DOI issue:
July to December, 1847
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16545#0149
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 137
PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELISTS.
THE STARS AND STRIPES.
bt the author of " the last of the mulligans," " pilot," &c.
eatheelegs and TOM
Coxswain did not ac-
company Tattja when he
went to the Parisian me-
tropolis on a visit to the
father of the French pale
faces. Neither the Legs
nor theSailor cared for t he
gaiety and the crowd of
cities; the stout mariner's
home was in the puttock-
shrouds of the old Repu-
diator. The stern and
simple trapper loved the
sound of the waters better
lhan the jargon of the
Erench of the old country.
" I can follow the talk of
a Pawnee," he said, "or
wag my jaw if so be ne-
cessity bids me to speak,
by a Sioux's council-fire ;
and I can patter Canadian
French with the hunters
who come for peltries to
Nachitoches or Thichi-
muchimachy, but from
the tongue of a French-
woman, with white flour
on her head, and war-
paint on her face, the
Lord deliver poor Natty
Pumpo."
"Amen and amen! " said Tom Coxswain. " There was a woman in
our aft-scuppers when I went a whalin in ihe little Grampus—and Lord
love you, Pumpo, you poor land-swab, she was as pretty a craft as ever
dowsed a tarpaulhig—there was a woman on board the Grampus, who
before we'd struck our first fish, or biled our first blubber, set the
whole crew in a mutiny. I mind me of her now, Natty—her eye was
sich a piercer that you could see to steer by it in a Newfoundland fog :
her nose stood out like the Grampus's gib-boom, and her woice, Lord
love you, her woice sings in my ears even now :—it set the Captain
a quarrelin with the Mate, who was hanged in Boston harbour for har-
poonin of his officer in Baffin's Bay;—it set me aid Bob Bunting a
pouring broadsides into each other's old timbers, whereas me and Bob
was worth all the women that ever shipped a hawser. It cost me three
years' pay as I'd stowed away for the old mother, and might have cost
me ever so much more, only bad luck to me, she went and married a
little tailor out of Nantucket, and I've hated women and tailors ever
since ! " As he spoke, the hardy tar dashed a drop of brine from his
tawny cheek, and once more betook himself to splice the taffrail.
Though the brave frigate lay off Havre de Grace, she was not idle.
The gallant Bowie and his intrepid crew made repeated descents upon
the enemy's seaboard. The coasts of Rutland and merry Leicestershire
have still many a legend of fear to tell; and the children of the British
fishermen tremble even now when they speak of the terrible Repudiator.
She was the first of the mighty American war-ships that have taught
the domineering Briton to respect the valour of the Republic.
The novelist ever and anon finds himself forced to adopt the sterner
tone of the historian, when describing deeds connected with his
country's triumphs. It is well known that during the two months in
which she lay off Havre, the Repudiator had brought more prizes into that
port than had ever before been seen in the astonished French waters.
Her actions with the Bettingen and the Elector frigates form part of our
country's history ; their defence—it may be said without prejudice to
national vanity—was worthy of Britons and of the audacious foe they
had to encounter ; and it must be owned, that but for a happy fortune
which presided on that day over the destinies of our country, the chance
of the combat might have been in favour of the British vessels. It was
not until the Elector blew up, at a quarter past 3, p. M., by a lucky shot
which fell into her caboose, and communicated with the powder-magazine,
that Commodore Bowie was enabled to lay himself on board the Bet-
tingen, which he carried sword in hand. Even when the American
boarders had made their lodgement on the Bettingen's binnacle, it is
possible that the battle would still have gone against us. The British
were still seven to one; their carronades, loaded with marline-spikes,
6wept the gun-deck, of which we had possession, and decimated our
little force; when a rifle-ball from the shrouds of the Repudiator shot
Captain Mumford under the star of the Guelphic Order which he
wore, and the Americans, with a shout, rushed up the companion to the
quarter-deck, upon the astonished foe. Pike and cutlass did the rest of
the bloody work. Rumford, the gigantic first lieutenant of the Bet-
tingen, was cut down by Commodore Bowie's own sword, as they
engaged hand to hand ; and it was Tom Coxswain who tore down the-
British flag, after having slain the Englishman at the wheel. Peace be to-
the souls of the brave! The combat was honourable alike to the victor
and the vanquished ; and it never can be said that an American warrior
depreciated a gallant foe. The bitterness of defeat was enough to the-
haughty islanders who had to suffer. The people of Heme Bay were-
lining the shore, near which the combat took place, and cruel must
have"been the pang to them when they saw the Stars and Stripes rise
over the old flag of Ihe Union, and the Bettingen fall down the river in
tow of the republican frigate.
