Naval History

Captain Charles Austen: Agent of British Diplomacy in South America

I am delighted to share with you the continuation of the story of Charles Austen’s ceremonial spadroon, a topic first introduced in my post on 29 September 2023.

Although Captain Charles Austen’s principal function was to sail his ship at sea, there were occasions when his commission required him to engage in activities on land. One such occasion concerned his brief involvement in South American politics shortly after the revolution against Spanish domination of that Continent. Charles’s activities, on behalf of British diplomatic interests in the area, earned him the gratitude of General Simon Bolivar, leader of the revolution, who rewarded Charles with a magnificent ceremonial sword. The narrative of this little know period of Charles’s naval career is drawn from  Charles’s private journal for 1827, as well as the contemporary diary of the British Consul in Caracas, Venezuela, Sir Robert Ker Porter.[1] These sources reveal a personal account of Charles’s engagement in international diplomacy, so very different from what is usually read about him as a working naval officer in the Royal Navy.

 On appointment to HMS Aurora in June 1826,[2] Charles’s orders were to sail to the West Indies where he became second in command on the Jamaica Station.  Part of his mandate was to suppress the slave trade,[3] but he was also required to establish the presence of the Aurora in northern South American waters, as British foreign policy might require. Charles would already have some knowledge of the turbulent history of the liberation of Spain’s former colonies in South America, including Simon Bolivar’s military and political roles in this matter. In 1819 General Simon Bolivar had proclaimed the independence of what are now the republics of Colombia, Ecuador, Panama and Venezuela. He thereby laid the grounds for their union as Gran Colombia, which became a reality in 1822, when the last of the Spaniards were driven from northern South America.

Map of Gran Colombia. Wikimedia Commons.

By the time Charles’s arrived in the West Indies, the political situation in South America had become tense and potentially explosive. With a crisis looming, Bolivar, the president of Gran Colombia, had returned to his home city, Caracas, Venezuela, in February 1827. Not only was there discontent within Gran Columbia, but a breakaway group was also trying to take Venezuela out of the union. Civil war threatened.

Britain, as the chief power in the Caribbean, wished to protect its economic and political interests in South America. In 1826, it had ratified a commercial treaty with Gran Colombia. Further, a very large debt was owed to Great Britain by Gran Colombia, deriving from Britain’s willingness to support General Bolivar financially in his fight for South American independence.[4] It was in Britain’s interest that Gran Colombia remain politically stable. Thus, in 1827, the Royal Navy stationed in Jamaica was mandated to provide assistance consistent with the political ambitions of General Bolivar, whose leadership Britain was currently supporting.[5]

Charles’s entrée into the world of diplomacy began when he was asked to transport His Excellency Alexander Cockburn, the British Minister to Gran Colombia from the Barbados to Venezuela so he could assess the political climate in Gran Colombia and negotiate directly with General Bolivar.[6] From April through June 1827, Charles was at hand, ready to transport Cockburn as required, and to take his dispatches to St Thomas and Jamaica, from where they would be sent forward to George Canning, Minister of Foreign Affairs in England.[7]

The Aurora arrived at La Guayra,[8] the port for Caracas, on 18 April. Once disembarked, Austen, Cockburn and their party began the steep mountainous route to Caracas, mounted on mules and horses. Charles mentions the ‘sublime scenery’, although they encountered some ‘hard showers’ and were ‘frequently embodied in a thick mist’. They climbed steadily on a zig zag path, and were finally rewarded  with a fine view, which Charles described as ‘the City of Caracas and the valley extending inland beyond, seen below. [It was] certainly the finest sight my eye could behold’. The party arrived thoroughly wet, happy to shelter at the home of the British Consul, Sir Robert Porter and ready to accept the offer of dry clothes. Charles noted that Caracas at closer range looked much less enchanting than from afar. He observed: ‘the city before the earthquake [of 1812] must  have been a very handsome one but now it has quite the appearance of desolation’.[9]

In subsequent entries Charles describes excursions to local scenic villages near Caracas and rides in the countryside, preferably on horse back as opposed to mule. It was the rainy season in which  ‘a perfect torrent’, ‘a violent show of rain’ or ‘a storm descended’. Even so, Charles walked about Caracas, exploring the city and making  courtesy calls with Sir Robert and Minister Cockburn, On one of these visit, Charles stopped to ‘thank [Mrs Mocatta] for a little pig she promised me’. He  was presumably looking forward to fresh meat to enjoy once he was back on board the Aurora. Much to his surprise, the pig ‘turned out to be a guinea pig’.[10]

Cockburn and his staff made their headquarters in Caracas at the home of the genial and hospitable, Sir Robert Porter, whose house served as a centre for intense social activity and political discussion. Charles was invited there to join other dinner guests almost every evening he was in Caracas. He enjoyed Sir Robert’s generous and superior fare and he came to know members of the local English community who were closely attuned to political developments. He met, among others, Dr Thomas Cox, at whose house he was staying, Mr Morris Lievesly, Porter’s private secretary, and Col Edward Stopford, who edited an English  newspaper in Caracas. One of Bolivar’s ADC, Englishman Col Belford Hinton Wilson, was a regular guest at most dinners at Sir Robert’s house. Getting to know him would have given Charles an additional personal insight into Bolivar’s leadership and political strategies.

Sir Robert Ker Porter by L. B. Shaw (1840). Alberto Vollmer Foundation.

The twentieth of April was a special and memorable day for Charles. Cockburn was officially presented to General Bolivar and Charles was one of the accompanying party which included Sir Robert Porter and ten officers from the Aurora. On arrival they were greeted by a Guard of Honour and the stirring sound of trumpets. At the gateway, the General’s staff in full dress met the party and led them to a suite of handsome rooms, known as the great Salon of Audience.  After a short wait, Bolivar appeared and ‘welcomed with great suavity- as well as dignity, the British Envoy, Mr Cockburn.’[11]

General Simon Bolivar by Antonio Salas (1825). Wikimedia Commons

After Bolivar and Cockburn had effusively praised Britain and Colombia respectively,[12] the focus fell on Charles. He knew he was also to be presented to Bolivar, so he had carefully put on his full dress uniform as was fitting for the occasion. A note of pride and pleasure suffuses his description of the event: ‘I was presented by His Excellency [Mr Cockburn] to the Liberator  and paid my compliments in a few words of French, and then my officers were presented in succession…. [During conversation that followed, Bolivar], placed me at his right hand and paid me marked attention, and in truth we all left him much pleased with our reception.’[13]  Charles was now officially identified as part of the English community that was expected to maintain good relations with Bolivar and to support his initiatives, as long as they remained consistent with British policy.

