Relieved of his charges, Moore had time to review the performance of his crew during this latest cruise. He had to admit that the
Melampus
was now better manned than she had ever been. But he still could not overcome the shortcomings of his officers;
One of the lieutenants is a mere boy: some of the midshipmen are pretty good men and might be trusted on occasion . . . I hope we shall soon sail on a cruise where we may meet a rouser, or else that we may have a speedy peace to set us all about our business.
The
Melampus
passed Portland Bill at about midnight and was heading towards Start Point when a lugger was sighted acting suspiciously. Moore gave chase and brought her to about five leagues from the Caskett Lights, having fired two shots at her, the second of which tore through her main topsail. This ship proved to be a privateer,
A very fine Lugger mounting 14 small guns of 2 and 3 pounders and manned with 54 men, from Cherbourg which she only left last evening at 6 o’clock. She is called
le Rayon
. . . during the chase she threw all her guns, spare sails and lumber that was upon her deck overboard.
The French crew was transferred across to the
Melampus
and replaced by a mate and fourteen seamen. Moore then took the prize in tow and set off for Falmouth where he found the
Phoebe
at anchor. Once again orders arrived for the two frigates to head west, this time to join the homeward-bound Jamaica convoy which was being escorted by the frigate
Sheerness
, see them past the Isle of Wight and then return to Falmouth. Before departing, garbled news arrived that there had been an engagement in the North Sea between Admiral Duncan’s fleet and the Dutch.
b
On 17 October, south of Scilly, the two frigates ran into the
Stag
with a recaptured Portuguese packet ship. The four ships hove to, to exchange the usual news and Moore went on board the
Stag
to visit his old acquaintance, Captain Joseph Sidney Yorke. There was the usual naval gossip. Both Warren and Pellew were being wastefully detained by Bridport, whilst a squadron under the command of Robert Stopford, in the frigate
Phaeton
, had taken eight prizes between Quiberon and the mouth of the Garonne;
The ground that they have been on is at present by far the best on any part of the home station for cruising, as there are a number of large privateers from Rochfort, Nantes and Bordeaux that go as far as the Western Islands looking for our merchant ships, they generally bring their Prizes to the Port they belong to, so they have a very good chance of intercepting them. Where we now are the French privateers are in generally small vessels from Cherbourg, St. Malo, Morlaix and sometimes from Brest. We have a tolerable chance of meeting something of this kind, but I am afraid we are not far enough to the Westward to meet any thing considerable.
Barlow and Moore set about patrolling in the western approaches to the Channel, a particularly busy area at this time. Within days they had encountered homebound English convoys from both Quebec and the East Indies, but not the Jamaica convoy. Moore also gave chase on two occasions to French privateer cutters but, inexplicably, Barlow recalled him on each occasion as dusk fell. A frustrated Moore recorded angrily in his journal,
I am sick of the
Phoebe
. I respect Barlow but I never wish to cruise with him again. I have no idea of leaving off chase of a vessel, evidently an enemy, while there is even a possibility of coming up with her; in this instance I really believe we should have taken a very mischievous French Cutter had we thought fit . . . It is a cursed damper to me.
On the following day, the
Melampus
’ carpenter reported
. . . the fore topmast and fore top gallant mast sprung . . . Shifting the top mast proved to be a very tedious job, as the Mast had never been
[properly]
fitted, a circumstance with which I was unacquainted.
At the end of October, they turned back for Falmouth, where Moore busied his crew in overhauling the frigate’s rigging. Although the crew worked hard at this for seven days, Moore knew that he could not complete the job properly without help from the dockyard – besides, the crew were also long overdue their pay. He submitted a request to both Barlow and the Admiralty, and was immediately ordered round to Plymouth. On 23 November, he sailed in a hurry to get the work carried out, but that evening while sailing at five knots, the
Melampus
ran aground on a rocky shoal off Penlee Point, striking with alarming force. Fortunately, the tide was flowing and twenty minutes later the frigate lifted off the rocks, and continued to Hamoaze;
We were hauled into a Dock with everything in except the guns and powder the day after we got into harbour. We found the false keel as far aft as the Main mast from forward, beat off, and part of the lower part of the Gripe shattered. The ship was lifted in this state about an inch, her damages repaired, and she hauled out the night after she went in. We got out into the Sound in seven days after our coming into Hamoaze. This was quick work. Since we came into the Sound there has been an almost continual gale of wind, blowing very hard and directly in. We have sustained some damage by the gale but nothing very material.
Although the
Melampus
had now had her hull repaired and rigging overhauled, she lay idly for a month awaiting orders. This was particularly galling because, in the
Melampus
’ absence, on 21 December, Barlow had captured the 36-gun French frigate
La Nereide
and carried her triumphantly into Plymouth.
58
Happily, Moore had recovered from his fit of irritability, and was able to share in Barlow’s jubilation:
‘I am very happy at his success, he well deserves it, being a worthy man and a very able officer.’
Less happily, ten of the
Melampus
’ seamen had deserted, breaking their trust when Moore allowed them leave on shore;
‘. . . this I attribute in a great measure to my indulgence, it is a circumstance that frets me extremely.’
It was extremely frustrating for an officer who was determined to show his crew every humanity that he reasonably could. Finally, on the last day of 1797, he was ordered to take the frigate
Seahorse
, Captain Foote, under his orders, and cruise about 400 miles west of Scilly, an area through which all incoming transatlantic trade would have to pass for the entrance to the Channel. Moore was well pleased because he liked Foote, whom he considered
. . . a very intelligent man in his profession, and has established a considerable reputation for activity, zeal and ability; we are on very good terms with each other and have agreed to share for the cruise. I hope fortune will give us an opportunity of trying our metal.
