Hobart Pasha - Sketches From My Life

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SKETCHES

FROM

MY LIFE

BY THE LATE

ADMIRAL HOBART PASHA

_WITH A PORTRAIT_

THIRD EDITION

LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1887

_All rights reserved_

PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
LONDON

PREFACE.

These pages were the last ever written by the brave and true-hearted
sailor of whose life they are a simple record.

A few months before his death, some of his friends made the fortunate
suggestion that he should put on paper a detailed account of his
sporting adventures, and this idea gradually developed itself until the
work took the present form of an autobiography, written roughly, it is
true, and put together without much method, part of it being dictated at
the Riviera during the last days of the author's fatal illness. Such as
it is, however, we are convinced that the many devoted friends of
Hobart Pasha who now lament his death will be glad to recall in these
'Sketches' the adventures and sports which some of them shared with him,
and the genial disposition and manly qualities which endeared him to
them all.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. A ROUGH START IN LIFE 1

II. PERILS BY SEA AND LAND 14

III. A TRAGICAL AFFAIR 27

IV. RIO DE JANEIRO 36

V. SLAVER HUNTING 43

VI. SLAVER HUNTING (_continued_) 53

VII. LOVE AND MURDER 62

VIII. THE QUEEN'S YACHT 71

IX. IN THE BALTIC 78

X. BLOCKADE-RUNNING 87

XI. EXCITING ADVENTURES 103

XII. A VISIT TO CHARLESTON 120

XIII. NEVER CAUGHT! 133

XIV. LAST DAYS ON THE 'D----N' 147

CHAPTER PAGE

XV. RICHMOND DURING THE SIEGE 159

XVI. THE LAND BLOCKADE 175

XVII. I ENTER THE TURKISH NAVY 186

XVIII. THE WAR WITH RUSSIA 201

XIX. THE TURKISH FLEET DURING THE WAR 217

XX. SPORT IN TURKEY 235

XXI. SPORT AND SOCIETY 253

EXTRACT FROM THE 'DAILY TELEGRAPH' 277

SKETCHES FROM MY LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

A ROUGH START IN LIFE.

To attempt to write and publish sketches of my somewhat eventful career
is an act that, I fear, entails the risk of making enemies of some with
whom I have come in contact. But I have arrived at that time of life
when, while respecting, as I do, public opinion, I have hardened
somewhat into indifference of censure. I will, however, endeavour to
write as far as lies in my power (while recording facts) 'in charity
with all men.' This can be done in most part by omitting the names of
ships in which and officers under whom I have served.

I was born, as the novelists say, of respectable parents, at
Walton-on-the-Wold, in Leicestershire, on April 1, 1822. I will pass
over my early youth, which was, as might be expected, from the time of
my birth until I was ten years of age, without any event that could
prove interesting to those who are kind enough to peruse these pages.

At the age of ten I was sent to a well-known school at Cheam, in Surrey,
the master of which, Dr. Mayo, has turned out some very distinguished
pupils, of whom I was not fated to be one; for, after a year or so of
futile attempt on my part to learn something, and give promise that I
might aspire to the woolsack or the premiership, I was pronounced
hopeless; and having declared myself anxious to emulate the deeds of
Nelson, and other celebrated sailors, it was decided that I should enter
the navy, and steps were taken to send me at once to sea.

A young cousin of mine who had been advanced to the rank of captain,
more through the influence of his high connections than from any merit
of his own, condescended to give me a nomination in a ship which he had
just commissioned, and thus I was launched like a young bear, 'having
all his sorrows to come,' into Her Majesty's navy as a naval cadet. I
shall never forget the pride with which I donned my first uniform,
little thinking what I should have to go through. My only consolation
while recounting facts that will make many parents shudder at the
thought of what their children (for they are little more when they join
the service) were liable to suffer, is, that things are now totally
altered, and that under the present regime every officer, whatever his
rank, is treated like a gentleman, or he, or his friends, can know 'the
reason why.'

I am writing of a period some fifteen or twenty years after Marryat had
astonished the world by his thrilling descriptions of a naval officer's
life and its accompanying troubles. At the time of which I write people
flattered themselves that the sufferings which 'Midshipman Easy' and
'The Naval Officer' underwent while serving the Crown were tales of the
past. I will show by what I am about very briefly to relate that such
was very far from being the case.