Several days later, Sir Robert Porter and Minister Cockburn approached Charles with a request for his services that would bring him closer to Bolivar and give Charles an even more active role in British diplomacy. Transport would be needed to convey the Liberator, a few of his staff and a part of his bodyguard, together with Minister Cockburn, to Cartagena (a port on the north coast of Colombia, bordering the Caribbean Sea). The Aurora was the frigate of choice for this purpose. Charles was presumably flattered to be asked to carry out such a mission. He had never had so illustrious a passenger aboard his own ship.

During the following weeks, Cockburn and Porter tried to persuade Bolivar to go immediately to Cartagena, the first stage of his journey to Bogata, capital of Gran Colombia.[14] They were  fearful that Bolivar’s political future, as President of Gran Colombia, was under threat from an ambitious rival, Vice President General Santander. Bolivar, they thought, needed to make a personal appearance at Bogata ‘in order if possible to quell the Santander party and displace its Chief’.[15] Presumably, Charles was aware of the opinions of the Minister and the Consul, but with the timing for Bolivar’s departure yet to be established, Charles carried on with other tasks. He sailed first to Les Roques[16] and then on to St Thomas, carrying dispatches from both Minister Cockburn and Sir Robert.  

By 1 May Charles was back in port at La Guayra, anxious to reach Caracas overland in time for a lavish feast in the dinner salon at the President’s House. On this occasion, Bolivar was assisted by the Intendente, the Mayor of Caracas, four members of the High Court, three Generals and his own staff. Charles was impressed by the ‘knives and forks of pure gold.’[17] Sir Robert admired the setting, noting the patriotic décor which featured ‘allegorical paintings, touching the revolution and South America, inscriptions of battles, and other acts connected with its separation from the old world.’[18] He described the menu with relish. Guests were offered ‘various native edible birds, several sorts [of fish] from La Guayra, besides turtle in various ways, and a huge land tortoise into the bargain; wild deer, Lapa,[19] or rattish Sylvan pig of the woods, and mountain pork besides. The dessert and all its sweet et ceteras … equalled the first and second courses’.[20] After such an amazing spread Charles declared himself to be ‘plein gorge’.[21] He was particularly pleased that Bolivar had ‘received him in a friendly manner’ and likely surprised when Bolivar asked Charles ‘if he could [transport] a horse which [Bolivar] intended to present to our Gracious King’.[22]

Finally, on June 19, Bolivar announced he would sail with Cockburn from La Guayra to Cartagena within ten to twelve days, accompanied by a bodyguard of about 150 men. Charles arrived at La Guayra on 21 June,  presumably in readiness to transport Cockburn, Bolivar and his party, but meanwhile there had been an unexpected development. On the previous evening, Captain Chambers of the frigate HMS Druid (46 guns) had arrived in port, bringing orders from Admiral Charles Elphinstone Fleeming, Commander-in-Chief of the Jamaica Station. Captain Chambers had been sent to Venezuela for the express purpose of  conveying President Bolivar and Minister Cockburn to Cartagena.  In consequence, Charles was precluded from having ‘the gratification as well as the honour of being the bearer of the President to that port’.[23]

Charles must have been  hugely disappointed. He had already been thinking about Bolivar’s comforts aboard the Aurora for he had altered the bathing arrangements ‘in expectation of conveying General Boliva and suite to Cartagena.’[24] It was some consolation that on 23 June Mr Cockburn and Charles were invited to wait upon Bolivar at the Presidential House in Caracas. There, in Sir Robert’s words, the Liberator presented Charles ‘with a handsome sword, expressing his regret that it was not his good fortune to be Captain Austen’s guest to Cartagena’.[25] Conceivably, Bolivar had meant to give Charles the sword in thanks after the  disembarking from the Aurora at Cartagena. Yet even though the arrangements had been  changed, Bolivar must have appreciated Charles’s  supportive actions, and so the sword represented a parting thank you after all.

Admiral Charles Austen with his Ceremonial Spadroon, a gift from General Bolivar, 1827.

With kind permission of the Jane Austen’s House.

 And what a splendid object it is! Charles’s ceremonial sword or spadroon has ‘a canon-shaped cross guard and eagle-headed pommel. The loop guard is in the form of a rope, which is held in the eagle’s mouth, and loops around the canon. The grip is made of carved ivory. The steel blade has been etched with decorative patterns, with gilded decoration. The scabbard has been decorated with eagle and sun motifs on one side, and on the other side is inscribed the dedication to Charles Austen from General Simon Bolivar’.[26] It reads” Presented to Charles John Austen R.N. commanding HMS Aurora at the City of Caracas, 1 March 1827 by Simon Bolivar the liberator of his country as a mark of his esteem’. The date is puzzling as Sir Robert’s diary confirms that the presentation occurred on 23 June 1827.[27]

Subsequently Charles brought the sword to England in late November 1828 when he sailed the Aurora home. It has been treasured by Austen descendants ever since. Happily, the public are now able to admire the sword as it is currently on loan to the Historic Dockyard, Chatham, Kent, England and is displayed there as part of the ‘Command of the Ocean’ exhibit.  

Charles remained in contact with Sir Robert until he departed from South America in July 1828.  Sir Robert’s diary records that he ‘bid adieu to one of the most worthy naval personages in command in this quarter.’[28] As for General Bolivar, the rock star of South American revolution, his political ambitions were thwarted during the several years that followed. He resigned as the President of Gran Colombia in 1830. He died of tuberculosis in 1832.   


This essay first appeared in The Jane Austen Society Report for 2024.

[1] Charles Austen, Private Journal, 1 January-27 April 1827, HMS Aurora Jamaica Station, AUS/121 and 28 April -31 July 1827, AUS/122 (hereafter Journal); Sir Robert Ker Porter’s Caracas Diary 1825-1842: A British Diplomat in a Newborn Nation, ed. Walter Dupouy, 1966 (hereafter Diary).

