Dewey Lambdin - King`s Captain

There was already an uprising in Ireland, without the expected French arms and troops, and Anglo-Irish tenant landlords, overseers for the absentee landlords (such as Proteus 's first captain), and Protestants were being burned out or "refugeed" to Dublin. The "Houghers" and the White Boys that Furfy and Desmond mentioned were irregular partisans (pre-IRA) who punished the rich, oppressive, and uncaring; burning, plundering, and ham-stringing (houghing) livestock. British troops and Anglo-Irish militia units quite gleefully returned the favour all over the countryside. The Irish language, music, legends, dances, and the Catholic religion were banned; their bards, priests, teachers, and leaders reduced to being homeless "hedge-folk," liable to arrest, hanging, prison terms, or transportation for life overseas. All while the songs and stories of Ossian and O'Carolan were madly popular with the English! Great stuff for making the British Isles feel special, and different from "feelthy frog-eatin' Frenchies"-but not good enough for their original owners, the Irish and the Scots!

Binns, Thelwall, Place, Priestley, and Thomas Paine (now exiled in France!) were merely a few of the influential men who spoke and wrote for more freedoms, and were harried by the Crown, every meeting broken up by hired government mobs ordered by Tory government ministers like Pitt and Dundas, and prosecuted by the Duke of Portland. Men like the poet Samuel Coleridge, a huge admirer of the American and French Revolutions, saw which way the wind was blowing and ducked for cover- silenced and intimidated. Reformation of politics wasn't fashionable any longer-and was too dangerous for dilettantes.

The real danger came from the many more anonymous writers and printers of penny tracts, of a true rebellious, blood-thirsty nature, who called for real radicalism-even if everything had to go up in flames!

And as industry grew by leaps-and-bounds, so did the first tentative workers' guilds (not owners guilds) and trade unions, although the government had outlawed them. Many a tavern, pub, music hall, coffee house, and printing shop was a forum for dissent and a fertile Petri dish for revolutionary fervour.

In the spring of 1797, therefore, England had never been closer to massive uprisings of the Mob, the Have-Nots, the Voiceless. And the war had just resulted in the introduction of the first-ever income tax! Even middle-class shopowners and tenant farmers could be disaffected!

Which is why books like James Dugan's, The Great Mutiny, and Mr. Johnathon Neale's, The Cutlass And The Lash, which cover the Spithead and Nore mutinies, are not catalogued under Naval History, but can be found under Industrial Relations!

The first mutiny in Channel Fleet at Spithead and later down the coast at Plymouth scared the Be-Jesus out of everybody, though it was, as I wrote of it, a rather respectful and dignified "jack-up," a strike without smashed machinery, punishment for scabs (for the simple reason that no one in his right mind would trade places with sailors, in those days!), or threats against the nation. No one was hanged when it was over, and the principal organiser, speaker, and representative-Valentine Joyce-went on to participate in many battles. There was no talk of revolution. The Duke of Portland's agents sifted and probed all over Portsmouth and could find no sign that it had been sponsored by anyone ashore, or from overseas either.

The Spithead Mutiny was well-organised; the ships involved were united by prior service and contact because they had been based together, sailed together, and worked and fought together for several years.

Admiral Lord Howe-"Black Dick, the Seaman's Friend"-met a respectful, pleasant reception when he went down, at long last, to sit with the delegates and settle things. Whatever sentiments among those (for the most part) worthless Quota Men or the infiltrators from the United Irishmen never arose. It was strictly over conditions, money, shore leave, and such that they'd mutinied, and they were intelligent enough to keep it that way.

By the way, the pay rise wasn't much, a few more shillings per month for all. The Victualling Board still tried to foist off their flour for fresh meat, but the weights and measures were altered, and they got rid of the worst officers-Lord Bridport among them. All officers had been sent ashore at Spithead and Plymouth, and Admiral Howe and the delegates listed officers and mates to be denied a return by the posts they held, not their names. Without formal courts-martial and lower-class common seamen as witnesses against the Quality, their reputations remained intact. And, as I related, it only applied down at Channel Fleet, a thing only to be abided by HM government once!

This caused problems later. If Lieutenant Algy Whiphand was the First Officer of HMS Flagellant and got turned out because he was born a brutal, wall-eyed bastard, he's still free and in good odour with Admiralty when assigned to another ship, since his name was not put on paper, only his position. And, years later, if he runs into some mutineers from Flagellant aboard HMS Pederasty, and he has a long memory, then God help the former mutineers!

There were also some senior officers who got "yellow squadroned" as unfit for future sea commissions; the Spithead Mutiny at least weeded out a fair number of "gummers" and overaged ninnies who weren't worth a pinch o' pig-shit already, and action was taken about the real bastards who delighted in abusing their crews. But it didn't cull many of the middle and lower-ranks who'd go on to command ships later-those who were of the "off-with-their-heads" persuasion to start with, and were utterly convinced, after the mutinies, that their sailors were the scum of the earth forevermore.

Lewrie met quite a few real people in this book, such as Commissioner Proby at Chatham, who really did christen HMS Bellerophon on a night of winter gales, after she'd launched herself! Whether Proby really believed the sentiments I gave him (for dramatic effect) I do not know, and I'll thank his family to keep a cool head and lose the phone number of their solicitors if I portrayed him as more romantic or mystic than he really was. Evan Nepean's descendants too.

Vice-Admiral Buckner and Commissioner Captain Hartwell at the Nore were real people too. Poor Buckner, he really did command all, and nothing, no matter his vaunting title. Admiralty lost patience with him 'round the beginning of June 1797, and shipped Admiral Lord Keith down to dictate in their name, whilst still signing orders in Buckner's name; but the old fellow was relieved soon after it ended. Thomas McCann and Richard Parker…

In Dugan's The Great Mutiny (the year-long loan of which I am most heartily grateful for from Bob Enrione's personal collection!) Thomas McCann was limned as a loose cannon. He'd been in HMS Sandwich but had been sent ashore to the naval hospital for skin ulcers, where he railed against almost everything, though his main complaint was the quality of the beer, and hoisted a red flag from the hospital's roof! McCann was such an irritating and fiery rabble-rouser that, towards the end of the mutiny, he was kicked off his own ship, and none other would accept him aboard, sure every man-jack would be hanged if found within a mile of him. And he was the irksome sort who could turn missionaries into mass-murderers! That incident when McCann demanded the arms-chest keys-that really occurred, but aboard Captain William "Breadfruit" Bligh's HMS Director (3rd Rate, 64-gun). Bligh told him rather calmly (given his allergic reaction to mutiny by then!) that he couldn't have them, and McCann went bug-eyed, "snot-slingin' " nuts, howling, "By God, was I in Director I'd have the arms-chest keys!" Though he was, at the moment, aboard that ship and armed to the teeth to boot!