fighting. I went to part them, and one of them struck me. I immediately went aft and made a complaint to the lieutenant, who gave me no satisfaction at all. 22
It was this acerbic, unhelpful personality, rather than serious misconduct, that seemed to have rebounded upon Henery. George Middleton, the gunner, brooded over what he considered to be an unjustified rebuke during the firing of a salute. The lieutenant complained that the powder was being brought up from the magazine too slowly. ‘Godbless me, sir,’ puffed the hapless gunner. ‘I make what haste ever I can.’ ‘God damn me, sir,’ replied Henery, ‘make more haste, or else I’ll haste you elsewhere!’
Whether the lieutenant’s bluster turned into actual physical abuse was another matter. It was said that Henery had ordered excessive floggings in November 1774, when the ship was at Kedgeree and the captain absent in nearby Calcutta. One marine was reported to have been flogged, and his regimental clothes, fiddle and sea chest thrown overboard. And the lieutenant was supposed to have regularly employed a rattan ‘to forward the people to their duty’. But neither this, nor some testimony relating to intoxication, weighed sufficiently with the court, hence his acquittal.
A sensible man would have treasured the reprieve, internalised its lessons and set about rehabilitating his reputation, but Henery was consumed with resentment. He racked his brains to find mud to fling at Farmer, furious that the captain had allowed the complaint to go forward. Thus, two days after Henery’s court martial, Hughes and his officers reassembled on the Seahorse to consider charges the first lieutenant had proffered against his own captain.
They were flimsy indeed, but Henery hit the bull’s-eye when he accused Farmer of keeping his son and a slave boy on the books when neither was present. This sin was of a type so widely practised in the navy that most officers turned a blind eye towards it. Many, if not most, had committed such frauds themselves, or at least benefited from them. The purser, Alexander Ligerwood, and Surridge were placed in the embarrassing position of owning that they had authenticated false books, but the captain’s guilt was felt worthy of no more than a mild reprimand.
Henery’s other attack drew attention to indigo, piece-goods and bales of cloth that Farmer had taken aboard at Surat and Anjenga. The implication was that the captain was making money out of illicit freight, but it collapsed when Commodore Hughes revealed that the goods had been embarked upon his, not Farmer’s, orders. Without too much trouble the court dismissed the charges as ‘dictated by a spirit of malice and litigiousness’ and honourably acquitted the defendant. 23
The sight of a captain and first lieutenant exchanging courts martial was an uncommon one, and Horace may have pondered its lessons in leadership. In some mysterious way the captain had failed to meld his senior officers into a team and suffered the consequences. Though his record had been exonerated, the bad blood aboard the Seahorse raised questions about his powers of command. As for Henery, he can only have been an object of derision among the ‘young gentlemen’. He had acted badly and compounded his errors by a misguided prosecution of his captain. Juniors who turned upon superiors without good cause seldom did themselves a favour. In this case Thomas Henery survived to become a commander the following year – probably because in the East Indies there were few alternatives to fill available posts – but it is doubtful that his early death deprived the navy of an outstanding officer.
Had Horace remained in the East Indies it is likely that promotion would have been a speedy prospect for him too, for he had acquired all the basic skills of handling and navigating ships, and boasted a good mind and a thorough devotion to his profession. On paper at least he was near qualifying for lieutenant. He was
It was this acerbic, unhelpful personality, rather than serious misconduct, that seemed to have rebounded upon Henery. George Middleton, the gunner, brooded over what he considered to be an unjustified rebuke during the firing of a salute. The lieutenant complained that the powder was being brought up from the magazine too slowly. ‘Godbless me, sir,’ puffed the hapless gunner. ‘I make what haste ever I can.’ ‘God damn me, sir,’ replied Henery, ‘make more haste, or else I’ll haste you elsewhere!’
Whether the lieutenant’s bluster turned into actual physical abuse was another matter. It was said that Henery had ordered excessive floggings in November 1774, when the ship was at Kedgeree and the captain absent in nearby Calcutta. One marine was reported to have been flogged, and his regimental clothes, fiddle and sea chest thrown overboard. And the lieutenant was supposed to have regularly employed a rattan ‘to forward the people to their duty’. But neither this, nor some testimony relating to intoxication, weighed sufficiently with the court, hence his acquittal.
A sensible man would have treasured the reprieve, internalised its lessons and set about rehabilitating his reputation, but Henery was consumed with resentment. He racked his brains to find mud to fling at Farmer, furious that the captain had allowed the complaint to go forward. Thus, two days after Henery’s court martial, Hughes and his officers reassembled on the Seahorse to consider charges the first lieutenant had proffered against his own captain.
They were flimsy indeed, but Henery hit the bull’s-eye when he accused Farmer of keeping his son and a slave boy on the books when neither was present. This sin was of a type so widely practised in the navy that most officers turned a blind eye towards it. Many, if not most, had committed such frauds themselves, or at least benefited from them. The purser, Alexander Ligerwood, and Surridge were placed in the embarrassing position of owning that they had authenticated false books, but the captain’s guilt was felt worthy of no more than a mild reprimand.
Henery’s other attack drew attention to indigo, piece-goods and bales of cloth that Farmer had taken aboard at Surat and Anjenga. The implication was that the captain was making money out of illicit freight, but it collapsed when Commodore Hughes revealed that the goods had been embarked upon his, not Farmer’s, orders. Without too much trouble the court dismissed the charges as ‘dictated by a spirit of malice and litigiousness’ and honourably acquitted the defendant. 23
The sight of a captain and first lieutenant exchanging courts martial was an uncommon one, and Horace may have pondered its lessons in leadership. In some mysterious way the captain had failed to meld his senior officers into a team and suffered the consequences. Though his record had been exonerated, the bad blood aboard the Seahorse raised questions about his powers of command. As for Henery, he can only have been an object of derision among the ‘young gentlemen’. He had acted badly and compounded his errors by a misguided prosecution of his captain. Juniors who turned upon superiors without good cause seldom did themselves a favour. In this case Thomas Henery survived to become a commander the following year – probably because in the East Indies there were few alternatives to fill available posts – but it is doubtful that his early death deprived the navy of an outstanding officer.
Had Horace remained in the East Indies it is likely that promotion would have been a speedy prospect for him too, for he had acquired all the basic skills of handling and navigating ships, and boasted a good mind and a thorough devotion to his profession. On paper at least he was near qualifying for lieutenant. He was
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