[2] Charles’s appointment to HMS Aurora (38 guns) came about under unusual circumstances. He was on half pay in Plymouth in 1826, hoping for a commission which would return him to the active sea service. (Charles had not been at sea since his frigate, HMS Phoenix (36 guns) was wrecked in a terrific storm off the coast of Cesme, Asia Minor, in February 1816.) Learning, by chance, that Captain Maxwell of HMS Aurora had died suddenly just as the ship was about to sail to the West Indies, Charles immediately made his availability known to the Admiralty, who agreed to commission him as the new captain. He sailed four days later on June 3.

[3] Britain and the United States had abolished the slave trade in 1807-08, followed by France and Spain, but the trade was still going on in a clandestine manner. See Clive Caplan, ‘The Ships of Charles Austen’, Jane Austen Society Report for 2009, p.153. On 29 August 1826, Charles captured the Spanish slave brigantine, Nuevo Campeador, which was sent for adjudication to the British and Spanish Mixed Court of Justice, Havannah and sentenced to be condemned. See Devoney Looser, ‘Heroics all at Sea’, Times Literary Supplement, 8 July 2022.    

[4] In 1826 the principal on Gran Colombia’s debt came to nearly seven million dollars. See William Armstrong, ‘British Representation in Venezuela in 1826’, Caribbean Quarterly, 1960, Vol.6, no.1, n.9, p.23.

[5] According to Brian Southam, ‘in this power struggle, the support for Bolivar visible in the British naval presence was crucial’. See Jane Austen and the Navy, 2nd edition, National Maritime Museum, 2005, p. 177 (hereafter Navy).

[6] Cockburn was ‘sent from England to strengthen British ties with an area of South America judged worthy of cultivation and alliance’. See Navy, p. 177.

[7] He also took dispatches for Sir Robert Porter, British Counsel in Caracas.

[8] The modern spelling is La Guaira.

[9] Journal, 18 April 1827.

[10] Journal, 13 May 1817.

[11] Diary, 20 April 1827, p. 239.

[12] Ibid., According to Sir Robert’s diary, Bolivar, speaking in French, praised  Britain, its King, Ministers and ‘virtuous magnanimity in the Cause of Liberty, not only for the support it lent Colombia during her struggle but also for the firm aid she had afforded to the young Country since her regeneration’. Mr Cockburn had already emphasized the ‘personal attachment the King of Great Britain entertained for [Bolivar] as did her ministers and Nation at large, Bolivar being regarded as the founder and giver of Independence to South America and the unspoken savior of Colombia’. Cockburn also assured Bolivar of ‘the cordial and unceasing friendship of England’. Diary, 20 April 1827, p. 239.

[13] Charles had already caught a glimpse on Bolivar on 19 April, which was the seventeenth anniversary of Colombian Independence. In honour of the day, Bolivar attended High Mass at the cathedral. Charles happened to be passing by and slipped into the church. He found the décor ‘gaudy’ but ‘the service with the music imposing’. (Journal, 20 April 1827). Charles could see Bolivar standing by the high altar and described his expression as a ‘thoughtful and almost melancholy cast  of countenance’. On the occasion of his presentation, Charles described Bolivar as ‘a small man with a fine countenance… I should take him to be about 45 years of age, though his dark hair is very lightly touched with grey’. (Journal, 20 April 1827).

[14] Sir Robert’s diary entries for April into July provide more detail about the perpetually changing political situation within Gran Colombia. He speculated about Bolivar’s most effective course of action. Sir Robert also assessed the level of threat posed by Bolivar’s political opponents. See Diary, pp. 232-266. 

[15] Diary, 25 April 1827, p. 240.

16 Les Roques consists of 350 Islands, 160 km west of La Guayra.

[17] Journal, 1 May 1827.

[18] Charles was impressed by ‘a group of Colombian, British and American flags painted at the head of the room,  [with ] all the Liberator’s great Battles written in Festoons under the corners’. Journal, 20 April 1827.

[19]  A large South American rodent.

[20] Diary, 1 May 1827, p. 243.

[21] Meaning he felt stuffed.

[22] Journal, 1 May 1827. During this conversation Charles records that he ‘blundered in my French and was annoyed’.

[23] Journal, 22 June 1827.

[24] Journal, 9 May 1827.

[25] Diary, 23 June 1827, p. 260.

[26] My thanks to the sword’s owner, David Willan, for this fine, detailed description.

[27] Diary, 23 June 1827, p. 260. The presentation could not have occurred on 1 March 1827. Charles’s journal relates that he was in the Caribbean, not in South America. He spent the day at the Dockyard (most likely Antigua). That evening he entertained guests for dinner. The party, which included Captain Wilson of the 93rd Regiment (who was stationed in Antigua) ended with ‘cards and liquors in the after cabin [of the Aurora]’. (Journal, 1 March 1827).

[28] Diary, 5 July 1828, p. 392. According to Sir Robert, Captain Austen ‘promised in person to deliver [my recent drawing of General Paez] at Esher [the home of his novel writing sisters, Jane and Maria]’. Charles had read Maria’s novel, Honor O’Hara, in Caracas in April 1827. He would presumably be happy to complete this commission when he could. Both Porter sisters were intrigued to learn about their brother’s interactions with General Paez and General Bolivar. According to Devoney Looser, Jane was delighted with the gifts ‘Robert sent home from the Americas, including items said to be Bolivar’s (a ribbon, hair) and General Paez’s (hair)’. See Devoney Looser, Sister Novelists: The Trailblazing Porter Sisters Who Paved The Way For Austen And The Brontes. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2022, p. 378.

Captain Charles Austen’s Ceremonial Spadroon

A naval captain’s awards and gifts in recognition of meritorious service are springboards to understanding the diversity of his professional career and his versatility as an officer. In the case of Captain Charles Austen, brother of Jane Austen, two special objects merit exploration.[1] I have already written about the significance of Charles’s General Service Medal with its two clasps, one, referred to as “Unicorn 8 June 1796,” was awarded for his participation in the impressive capture of an enemy vessel, La Tribune (44 guns), and the other for the campaign for “Syria[2] Charles received this distinguished British naval award in 1849. A very different mark of grateful recognition of his services occurred in 1827 during Charles’s naval mission to South America. This acknowledgement took the form of a beautifully decorated ceremonial “spadroon.”[3].