Everything being prepared, and good-bye being said to my friends, who
seemed rather glad to be rid of me, I was allowed to travel from London
on the box of a carriage which contained the great man who had given me
the nomination (captains of men-of-war were very great men in those
days), and after a long weary journey we arrived at the port where
H.M.S.---- was lying ready for sea. On the same night of our arrival the
sailing orders came from the Admiralty; we were to go to sea the next
day, our destination being South America.

Being a very insignificant individual, I was put into a waterman's boat
with my chest and bed, and was sent on board. On reporting myself, I was
told by the commanding officer not to bother him, but to go to my mess,
where I should be taken care of. On descending a ladder to the lower
deck, I looked about for the mess, or midshipmen's berth, as it was then
called. In one corner of this deck was a dirty little hole about ten
feet long and six feet wide, five feet high. It was lighted by two or
three dips, otherwise tallow candles, of the commonest
description--behold the mess!

In this were seated six or seven officers and gentlemen, some
twenty-five to thirty years of age, called mates, meaning what are now
called sub-lieutenants. They were drinking rum and water and eating
mouldy biscuits; all were in their shirtsleeves, and really, considering
the circumstances, seemed to be enjoying themselves exceedingly.

On my appearance it was evident that I was looked upon as an interloper,
for whom, small as I was, room must be found. I was received with a
chorus of exclamations, such as, 'What the deuce does the little fellow
want here?' 'Surely there are enough of us crammed into this beastly
little hole!' 'Oh, I suppose he is some protege of the captain's,' &c.
&c.

At last one, more kindly disposed than the rest, addressed me: 'Sorry
there is no more room in here, youngster;' and calling a dirty-looking
fellow, also in his shirtsleeves, said, 'Steward, give this young
gentleman some tea and bread and butter, and get him a hammock to sleep
in.' So I had to be contented to sit on a chest outside the midshipmen's
berth, eat my tea and bread and butter, and turn into a hammock for the
first time in my life, which means 'turned out'--the usual procedure
being to tumble out several times before getting accustomed to this, to
me, novel bedstead. However, once accustomed to the thing, it is easy
enough, and many indeed have been the comfortable nights I have slept in
a hammock, such a sleep as many an occupant of a luxurious four-poster
might envy. At early dawn a noise all around me disturbed my slumbers:
this was caused by all hands--officers and men--being called up to
receive the captain, who was coming alongside to assume his command by
reading his official appointment.

I shall never forget his first words. He was a handsome young man, with
fine features, darkened, however, by a deep scowl. As he stepped over
the side he greeted us by saying to the first lieutenant in a loud
voice, 'Put all my boat's crew in irons for neglect of duty.' It seems
that one of them kept him waiting for a couple of minutes when he came
down to embark. After giving this order our captain honoured the
officers who received him with a haughty bow, read aloud his commission,
and retired to his cabin, having ordered the anchor to be weighed in two
hours.

Accordingly at eight o'clock we stood out to sea, the weather being fine
and wind favourable. At eleven all hands were called to attend the
punishment of the captain's boat's crew. I cannot describe the horror
with which I witnessed six fine sailor-like looking fellows torn by the
frightful cat, for having kept this officer waiting a few minutes on the
pier. Nor will I dwell on this illegal sickening proceeding, as I do not
write to create a sensation, and, thank goodness! such things cannot be
done now.

I had not much time for reflection, for my turn came next. I believe I
cried or got into somebody's way, or did something to vex the tyrant;
all I know is that I heard myself addressed as 'You young scoundrel,'
and ordered to go to the 'mast-head.' Go to the mast-head indeed! with
a freshening wind, under whose influence the ship was beginning to heel
over, and an increasing sea that made her jump about like an acrobat. I
had not got my sea legs, and this feat seemed an utter impossibility to
me. I looked with horror up aloft; then came over me the remembrance of
Marryat's story of the lad who refused to go to the mast-head, and who
was hoisted up by the signal halyards. While thinking of this, another
'Well, sir, why don't you obey orders?' started me into the lower
rigging, which I began with the greatest difficulty to climb, expecting
at every step to go headlong overboard.

A good-natured sailor, seeing the fix I was in, gave me a helping hand,
and up I crawled as far as the maintop. This, I must explain to my
non-nautical reader, is not the mast-head, but a comparatively
comfortable half-way resting-place, from whence one can look about
feeling somewhat secure.