Despite the number of frigates already cruising to the westwards, this was potentially good hunting ground and Moore was optimistic in spite of the battering weather. The only downside lay in the state of the
Melampus
’ sails. On the frigate’s first day out, the main and fore topsails both split, partly due to the stress of the weather, but more on account of the fact that wet and stormy weather, while they were lying in the Sound, had made it impossible to dry the sails, leaving them rotting with mildew. On 11 January they sighted a privateer brig but lost her during the night. Then, on the 16th, they sighted another ship which gave all the appearance of being a privateer of eighteen to twenty guns. They set off in close pursuit with the
Seahorse
dropping to leeward in case their quarry should attempt to escape by going away large. The privateer, meanwhile, could be seen heaving her guns overboard. Just before noon, Moore opened with his bow chasers, whilst Foote turned to bring his broadside to bear – and the privateer brought to and struck her colours. Moore sent a boarding party across and learned that she was
La Belliqueuse
from St Malo with a complement of 120 men. She had originally been a French navy corvette, but had been sold off to a private speculator for privateering.
The task of transferring the French prisoners to the frigates had barely been completed when the wind started to blow up, and the seas became rough. The prize hastily headed eastwards under the command of a Master’s Mate and by the following morning the two frigates were caught in
. . . the hardest gale that I have ever known on this side of the Atlantic. This hurricane, I may almost call it, lasted for 12 hours, during the greatest part of which time we could only shew a storm mizzen stay sail to it and that was blown to pieces at last.
On the afternoon of the 18th, the gale abated but was replaced by fog. In spite of this, amazingly, the two frigates never separated –
‘. . . greatly owing to the attention of Captain Foote who is certainly a very diligent and able of ficer’.
Moore’s orders authorized him to cruise until 22 January, and on the 20th Moore decided that they should head as far to the west of their cruising ground as possible. By being at the westernmost limit on the 22nd, he would therefore need extra days to get back to Plymouth. This was, apparently, a common method of stretching the limits of authority without undue impropriety.
The following day, as they headed westwards, they sighted a strange ship which, having seen them approaching, immediately made all sail to escape. By 8pm the weather had turned very squally and Moore had lost sight of both the chase and the
Seahorse
. He burned blue lights in the hope that Foote would see them, but there was no signal in reply. In spite of this, he continued westwards in the hope of again making contact with the chase. Before daybreak the next day, he decided on a ruse, and busied the crew of the
Melampus
in disguising the frigate by striking her fore and mizzen topgallant masts. They could barely have completed this task when, at 9am, a lookout reported a ship to the north. The stranger, a large corvette flying no colours, made sail to escape and the
Melampus
immediately set off in chase. By noon, Moore was able to open with his bow chasers. The stranger appeared to have no heavy stern chasers, and by keeping the
Melampus
tight on her quarters, the ship was forced to yaw regularly to bring her sternmost guns to bear. However, the continual yawing put her top hamper under strain, and not long after she began firing back, her main topmast went by the board. Moore approached cautiously, unsure of whether the corvette had struck, as any flag which she might have used to signal her surrender could have become entangled in the wreck of the mast. The
Melampus
’ gun crews were ready at their stations, but he was unwilling to give the order to fire, so he shot up alongside intending to hail her. As the
Melampus
drew up under the lee of the corvette, her crew cleared the wreckage
. . . and bearing up, as if to run us on board, gave us their Broadside and a very smart fire of Musketry; we returned their Broadside and wore round along with them to prevent them from boarding us and from getting to Leeward of us; she passed under our stern and as we came to the wind on the other tack we carried away the Mizzen top sail yard in the slings and had a good deal of our running rigging cut away: I saw she had hoisted her colours to the Mizzen top mast head just before she fired into us. When on the other side of us she tried to cross our fore foot but we filled and shot close up to her and I believe should have sunk her had she not after one more Broadside struck. I had ordered the men at the Main deck guns to raise the breeches of their metal, seeing that most of our shot went over her, and they seemed well pointed for doing their business when they struck. She proved to be the
Volage
, Corvette, lent to, and fitted by the Merchants of Nantes, mounting 20 nine pounders and 2 long 18 pounders, with a crew of 195 men; 2 of my best men were killed in this affair and 3 dangerously wounded. One of the men killed was Joseph Wyat, my Coxswain, a very brave fellow, who had been with me these six years. He fell close to me, but I did not see him, being so much engaged with the working of the ship, I am glad I did not see him fall, for I loved him; he was a fellow of infinite
sang froid
, and no ceremony. A true English sailor. I understand that we only killed two of the enemy and wounded eight or ten of them. It was late on the night of the 23rd before we had all the prisoners exchanged from the Prize and her in a state to make sail, but as soon as that was effected I made the best of my way in company with her to the eastward; as I have now about 50 men out of the ship and about 240 prisoners I intend getting into Plymouth as soon as I can . . .
The
Melampus
, carefully shepherding her valuable prize, arrived in Cawsand Bay on the evening of 27 January. There they found their other prize, the
La Belliqueuse
, which happily had arrived just a few days earlier. The frigate’s mainmast had been damaged during the action, but the dockyard officials decided it could be fished, and Moore was ordered to return to Falmouth. Happily, before they sailed, the crew of the
Melampus
learned that both the
La Belliqueuse
and the
Volage
were to be purchased by the Navy Board for re-use as men-of-war.
Moore returned to Falmouth and, while anchored there, a cartel arrived carrying men released from imprisonment in France. Among them were a number of seamen from the
Amazon
, the ship wrecked on the coast of France during the action with the
Droits de L’Homme
in January 1797. Moore had every sympathy for them, but this did not stop him pressing them for service in the
Melampus
;