Another action Bowie contemplated; the boldest and most daring
perhaps ever imagined by seaman. It is this which has been so wrongly
described by European annalists, and of which the British until now
have maintained the most jealous secrecy.
Portsmouth Harbour was badly defended. Our intelligence in that
town and arsenal gave us precise knowledge of the disposition of the-
troops, the forts, and the ships there ; and it was determined to strike a~
blow which should shake the British power in its centre.
That a frigate of the size of the Repudiator should enter the harbour
unnoticed, or could escape its guns unscathed, passed the notions ot
even American temerity. But upon the memorable 26th of June, 1782,.
the Repudiator sailed out of Havre Roads in a thick fog, under cover
of which she entered and cast anchor in Bonchurch Bay, in the Isle of
Wight, x'o surprise the Martello Tower and take the feeble garrison
thereunder, was the work of Tom Coxswain and a few of his blue
jackets. The surprised garrison laid down their arms before him.
It was midnight before the boats of the ship, commanded by Lieu-
tenant Bunker, pulled off from Bonchurch with muffled oars, and in
another hour were off the Common Hard of Portsmouth, having passed
the challenges of the Thetis, the Amphion frigates, and the Polyanthus
brig.
There had been on that day great feasting and merriment on board
the Flag-ship lying in the harbour. A banquet had been given in
honour of the birthday of one of the princes of the royal line of the
Guelpns—the reader knows the propensity of Britons when liquor is
in plenty. All on board that royal ship were more or less overcome.
The Flag-ship was plunged in a death-like and drunken sleep. The
very officer of the watch was intoxicated; he could not see the
Repudiator s boats as they shot swiftly through the waters; nor had
he time to challenge her seamen as they swarmed up the huge sides of'
the ship.
At 1 he next moment Tom Coxswain stood at the wheel of the
Royal George—the Briton who had guarded, a corpse at his feet. The
hatches were down. The ship was in possession of the Repudiator's
crew. They were busy in her rigging, hending her sails to carry her
out of the harbour. The well-known heave of the men at the windlass,
woke up Kempenfelt in his state cabin. We know, or rather dr>
not know the result; for who can tell by whom the lower-deck ports
of the brave ship were opened, and how the haughty prisoners below
sunk the ship and its conquerors rather than yield her as a prize to the
Republic !
Only Tom Coxswain escaped of victors and vanquished._ His tale
was told to his Captain and to Congress, but Washington forbade its
publication; and it was but lately that the faithful seaman told it to me, .
his grandson, on his hundred and fifteenth birthday.
WHO 'S GOT ALL THE MONEY ?
It is very evident that some avaricious fools are playing the same
game with the gold that was played a little while ago with the corn,
and that people are holding, and holding, and holding their cash, even-
at its present high value, in the hope that it will become more valuable
still by the increase of the panic. We give them notice that they will
burn their fingers ; for, some fine morning, the panic will begin to subside,
and money will become as plentiful as it now is scarce, when they will
turn round and say what fools they have been not to part with their
money at a good profit when they had the opportunity. The fact is,
that people are frightening each other out of their wits by a mutual
want of confidence, and the shock rebounds to the quarter in which it
originates.
Punch is disgusted at seeing all the people shaking, trembling, and
screaming round him because there happens to be a little bit of a.
pressure, which only requires a little steadiness and nerve to go through
it all very smoothly; as they say at a rush to the pit of a theatre.,
"Take your time, gentlemen, take your time: you won't get on anv
better for trying to squeeze each other to death, so you may as well all
go on together firmly and qJetly."
