#nelson's navy

[clove-pinks]

[Oatmeal] was mainly used to make porridge or 'burgoo' and eaten for breakfast with some form of sweetening, either sugar or molasses. Nelson got into a terrible tizzy about this sweetening in the Mediterranean when Victory's captain, Hardy, wrote him a formal letter in September 1804 stating that there had been no molasses in the ship since the previous June, and requesting that since there had not been an additional issue of oatmeal to make up for this, the men should be paid for the missing molasses as 'savings of provisions'. Nelson sent a copy of this letter to the Admiralty with his own covering letter [...] Could there not be a supply of cocoa or tea sent in lieu of molasses, as had been the case when he was in the West Indies, or at least sugar, he asked.

— Horatio Nelson pressed about feeding the Navy in Feeding Nelson's Navy: The True Story of Food at Sea in the Georgian Era, by Janet Macdonald.

[marryat92]

A captain seldom waits for a midshipman, and we took good care he should not wait for us. The dinner was in all respects one “on service.” The captain said a great deal, the lieutenants very little, and the midshipmen nothing at all, but the performance of the knife and fork, and wine-glass (as far as it could be got at), were exactly in the inverse ratio.

— Frederick Marryat, Frank Mildmay (The Naval Officer)

From left to right: a volunteer, a Midshipman, and Master of the Royal Navy c. 1812. Illustration by William Younghusband in Nelson's Navy (Philip Haythornthwaite)

[clove-pinks]

The midshipman was expected to supply all his equipment, including uniform, bedding, books and navigational equipment. This could be quite expensive, and some financial backing from parents or guardians was usually needed. James Gardner was devastated by the loss of his chest in 1794. 'I found that the ship had gone into dock, and that my chest, and that of another gentleman's who had lately joined, had not been removed to the hulk, but left in the ship, where it was broke open, and everything that I possessed, with the exception of my quadrant, stolen.' Midshipmen and volunteers first class had the social privileges of officers, in that they were allowed to take their recreation on the quarterdeck.

— Brian Lavery, Nelson's Navy: The Ships, Men and Organisation, 1793 – 1815

Portrait of a midshipman by English School, c. 1770.

[clove-pinks]

Even when he passed his exam, a midshipman might not in fact receive a commission, for without a vacancy in a ship he could go nowhere, which meant that he joined the collection of disillusioned young and middle-aged men who had ‘passed for lieutenant’, yet continued to make their home in the midshipmen’s berth for an indeterminate period. There were 2,000 such men in this situation in 1813, having served their time and passed their exams but with no vacancy to fill.

— Gregory Fremont-Barnes, Nelson's Officers and Midshipmen

A Frigate and Other Vessels Becalmed Inshore, Martinus Schouman c.1815–1825

[clove-pinks]

Midshipmen took a full part in the watch system of the ship. According to Basil Hall, ‘These young gentlemen are divided into three watches, and the individuals of each part are stationed on different parts of the deck. The mate of the watch, who is the principal person amongst them, with two or three youngsters, walks on the quarterdeck ... Another midshipman, generally the second in seniority, has the honour of being posted on the forecastle; while a third, stationed abaft, walks on the poop.’ As a seaman, Robert Wilson saw midshipmen differently. ‘Their duty in watches is to call the officer of the next watch, to heave the log and mark the log board, and many other things as required.’ During tacking ship, ‘The midshipmen stand on each other’s toes on the quarterdeck, except one or two who are on the forecastle.’ Another was in charge of signals. However, at other times a midshipman’s life was more exciting. He often had command of one of the ship’s boats, and might even be allowed to take command of a prize, and navigate into port.

— Brian Lavery, Nelson's Navy: The Ships, Men and Organisation, 1793 - 1815

'Lieutenant Blockhead keeping the Morning Watch', drawn by Captain Frederick Marryat, 1820. Two midshipmen with white collar patches and round hats stand at top left.

[clove-pinks]

Below the wardroom of a ship of the line, aft on the lower deck, was the gunroom, where some of the junior officers lived. It was no use for hammocks as the area swept out by the tiller made it impossible to sling them. Below that, aft on the orlop deck and deep in the bowels of the ship, was the cockpit and midshipmen’s berth. Natural light rarely penetrated there, and it could be a place of horror, used as an operating theatre by the surgeon during a battle. In more normal times, the ‘young gentlemen’ training to become officers lived a rather unruly life.

— Brian Lavery, Life in Nelson's Navy

'The Cockpit', illustration by Charles Williams for The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy by John Mitford, 1819.

[clove-pinks]

Not all midshipmen were young. Some continually failed in their examination for lieutenant, or were passed over for an actual commission, but nevertheless served on one ship after another. Billy Culmer was a noted character in the navy, proud to be called 'the oldest midshipman in the fleet'. He had first entered in 1755, and was not promoted to lieutenant until 1790, at the age of fifty-seven.

— Brian Lavery, Nelson's Navy: The Ships, Men and Organisation, 1793 – 1815

'Billy Culmer & The Goose': 1826 illustration by George Cruikshank for Greenwich Hospital: a series of naval sketches, descriptive of the life of a man-of-war's man (Archive full text). In the short story with Billy Culmer, a young lieutenant is sent to retrieve Culmer, who doesn't want to abandon the goose he is roasting to return to his ship.

[clove-pinks]

Joining his first ship was a day that every midshipman remembered vividly. One officer, Frederic [sic] Chamier, wrote later: ‘The uniform dazzled my imagination; in it I paraded Grosvenor Place by daylight in the morning, to the no small gratification of myself and the astonishment of milkmaids and chimney sweeps.’

— Dudley Pope, Life in Nelson’s Navy