On looking down to the deck my heart bled to see the poor sailor who had
helped me undergoing punishment for his kind act. I heard myself at the
same time ordered 'to go higher,' and a little higher I did go. Then I
stopped, frightened to death, and almost senseless; terror, however,
seemed to give me presence of mind to cling on, and there I remained
till some hours afterwards; then I was called down. On reaching the deck
I fainted, and knew no more till I awoke after some time in my hammock.

Now, I ask anyone, even a martinet at heart, whether such treatment of a
boy, not thirteen years of age, putting his life into the greatest
danger, taking this first step towards breaking his spirit, and in all
probability making him, as most likely had been done to the poor men I
had seen flogged that morning, into a hardened mutinous savage, was not
disgraceful?

Moreover, it was as close akin to murder as it could be, for I don't
know how it was I didn't fall overboard, and then nothing could have
saved my life. However, as I didn't fall, I was not drowned, and the
effect on me was curious enough. For all I had seen and suffered on that
the opening day of my sea-life made me think for the first time--and I
have never ceased thinking (half a century has passed since then)--how
to oppose tyranny in every shape. Indeed, I have always done so to such
an extent as to have been frequently called by my superiors 'a
troublesome character,' 'a sea lawyer,' &c.

Perhaps in this way I have been able to effect something, however
small, towards the entire change that has taken place in the treatment
of those holding subordinate positions in the navy--and that something
has had its use, for the tyrant's hand is by force stayed now, 'for once
and for all.'

With this little I am satisfied.

Now let us briefly look into the question, 'Why are men tyrants when
they have it in _their power to be so_?'

Unfortunately, as a rule, it appears to come natural to them! What
caused the Indian Mutiny? Let Indian officers and those employed in the
Indian civil service answer that question.

However, I have only to do with naval officers. My experience tells me
that a man clothed with brief but supreme authority, such as the command
of a man-of-war, in those days when for months and months he was away
from all control of his superiors and out of reach of public censure, is
more frequently apt to listen to the promptings of the devil, which more
or less attack every man, especially when he is alone.

Away from the softening influence of society and the wholesome fear of
restraint, for a time at least the voice of his better angel is
silenced. Perhaps also the necessarily solitary position of a commander
of a man-of-war, his long, lonely hours, the utter change from the
jovial life he led previous to being afloat, to say nothing of his liver
getting occasionally out of order, may all tend to make him irritable
and despotic.

I have seen a captain order his steward to be flogged, almost to death,
because his pea-soup was not hot. I have seen an officer from twenty to
twenty-five years of age made to stand between two guns with a sentry
over him for hours, because he had neglected to see and salute the
tyrant who had come on deck in the dark. And as a proof, though it seems
scarcely credible, of what such men can do when unchecked by fear of
consequences, I will cite the following:--

On one occasion the captain of whom I have been writing invited a friend
to breakfast with him, and there being, I suppose, a slight monotony in
the conversation, he asked his guest whether he would like, by way of
diversion, to see a man flogged. The amusement was accepted, and a man
_was_ flogged.

It was about the time I write of that the tyranny practised on board Her
Majesty's ships was slowly but surely dawning upon the public, and a
general outcry against injustice began.

This was shown in a very significant manner by the following fact:--

A post-captain of high rank and powerful connections dared, in
contradiction to naval law, to flog a midshipman. This young officer's
father, happening to be a somewhat influential man, made a stir about
the affair. The honourable captain was tried by court-martial and
severely reprimanded.

However, I will cut short these perhaps uninteresting details, merely
stating that for three years I suffered most shameful treatment. My last
interview with my amiable cousin is worth relating. The ship was paid
off, and the captain, on going to the hotel at Portsmouth, sent for me
and offered me a seat on his carriage to London. Full of disgust and
horror at the very sight of him, I replied that I would rather 'crawl
home on my hands and knees than go in his carriage,' and so ended our
acquaintance, for I never saw him again.

It may be asked how, like many others, I tided over all the ill-usage
and the many trials endured during three years. The fact is, I had
become during that period of ill-treatment so utterly hardened to it
that I seemed to feel quite indifferent and didn't care a rap. But
wasn't I glad to be free!

I had learnt many a lesson of use to me in after life, the most
important of all being to sympathise with other people's miseries, and
to make allowance for the faults and shortcomings of humanity.