Fig. 1: Portrait of Charles Austen and his Sword

“[Charles’s] spadroon is a ceremonial sword with a canon-shaped cross guard and eagle-headed pommel. The loop guard is in the form of a rope, which is held in the eagle’s mouth, and loops around the canon. The grip is made of carved ivory. The steel blade has been etched with decorative patterns, with gilded decoration. The scabbard [or sheath for holding the sword] has been decorated with eagle and sun motifs on one side, and on the other side is inscribed the dedication to Charles Austen from General Simon Bolivar.”[4]

This wonderful artefact connects to a period in 1827, when, as captain of the frigate HMS Aurora (38 guns), Charles was one of the Royal Navy captains stationed in the West Indies. Part of this squadron’s duties was to provide various services of support for General Simon Bolivar, liberator of Spain’s former colonies in South America.

 This past summer in England, I tried to find out more about the circumstances surrounding Charles’s receipt of his spadroon. It made sense to follow the clue which the historic inscription on the scabbard of the sword provides. That text reads: “Presented to Charles John Austen, R.N. commanding HMS Aurora at the City of Caracas, 1st March 1827 by Simon Bolivar the liberator of his country as a mark of his esteem.”

I knew that Charles kept a private journal during his years as Captain of HMS Aurora (1826-28). His writings are contained in nine notebooks in the collection of the Caird Library, which is part of the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London. Once at the Caird Library, I expected to discover Charles’s entry for 1 March 1827 would provide a description of the sword’s presentation at a Venezuelan location, probably accompanied by Charles’s impressions of Bolivar. This was not the case. As Charles’s journal entry for that date reveals, he spent time at a Dockyard (most likely in Antigua) during the day.[5] That evening he entertained guests for dinner, the party concluding with “cards and liquors in the after cabin [of the Aurora].”[6] As further research revealed, Charles did not meet Bolivar until 20 April 1827, 50 days later. 

So here was a mystery. Where and when did Bolivar present the sword and for what reasons did he select Charles for this honour? Answering this question will provide a glimpse of how Charles undertook various assignments, and activities which would not ordinarily occupy a naval captain on a station.

In a later post, I plan to place Charles’s receipt of the sword in the context of his career, exploring how, for a short period, Charles played a small part in British international diplomacy in South America. That narrative will also introduce several interesting individuals with whom Charles interacted: the artistic and ambitious British Consul in Caracas, Venezuela, Sir Robert Ker Porter, the Honorable Alexander Cockburn, His Majesty’s Envoy Extraordinary to the Columbian States, and the flamboyant and dynamic General Simon Bolivar, the illustrious military and political leader, who was known to his people as the Liberator and hero of the South American revolution. During his time in Caracas, Charles was welcomed by these men into the social and diplomatic life of the city.


[1] Owned by Austen descendent David Willan.

[2] See my blog for 26 May 2023, “Honouring Jane Austen’s Naval Brother Charles: The Story of his General Service Medal.” I have been recently told that Charles’s medal is very rare because of the two clasps. I thank Nick Ball of the Chatham Historic Dockyard for explaining to me that only four “Unicorn” claps were awarded, so the combination of one with the more common “Syria,” is almost certainly unique.

[3] A spadroon was lighter than a broad sword, because it was designed to both cut and thrust.[3] Earlier this year, Charles’s sword became part of the exhibit “Command of the Ocean,” at the Historic Dockyard, Chatham, Kent, England.

[4] Many thanks to the sword’s owner, David Willan for the fine detailed description of its appearance.

[5]Antigua is the most likely location as Charles’s guests included Captain and Mrs Wilson of the 93rd, a Regiment, which was stationed there.  

[6] Charles Austen, Private Journal, 1 March 1827, AUS/121.

New Details about Jane Austen’s Naval Brother Francis on the North American Station 1845-48    

In my blog post for November 2020, I wrote about Jane Austen’s naval brother, Francis, as Admiral in command of the North American and West Indies Station from 1845 to 1848.[1] His was a peacetime commission. While on the northern end of the Station, his duties were to ensure the protection of the fisheries against the Americans, to make coastal surveys and to maintain a British presence in the colonial possessions of the area. His flagship, HMS Vindictive (50 guns), was known as a “family ship” for he had on board two sons, George (the chaplain) and  Herbert (an officer) along with his nephew, Lt Charles John Austen II. He also brought along two daughters, Cassy and Frances, as his designated social hostesses. What follows are some brief glimpses of Sir Francis at work and at leisure on the Station. They are suggestive of his personality and some priorities at this stage in his life and career.

Quebec City, September 1846

Fig. 1: Admiral Sir Francis Austen

Admiral Sir Francis Austen was keen to explore the extent of his Station and he was diligent in doing so. It entailed travelling northwest from Halifax, Nova Scotia, his northern base, to reconnoitre the St Lawrence River as far as Quebec City. While there, Sir Francis Austen also led at least one excursion on land. According to the Quebec Gazette, he and his family “returned yesterday from a visit to the upper part of the province.” Meanwhile, the same issue reports a tragedy that occurred aboard the Vindictive. On the night of 24 September 1846, “a midshipman from the Vindictive fell overboard and drowned while the ship was at anchor in the harbour…. A lifeboy was thrown over immediately and every effort made to save him, but the body never rose again. It was eventually recovered.”[2] The young man was eighteen-year-old John E. Haig.

