Sylvia's Lovers

So you may imagine the press-gang had no easy time of it on the

Yorkshire coast. In other places they inspired fear, but here rage

and hatred. The Lord Mayor of York was warned on 20th January, 1777,

by an anonymous letter, that 'if those men were not sent from the

city on or before the following Tuesday, his lordship's own

dwelling, and the Mansion-house also, should be burned to the

ground.' Perhaps something of the ill-feeling that prevailed on the subject

was owing to the fact which I have noticed in other places similarly

situated. Where the landed possessions of gentlemen of ancient

family but limited income surround a centre of any kind of

profitable trade or manufacture, there is a sort of latent ill-will

on the part of the squires to the tradesman, be he manufacturer,

merchant, or ship-owner, in whose hands is held a power of

money-making, which no hereditary pride, or gentlemanly love of

doing nothing, prevents him from using. This ill-will, to be sure,

is mostly of a negative kind; its most common form of manifestation

is in absence of speech or action, a sort of torpid and genteel

ignoring all unpleasant neighbours; but really the whale-fisheries

of Monkshaven had become so impertinently and obtrusively prosperous

of late years at the time of which I write, the Monkshaven

ship-owners were growing so wealthy and consequential, that the

squires, who lived at home at ease in the old stone manor-houses

scattered up and down the surrounding moorland, felt that the check

upon the Monkshaven trade likely to be inflicted by the press-gang,

was wisely ordained by the higher powers (how high they placed these

powers I will not venture to say), to prevent overhaste in getting

rich, which was a scriptural fault, and they also thought that they

were only doing their duty in backing up the Admiralty warrants by

all the civil power at their disposal, whenever they were called

upon, and whenever they could do so without taking too much trouble

in affairs which did not after all much concern themselves.

There was just another motive in the minds of some provident parents

of many daughters. The captains and lieutenants employed on this

service were mostly agreeable bachelors, brought up to a genteel

profession, at the least they were very pleasant visitors, when they

had a day to spare; who knew what might come of it?

Indeed, these brave officers were not unpopular in Monkshaven

itself, except at the time when they were brought into actual

collision with the people. They had the frank manners of their

profession; they were known to have served in those engagements, the

very narrative of which at this day will warm the heart of a Quaker,

and they themselves did not come prominently forward in the dirty

work which, nevertheless, was permitted and quietly sanctioned by

them. So while few Monkshaven people passed the low public-house

over which the navy blue-flag streamed, as a sign that it was the

rendezvous of the press-gang, without spitting towards it in sign of

abhorrence, yet, perhaps, the very same persons would give some

rough token of respect to Lieutenant Atkinson if they met him in

High Street. Touching their hats was an unknown gesture in those

parts, but they would move their heads in a droll, familiar kind of

way, neither a wag nor a nod, but meant all the same to imply

friendly regard. The ship-owners, too, invited him to an occasional

dinner or supper, all the time looking forward to the chances of his

turning out an active enemy, and not by any means inclined to give

him 'the run of the house,' however many unmarried daughters might

grace their table. Still as he could tell a rattling story, drink

hard, and was seldom too busy to come at a short notice, he got on

better than any one could have expected with the Monkshaven folk.

And the principal share of the odium of his business fell on his

subordinates, who were one and all regarded in the light of mean

kidnappers and spies--'varmint,' as the common people esteemed

them: and as such they were ready at the first provocation to hunt

and to worry them, and little cared the press-gang for this.

Whatever else they were, they were brave and daring. They had law to

back them, therefore their business was lawful. They were serving

their king and country. They were using all their faculties, and

that is always pleasant. There was plenty of scope for the glory and

triumph of outwitting; plenty of adventure in their life. It was a

lawful and loyal employment, requiring sense, readiness, courage,

and besides it called out that strange love of the chase inherent in

every man. Fourteen or fifteen miles at sea lay the Aurora, good

man-of-war; and to her were conveyed the living cargoes of several

tenders, which were stationed at likely places along the sea-coast.

One, the Lively Lady, might be seen from the cliffs above

Monkshaven, not so far away, but hidden by the angle of the high

lands from the constant sight of the townspeople; and there was

always the Randyvow-house (as the public-house with the navy

blue-flag was called thereabouts) for the crew of the Lively Lady

to lounge about, and there to offer drink to unwary passers-by. At

present this was all that the press-gang had done at Monkshaven.