Cassandra Esten Austen: Naval Child during the Napoleonic Wars

A girl born to a genteel Georgian family in England would likely be raised in a comfortable home, supported by parents and servants, and provided with all that she needed. Her predictable upbringing would include the security of a familiar, local community in which she could find appropriate playmates and would receive the respect due to her father.[1] Cassandra (Cassy) Esten Austen’s childhood was different. On account of her father’s career in the British navy during the Napoleonic Wars, Cassy moved between the North American port towns of St George’s, Bermuda and Halifax, Nova Scotia, travelling back and forth by sailing ship, despite the hazards of attack by enemy vessels or shipwreck by ocean storms. In 1811, she made the dangerous voyage across the Atlantic and then lived on a working naval vessel, stationed off the cost of England. Here is her story.

Cassy, the first child of Fanny and Charles Austen, was born in St George’s, Bermuda on 22 December 1808. She was first described in a letter that her ecstatic father wrote to his sister, Cassandra Austen, in England soon after her birth. He reported: “The Baby besides being the finest that ever was seen is really a good looking healthy young Lady of very large dimensions and as fat as butter.”[2] At the time, Charles was a naval lieutenant in command of a sloop of war, HMS Indian (18 guns) in service on the North American Station. He had met and married Fanny Palmer in Bermuda, where her father had been the expatriate Attorney General.

 From a very young age Cassy experienced the peripatetic nature of naval life. In the autumn of 1809, the Indian needed extensive repairs at the Halifax Naval Yard. Charles’s family accompanied him on the voyage from Bermuda to deliver the vessel for this purpose. Cassy’s presence in Halifax and her connection to the navy became a matter of public record when she was baptised at St Paul’s Anglican church, Halifax, on 6 October 1809. The service was performed by the naval chaplain, Rev. Robert Stanser, and two of her sponsors,[3] Captain Edward Hawker of HMS Melampus and Esther Esten, one of Cassy’s aunts, were able to attend. The record of her baptism specifies her father’s rank, citing him as “Capt. Charles John Austen Royal Navy.”

Fig. 1: St Paul’s Church, Halifax, Nova Scotia[4]

Fig.2: Entry of Cassy Austen’s Baptism (on the bottom line) in the Church Records  

That autumn was also notable for the family’s horrific voyage in the Indian whilst returning to Bermuda from Halifax after the vessel’s repairs were completed. It was late November and winter on the North Atlantic. Just out of Halifax, the Indian was caught in a fearful storm of “strong gales, sleet and snow.” The logbook recorded “the gales increased” and “the ship was labouring and shipping heavy seas.”[5] These matter-of-fact remarks belie the ferocious nature of the storm and the awful risk of sinking. The Indian, after the harrowing journey, limped into Bermuda after fifteen days at sea, twice the usual time. Cassy must have been terrified by this experience. She would make other sea voyages between Halifax and Bermuda before she was three years old, and she would face the rigours of a transatlantic crossing in mid 1811. In addition to the hazards of sea voyages, Cassy was not a happy traveller. During an eight day passage from Bermuda to Halifax in 1810, her mother regretfully recorded that “poor little Cass was very sick.”[6]

Fig 3: HMS Cleopatra in a Storm[7]

Cassy lived in Halifax again in 1810 when her father began service on HMS Swiftsure (50 guns) as flag captain for Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren. On arrival from Bermuda, Cassy was housed on shore with her parents in the Admiral’s residence situated at the north end of the busy Halifax Naval Yard. By then her personality traits were becoming apparent: she gave evidence of vigour and independence. Fanny described her 17-month-old daughter as “so riotous and unmanageable, that I can do nothing with her.”[8] Ever practical, Fanny decided to dress her child in “short frocks and pantaloons for she is such a romp.”[9]

For four warm summer months Cassy enjoyed her new situation in Halifax. Popular with her host, Lady Warren, who was apparently “very fond of … little Cassy,”[10] the child had, in addition to the attentions of her mother, the services of a maid, Molly. Cassy’s company had an added importance for Fanny during the ten weeks Charles was away on a mission, delivering troops to a war zone off the coast of Portugal. When there was no word of the Swiftsure’s progress, Fanny became increasingly anxious. Cassy provided a distraction, a ready subject for affection and care, and her cheerful presence helped Fanny get through a worrying period of separation from Charles.  

Cassy’s place in her father’s naval world was dependent on the ship into which he was commissioned and the station on which he was serving. Her first naval associations had been with the North American Station, but by mid 1811 the family was in England. Shortly after arrival, Charles unexpectedly lost the command of the frigate, HMS Cleopatra (32 guns) and, as a result, he and his family were cast on shore on half pay.

Fortuitously, about this time his former commander and family friend, Admiral Sir Thomas Williams,[11] was appointed Commander in Chief at the Nore. He asked Charles to be his flag captain. For Cassy this meant another big change in her lifestyle. She was to live on board HMS Namur (74 guns), a working naval vessel riding at anchor 3 miles north-east from Sheerness, Kent.[12] Cassy, together with her sister, Harriet Jane, born in February 1810, found themselves in a new home with unusual features.

The family’s living space was the captain’s quarters which occupied the width of the ship in the stern on the quarterdeck and under the poop deck. The spacious captain’s cabin was a very pleasant room, with its extensive view of the anchorage and the ships passing by. However, it was also a place of business for Charles so the children did not have unlimited access. Fortunately, there were other spaces to inhabit. A sleeping cabin next to the captain’s cabin may have been used by all the family so that Cassy and Harriet would have the comfort of being close to their parents overnight. The dining room, situated across from the sleeping cabin, was sometimes the site of family meals. The rest of the quarters would have had multiple uses, such as storage for books and family possessions, space for makeshift accommodation for the occasional visitor, and a useful place for spinning tops and playing children’s games. An armed marine stood on guard continuously at the entrance to the captain’s quarters, another unique feature of living on board as part of his family.  