The loss of a crew member, especially of one so young, was a matter of great regret. Moreover, young Haig’s family was presumably known personally to Francis Austen for it was the captain’s prerogative to select the young men who would be training as midshipmen under his command. Given Haig’s age, it is likely he had been aboard since the Vindictive left England and was probably studying for his lieutenant’s exam. It was Austen’s unhappy task to inform Haig’s widowed mother of the tragedy. She subsequently arranged for a memorial plaque to be placed on the wall above the left balcony in the Holy Trinity Anglican Cathedral in Quebec City and for a tombstone in the St Matthew’s church cemetery on Rue Saint-Jean. John Haig’s untimely death added a sobering touch to what must have been a fascinating trip for Sir Francis and his retinue into a French-speaking community in North America.[3]

Visiting Prince Edward Island: October 1847

The following year Sir Francis made a trip to the colony of Prince Edward Island in the Gulf of St Lawrence. This voyage was another opportunity for familiarizing himself with the scope of his command. It was also a chance to inspect a new navigational aid, the recently completed Point Prim Lighthouse. The light was situated on a point of land extending into the Northumberland Strait and marking the entrance to Hillsborough Bay and the colony’s principal port of Charlottetown. Prior to the choice of this site, the colony’s Lt Governor had consulted with Royal Navy captains about the most eligible location for the light, and he had concurred with their judgement.

 The completed lighthouse was impressive. Its construction featured a “tapered, cylindrical brick structure covered in wood shingles and it measured 18.3 metres from base to vane.” The tower possessed a prominent but elegant taper and a projected lantern platform supported by brackets which was topped by a multisided cast iron lantern.[4] Those on board the Vindictive could appreciate why the Point Prim Light was already an excellent resource for navigators in the region.

Fig. 2: Point Prim Light, Prince Edward Island

Sir Francis’s voyage took him from the Point Prim Lighthouse and into Charlottetown harbour, where local colonial officials were apparently expecting to welcome him and his party onshore. Such would be the normal courtesy when the Commander-in-Chief of the Station had dropped anchor in the harbour for three days. However, they were disappointed, as revealed by a headline in  The Examiner, a local newspaper. It read “Admiral Failed to Disembark.” In self-justification, Sir Francis wrote to the paper:

That we did not land was entirely owing to the heavy rain, which did not cease for many minutes together from the Saturday evening till 12 o’clock on Tuesday when I left Port. I beg further to add that it never was my intention to devote more than three days to visit; that it had nothing whatever to do with Politics; being solely for the gratification of personal curiosity, combined with a desire of becoming acquainted with every part of  my extensive command.”[5]

Note the detailed, crisp, dismissive tone of the letter. Sir Francis precisely describes the quantity of rain which made a shore visit ill-advised. He assures the readers he did not intend to stay longer. He does not want his decision to be interpreted as a political affront. He stresses he was in the area out of personal curiosity.

The wording of this letter invites comment. Sir Francis’s reference to heavy rain seems a poor excuse: had he and his party gone ashore, they could have expected to be entertained indoors. Additionally, Sir Francis’s “desire to become acquainted with every part of my extensive command” is inconsistent with his behaviour. He had been happy to take his family party on shore at Quebec, why would he not explore Prince Edward Island on arrival, even if it meant waiting for better weather?[6]

 Sir Francis’s letter leaves the impression of one who is unhappy to have his actions criticized. There is a note of authority which is void of real regret or apology. He chose the public forum of a newspaper to explain his failure to visit ashore. This may not have been the wisest choice as the formal and impersonal tone of his letter could have failed to placate the disappointed local officials and population. Maybe the decision to stay on board the Vindictive can be explained by reasons Sir Francis did not choose to reveal. His daughter, Cassy, was a dominant force in her father’s social and official planning. Perhaps she decided that her father and his retinue must avoid the inconvenience of getting wet, and her opinion held sway.[7] I have yet to discover whether Sir Francis ever became acquainted with Prince Edward Island.

Summers in Halifax, Nova Scotia: 1845-47

Sir Francis and his retinue ordinarily occupied summer headquarters in Halifax, living in the spacious and elegant Admiralty House, completed in 1819. He attended to his official duties and did what was expected of him socially but he preferred the company of his immediate family. He was an attentive father and particularly concerned that his daughters enjoy themselves, which meant they needed some means of circulating in public. Francis had grown up in a family that was devoted to gardening, so he was most likely appreciative of exotic plantings and varieties of trees and shrubs. Given these interests, the five-and-a-half-acre Horticultural Society Garden, the forerunner of what became Halifax’s Public Gardens, would be an attractive place to take his daughters.[8] It was comprised of handsome flower beds, winding paths, specimen trees, a pool and a stream along with a meeting place known as  Horticultural Hall. The Garden was private:  it was only open to subscribing members drawn from the wealthy, professional and administrative classes. However, someone of Sir  Francis’s rank and position, as well as his accompanying family, would undoubtedly be welcome as guests. Strolling about in the Garden would let Sir Francis mix with the upper classes among the Halifax citizenry, which, from his point of view, also counted as good public relations.

Fig. 3: Mature elm trees dating to the 1840s  with the Horticultural Hall in the background

One of the Vindictive’s officers, Jane Austen’s nephew, Charles John Austen II, may have favoured the Garden for his own purposes. While on shore in Halifax, he had met and fallen in love with Sophia Deblois, the daughter of a wealthy local merchant. The Garden was an ideal place for a courting couple to promenade, to enjoy conversations a deux as well as summertime band concerts. Perhaps Charles was able to escort his Sophia to the Garden’s annual fund-raising bazaar where “the music afforded by 2 Highland pipers and 3 military bands, also ministered to the enjoyment of the company, the wares for sale executed with the usual taste of the ladies.” [9] [10] 

Fig. 4: Halifax Public Gardens in September. The Bandstand was built in 1887

Three colonial centres: Quebec City, Prince Edward Island and Halifax- these are places where one can catch a fleeting glimpse of Admiral Sir Francis Austen during his naval career from 1845-48. He can be found in both his professional and personal capacities displaying diverse characteristics – now grieving over a drowned young trainee officer, then seeking to justify his arguably discourteous behaviour, yet on other occasions showing concern for his public relations and his daughters’ social needs. In 1848 at the termination of his commission as Commander-in-Chief of the North American Station, the Vindictive brought Francis home to England. Thus ended his last appointment in the active sea service at the age of 74.


[1] See blog post for November 2020.

[2] See Charles Andre Nadeau, “One of Jane Austen’s brothers was in Quebec City 175 years ago,”  Quebec City newspaper, the Chronicle-Telegraph, September 22, 2021.