On the other hand, experience is a severe taskmaster, and it taught me
to be somewhat insubordinate in my notions. I fear I must confess that
this spirit of insubordination has never left me.

On my arrival at home my relations failed to see in me an ill-used lad
(I was only sixteen), and seemed inclined to disbelieve my yarns; but
this did not alter the facts, nor can I ever forget what I went through
during that 'reign of terror,' as it might well be called.

People may wonder how was it in the days of Benbow and his successors no
complaints were made. To this I answer, first, that the men of those
days, knowing the utter hopelessness of complaining, preferred to 'grin
and bear;' secondly, that neither officers nor men were supposed to
possess such a thing as feeling, when they had once put their foot on
board a man-of-war. Then there were the almost interminable sea voyages
under sail, during which unspeakable tyrannies could be practised,
unheard of beyond the ship, and unpunished. It must be remembered that
there were no telegraphs, no newspaper correspondents, no questioning
public, so that the evil side of human nature (so often shown in the
very young in their cruelty to animals) had its swing, fearless of
retribution.

Let us leave this painful subject, with the consoling thought that we
shall never see the like again.

CHAPTER II.

PERILS BY SEA AND LAND.

After enjoying a few weeks at home, I was appointed to the Naval Brigade
on service in Spain, acting with the English army, who were there by way
of assisting Queen Christina against Don Carlos.

The army was a curious collection of regular troops and volunteer
soldiers, the latter what would be called 'Bashi-Bazouks.' The naval
part of the expedition consisted of 1,200 Royal Marines, and a brigade
of sailors under the orders of Lord John Hay. The army (barring the
regulars, who were few in numbers) was composed of about 15,000 of the
greatest rabble I ever saw, commanded by Sir De Lacy Evans.

For fear any objection or misapprehension be applied to the word
'rabble,' I must at once state that these volunteers, though in
appearance so motley and undisciplined, fought splendidly, and in that
respect did all honour to their country and the cause they were
fighting for.

Very soon after we had disembarked I received what is usually called my
'baptism of fire,' that is to say, I witnessed 'the first shot fired in
anger.' The Carlists were pressing hard on the Queen's forces, who were
returning towards the sea; it was of the greatest importance to hold
certain heights that defended San Sebastian and the important port of
Passagis.

The gallant marines (as usual to the front) were protecting the hill on
which Lord John was standing; the fire was hot and furious. I candidly
admit I was in mortal fear, and when a shell dropped right in the middle
of us, and was, I thought, going to burst (as it did), I fell down on my
face. Lord John, who was close to me, and looking as cool as a cucumber,
gave me a severe kick, saying, 'Get up, you cowardly young rascal; are
you not ashamed of yourself?'

I did get up and _was_ ashamed of myself. From that moment to this I
have never been hard upon those who flinched at the first fire they were
under. My pride helped me out of the difficulty, and I flinched no more.
For an hour or so the battle raged furiously.

By degrees all fear left me; I felt only excitement and anger, and when
we (a lot I had to do with it!) drove the enemy back in the utmost
confusion, wasn't I proud!

When all was over Lord John called me, and after apologising in the most
courteous manner for the kick, he gave me his hand (poor fellow! he had
already lost one arm while fighting for his country), and said: 'Don't
be discouraged, youngster; you are by no means the first who has shown
alarm on being for the first time under fire.' So I was happy.

It is not my intention to give in detail the events that I witnessed
during that disastrous civil war in Spain; suffice it that after much
hard fighting the Carlists were driven back into their mountains so much
discouraged that they eventually renounced a hopeless cause; and at all
events for a long period order was restored in Spain.

After serving under Lord John Hay for six or seven months, I was
appointed to another ship, which was ordered to my old station, South
America.

The captain of my new ship was in every sense a gentleman, and although
a strict disciplinarian, was just and kind-hearted. From the captain
downwards every officer was the same in thought and deed, so we were all
as happy as sand-boys. It was then that I began to realise a fact of
which before I had only a notion--namely, that discipline can be
maintained without undue severity, to say nothing of cruelty, and that
service in the navy could be made a pleasure as well as a duty to one's
country.

After visiting Rio de Janeiro, we were sent to the River Plate; there we
remained nearly a year, during which time several adventures which I
will relate occurred, both concerning my duties and my amusements.

