to be a knavish, lousy, pack.’ He also had difficulty collecting the Greenwich Hospital levy. Merchants tried offering him fish in lieu of the money and, although it had been recommended he accept this, he refused: ‘I am no merchant, and the Governor has no right to expect that I am to turn retailer of small wares for Greenwich Hospital.’
The Bonetta ’s entry into the next port, Cataline, nearly resulted in disaster. Trusting to directions given to him, Moore entered the harbour, hugging the north side of the Channel. As he did so, people began waving frantically at the Bonetta from the shore. In alarm, the ship was sheered over to the opposite shore and began taking in her mainsails. As she did so the stern grounded and, for an agonizing period of time, she hung with the stern and rudder striking on rocks. Moore ordered the ship’s stream anchor lowered into a boat and laid out to the southern shore. Fortunately, she was hauled off with little difficulty. Although there seemed to be little damage, a few days later a lump of rock was discovered wedged into the keel and although attempts were made to free it by prodding it with an oar, it remained firmly in place. When the ship left Cataline for St John’s, Moore took the precaution of hiring a local pilot to guide her clear of the harbour.
Moore returned to St John’s hoping to find orders there directing him to escort a convoy back to England. He was disappointed. The Circe had been sent instead, and Moore found himself detained in a port he did not like. He attempted to create some form of social circle by inviting officers from the local garrison 34 to dinner on board the Bonetta but to his disgust they got hopelessly drunk and he was depressed by the exhibition of the ‘... degradation of humanity, which, wherever the army are, is too prevalent’. Moore himself stayed sober by passing the bottle. It was not that Moore disapproved of drinking in itself, it was just that he tended to suffer from an excess of it;
I am very fortunate in having a loathing at wine after swallowing about a bottle, as it generally prevents me from excesses which my easy disposition would otherwise expose me to ... [and the] certainty I have of sickness all the following day, has prevented me from making a beast of myself.
Moore was particularly depressed by the fact that he had received no mail from home. His father and brother were in France and he was getting anxious about their safety. He could not understand the lack of mail – for his friend Captain Riou had given his mother all the information she needed about getting letters to Newfoundland by way of the ships from Poole. He wanted to go home. Then, on 30 October, a ship arrived from Europe carrying newspapers nearly six weeks old. There was truly shocking news, for in France
‘The Terror’ had begun . We hear of dreadful excesses having been committed in France. If what is universally said of the conduct of the Parisians is true, they are wretches unworthy to live, and deserve to be hunted down as murtherers and cailiffs. Altho I am certainly an enemy to tyranny and a friend to liberty, yet I do hold in horror and detestation, these sanguinary comedians who now play the principal parts in the horrible farce acting at Paris.
Fortunately, the squadron also received orders to sail for home. The Admiral wasted no time, setting sail within days. Four days out, however, they ran into a heavy gale. The Bonetta ’s upper works began leaking badly and she soon fell behind the other ships. Moore found himself alone. At 4 o’clock on the morning of 11 November, a tremendous sea crashed over the Bonetta ’s gangways, almost filling the waist of the ship;
I was in bed at the time, and awakened by hearing it roaring like thunder in upon us; when the sea passed us there was a very terrible silence, I never was happier than to hear the First Lieutenant, who had the watch bellow for the carpenters to knock the half ports out to
The Bonetta ’s entry into the next port, Cataline, nearly resulted in disaster. Trusting to directions given to him, Moore entered the harbour, hugging the north side of the Channel. As he did so, people began waving frantically at the Bonetta from the shore. In alarm, the ship was sheered over to the opposite shore and began taking in her mainsails. As she did so the stern grounded and, for an agonizing period of time, she hung with the stern and rudder striking on rocks. Moore ordered the ship’s stream anchor lowered into a boat and laid out to the southern shore. Fortunately, she was hauled off with little difficulty. Although there seemed to be little damage, a few days later a lump of rock was discovered wedged into the keel and although attempts were made to free it by prodding it with an oar, it remained firmly in place. When the ship left Cataline for St John’s, Moore took the precaution of hiring a local pilot to guide her clear of the harbour.
Moore returned to St John’s hoping to find orders there directing him to escort a convoy back to England. He was disappointed. The Circe had been sent instead, and Moore found himself detained in a port he did not like. He attempted to create some form of social circle by inviting officers from the local garrison 34 to dinner on board the Bonetta but to his disgust they got hopelessly drunk and he was depressed by the exhibition of the ‘... degradation of humanity, which, wherever the army are, is too prevalent’. Moore himself stayed sober by passing the bottle. It was not that Moore disapproved of drinking in itself, it was just that he tended to suffer from an excess of it;
I am very fortunate in having a loathing at wine after swallowing about a bottle, as it generally prevents me from excesses which my easy disposition would otherwise expose me to ... [and the] certainty I have of sickness all the following day, has prevented me from making a beast of myself.
Moore was particularly depressed by the fact that he had received no mail from home. His father and brother were in France and he was getting anxious about their safety. He could not understand the lack of mail – for his friend Captain Riou had given his mother all the information she needed about getting letters to Newfoundland by way of the ships from Poole. He wanted to go home. Then, on 30 October, a ship arrived from Europe carrying newspapers nearly six weeks old. There was truly shocking news, for in France
‘The Terror’ had begun . We hear of dreadful excesses having been committed in France. If what is universally said of the conduct of the Parisians is true, they are wretches unworthy to live, and deserve to be hunted down as murtherers and cailiffs. Altho I am certainly an enemy to tyranny and a friend to liberty, yet I do hold in horror and detestation, these sanguinary comedians who now play the principal parts in the horrible farce acting at Paris.
Fortunately, the squadron also received orders to sail for home. The Admiral wasted no time, setting sail within days. Four days out, however, they ran into a heavy gale. The Bonetta ’s upper works began leaking badly and she soon fell behind the other ships. Moore found himself alone. At 4 o’clock on the morning of 11 November, a tremendous sea crashed over the Bonetta ’s gangways, almost filling the waist of the ship;
I was in bed at the time, and awakened by hearing it roaring like thunder in upon us; when the sea passed us there was a very terrible silence, I never was happier than to hear the First Lieutenant, who had the watch bellow for the carpenters to knock the half ports out to
Similar Books