Cassy was confined to the family quarters while aboard the Namur, but access to the exposed poop deck above made pleasurable perambulations possible. Not only was this a healthy undertaking in the bracing sea air, but the poop deck afforded a panoramic view of the ship at work. Men could be seen working aloft on the sails and masts or scrubbing the deck. Others took receipt of shipments of provisions delivered by a barge sent from the Sheerness Dock Yard. Periodically red-coated marines could be seen drilling on the upper deck, or men “pressed” into naval service were visible as they were received on board before assignment to a particular ship. Cassy might also listen to her father being piped aboard after a meeting on shore with Admiral Williams. In the background she heard the cries of swooping gulls and the sound of the channel buoys over the perpetual creaking of the ship and the whistle of the wind in the riggings.

Sometimes Cassy left the Namur for visits to her Austen and Palmer relatives on land in Hampshire, Kent, and London. On these occasions, she disembarked in a bosun’s chair - a plank seat with canvas surrounds slung by ropes and pulleys from the ship. Secure in a parent’s arms, then swung over the side of the Namur, she was lowered into the ship’s tender, which would take her ashore, - surely a heady adventure for a naval child.  

Cassy was devoted to her parents and her sisters, Harriet and little Fan, born in December 1812, and was happiest when with them, but it became increasingly clear that the benefits of family life on the Namur were outweighed by her sufferings when the ship’s motion in rough seas triggered severe and prolonged bouts of sea sickness.[13] Adding to this problem were the discomforts of exposure to frigid weather at sea in winter. So Cassy’s parents decided that she should periodically leave the family circle and stay on land with her aunts, Jane and Casandra at Chawton Cottage and Harriet in London. The aunts welcomed her, though it meant more changes in her home life.   

Cassy’s story reveals one child’s experiences growing up in a naval community. Some circumstances of her family life were favourable to her well being and development, others were less productive of comfort and pleasure. Cassy was able to grow up in a stable and caring family because her parents determined to keep all its members together as far as possible. Rather than leave her in Bermuda on the two occasions when Charles’s career required him to stay in Halifax, Cassy and her mother came along as well. Once in England in 1811, instead of Fanny and the children living on shore, as many naval families did, the Charles Austens chose to establish an “aquatic abode,” as Cassandra Austen called it, on the Namur. Thus, Cassy was spared separation from her parents during most of her early formative years. Additionally, Cassy mixed with a variety of naval folk, including the officers under her father’s command, as well as the Admirals he served under - John Warren and Thomas Williams - together with their wives. She was introduced at a very young age to adult company and social life. Cassy was also exposed to a variety of climates, landscapes, towns and cities in North America and England, and she must have begun to observe the diversity of nature and human life. She was gaining views of the wider world.

Other aspects of Cassy’s naval lifestyle were difficult. She was plagued with sea sickness. Not only did her parents grieve to see her so discomforted but they were concerned that her early education would suffer. Additionally, she lacked the advantage of a steady land-based home in a familiar neighbourhood. To a sense of instability may be added loneliness. Once on the Namur Cassy may have found the captain’s quarter too confining. There was no scope for running about outside; the lack of other children, apart from her younger sisters, conceivably added to a feeling of isolation. Such was Cassy Austen’s early childhood, far removed from the predictable norms for a girl of her station in Georgian life, yet revealing of a naval family’s existence during the Napoleonic Wars as experienced from a child’s point of view.

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[1] Cassy’s first cousin, Caroline Austen (1805-1880), daughter of her uncle, James Austen, had a similar lifestyle.

[2] Charles Austen to his sister, Cassandra, 25 December 1808. See Sheila Johnson Kindred, Jane Austen’s Transatlantic Sister (hereafter JATS), MQUP, 2017, 2018, 216.

[3] The other sponsor was her aunt, Cassandra Austen, in England.

[4] Attributed to Amelia Almon Ritchie and thought to be a copy of a watercolour of the same scene by Halifax artist, William Eagar (1796-1839), who taught Amelia Ritchie drawing.

[5] The Indian’s Logbook, 29 November 1809, ADM 51/1991.

[6] Fanny Austen to her sister Esther, 1 June 1810. See JATS, 52.

[7] Cassy crossed the Atlantic in HMS Cleopatra in 1811. This image depicts the ship’s struggles in a severe storm in 1814 when Charles was no longer her captain.

[8] Fanny to Esther, 1 June 1810, See JATS, 52.

[9] Fanny to Esther, 23 September 1810. See JATS, 68.

[10] Fanny to Esther, 1 June 1810. See JATS, 53.

[11] Charles had served under Thomas Williams on HMS Unicorn (32 guns) and HMS Endymion (44 guns).

[12] The Namur had had an illustrious career in the sea service. She had seen action in numerous battles: Louisburg (1758), Lagos (1759), Havana (1762), and Ortegal (1805). Now she was the guard ship at the Nore and a receiving ship for sailors waiting to be deployed to naval vessels fitting out in the Thames and Medway rivers.

[13] As Jane explained to Cassandra, Fanny and Charles “do not consider the Namur as disagreeing with [Cassy] in general - only when the Weather is so rough as to make her sick.” Jane to Cassandra, Letter # 94, 26 October 1813. 

Season’s Greetings and 2021 Preview

Cassandra, first child of Fanny and Charles Austen, was a Christmas baby. She was born in St George’s, Bermuda on 22 December and her birth was announced to the Austen family in a joyous letter written by her father on Christmas day, 1808. A healthy baby was surely the best gift that the young couple could have wished for. Cassy’s life as a naval child and niece of Jane adds to our appreciation of the women of the Austen family. My January post will explore Cassy’s story. Meanwhile, in the place of a December post, I send you greetings, in the words of Charles Austen, for a “merry and happy” holiday season.