[3] Charles Austen’s letters reveal that he had occasion to mourn the loss of two midshipmen, part of a prize crew that failed to bring a captured merchantman into Bermuda in November 1808. Charles wrote to Cassandra on 25 December 1808: “I have lost her [the prize] and what is a real misfortune the lives if twelve of my people, two of them mids.” See Sheila Johnson Kindred, Jane Austen’s Transatlantic Sister, 216.

[4] Point Prim Lighthouse: https://www.pc.gc.ca/apps/dfhd/page_hi_eng.aspx?id=14835.The lighthouse maintains the same appearance today.

[5] Quoted in The Guardian (Prince Edward Island newspaper), 12 October 2013. I am grateful to Penelope Player of Charlottetown who alerted me to this reference.

[6]In terms of the current political mood on the Island, a local newspaper The Examiner provides a clue. The paper quotes an editorial from another current newspaper, the Islander “on the subject of a Petition which a little knot of Charlottetown shop-keepers have got up praying His Majesty not to continue (Governor) Sir H.V. Huntley in the Government of the Colony longer than the allotted timelife (presumably the paper meant “lifetime”).[6] Yet, it would not be the mandate of a visiting naval Commander-in-Chief to address  a petition circulated by a ‘little knot” of local shopkeepers. So there does seem to be a pressing political issue to be specifically associated with Sir Francis decision to stay on board. He did not need to mention politics in his letter to the editor of the Examiner.

[7] See other references to Cassy’s domineering views in my blog about Sir Francis, November 2020.

[8] It was comprised the southern half of the current Halifax Public Gardens, fronting on what is now Spring Garden Road

[9]Charles married Sophia in September 1848. Two other officers from  the Vindictive married Halifax girls that year: W. D. Jeans, Sir Francis’s secretary, wed Bess Hartshorne; Officer William King-Hall married Louisa Foreman. 

Notes about the Horticultural Society Garden are courtesy of Halifax Public Gardens guide, Susanne Wise.

Photo Credits:

Fig 1: Private collection

Fig 2: Lighthouse friends

Figs: 3, 4: Sheila Kindred

The Loss of HMS Atalante: Heroes of the Rescued

I first wrote about Captain Frederick Hickey, Charles Austen’s colleague and friend on the North American station, in my blog for October 2020, titled “Captain Frederick Hickey and the Loss HMS Atalante.” Hickey’s leadership in a time of disaster marked him out as a hero. But there were other men and women from the shore community whose efforts also merited recognition. This blog relates to their contribution to the rescue of the survivors of the wrecked Atalante.

 On Wednesday, 10 November 1813, about 10:00 o’clock, the fine Bermuda-built sloop of war, Atalante went to pieces, fifteen minutes after she had run aground on the treacherous Sisters and Blind Sisters shoal off Sambro, Nova Scotia in dense fog. In the days that followed her captain, Frederick Hickey, was widely praised for his courageous action is the face of imminent catastrophe. Passenger Jeremiah O’Sullivan later wrote: “to the honour of Captain Hickey, he was the last who left the wreck; his calmness, his humanity, and his courage, during the entire awful scene, was superior to man: everything was lost but our lives.”[1] It was a matter of huge relief that all on board survived.

 Fig 1: HMS Atalante Passing Sambro, Halifax. N.S. The Sisters and Blind Sister shoal are located to the left of the lighthouse.

Fig. 2: Captain Frederick Hickey, school of Gilbert Stuart, 1810.

At the point when the remains of the Atalante disappeared beneath the waves, the 133 survivors were thankful to be free of the wreck as they sheltered in three small, overloaded boats saved from the Atalante. Yet, their worries were by no means over. According to Hickey’s subsequent report, they rowed “for two  hours, guided only by a small dial compass, which one of the quarter masters had  in his pocket.” By what must have seemed like a miracle, they were finally, as Hickey puts it, “picked up a fisherman, who piloted the boats safe into Portuguese cove where we landed, the boats containing 133 persons.”[2] Hickey’s official description of the events does not record the elation he and his men must have felt when they detected, through the fog, the outlines of a fishing boat, and the appearance of its captain, an “ old fisherman,” who Hickey later identified as John Chapman. He knew the waters and the offshore hazards which must be avoided, and so he was able to lead the pinnace and two smaller boats safely to shore. We do not know why Chapman happened to be at sea at the time, as fishing in the fog could be dangerous. Whatever his current plan, he set that aside in order to get the wet and anxious officers and sailors to the safety of land.

Fig 3: The treacherous rocky shore at Portuguese Cove (Photo: Hugh Kindred)

Fig.4: The narrow entrance to the Cove. (Photo: Hugh Kindred)

Portuguese Cove is a tiny inlet along a dangerously rocky shore guarded by many reefs and shoals.[3] On reaching the safety of the Cove,  Hickey discovered that it was sparsely populated; in fact, it was home to only “five poor men and their families.” Although coastal communities might be expected to be sympathetic to the needs of shipwreck survivors, the residents of Portuguese Cove were a scattered, small group of people, with limited resources. It was almost mid-November, when whatever minimal gardens they had tended were no longer productive, and most of the remaining food on hand would have already been put away for the lean winter months ahead. Satisfying the needs of 133 hungry people would be very difficult! Yet, as Hickey related to his superior, commander-in-chief Admiral Sir John Warren, “the whole of the officers and crew received what nourishment and humane attention [the inhabitants] had in their power to bestow.”[4] The “humane attention” presumably included lighting fires to warm and dry out the shivering survivors, some scantily clothed, as they had discarded all clothing but trousers as they swam from the sinking Atalante. 

