Nelson & His World

I never seem to tire of the minutiae of the Nelson story.

I recently came across this anecdote which refers to an inquest of 1843:



More often than not men who claimed to be Trafalgar veterans do not show up on the Trafalgar Roll. But there was a James Bradley (Boy 2nd Class) on HMS Resolution so I am inclined to give him the benefit of any doubt.

R.I.P.

MB

Mark,

One surmises of course that he found the day just too much and that he took his own life. For many of these men, presumably like James Bradley, times would have been hard and ordinary life seemingly tame, after having served in the navy and certainly after Trafalgar. I wonder how many other men ended their lives in this sad way? Quite a few I would imagine.

Yes, I understand that, for a number of moral and social reasons. suicide was a rare verdict at inquest.

Kester

I didn't actually read anything into this episode - other than it was a genuine accident - most likely "under the influence".

But it's interesting what Alaric says that inquests might have shied away from suicide verdicts as a result of the stigma attached.



I recall reading of one very tragic episode. A naval captain attended the Admiralty hoping for an appointment to a ship. Before he had even had his promised interview he was seen pacing the waiting room. He then suddenly pulled out a knife and plunged into his chest. He died from his wounds.

MB

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Here are the details of the Captain who killed himself at the Admiralty in 1797.

(It seems that the reason for his attendance at the Admiralty was a tad more complex than I had recalled)

Per Alaric's comment above - it's interesting that the verdict was Lunacy rather than Suicide.

Yes, my vote on James Bradley definitely also follows the official 'Accidental Death' verdict - A few (or more than a few) celebratory drinks, a dark night, slippery steps, fast running tide - and not the first or last accident of its kind.

Alaric,
Thanks for your point regarding use of the term suicide, although from your (?) use of the word 'rare', it sounds as though that verdict was returned on occasion. I can understand that in times past there was a certain stigma attached to the word and hence its use but even in these days, when we are rather more 'up front' about such things, there is a certain amount of distaste surrounding it.

Mark,
Of course, it may not have been suicide and Bradley could have just overbalanced, fallen in and drowned. That was just my impression of the situation, which I think is just as likely! However, since presumably their were no witnesses, it is not so surprising a jury would return that verdict. Thanks for the cutting regarding poor Captain Eaton, which made interesting reading, and it's clear from it that he was of an unsound mind some time before he reached the Admiralty.

With all the canals that we have round here - barely 6 months seems to go by without another report of a body being hauled out.

It always surprised me somewhat that falling into the water wouldn't shock somebody into consciousness/sobriety.

Then one day I came across a guy prostrate on the canal bank. I thought he was dead - but realised eventually that he was actually paralytic drunk. If he had fallen just 3 feet one way there is no doubt he would have been another statistic.

Water can be very "unforgiving".

MB

Mark:

first of all, an apology. I thought I'd change the title of this thread to 'Sad Anecdotes' so that we can add other poignant stories that come to light, such as this one:


Seamen who had been away for years in the merchant service might be seized in the act of returning home. One journal records the death of William Skill, seaman, who fell overboard:

We had pressed him out of the India fleet, just on his return home from a three-year voyage, pleasing himself with the idea of beholding those he held most dear (a mother and a sister) and for whom he had brought presents many a long mile: and although most of his spare time aboard us he had made away with most of his apparel for grog, which he was fond of, yet the presents remained untouched, hoping one day to take them home himself’.

Quoted in ‘The People’s England’ by Alan Ereira (Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1981)

From the Gentleman's Magazine:

a brief entry under the heading 'Deaths'

'8 May 1772 Master Proby, son to Commissioner Proby [of Chatham Dockyard] by falling into the hold of the Victory man of war, as he was at play with his brother on the deck, while his parents were in the cabin.'

Quoted in 'The Commissioner's Daughter: the story of Elizabeth Proby and Admiral Chichigov' by Joanna Woods

Thought I'd throw this in...courtesy of Tony and added to my thread. The young man WN Jewell is son of William Nunn Jewell from the Bellerophon at the battle of Trafalgar. Still hard to imagine in the 'Age of Sail' that few could swim.

Quote:
"H.M.Steam Vessel Shearwater,- Largs N.B., May 18. - A deplorable event occurred yesterday afternoon, whereby two enterprising young Officers, belonging to this vessel, were suddenly drowned. Mr. E Cayley, Midshipman, and Mr. W.N. Jewell, Master's Assistant were sailing in a boat between Largs and Cumbrays, when, in the act of jibing, the boat was upset, and sunk immediately in 25 fathoms. HM Revenue st. v. Vulcan, was in the offing, and proceeded immediately to the spot, as also the boats of the Shearwater; but although only a few minutes elapsed they were both gone, having been probably entangled in the boat's rigging. Their caps were picked up, and every effort will be made for the recovery of their bodies. This sad event has deprived the Service of two young gentlemen of great promise. They were deservedly esteemed and beloved by their Officers and messmates; and the anxiety as to their fate, evinced by the inhabitants of Largs, was a test of the respect they were held in on shore. Mr. Cayley was son of Mr. Cayley, M P. of North Riding; and Mr. Jewell, son of Lieut. W. N. Jewell, R.N.

Source: The Nautical magazine, 1844, Page 415"

Cheers, Pip

Anna,

I don't know the Ereira book, but the story of William Skill is actually related in the journal of a fellow seaman, Robert Wilson, and published in 'Five Naval Journals' (1951, p.159). We cited it in Jack Tar, as it is such a terrible story, but not uncommon - the navy liked to take merchant seamen from the East Indiamen. They were only allowed to press them on their homeward-bound journeys, so these poor merchant seamen, who hadn't seen their families for months or even longer, were suddenly forced to serve in the navy. This is what happened to William Skill, and when we checked the ship's log, there was a simple, poignant comment: 'Sold at the mast the effects of Wm Skill, seaman' (TNA ADM 52/3804). Out of the stories in Jack Tar, this is the one that seems to affect readers most!

Lesley

http://www.adkinshistory.com

Yes: I came across Skill's story again yesterday in 'Jack Tar' which I am thoroughly enjoying. More later! Skill's story is so sad, and he seems so typical of many seamen who may have been rough in their manners but had a touching streak of sentiment and decency that is very affecting.

Another story in 'Jack Tar' that took my breath away was the one on page 120, Captain Inglefield's description of the loss of his ship and the aftermath. He lived to tell the tale, but his experience must have reflected the last moments of many, unluckier men whose ships were lost and who who did not survive: they found themselves at the mercy of prevailing winds, 'in nearly the middle of the Western Ocean, without compass, without quadrant, without sail, without greatcoat or cloak; all very thinly cloathed in a gale of wind, with a great sea running!'

Doesn't the thought of that chill the blood?

And what about Aron Crocan of the Conqueror who 'at 5.30 [am] fell overboard and was drowned'. - from the log of the Conqueror, Monday 21st October 1805.

Another intriguing excerpt from wiki on Pellew:


At daybreak on the 19th Nymphe fell in with the Cléopâtre, also of 36 guns, commanded by Captain Mullon, one of the few officers of the ancien régime who still remained in the French navy. After a short but very sharp action, the Cléopâtre's mizenmast and wheel were shot away, and the ship, being unmanageable, fell foul of the Nymphe, and was boarded and captured in a fierce rush. Mullon was mortally wounded, and died in trying to swallow his commission, which, in his dying agony, he had mistaken for the code of secret signals. The code thus fell intact into Pellew's hands, and was sent to the admiralty