Sheila

Vice-Admiral Sir Francis Austen in Halifax, Nova Scotia: 1845-1848

INTRODUCTION

Jane Austen had two naval brothers: Francis and Charles. I have written extensively about Charles, drawing on research which revealed his close naval connections to my home town of Halifax, Nova Scotia, when he served on the North American Station for 6 ½years (1805-1811) during the Napoleonic Wars.[1] But Charles was not the only member of the Austen family who came to know Halifax well. His older brother, Francis,[2] was Commander-in-Chief of the North America and West Indies Station from 1845-48 and he made his summer base in Halifax during this commission.  This post continues the narrative of the Austen family’s intriguing connections to Halifax and Nova Scotia.     

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Fig. 1: Admiral Sir Francis Austen [3]

In 1845 Sir Francis Austen, Vice-Admiral of the White, was seventy-one years old and back in uniform again after 31 years on shore on half pay. During his absence from the sea service, naval practices had greatly changed. Steam ships now operated alongside sailing vessels and made up a quarter of the British navy. Sir Francis held a peace time appointment, which, while he was on the North American end of his Station, required him to ensure the protection of the fisheries against American interests, to make coastal surveys and maintain a British presence in waters adjacent to Great Britain’s colonial possessions in the area.[4]

Sir Francis’s flag ship, the third rate Vindictive (50 guns) with a crew of 500 men, first arrived with the squadron in Halifax on 19 June 1845. According to the Halifax Morning Chronicle, Sir Francis “disembarked under a salute from the Citadel and was received by a guard of honour on landing.” He immediately established his summer headquarters and set about his administrative tasks with speed and precision.

Sir Francis had a reputation for attention to detail, and a commitment to do a job well according to what he judged to be the appropriate standards.  By 1 July he issued his General Instructions and Port Orders for the Squadron Employed on the North America and West Indies Station. His  orders for Halifax left his officers and men in no doubt regarding what he expected in matters of navigation, safety, discipline, refitting, provisioning, and ordinance. He also paid attention to the flag signals employed by the military telegraph system, which provided continuing communication between the Citadel in Halifax to Fort George, the outer forts and the harbour entrance.

Fig. 2:  Signal Flags used in communication with the Vindictive.

Fig.3: Detail of Signal flags

Sir Francis was also concerned for the well-being of his men. While in port in 1846, he innovated a temporary hospital for “patients employed in the northern part of the station during summer months.” By using the services of the Vindictive’s surgeon, her medical supplies and part of the old naval hospital, he was able to provide health care in an environment conducive to recovery.[5] Another commitment to healthy practices was his directive forbidding the dumping of waste in the vicinity to the Naval Yard. He specified that “whenever any Ship may have occasion to go alongside the wharf at the Halifax Yard, care is to be taken to prevent any rubbish or dirt from being thrown overboard.” [6] 

Sir Francis’s orders also show concern for the safety of others in distress. He stipulated that “whenever the Signals for Vessels being in distress at the entrance of the Harbour shall be hoisted on Citadel Hill, assistance is to be immediately sent from each Ship. A Launch, with an Anchor and Hawser, is always to be kept in readiness for that purpose at one of the Wharfs of the Yard.”[7]  

 His squadron included four of the newer steam/sail combination sloops: HMS Vesuvius, HMS Columbia, HMS Hermes, and HMS Growler. Although all his previous experience had been in sailing vessels, he conscientiously addressed the challenges of the new steam technology, which required the management of different operational skills. His General Orders included cautions about getting steam up too quickly, directives about economizing on fuel and the necessity of employing competent stokers for maintaining the boilers.[8] He understood the versatility of steam/sail sloops. Their steam power made them much more maneuverable for navigating around shoals and in swift currents or when ships became becalmed. Sir Francis wisely chose the Vesuvius to take him on a tour of the Bay of Fundy, a Nova Scotia marine area with powerful, fifty-foot tides.

Contrary to usual practice, Sir Francis had four members of his family with him on the Vindictive: his 3rd son, George, 4th son, Herbert, and two unmarried daughters, Cassandra (Cassy, 31) and Frances (24). George, an ordained minister, served as the ship’s chaplain. Herbert joined the Vindictive as his father’s flag lieutenant. The women were ostensibly along to act as their father’s social hostesses. Sir Francis’s original intent was to commission his namesake and eldest son, Francis, as flag captain of the Vindictive. However, recently enacted Admiralty regulations prohibited such favouritism. 

In November 1846, Herbert was promoted to the rank of commander and commissioned into HMS Vesuvius. His promotion was benevolent, if not self-serving, behaviour on Francis’s part. It gave his son experience with steam power, which the navy would increasingly rely on. Additionally, the Vesuvius was suitable for carrying out cartographic assignments, which Herbert would soon undertake. Fortuitously for another family member, Herbert’s promotion created a vacancy which Sir Francis promptly filled in May 1846 with Charles John Austen, son of his brother, Charles.

Fig. 4: HMS Vindictive and HMS Vesuvius in Halifax harbour. Notice the large funnel on the  Vesuvius.[9]

Sir Francis attended to his official duties scrupulously but showed scant interest in lighter, less serious aspects of social life. He did what was proper in the realm of expected social courtesies. But he preferred to live quietly in the company of his own family and officers instead of hosting entertainments for members of the local military, administrative and business classes. When official social occasions were required, his elder daughter, Cassy, put herself forward as chief organizer and manager of the proceedings.