Hickey rushed on to Halifax by boat when he could, anxious to immediately deliver the urgent dispatches he was carrying to Admiral Sir John Warren. He took with him those who had suffered most from fatigue, and exposure to the harsh elements. As it was impossible to house all the survivors at the Cove, Hickey ordered all the able-bodied sailors to march 20 miles to Halifax where accommodation would be provided. Once more local help materialized. John Chapman apparently acted as a guide for this part of the rescue mission, most likely directing the survivors over part of a rough track leading to town himself or recruiting one of the men from the Cove to assist. It was a blessing that the men set out when they did for by Friday, the weather became even nastier, a mixture of “pouring rain and very thick fog” in the morning, then, as the Lt Governor’s wife in Halifax, Lady Sherbrooke, recorded in her diary, “it came on to blow, very much, and from 5 o’clock till 7, blew so hard as to be quite a hurricane.”[5]

In his report to Admiral Warren, Hickey did more than simply praise the “humane attention” he and his men had received from the families in Portuguese Cove. He pointed out that the survivors had been led to safety by John Chapman, who was subsequently given a $50 reward. Hickey also supplied Warren with the names of those who had spearheaded the onshore assistance, suggesting that $100 be distributed among the five heads of family.[6] By 17 November, this sum was paid out by the Commissioner of the Naval Yard in Halifax [7] to John Munroe, George Sadler, John Fegan, Samuel Purcell, and Richard Neale.[8]

Although Hickey’s quick thinking and brave example in a time of crisis, both onboard and afterwards, certainly merits admiration and commendation, it is also important to publicly acknowledge the men and women of Portuguese Cove who stepped up without hesitation and offered care and sustenance to total strangers with no expectation they would be rewarded for their generosity. They were, in effect, the unsung heroes of the day for, without their assistance, some of the sailors might not have survived. Credit must also go to John Chapman, fisherman and pilot, who found the Atalante’s small boats at sea, and guided them to the nearest safe place of habitation, before further dangers befell them.[9]

The hundred dollars sent to the Cove from the Naval Yard would have been a hugely welcome windfall for such a poor community. Let us hope that Christmas, 1813, was a particularly joyous one in Portuguese Cove, Nova Scotia.

Postscript:

Fig 5: Road sign for Portuguese Cove. (Photo: Hugh Kindred)

A roadside sign at Portuguese Cove mentions this location’s connection to the Atalante, although it does so with the bold and misleading claim that this was the “Site of HMS Atalante Wreck.” It would be better to acknowledge that the kindness of the people of the Cove was crucial to the safety of the 133 survivors of the wreck of the Atalante.


[1] Marshall, Royal Naval Biography, 232.

[2] Hickey to Warren, 12 November 1813.

[3] By sea Portuguese Cove is eight miles south of Halifax Harbour. Its name apparently derived from earlier days when Portuguese fishermen worked in the area.  

[4] Hickey to Warren, 12 November 1813.

[5] See A Colonial Portrait: The Halifax Diaries of Lady Sherbrooke 1811-1816 (2011)  ed. G. Brenton Haliburton  Wednesday 13 November, 119.

[6] Hickey to Warren, 12 November 1813, National Archives of Canada.

[7] Wodehouse to RO, 17 November 1813.

[8] According to the 1827 Nova Scotia Provincial Census, fishermen John Munroe, George Sadler, and Richard Neale and their families were still living in Portuguese Cove. They also cultivated small acreages raising some hay, grain and potatoes.

[9] Thanks to Julian Gwyn for the information about the aftermath of the wreck of the Atalante, found in his book, Frigate and Foremast The North American Squadron in Nova Scotia Waters (2003), note 71, 183.

Fanny Palmer Austen: Challenges and Achievements in Making a Family Home Onboard HMS Namur

This month I helped the Chatham Historic Dockyard, Chatham, Kent, England celebrate their new exhibition, Hidden Heroines: The untold stories of women of the Dockyard. Here is the text from my talk on June 23 which was followed by a live Q&A.   For the video of this event, visit the Chatham Historic Dockyard website.

Fig. 1: Fanny Palmer Austen[1]

Fig. 1: Fanny Palmer Austen[1]

Fanny Palmer Austen was a young woman who had a unique connection to the Chatham Dockyard. She was never a flag maker in the Sail and Colour Loft or employed in Spinning Rooms as other 19th century women in this exhibition were. Fanny counts as one of the hidden heroines because of her life on HMS Namur.

The Namur was known as one of the most famous ships built at the Chatham Dockyard. When her husband, Captain Charles Austen, was in command from late 1811-1814, the capable Fanny undertook the unusual task of making a family home for him and their young daughters on board. Her candid and articulate letters written to family members reveal her opinions and sentiments about the challenges she faced. She tells us what it was like to be a naval wife and mother living at sea during the later years of the Napoleonic Wars. In fact, she provides a strikingly realistic picture of naval family life on board as seen from a woman’s perspective. Let me take you on board to discover how Fanny coped with this exceptional situation.

When Charles was commissioned into the Namur, Fanny must have wondered about the size of the ship and the vessel’s current naval duties. Launched at Chatham in 1756, the Namur saw action in nine sea battles.  Originally a three-decker ship of 90 guns, in 1804 she was reduced to a two decker with 74 guns. The Namur rode at anchor at the Great Nore, an area located offshore three miles northeast from Sheerness, Kent. She was in use as a receiving ship for sailors - both volunteers and pressed men - waiting to be assigned to warships needing crews. She also acted as a guard ship, the first line of defence against any enemy vessels that might attempt an attack on the Sheerness and Chatham Dockyards or an advance upon London further up the Thames. So, there was an element of risk where Fanny was to be located.

Fig. 2: HMS Namur as a ship of 90 guns. She is the largest vessel in the harbour.[2]

Fig. 2: HMS Namur as a ship of 90 guns. She is the largest vessel in the harbour.[2]

Once aboard, household management at sea tested Fanny’s ingenuity and patience. An initial priority was reconfiguring the captain’s quarters in the stern of the ship to best suit her family’s needs and comforts. She no doubt liked the look of the captain’s day cabin, with its large glass windows that provided a panoramic view of the Nore anchorage, and the opportunity for access to an exterior gallery. However, this room was sometimes used for Charles’s official business, so the adjacent areas became the family’s private preserve. Most likely there were existing walls which marked out a state room or sleeping cabin on one side and another cabin on the other. Fanny could complete the division of the remaining area assigned to the captain, by directing the placement of movable wooden panels. Fortunately, the family quarters enjoyed some measure of quiet and seclusion. They were only accessible from the quarter deck, which was the exclusive domain of the officers. An armed marine stood on guard at the entrance to the captain’s quarters, another unique feature of living on board.