Vol. 13.
6—2
PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELISTS.
THE STARS AND STRIPES.
bt the author of " the last of the mulligans," " pilot," &c.
eatheelegs and TOM
Coxswain did not ac-
company Tattja when he
went to the Parisian me-
tropolis on a visit to the
father of the French pale
faces. Neither the Legs
nor theSailor cared for t he
gaiety and the crowd of
cities; the stout mariner's
home was in the puttock-
shrouds of the old Repu-
diator. The stern and
simple trapper loved the
sound of the waters better
lhan the jargon of the
Erench of the old country.
" I can follow the talk of
a Pawnee," he said, "or
wag my jaw if so be ne-
cessity bids me to speak,
by a Sioux's council-fire ;
and I can patter Canadian
French with the hunters
who come for peltries to
Nachitoches or Thichi-
muchimachy, but from
the tongue of a French-
woman, with white flour
on her head, and war-
paint on her face, the
Lord deliver poor Natty
Pumpo."
"Amen and amen! " said Tom Coxswain. " There was a woman in
our aft-scuppers when I went a whalin in ihe little Grampus—and Lord
love you, Pumpo, you poor land-swab, she was as pretty a craft as ever
dowsed a tarpaulhig—there was a woman on board the Grampus, who
before we'd struck our first fish, or biled our first blubber, set the
whole crew in a mutiny. I mind me of her now, Natty—her eye was
sich a piercer that you could see to steer by it in a Newfoundland fog :
her nose stood out like the Grampus's gib-boom, and her woice, Lord
love you, her woice sings in my ears even now :—it set the Captain
a quarrelin with the Mate, who was hanged in Boston harbour for har-
poonin of his officer in Baffin's Bay;—it set me aid Bob Bunting a
pouring broadsides into each other's old timbers, whereas me and Bob
was worth all the women that ever shipped a hawser. It cost me three
years' pay as I'd stowed away for the old mother, and might have cost
me ever so much more, only bad luck to me, she went and married a
little tailor out of Nantucket, and I've hated women and tailors ever
since ! " As he spoke, the hardy tar dashed a drop of brine from his
tawny cheek, and once more betook himself to splice the taffrail.
Though the brave frigate lay off Havre de Grace, she was not idle.
The gallant Bowie and his intrepid crew made repeated descents upon
the enemy's seaboard. The coasts of Rutland and merry Leicestershire
have still many a legend of fear to tell; and the children of the British
fishermen tremble even now when they speak of the terrible Repudiator.
She was the first of the mighty American war-ships that have taught
the domineering Briton to respect the valour of the Republic.
The novelist ever and anon finds himself forced to adopt the sterner
tone of the historian, when describing deeds connected with his
country's triumphs. It is well known that during the two months in
which she lay off Havre, the Repudiator had brought more prizes into that
port than had ever before been seen in the astonished French waters.
Her actions with the Bettingen and the Elector frigates form part of our
country's history ; their defence—it may be said without prejudice to
national vanity—was worthy of Britons and of the audacious foe they
had to encounter ; and it must be owned, that but for a happy fortune
which presided on that day over the destinies of our country, the chance
of the combat might have been in favour of the British vessels. It was
not until the Elector blew up, at a quarter past 3, p. M., by a lucky shot
which fell into her caboose, and communicated with the powder-magazine,
that Commodore Bowie was enabled to lay himself on board the Bet-
tingen, which he carried sword in hand. Even when the American
boarders had made their lodgement on the Bettingen's binnacle, it is
possible that the battle would still have gone against us. The British
were still seven to one; their carronades, loaded with marline-spikes,
6wept the gun-deck, of which we had possession, and decimated our
little force; when a rifle-ball from the shrouds of the Repudiator shot
Captain Mumford under the star of the Guelphic Order which he
wore, and the Americans, with a shout, rushed up the companion to the
quarter-deck, upon the astonished foe. Pike and cutlass did the rest of
the bloody work. Rumford, the gigantic first lieutenant of the Bet-
tingen, was cut down by Commodore Bowie's own sword, as they
engaged hand to hand ; and it was Tom Coxswain who tore down the-
British flag, after having slain the Englishman at the wheel. Peace be to-
the souls of the brave! The combat was honourable alike to the victor
and the vanquished ; and it never can be said that an American warrior
depreciated a gallant foe. The bitterness of defeat was enough to the-
haughty islanders who had to suffer. The people of Heme Bay were-
lining the shore, near which the combat took place, and cruel must
have"been the pang to them when they saw the Stars and Stripes rise
over the old flag of Ihe Union, and the Bettingen fall down the river in
tow of the republican frigate.