William King Hall, lieutenant on the Vindictive, was vehement in his criticism of Cassy’s behaviour. He viewed her as petulant and domineering; he declared her presence was “the destruction of all comfort.” She had, he observed, “every bad quality of heart and hand.”[10] Her influence even permeated the day to day routine of the Vindictive. King-Hall complained that “she is the Mistress of the Ship, influences the [Admiral] in every way, and in fact, I imagine will soon be Commander-in-Chief.”[11] He referred to her privately as “Miss Vindictive.”[12]

On shore in Halifax, Sir Francis and his retinue enjoyed the spacious and elegant residential quarters of Admiralty House. This fine, two-story, stone mansion, situated above the Naval Yard, was surrounded with landscaped gardens and offered a fine view of the harbour. While in port, the Vindictive’s officers were required to live at Admiralty House and were expected to dine with Sir Francis, as if they were aboard ship, at six thirty each evening. Although he was said to keep a good table, this obligation frustrated several of his artistic and socially minded officers. They found reasons to absent themselves from Admiralty House and pursue their personal interests elsewhere. Understandably, they had no desire to be spending their free time in the odious company of “Miss Vindictive.”

Fig. 5: Admiralty House, Halifax, completed 1819, where Sir Francis and his retinue lived while in Halifax.

Flag captain Michael Seymour made pencil sketches and watercolours of the harbour, Admiralty House, and the rugged countryside outside Halifax. He continued to sketch and paint whenever the Vindictive called into ports. Herbert Austen followed suit. While in Halifax, he captured what it looked like to enter the harbour (see Fig. 6), he documented how the Vindictive compared with his new command, the Vesuvius (see Fig. 4), and he recorded the beauties of the North West Arm of the harbour.[13] Seymour and Austen often sketched together and were considered talented amateurs. Both men had attended the Royal Naval College, Portsmouth, where they were most likely taught drawing by Professor John Christian Schetky.

Fig. 6: “Halifax Harbour 1848”[14]

Young Charles John Austen had romantic rather than artistic interests. He met and fell in love with a pretty young Halifax girl, Sophia Emma Deblois. They married on 6 September 1848 at St Paul’s church in Halifax. He was not the only young officer in the squadron to fall in love. W.D. Jeans, secretary to Sir Francis, also met his future bride, Elizabeth “Bess” Hartshorne in Halifax. They were wed on 18 July 1848. Additionally, William King-Hall was introduced to Louisa Forman[15] in 1847 and by September they became engaged. He returned to Halifax from England after his current vessel, HMS Growler, was paid off in England in May 1848 so that he could marry Louisa in June of that year. Thus, three young officers from Sir Francis’s squadron married Halifax girls in 1848. Cassy Austen, who had flirted and unashamedly pursued several officers in the squadron,[16] did not figure in this inventory of happy couples.    

Sir Francis’s three-year term of service on the Station was completed by mid-1848. The Vindictive arrived at Spithead, the anchorage for Portsmouth, on 6 June. The next day Sir Francis lowered his flag as Vice-Admiral of the White for the last time.[17] He was subsequently promoted to Admiral of the Red. Although he was never to serve at sea again, he lived to enjoy further honours: in 1862 when he was made both Rear Admiral and Vice Admiral of the United Kingdom. On 27 April 1863 he achieved the navy’s highest rank, Admiral of the Fleet. Sir Francis died on 10 August 1865, after 79 years of service in the navy.  

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[1] See the bibliography in Kindred, Jane Austen’s Transatlantic Sister, MQUP, 2017, 2018, 273. 

[2] Francis Austen’s early career was marked with considerable professional and personal success. Beginning with his initial training at the Royal Naval College, Portsmouth, and subsequently service as a midshipman in 1789, Francis later undertook commissions in the English Channel, the North Sea, the Baltic, the Mediterranean and the Azores. At the age of twenty-six he achieved the rank of post captain. During this first phase of his naval career, Francis married Mary Gibson in July 1806 and together they had eight children. 

To his great and lasting regret, Francis missed the famous Battle of Trafalgar in October 1805 for, although one of Admiral Nelson’s squadron, his ship, HMS Canopus, had been deployed on convoy and supply duty just before the commencement of the battle. However, he did fight at the St Domingo action in February 1806, leading the lee line of ships into combat. By May 1814 his current ship, HMS Elephant, was paid off and Francis came on shore.

[3] Oil portrait, private collection.

[4] Elsewhere on the Station, he arrested slave traders sailing under Portuguese and Brazilian flags and protected British commercial interests during the Mexican American war. According to Austen scholar Brian Southam, “gun boat diplomacy was called for along the coasts of Venezuela and Nicaragua, in Sir Francis’s own words ‘to protect property from apprehended outrage in consequence of revolutionary insurrection.”‘ See Southam, Jane Austen and the Navy, National Maritime Museum, 2005, 57. When tension in Venezuela required a show of British force, Sir Francis travelled overland to Caracas to parlay with the President in order to defuse the political unrest.

[5] See AUS/11, 22 June 1846.

[6] See Francis Austen, General Instructions and Port Orders for the Squadron Employed on the North America and West Indies Station (GO), Gossip and Coade, !84, 2,51. 

[7] GO, 3, 51.

[8] GO, 4, 49

[9] Watercolour by Herbert Grey Austen, private collection.

[10] Cassandra Austen’s domineering behavior became known to the Admiralty once the ship had been paid off in England. The ship’s former flag-captain, Michael Seymour, reported in a letter (29 June 1848) to W. D. Jeans, who had served as secretary to Sir Francis, that “the Admiralty were pleased with our old ship the Vindictive and have so expressed themselves to me. There is a feeling of displeasure at the Admiral having so systematically taken his daughter to sea with him. I, of course, said very little and merely listened to the remarks made - and I fancy that in future cases some restrictions will be put on family privileges. ... It is surprising how much [Sir Francis] and [Cassy] have been the subject of conversation.” Seymour’s remarks suggest he would be in some agreement with King-Hall’s criticism of Cassy. Things did not go well for her once on shore. According to Seymour, Sir Francis and Cassy “were in lodgings in London (June 1848) to consult medical men on her health.” She died eleven months later. See Michael George and Edwin Harris, W.D. Jeans: Admiral’s Secretary Bermuda, National Museum of Bermuda, 2010, 24. 