So, what did Fanny think about what she had accomplished? I would like to read you some passages from Fanny’s letters, so you can hear her voice. Initially she was enthusiastic about the adaptations to make a family living space. She wrote to her brother-in-law, James Esten, in Bermuda. Mama & Palmer [her nephew] have been staying with us, … & we mean to keep them as long as the Holidays will permit: they are very much pleased with our habitation, which, now that we have got things to rights, we find extremely comfortable (21 January 1812). During a visit by her father several months later, Fanny noted: Papa is very much pleased with our accomodations & enjoys sleeping in a Cot extremely (5 March 1812).This was quite a feat for Fanny’s aging father, given that he was sleeping in a small canvas bed, only three feet wide, which swung suspended from the ceiling. Other members of the Austen family expressed an opinion. Charles’s sister, Cassandra Austen, observed to a cousin that [Fanny] and [their] children are actually living with [Charles] on board. We had doubted whether such a scheme would prove practicable during the winter, but they have found their residence very tolerably comfortable & it is so much the cheapest home she could have that they are very right to put up with little inconveniences.[3] Three months later, Cassandra visited the Namur to see for herself what she called Fanny and Charles’s aquatic abode.

Fanny was initially pleased she had got things to rights with our habitation, that she had created an establishment where they could live and sleep in relative comfort. Unfortunately, problems arose which interfered with the smooth running of her household. Fanny required at least one female servant to help with childcare, to perform basic domestic tasks and, by times, to serve as her lady’s maid. Yet, competent servants willing to live and work at sea proved difficult to find and even harder to retain. As Fanny wrote: I am much teased in my domestic concerns …  and am at this moment without a Nurse. Though I [had] a very nice woman in that capacity, …some lady has most unhandsomely enticed her away from me, by holding out advantages which I could not (30 June 1814.)  As a result of her servant problems, Fanny took on more domestic tasks herself than would ordinarily be expected of a gentlewoman.

It did not help that the weather was changeable and sometimes exceptionally rough. Seasickness was a problem for which Fanny had no easy remedy. Her eldest girl, Cassy, was particularly vulnerable and Fanny hated to see her grow thin and look poorly. Nor did Fanny want her children to suffer on board in frigid weather when a damp chill penetrated and persisted. From 1813 onward Fanny regularly sent a daughter to spend time on shore with her aunts: Jane, the acclaimed novelist, and Cassandra Austen at Chawton Cottage in Hampshire or to Fanny’s sister, Harriet Palmer, in London. This distressed her. She missed her daughters terribly in their absence. Such arrangements made it impossible to maintain the family intimacy which Fanny so greatly valued.

Furthermore, her efforts to create a pleasing and peaceful atmosphere within their home space were sometimes frustrated by the darker side of naval life. She was living in a world where misdemeanors were punished swiftly and brutally. The Royal Navy required that instances of mutinous language and conduct, disobedience of orders, theft, inter-personal violence, drunkenness or riotous behaviour must be punished by public flogging. During Fanny’s tenure on board there were five occasions of the cruellest sort of punishment, known as flogging around the fleet. Presumably, Charles was able to warn Fanny in advance when a flogging was about to occur. Perhaps he even arranged for her to be on shore in nearby Sheerness. Yet inevitably there must have been times when there was no ready escape from the distressed cries of the punished. We do not know how Fanny managed to cope with the cruelty of flogging, with the sound of suffering, with the ominous pulsating of the drums which accompanied the lashings, all terribly disturbing noises for her and her children.

Other features of Fanny’s situation came to bother her over time. She was lonely in her isolation from genteel female company. She felt confined by the limited area of the ship where she could move freely, this being parts of the quarter deck and the poop deck above.

It may sound as if Fanny was having a terribly difficult time on board, but in between the situations which tried her patience and triggered her disappointment, were happier, more satisfying occasions. She helped to create an atmosphere of supportive friendliness for midshipmen, the young trainee officers under Charles’s tutelage.  As these young men received some of their instruction in the captain’s cabin, they must have also benefited from Fanny’s feminine attention. They in turn gave her a sense of community within the navy of the quarterdeck.

Fanny also appreciated Charles’s initiatives to bring civilizing influences to rough and rigorous shipboard life. There was a band of musicians on board, although Fanny’s father, while visiting the Namur, remarked on the indifferent talent of the clarinet player. Nonetheless, it was cheering to have a source of music, even if it fell far short of professional standards. Charles encouraged his sailors to present theatrical entertainments for the edification of the officers and men. This pleased Fanny, although on one occasion she notes: we were all disappointed for the Theatre was not finished, & consequently, they were obliged to postpone acting until next Monday (22November 1813). 

Best of all was the joy of the uninterrupted togetherness of her family.  Fanny and the little girls had the pleasure of Charles’s regular company. He was at hand to help with the children’s education, to play with them at bedtime, and to celebrate the milestones of their development, such as when the baby of the family, little Fan, born early December 1812, showed great determination to walk on her own. Fanny and Charles could also share in their children’s newfound pleasures, such as Cassy’s delight when she mastered the technique of leaving the ship by the bosun’s chair, which swung her out from the Namur’s main deck and swooped her down to a waiting tender that would take her to shore.

So why is Fanny to be seen as a heroine? She was brave to take on the project of creating a home for her beloved family on a working naval ship during wartime. She was courageous to take the chance of living with small children on a coastal guard ship, exposed to the possibility of attack from the enemy’s navy across the North Sea. Fanny was also heroic in the way she carried out her life distinct from the expected behaviour of naval wives, who made homes on land, where shops, services and supplies were readily accessible, where social routines were predictable and comforts dependably available.    

Finally, Fanny had the courage to commit to a lifestyle of immediate support for Charles, to be his affectionate companion and to encourage him during the hazards and uncertainties of his naval career, regardless of the risks to herself. She was his heroine, as well as ours.[4]


[1] Fanny’s portrait was painted by British artist, Robert Field, in Halifax in 1810. Private collection.

[2] “Town and Harbour of Halifax as they appear from the opposite shore called Dartmouth,” by Dominic Serres, 1762. Art Gallery of Nova Scotia.

[3] Cassandra Austen to Mrs George Whitaker (Phylly Walter), quoted in Austen Papers 1704-1856, ed. Austen-Leigh, (1942), 249.