be even with me, and have my life if they could; indeed, they could hardly be prevented laying hands upon me; but Bob Cross told the sentry, and he interfered with his bayonet; notwithstanding which, fists continued to be shook in my face, and vengeance threatened every minute.

“I told you, my lads,” said Bob Cross, “that I have been on board of a man-of-war before this, and you’d better mind what you’re about, or you’ll repent it; at all events, if one of you touches him, you’ll have five dozen lashes at the gangway before to-morrow morning.”

This made the poor fellows more quiet; most of them lay down, and tried to sleep off their misery.

“Why don’t you make yourself known, Mr Keene?” said Cross to me, in a whisper: “I saw the master go on the quarterdeck just now.”

“I think I had better not: there are more houses to examine, and if my trick was known, it would soon get wind from the women, and I should be waylaid, and perhaps murdered by the crimps. The captain will be on board by ten o’clock, I have no doubt, and then I will contrive to see him, somehow or another.”

“But you could trust the master—why not see him?”

“I’ll think of it—but there’s no hurry.”

I was afraid that Tommy Dott would have discovered me, and I kept out of his way as much as I could.

“I’ll tell you what, sir—as I’ve not joined the ship, why not let it be supposed that I am impressed with the other men, and then I can send for Mr Dott and make myself known? The commanding officer will, of course, send for me, and I will enter, and then I shall be allowed to go about, and can speak to the captain when he comes on board.”

“Well, that is not a bad idea. Talk to the sentry.”

“Who’s the captain of this ship, sentry?” said Bob Cross.

“Captain Delmar.”

“Delmar!—why, he’s my old captain. Did not I see a Mr Dott, a midshipman?”

“Yes there is a Mr Dott on board.”

“Well, I wish you would just pass the word to Mr Dott, to say that one of the pressed men wishes to speak to him.”

The sentry did so, and Mr Dott came down.

“How d’ye do, Mr Dott?” said Bob Cross, while I turned away.

“What Cross, is that you? Are you dressed?”

“Yes, sir, can’t be helped. I’m glad I’m to sail with you, sir. What’s become of Mr Keene?”

“Oh, I don’t know; but if he’s not hanged by this time, I believe that he’s to join the ship.”

“Won’t I pull your ears for that?” thought I.

“What other officers have we of the Calliope, sir?”

“There’s the master, Mr Smith, and the surgeon.”

“Well, Mr Dott, one must always make a virtue of necessity. Tell Mr Smith that I shall enter for the ship; and I’ll put my name down at once, instead of being penned up here.”

“That’s right, Cross; and I say, you chaps, you’d better follow a good example. Sentry, let this man go with me.”

Bob Cross then went with Tommy Dott, and entered for the service. The master was very glad to see him again and said, “Why, Cross, Mr Keene said that you had promised him to join us.”

“Why, sir, so I had; but it’s a long story. However, it’s all the same in the end: here I am, and I hope I shall get my old rating.”

Soon after, Bob Cross came down and said, “Well, my lads, I’m free now, and I advise you all to do the same. Come, Jack,” said he to me, “what d’ye say?”

“No, no,” replied I. “I won’t unless all the rest do.”

Bob then took me on one side, and told me what had taken place, and asked me what he should say to the captain. I told him, and then he left us.

At ten o’clock the captain came on board. Bob Cross went up to him and said he wished to say something to him in the cabin. He followed the captain down, and then explained to him that I was among the pressed men but as a means of obtaining plenty more men, I had remained among them, and had not made myself known, for fear my trick should get wind; also that I thought the crimp should be kept on board, although he was of no use as a seaman.

“Mr Keene has behaved very prudently,” replied Captain Delmar. “I understand his motives—leave the rest to me.”

A few minutes after Bob had communicated to me what the captain had said, the pressed men were ordered up, and ranged along the quarter-deck. A finer set of men I never saw together: and they all appeared to be, as they afterwards proved to be prime seamen. The captain called them one by one and questioned them. He asked them to enter, but they refused. The crimp begged hard to be released. Their names were all put down on the ship’s book together.

The captain, turning to me—for I had stood up the last of the row—said, “I understand the officer of the impress agreed to release you if you would tell him where your comrades were. I don’t like losing a good man, but still I shall let you go in consequence of the promise being made. There, you may take a boat and go on shore.”

“Thank your honour,” replied I. I went to the gangway immediately; but I never shall forget the faces of the pressed men when I passed them: they looked as if I had a thousand lives, and they had stomach enough to take them all.

I went on shore immediately, and going to my hotel, washed the colour and dirt off my face, dressed myself in my mate’s uniform, and went to the hotel where the captain lived. I found that he had just come on shore, and I sent up my name, and I was admitted. I then told the captain the information which we had received with regard to nine or ten more houses, and that I thought I might now go on board, and never be recognised.

“You have managed extremely well,” replied Captain Delmar; “we have made a glorious haul: but I think it will be better that you do not go on board; the press-gang shall meet you every night, and obey your orders.” I bowed, and walked out of the room.