[11] See Sea Saga: Being the Naval Diaries of the King-Hall family, ed. L. King-Hall, Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1935, 145-148.

[12] King-Hall gave examples of Cassy’s meddling tactics: On 20 March 1845, she told Lt Bernard that “she thought it would be a good thing if the officers were changed (146).” While docked in St Thomas, Virgin Islands, Cassy “remarked to [Lt] Burton that ‘she was moving all she could to get the ship’s birth changed (148).”’She pointedly told to King-Hall it would be “a much better thing if [he] joined [HMS Vesuvius] (148).” King-Hall was delighted to be commissioned into HMS Growler on 29 December 1847, thus escaping from his “spinster enemy,” Cassy.

[13] He liked to sketch initially with pencil and then later applied watercolours or gouache.

[14] Watercolour by Herbert Grey Austen, private collection.

[15] According to the editor of Sea Saga, L. King-Hall, Louisa was lovely to look at. She had “auburn ringlets, a dazzlingly fair complexion, lovely hands, and a slim figure” (164).

[16] King-Hall mentions in his journal that he was “highly amused at … Cassandra’s flirtations (148).” He observed “A dead set has been made at Commander Pelly of the sloop Rose by her. Yesterday the Father [ Sir Francis] asked [Pelly] or hinted to him about taking her [for] a drive.” (147). 

[17] As his commission ended, Sir Francis appointed his nephew Charles John Austen, to the rank of commander..

Captain Frederick Hickey and the Loss of HMS Atalante

Introduction

My last blog (25 September) considered the importance of brotherly relations between Charles Austen and his naval colleagues on the North American Station. One of those fellow officers was Captain Frederick Hickey, who became a friend of Charles and Fanny Austen and their family. His naval experience on the Station mirrored Charles’s life in many respects except one. Each had his first solo command on the Station in an eighteen-gun sloop of war built in Bermuda to the same design - Charles in HMS Indian and Frederick in HMS Atalante. Both had cruised North American waters defending British naval and commercial interests and taking enemy vessels as prizes when they could. Each suffered the rigours and violence of North Atlantic storms on his small wooden sailing ship, but on one occasion Captain Hickey faced an emergency which would have tested Charles to the utmost, as it did Frederick, and filled Fanny with terror even though she understood the enormous hazards of a career at sea. The story of Hickey’s avoidance of imminent death for himself, his officers and his men provides a vivid insight into the risks that Charles and Fanny, fellow officers and their families had to accept, with courage, as part of their naval lives.

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Fig.1: Captain Frederick Hickey (1775-1839), painted by Gilbert Stuart, c.1810.

Frederick Hickey, commander of the sleek sloop of war, HMS Atalante, had been enjoying a successful career. He was fortunate in his pursuit of naval prize, capturing at least 7 enemy vessels since the hostilities with America began in June 1812.[1] But his luck changed dramatically in early November 1813.[2] The following account is a story of courage and quick thinking in the face of imminent disaster. It is a narrative enhanced by passages from Hickey’s own description of the catastrophe which befell him and his beloved Atalante.[3]

Fig 2: HMS Atalante Passing Sambro, Halifax, N.S.[4]

On the morning of 10 November, the Atalante stood in for Halifax harbour, even though it was shrouded in excessively thick fog. Ordinarily a captain would not risk his ship approaching the rocky and shoal strewn entrance to the harbour in such a fog but would wait offshore until it thinned. Yet Captain Hickey was committed to arrive in port as fast as possible because he was carrying urgent dispatches for Admiral Sir John Warren, commander-in-chief of the Station. The dispatches described the movements of the American fleet, which were reported to have “determined to put to sea at all risks.”  Hickey understood the potential hazards of his situation and acted accordingly. He stationed extra lookouts, ordered frequent depth soundings, and had the sails reduced to lower the Atalante’s speed. He also tried to take advantage of a navigational aid. It was a common practice for ships on the Station to sail into the harbour under foggy conditions guided by the gun on Sambro Island at the harbour’s outer approach. During thick weather, an incoming naval ship would intermittently fire a gun, which would be answered “gun for gun from the [Sambro] Lighthouse,”[5] thus giving the captain some idea of his ship’s location.

Fig. 3: In the distance, the Lighthouse on Sambro Island. The Sisters and Blind Sister shoal is located to the left of the lighthouse.

The Atalante repeatedly fired a signal gun from 8:15 until past 9:00 am. Ominously, what they assumed to be answering gun fire, actually came from HMS Barrosa, which was similarly trapped in the fog. Mistaking Barrosa’s gun fire for the signal gun from the lighthouse, the Atalante proceeded in what was thought to be the direction of Halifax. Then disaster struck. At about 10 am the ship ran up on the dreaded Sisters and Blind Sister,[6] a rock studded shoal, about 1½ miles east north east of the Sambro Island Lighthouse. According to Hickey, “in a few minutes the rudder, the stern post and part of the keel were knocked off [the Atalante]. Perceiving immediately that there was no hope of saving the ship, my whole attention was turned to saving the lives of my valuable crew.” Hickey’s subsequent leadership marks him out as a courageous and insightful officer. He would have barely 15 minutes to save all those on board before the vessel broke and sank.

Fig. 4: Hydrographic Map showing the Sisters and Blind Sister shoal, top right-hand corner of map

Picture Hickey exercising command on deck on a cold November morning, clothed only in “a pair of drawers, a shirt, and a hat.”[7] He first ordered the boats to be launched but, as he later  recounted, “the jolly boat was stove and filled with water immediately after being launched, and there remained but three boats (the pinnace, the cutter and the gig).” Hickey then ordered the guns to fire a distress signal prior to the men casting them overboard. Yet only those guns above water were capable of firing, and the ship filled before any guns could be jettisoned. She was now fast falling over on her beam ends. Directions were given to cut away the main and foremast. As the masts fell, “the ship parted in two places.

