Sailors
Captain Pringle Stoddart (Number 49) began his seafaring career in 1782, when just fourteen, by joining the crew of an East-Indiaman ship sailing to Madras. The ship was detained near the Isle of Wight and while there he saw the sinking of the Royal George. (contemporary engraving). This great ship was preparing to sail with Admiral Howe's fleet to relieve Gibraltar and was anchored to take on supplies. Most of her crew were aboard, as were a large number of workmen to speed the repairs. There were also an estimated 200 to 300 relatives visiting the officers and men, and 100 to 200 ‘ladies from the Point [at Portsmouth], who, though seeking neither husbands nor fathers, yet visit our newly arrived ships of war’, and a number of merchants and traders on board to sell their wares to the seamen. At 7am on the morning of 29 August, in order to gain access to part of hull requiring work, the vessel was inclined by rolling the ship's guns on one side into the centreline of the ship. Unfortunately the ship was heeled over too far, passing her centre of gravity. Realising that the ship was settling in the water, orders were given to move the guns back into position to restore the ship's balance. During these operations the lower deck gun ports were not properly secured, causing an inrush of water. The Royal George quickly filled up with water and sank. Of the estimated 1,000 people on board only 255 were saved, including just eleven women and one child. Some escaped by running up the rigging while others were picked up by boats from other vessels. In spite of observing this tragedy, Stoddart later joined the Royal Navy and took take part in no fewer than thirteen naval engagements, primarily against the French. Sir Sidney Smith praised his action in Egypt and Stoddart also received commendation for his part in the siege of Copenhagen, where he fought a prolonged battle with a Danish flotilla. His resolve is well evidenced by his actions when part of the command of a ship lying at anchor off Holland waiting to transport British troops back to England as soon as the weather was favourable. Stoddart, tired of the inaction resulting from his incompetent and inebriated captain, and worried that the crew were sickening of dysentery, took command. He locked his tipsy commander in his cabin, set sail for England, disembarked his troops and sailed back to Holland ready for a new cargo. This smart action came under the head of insubordination, so their Lordships administered reproof with one hand and promotion with the other.
Lieutenant Henry Mortlock Ommannery, who lodged at Number 39 with his wife while she was having their child, had just returned from serving on HMS Pekin. This was one of the Royal Navy force sent by the British Government to assist the Chinese to retake Shanghai from the rebels during the Taiping Rebellion. But, by the time the flotilla arrived in China, the Emperor and his advisers had decided against letting a foreign force participate. They insisted that the ships be placed under the control of the provincial authorities but the British refused. So after a stand-off, all the vessels sailed home. Some of the officers and men belonging to the flotilla had behaved in such a fashion that there was a general sense of relief among the European residents upon its departure. The disappearance of the ‘Vampires,’ as they were called probably saved some of them from having to meet charges of piracy. One trusts Henry was not one of the rabble.
William Ellis (Number 44), was a Sea Captain and Robert Louis Stevenson recounts his father (the famous lighthouse builder) meeting him: ‘(Robert Stevenson) was instructed to take the opinion of persons acquainted with the navigation of the seas in the area. Accordingly, when on his annual voyage to the Northern Light-houses, he submitted the subject to the consideration of Mr William Ellis, Commander of the 'Ross' Revenue Cutter, [a coastguard vessel] (painting of a Cutter by Thomas Luny) who had then been cruising for several months off these islands for intelligence relative to the motions of the Dutch fleet, which then threatened to attempt a landing on the Western Coast of Ireland.’ Ellis’s daughter married another Revenue Cutter captain, William Burke. An account states that his boat, The Kite, was: ‘a great and deserved favourite on the Irish coast, commanded by as brave and honest seaman who ever trod a ship’s deck – Captain Burke…she is a sea boat that for hard service is fit to compare with any cutter carrying Her Majesty’s pennant.’ There is an intriguing mention that, in 1832, Burke was employed on secret service off Galway, but nothing more about the activity. Most likely he was hunting for smugglers as there is a report that: ‘the very active and intelligent Officer, Captain Burke, of His Majestie’s Cruiser ‘Kite’ has brought into the Royal Harbour at Kingstown, a smuggling vessel with a crew of 6 persons, having on board 500 bales of contraband tobacco, concealed under salt, captured by him off the coast of Scotland’.
Many accounts of derring-do at sea under resourceful Admirals circulated and occasionally there would be doubts raised as to whether the Admiral in charge had actually been the instigator of a victory. In 1830 John Fyfe (Number 7), who had been a midshipman on HMS Marlborough during the war against the French during the American War of Independence, received a letter. The letter’s writer was researching a famous moment in the 1782 Battle of the Saintes. (painting by Thomas Luny - collection national maritime Museum, London) This final action of the war, fought just north of Dominica in the West Indies, brought victory over the French fleet of the Comte de Grasse and so foiled the latter's attempt to invade Jamaica, thus enabling Britain to secure her position in the West Indies. The battle was famous in naval circles as the point of origin of the tactic of 'breaking the line', which was a manoeuvre involving seizing an advantage created by a shift of wind as the fleets began the action. Admiral Sir George Rodney claimed credit for this celebrated manoeuvre, but doubts had been raised as to whether the Admiral was really responsible or instead it had been a brilliant idea from one of his officers. By chance, Fyfe had a fellow retired naval officer, Captain Alexander Robert Kerr, who had served with him at the time, staying with him in the house and Fyfe wrote from Albany Street stating that both he and his friend recalled that officers on their ship said at the time that Sir Charles Douglas deserved the credit rather than Admiral Sir George Rodney.
Although the great European and American Independence wars were at end by the 1820s, the Royal Navy was still kept busy. James Inglis, the son of Andrew Inglis (Number 11) joined the Royal Marines and became a Second Lieutenant. His first active service was under Garibaldi in Italy; afterwards he served in the Royal Navy in China and Japan, where he was twice wounded, once by a sabre cut across the head and then by a bullet in the leg. His second wound ended his career in the Royal Marines, but he survived, unlike Henry Kerr (Number 26) who died when HMS Nerbudda foundered with all hands off the Cape of Good Hope.