The next night, and several subsequent ones, the press-gang came on shore, and, from the information I had received, we procured in the course of a fortnight more than two hundred good seamen. Some of the defences were most desperate: fort as one crimp’s house after another was forced, they could not imagine how they could have been discovered; but it put them all on their guard; and on the last three occasions the merchant seamen were armed and gave us obstinate fights; however, although the wounds were occasionally severe, there was no loss of life.

Having expended all my knowledge, I had nothing more to do than go on board, which I did, and was kindly received by the master and the other officers, who had been prepossessed in my favour. Such was the successful result of my plan. The crimp we did not allow to go on shore, but discharged him into a gun-brig, the captain of which was a notorious martinet; and I have no doubt, being aware of his character and occupation, that he kept his word, when he told Captain Delmar that he would make the ship a hell to him—“and sarve him right too,” said Bob Cross, when he heard of it; “the money that these rascals obtain from the seamen, Mr Keene, is quite terrible; and the poor fellows, after having earned it by two or three years’ hard work, go to prison in a crimp-house to spend it, or rather to be swindled out of it. It is these fellows that raise such reports against the English navy, that frighten the poor fellows so; they hear of men being flogged until they die under the lash, and all the lies that can be invented. Not that the masters of the merchant vessels are at all backward in disparaging the service, but threaten to send a man on board a man-of-war for a punishment, if he behaves ill—that itself is enough to raise a prejudice against the service. Now, sir, I can safely swear that there is more cruelty and oppression—more ill-treatment and more hard work—on board of a merchantman, than on board any man-of-war. Why so? Because there is no control over the master of a merchant vessel, while the captain of a man-of-war is bound down by strict regulations, which he dare not disobey. We see many reports in the newspapers of the ill-treatment on of merchant vessels; but for one that is made known, ninety-nine are passed over; for a seaman has something else to do than to be kicking his heels at a magistrate’s office; and when he gets clear of his vessel, with his pay in his pocket, he prefers to make merry and forget his treatment, to seeking revenge. I say again, sarve that crimp right, and I hope that he’ll get a lash for every pound which he has robbed from the poor seamen.”

I may as well inform the reader that, as it is mostly the case after the men have been impressed, nearly the whole of them entered the service; and when, some time afterwards, they ascertained that it was I that had tricked them, so far from feeling the ill-will towards me that they had on their first coming on board, they laughed very much at my successful plan, and were more partial to me than to any other of the officers.

Our frigate was now well manned, and nearly ready for sea. I wrote to my mother, enclosing the heads of a letter to her which she should send to Captain Delmar, and in a day or two I received an answer, with a copy of what she had sent. It was to the effect that I was now going away for the second time, and that it was possible she might never see me or Captain Delmar again; that she wished him success and happiness, and begged him, in case she should be called away, not to forget his promises to her, or what she had undergone for his sake; but she trusted entirely to him, and that he would watch over me and my interests, even more out of regard to her memory, than if she were alive to support my claims upon him.

The letter was given to Captain Delmar when he was on the quarter-deck, and he went with it down below. He came on deck shortly afterwards. I looked at him but did not perceive that he was in any way put out or moved by its reception. Claims for past services, whether upon the country or upon individuals, are seldom well received; like the payment of a tavern bill, after we have done with the enjoyments, we seem inclined to cavil at each separate item—ainsi va le monde.

It was reported down at Mutton Cove, that our ship, which sailed with sealed orders was to be sent to the West Indies. This the captain did not expect or wish, as he had had enough of the tropics already. When he, however, opened his orders, it was found that Mutton Cove was correct, and the captain’s instructions were, to seek the admiral of the station with all possible dispatch.

We carried sail day and night, and as the Manilla proved a remarkably fast sailer, we were very soon in Carlisle Bay, Barbadoes, where we found the admiral and six sail of the line, and a few smaller vessels. As soon as the despatches were opened by the admiral, our signal, as well as that of all the smaller vessels, was made, and before the evening we had spread our canvas in every direction, being sent to recall the whole of the disposable force to rendezvous at Carlisle Bay. We knew that something was in the wind, but what, we had no idea of. Our orders were to proceed to Halifax, and we had a quick passage. We found two frigates there, and we gave them their instructions; and then, having remained only twenty-four hours, we all made sail together for Barbadoes.

On our arrival there, we round the bay crowded with vessels: twenty-eight sail of pennants and a fleet of transports, containing ten thousand troops. Three days afterwards the signal was made to weigh, and the whole fleet stood out from Carlisle Bay, it being now well known that the capture of the island of Martinique was the object of the expedition. On the third day we arrived off the island, and our troops were disembarked at two points, expecting to meet with strong opposition. Such, however, to our surprise, was not the case. It appeared that the militia of the island, being composed of slaves, and who were sent to oppose us, did not consider that slavery was worth fighting for quite as well as liberty, and therefore very quietly walked home again, leaving the governor and regular troops to decide the question as to whether the island was for the future to belong to the French or English. But the two following days there was some hard fighting, and our troops, although they advanced, had a severe loss. The French retired from the advanced posts to Fort Dessaix, and we obtained possession of the fort on Point Salamon.