Fig. 5: Wreck of the Atalante as she broke right across between the fore and main masts [8]

Hickey’s words dramatically capture the desperation of the situation. [When the ship broke apart], “a few of the crew were on the larboard[9] side of the ship, the only part above water, and the remainder clinging about the masts and on the booms. About 60 men got into the pinnace,[10] which was still supported by the booms; but as there was no hope of saving the boats with that number in her, I persuaded about 20 to 30 to come out and endeavour by main strength to launch her clear of the wreck, which they succeeded in a most miraculous manner.[11]… Nothing being now left to trust our lives to except the boats and a raft, as many men as the former would apparently contain got into them, some by swimming from the wreck, whilst others were hauled off by means of oars and small spars.”[12]

Yet not all the men had found a place in the ship’s three boats. Once the pinnace had been launched, Hickey had ordered the booms to be joined to make a raft. It was here that he and 37 others were stranded for a considerable time, with no chance of getting the raft clear of the wreck, while it drifted into worse breakers. Hickey ordered the smaller boats to come near the raft and each take some more men. It was to his credit that the men complied immediately, even though overloading the small vessels might jeopardize their own chances of survival. As Hickey later reported: “I succeeded in getting every man and boy safe off the raft.” As the boats moved away, the men gave three cheers and the wreck was abandoned.[13] Except for the official dispatches in Hickey’s possession, and a chronometer carried off the ship by a clerk, everything aboard was lost.[14]

The officers and men were still in a perilous position. The fog continued as dense as ever and the boats were dangerously overloaded. The pinnace held 80 men,[15] the cutter, 42 and the gig, 18. The survivors initially had no way of knowing in what direction to steer. The hazardous rocky coast and the threat of other nearby shoals were very much in their minds.

Fig 6: The forbidding coast with Sambro Island and its hazardous rocks on the horizon

Fortuitously, the quarter master produced a small compass attached to his watch fob. This he turned over to Captain Hickey. Thus encouraged, the men rowed the three small, vulnerable vessels for about two hours, when, to their great good fortune, they encountered a local fisherman who led them to nearby Portuguese Cove. By about 2 pm they arrived safely in the Cove, one of the few possible landing points along the very treacherous coastline.

Fig.7: Entry to Portuguese Cove, Nova Scotia

The inhabitants lit great fires to warm and dry out the shivering survivors, many of whom were scantily clothed as they had been obliged to discard all but their trousers when they swam for their lives from the sinking Atalante. Hickey later praised the “poor inhabitants of the Cove, who behaved towards us with every possible mark of hospitality, kindness, and attention, that humanity could dictate.”

Fig. 8: At Portuguese Cove where the survivors were fed and cared for

Once on shore, Hickey acted with alacrity. The dispatches had to be taken to Halifax with no delay. This he did, by means of the pinnace, taking the other boats with him in company. They carried those who had suffered most from fatigue and cold during the ordeal. The remainder of the survivors had to march across country to Halifax, 20 miles away, no mean feat given their inadequate clothing and the rough terrain. That evening, Hickey delivered the dispatches safely to Admiral Warren. He was informed that a Court Martial would be held on the morning of 12 November in Halifax harbour, aboard HMS Victorious (74 guns) “to inquire into all the particulars attending the loss of HM sloop Atalante, and to try Captain Hickey, the officers and crew of that sloop for the same.”[16]

At the Court Martial, Captain Hickey spoke eloquently in his own defence. None of those present could fault his diligence in attempting to get crucial information to Admiral Warren in wartime. According to Hickey’s perception, such a commitment to complete his mission justified the risks he took in proceeding in thick fog through shoal filled waters. He also told the Court of his concerns for the well being of his men and the state of the Atalante. His ship was short of provisions at a time of year when inclement weather could keep a vessel from making port for days. Moreover, the very seaworthiness of the Atalante was at risk due to the condition of her cables, which a recent survey had condemned as unfit to trust. Hickey knew that both these requirements could be satisfied in Halifax. He also praised “the conduct of my officers and the ship’s company, under the most trying circumstances in which human beings could be placed. [Their conduct] was orderly, obedient, and respectful, to the last extremity.” To Hickey’s great relief, the Court acquitted him, his officers, and the company of HM late sloop Atalante of all blame.

Frederick Hickey had another reason to be thankful in addition to his acquittal. That evening a hurricane force wind blew up the harbour, which caused great confusion and considerable damage to those ships in its path. All the warships got to shore but some were dismasted, and the merchant men in port suffered dreadfully. Had this destructive storm occurred two days earlier, there would most likely have been no survivors from the Atalante.

Public sentiment was warm in praise of Hickey’s superior leadership and the singular co-operation of his men.[17] A passenger on the Atalante, Jeremiah O’Sullivan, who had recently escaped from New London, Connecticut, wrote a letter of appreciation. He dedicated some of his remarks “to the honour of Captain Hickey. He was the last who left the wreck; his calmness, his humanity, and his courage, during the entire of this awful scene, was superior to man: everything  lost but our lives.”[18] On 12 November, the Halifax newspaper, the Weekly Chronicle, acknowledged they were “extremely sorry to state the loss of H.M.S Atalante, Captain Hickey”, continuing that, “happily, by the great exertions of the Captain and Officers, the crew were saved in the boats.”[19]

Frederick Hickey’s career was not blighted by the loss of the Atalante. To his great delight he was promoted to post captain rank on 19 February 1814. He subsequently commanded the HMS Prince Regent (56 guns) on Lake Ontario. There followed an appointment as flag captain to Commodore James Yeo on HMS St Lawrence, a 112-gun first rate warship, launched on the lake on 10 September 1814. Hickey continued in the St Lawrence on Lake Ontario until the peace with America in 1815. Thereafter his career took him to the South American Station.