I must tell my readers that from earliest boyhood I had a passionate
love for shooting; and, through the kindness of my commanding officer
while at Monte Video, I was allowed constantly to indulge in sport.

On one occasion my captain, who was a keen sportsman, took me with him
out shooting. We had a famous day's sport, filled our game bags with
partridges, ducks, and snipe, and were returning home on horseback when
a solitary horseman, a nasty-looking fellow, armed to the teeth, rode up
to us. As I knew a little Spanish we began to talk about shooting, &c.
&c.; then he asked me to shoot a bird for him (the reason why he did
this will be seen immediately). I didn't like the cut of his jib, so
rather snubbed him. However, he continued to ride on with us, to within
half a mile of where our boat was waiting to take us on board. I must
explain our relative positions as we rode along. The captain was on my
left, I next to him, and the man was on my right, riding very near to
me. All of a sudden he exclaimed in Spanish, 'Now is the time or never,'
threw his right leg over the pommel of his saddle, slipped on to the
ground, drew his knife, dashed at me, and after snatching my gun from my
hand, stuck his knife (as he thought) into me. Then he rushed towards
the captain, pulling the trigger of my gun, and pointing straight at the
latter's head; the gun was not loaded, having only the old percussion
caps on. (Now I saw why he wanted me to fire, so that he might know
whether my gun was loaded; but the old caps evidently deceived him.)

All this was the work of a very few seconds. Now what was my chief
doing? Seeing a row going on, he was dismounting; in fact, was half-way
off his horse, only one foot in the stirrup, when the man made the rush
at him. Finding me stuck to my saddle (for the ruffian's knife had gone
through my coat and pinned me), and the fellow snapping my gun, which
was pointed at him, he as coolly as possible put his gun over his
horse's shoulder and shot the would-be murderer dead on the spot. Then
turning to me he said quite calmly, 'I call you to witness that that
man intended to murder me.' How differently all would have ended had my
gun been loaded! The villain would have shot my chief, taken both guns,
and galloped off, leaving me ignominiously stuck to my saddle.

The audacity of this one man attacking us two armed sportsmen showed the
immense confidence these prairie people feel in themselves, especially
in their superior horsemanship. However, the fellow caught a Tartar on
this occasion.

As for me, the knife had gone, as I said, through my loose shooting
jacket just below the waist, through the upper part of my trousers, and
so into the saddle, without even touching my skin. I have kept the knife
in memory of my lucky escape.

While laying at Monte Video there was on each side of us a French
man-of-war, the officers of which were very amiably inclined, and many
were the dinners and parties exchanged between us.

In those days the interchange of our respective languages was very
limited on both sides, so much so, that our frantic efforts to
understand each other were a constant source of amusement. A French
midshipman and myself, however, considered ourselves equal to the
occasion, and professed linguists; so on the principle that in the 'land
of the blind the one-eyed man is king,' we were the swells of the
festivities.

I remember on one occasion, when the birthday of Louis Philippe was to
be celebrated, my French midshipman friend came on board officially and
said, 'Sir, the first of the month is the feast of the King; you must
fire the gun.' 'All right,' said we. Accordingly, we loaded our guns in
the morning, preparatory to saluting at noon. It was raining heavily all
the forenoon, so we had not removed what is called the tompions (to my
unprofessional reader I may say that the tompion is a very large piece
of wood made to fit into the muzzle, for the purpose of preventing wet
from penetrating). To this tompion is, or used to be, attached a large
piece of wadding, what for I never rightly understood.

Now it seems that those whose duty it was to attend to it had neglected
to take these things out of the guns.

On the first gun being fired from the French ship we began our salute.
The French ships were close alongside of us, one on either side. The
gunner who fires stands with the hand-glass to mark the time between
each discharge. On this occasion he began his orders thus: 'Fire, port;'
then suddenly recollecting that the tompions were not removed he added,
'Tompions are in, sir.' No one moved. The gunner could not leave his
work of marking time. Again he gave the order, 'Fire, starboard,'
repeating, 'Tompions are in, sir,' and so on till half the broadside had
been fired before the tompions had been taken out. It is difficult to
describe the consternation on board the French vessels, whose decks were
crowded with strangers (French merchants, &c.), invited from the shore
to do honour to their King's fete. These horrid tompions and their
adjuncts went flying on to their decks, from which every one scampered
in confusion. It was lucky our guns did not burst.

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