Another action Bowie contemplated; the boldest and most daring
perhaps ever imagined by seaman. It is this which has been so wrongly
described by European annalists, and of which the British until now
have maintained the most jealous secrecy.
Portsmouth Harbour was badly defended. Our intelligence in that
town and arsenal gave us precise knowledge of the disposition of the-
troops, the forts, and the ships there ; and it was determined to strike a~
blow which should shake the British power in its centre.
That a frigate of the size of the Repudiator should enter the harbour
unnoticed, or could escape its guns unscathed, passed the notions ot
even American temerity. But upon the memorable 26th of June, 1782,.
the Repudiator sailed out of Havre Roads in a thick fog, under cover
of which she entered and cast anchor in Bonchurch Bay, in the Isle of
Wight, x'o surprise the Martello Tower and take the feeble garrison
thereunder, was the work of Tom Coxswain and a few of his blue
jackets. The surprised garrison laid down their arms before him.
It was midnight before the boats of the ship, commanded by Lieu-
tenant Bunker, pulled off from Bonchurch with muffled oars, and in
another hour were off the Common Hard of Portsmouth, having passed
the challenges of the Thetis, the Amphion frigates, and the Polyanthus
brig.
There had been on that day great feasting and merriment on board
the Flag-ship lying in the harbour. A banquet had been given in
honour of the birthday of one of the princes of the royal line of the
Guelpns—the reader knows the propensity of Britons when liquor is
in plenty. All on board that royal ship were more or less overcome.
The Flag-ship was plunged in a death-like and drunken sleep. The
very officer of the watch was intoxicated; he could not see the
Repudiator s boats as they shot swiftly through the waters; nor had
he time to challenge her seamen as they swarmed up the huge sides of'
the ship.
At 1 he next moment Tom Coxswain stood at the wheel of the
Royal George—the Briton who had guarded, a corpse at his feet. The
hatches were down. The ship was in possession of the Repudiator's
crew. They were busy in her rigging, hending her sails to carry her
out of the harbour. The well-known heave of the men at the windlass,
woke up Kempenfelt in his state cabin. We know, or rather dr>
not know the result; for who can tell by whom the lower-deck ports
of the brave ship were opened, and how the haughty prisoners below
sunk the ship and its conquerors rather than yield her as a prize to the
Republic !
Only Tom Coxswain escaped of victors and vanquished._ His tale
was told to his Captain and to Congress, but Washington forbade its
publication; and it was but lately that the faithful seaman told it to me, .
his grandson, on his hundred and fifteenth birthday.
WHO 'S GOT ALL THE MONEY ?
It is very evident that some avaricious fools are playing the same
game with the gold that was played a little while ago with the corn,
and that people are holding, and holding, and holding their cash, even-
at its present high value, in the hope that it will become more valuable
still by the increase of the panic. We give them notice that they will
burn their fingers ; for, some fine morning, the panic will begin to subside,
and money will become as plentiful as it now is scarce, when they will
turn round and say what fools they have been not to part with their
money at a good profit when they had the opportunity. The fact is,
that people are frightening each other out of their wits by a mutual
want of confidence, and the shock rebounds to the quarter in which it
originates.
Punch is disgusted at seeing all the people shaking, trembling, and
screaming round him because there happens to be a little bit of a.
pressure, which only requires a little steadiness and nerve to go through
it all very smoothly; as they say at a rush to the pit of a theatre.,
"Take your time, gentlemen, take your time: you won't get on anv
better for trying to squeeze each other to death, so you may as well all
go on together firmly and qJetly."
Vol. 13.
6—2