For Hickey, the loss of the Atalante was the source of bitter personal regret, but in the eyes of others, his behaviour revealed his excellence as an officer, who deserved  praise for his courage and commitment to those under his care. In later years, he had reason to reflect with some satisfaction on the events of 10 November 1813, knowing that, in extremis, he had done his duty well.   

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[1] In July 1812 Hickey took a ship of 359 tons, laden with wines, brandy, silks, and sundries.

In December he captured the American privateer, the Tulip. Five months later he towed five other prizes into Halifax carrying cargoes of cotton, indigo and other commodities.

[2] Photographs at Figs. 3, 6, and 8 by Hugh or Sheila Kindred.

[3] Hickey’s account of the disaster and his defence at his subsequent court martial are found in royal naval biography: or memoirs of the services of all the flag-officers; superannuated rear-admirals, retired captains, post-captains and commanders, hereafter RNB, by John Marshall, 1827, 232-34.

[4] The image of the Atalante is plate CCCCXV, in the Naval Chronicle, vol.31, 1814, engraving by W.E Bailey.

[5] For a description of this protocol see Admiral Hugh Pullen, The Sea Road to Halifax, 1980, 22.

[6] The origin of this name has to do with the local story of two jealous sisters who abandoned their blind sister on Blind Sister Rock to be swept away by the rising tide. See Pullen, 24.

[7] For a description for the narrative read at the Court Martial, see RNB, 232-34.

[8] See Captain Basil Hall, Fragments of Voyages and Travels Vol. 1, First series, (Fragments), 1831, 280.

[9] Port side.

[10] A pinnace was a small, light boat, usually rowed, but could be rigged with a sail. 

[11] According to Captain Hall’s account, the pinnace floated but was upset by a sea, … [but] the men by great exertions righted her.” See Capt. Basil Hall, The history of a ship from her cradle to the grave, 1848, 126 ff.

[12]Those seeking the safety of the boats included 12 American refugee slaves, who were among the first of the Black Refugees of the War of 1812 to reach Canada.

[13] The cheering may have been a way of raising spirits, of expressing relief that everyone had got off the Atlalante. Perhaps it was also a way of paying tribute to a fine ship, which had brought prize money to the officers and men and had been their home for over 5 years. 

[14] There was a fiddler among the crew who was determined to save his instrument. Finally, he realized he could no longer grasp it and reach one of the ship’s small boats. He put his life before his music. 

[15] There was apparently one woman in the pinnace. She has not been identified. Possibly she was a passenger.

[16] RNB, 232.

[17] In later years, the story of the Atalante was revisited by naval officer Capt. Basil Hall in his book, Fragments, 262-282. He focused on the drama of the wreck, the discipline of the men under extreme conditions and the superior leadership of Captain Hickey. In effect, the story of the Atalante became an exemplum in naval circles of the admirable discipline of a ship’s company and the courage and quick thinking of a commanding officer in a dire situation at sea.

[18] Quoted in RNB, 234. O’Sullivan’s letter also included a graphic description of the disaster. “In 12 minutes the Atalante was literally torn to pieces; the crew swam to the boats; and to see so many poor souls struggling for life, some naked, others on spars, casks, or anything tenable, was a scene painful beyond description. I was in the cabin when the ship struck; the shock told me our fate.”

[19] News of the Atalante’s sinking appeared in the next issue of the British publication, the Naval Chronicle, January to June, vol. 31, 1814. A short, in passim, reference reported the total loss of the Atalante, under the section “Shipwrecks”, and noted that the officers and crew were saved. Surprisingly, this volume also carried a smart engraving of the Atalante, which the caption identified as “His Majesty’s late sloop.” (See Fig: 2 above). This jaunty image, published in May 1814, shows the ship under full sail, passing the Sambro Island Light. It was intended to give an idea of the harbour approach to Halifax and the high land on shore. However, given the ship’s recent, tragic fate, it seems odd to celebrate her as she once was, after she has been completely wrecked. Instead of focusing on the loss of the ship, the caption continues with promotional material about Halifax. The town is “estimated to contain 20,000 people before the present war with the United States. From the accession of commerce, from a great number of prizes brought in by our fleet, and from it being the principal American naval station, it is no doubt at the present moment more rich and populous than ever.”

Brotherly Ties Among Naval Officers in Jane Austen’s Real and Fictional Worlds

The British Navy in Jane Austen’s time was a harsh world that officers sought to alleviate by fostering brotherly solidarity. Jane Austen understood this connectiveness, in part because her younger naval brother, Charles, experienced it. The support he received and extended as a young officer on the North American Station is mentioned in his letters and logbooks. This network of support reached beyond naval officers on a station to include their families, as Fanny Palmer Austen was to discover. Jane Austen recognized the importance of such supportive comradeship for she reflected its many aspects in her novel, Persuasion. 

Fig. 1: Charles and Fanny Austen by Robert Field

While serving on the North American Station (1805-1811),[1] Charles forged friendships with Captains Edward Hawker, Frederick Hickey and Samuel John Pechell, men like himself who were in the early stages of building their careers. Charles and Fanny Austen’s letters provide clues about the significance of these officers in their lives. Charles wrote to his sister, Cassandra, on Christmas day 1808, asking her to be a sponsor for their new-born daughter, Cassandra. He announced that “Captain Hawker of HMS Melampus [will be] your other partner in sponsorship,”[2] thus alerting the Austen family to his firm friendship with Edward Hawker.

In the summer of 1810, Fanny was alone in Halifax, Nova Scotia, while Charles transported troops to Portugal. It was comforting to encounter his colleagues Captain Hawker and Captain Pechell in port and exchange news about common acquaintances.[3] Captain Pechell, in particular, inquired “very kindly” about Fanny’s sister, Esther, in Bermuda. He sounds like a particularly valued friend for Fanny describes him as “my very great favourite Capt. Pechell.”[4] (The underlining, for emphasis, is hers.)

The third naval friend, Capt. Frederick Hickey, was first mentioned in letters in July 1808.  Hickey had seen Fanny in Bermuda where she was in good health and five months pregnant. According to Esther, writing to the absent Charles: “Captain Hickey told [Fanny] yesterday that she had grown quite plump in the face.”[5] This remark suggests he was sufficiently intimate with  Fanny and Charles to justify such personal language. Later, Hickey helped the sisters by carrying goods from to the other on his vessel, HMS Atalante (18 guns). On 4 August 1810 Fanny thanked Esther for “the straw plaits by Cpt. Hickey.”[6]

Other contextual details illuminate the nature of Charles’s relationships with Hawker, Hickey and Pechell. Charles first became friends with Edward Hawker in Bermuda in early 1805, when he was busy recruiting sailors and preparing his new sloop of war, the Indian, for her maiden voyage. Hawker, in contrast, was in port because his frigate, HMS Tartar (32 guns), had suffered extensive damage on a reef. In consequence, he was cast on shore while shipwright-caulkers sent from the Halifax Naval Yard laboured to make the Tartar seaworthy.

The Indian took an interest in the repairs to the Tartar, for when the bottom was finished and the Halifax shipwrights “gave three cheers,” their celebratory chorus were answered by “the officers of the Indian.”[7] Just before Charles and Edward sailed for Halifax in May, Hawker showed his appreciation to the “shipwrights from Halifax” by the unusual gesture of giving them “a supper and Ball.”[8] We do not know who else attended this entertainment but we can imagine Charles joining in with spirit and enthusiasm.  

Fig. 2: Edward Hawker

Charles and Edward also shared in the chase and capture of the American ship, Sally, in         July 1806. They followed with interest the progress of their claim before the Halifax Vice Admiralty Court and rejoiced when Judge Croke condemned the vessel and its cargo in their favour. Austen and Hawker anticipated the captors would receive a pay out of prize money amounting to about £992[9] but, instead, an appeal, by the owners of the vessel and its  cargo, to the High Court of Admiralty in London was successful. In consequence, Charles and Edward were stuck with the costs incurred by the prolonged court proceedings. At least there was company to share in the disappointment.

Charles and Frederick Hickey had been fellow members of the North American squadron since before 1807. They shared a unique professional connection as they were captains of ships built to the same design. Both were Bermuda class ship-sloops: Charles’s Indian was launched in 1805 and Frederick’s Atalante in 1808. The two men likely compared notes about their vessels, such as gun practice for their crews or sail settings for speed and weather. They had other connections as well. The Atalante, together with the Guerriere (32 guns, Capt. Pechell) and the Cleopatra, Charles’s next vessel, were co-captors of an American brig, the Stephen, in December1810. Prior to the cruise on which this prize was taken, the three captains agreed to a sharing arrangement. Whoever made the capture would grant the other vessels an equal claim on any resulting prize money, irrespective of whether those vessels were in sight at the time of the capture. This initiative showed their mutual concern for each other’s financial well being.

Although Samuel Pechell was part of the team which shared in the taking of the Stephen, yet, within six months, he and Charles were caught up in a difficult situation. With no warning, the Admiralty assigned Pechell to the Cleopatra and Charles was left without a ship, forcing him to go ashore in England on half pay. Although both men knew that Pechell had greater seniority than Charles and that the influence of his uncle, Admiral Sir John Warren, worked in Pechell’s favour, it must have been upsetting for one friend to replace the other without equal benefit for both.

Jane Austen was in frequent correspondence with Charles, keen for details about all aspects of his naval life, both professional and personal.  Moreover, by July 1811 Charles and Fanny reached England, where they could regale Jane and other members of the Austen family in person with narratives about their naval lives and friends made during the 6½ years Charles had served on the North American Station.  Their stories may have influenced Jane Austen’s creation of Persuasion when she came to the portrayal of the fellow officers, Wentworth, Harville and Benwick.

Fig 3: Persuasion by Jane Austen

Various resonances are detectable between what characterized Charles’s working relationship with colleagues and the attitudes of Austen’s fictional hero, Captain Frederick Wentworth. For example, the joint agreement about sharing prize money, which obligated Austen, Hawker, Pechell and Hickey, spoke to a common concern for each other’s interests.  Recall that in Persuasion, Frederick Wentworth regrets that his friend Captain Harville has not been with him as an officer on the Laconia and thus share in the richness of prize money amassed from captures in the West Indies.[10]

Fanny Austen was also the beneficiary of the naval support system. She appreciated Hawker and Pechell’s enquiries about her family, while she was alone in Halifax. Moreover, she was grateful to Captain Hickey, who thoughtfully brought her goods from her sister in Bermuda. These small acts of kindness exemplified the support that even naval wives enjoyed within the context of the naval world. Recall that in Persuasion, Wentworth speaks of his active concern for members of the naval family. He would “assist any brother officer’s wife that he could.” Such actions were “all merged in [his] friendship.”[11]

In later years when Charles most needed a friend, when he was devastated by Fanny’s sudden death in 1814, Edward Hawker was a loyal and sensitive supporter. Both men happened to be on land in England. Hawker was frequently in touch with the grieving Charles. On one occasion, his wife, Joanna, “took the children out in a carriage and gave them heaps of toys.”[12]

Similarly, there are instances of compassionate support in Persuasion. Wentworth and Harville are both sensitive to the tragedy of personal loss. Wentworth raced to be the first to tell Captain Benwick that his fiancée, Fanny Harville, has died during his absence at sea. Wentworth then stayed aboard for a week with his grieving friend.[13] Captain and Mrs Harville invited the distraught Benwick to live with them ashore in Lyme, even though their small living quarters were scarcely big enough for their own family.[14]

 The theme of naval solidarity was important for Jane Austen. She wanted to highlight the general character of the navy, “their friendliness, their brotherliness, their openness, their uprightness.”[15] What she may have known from Charles descriptions of naval life on the North American Station could indeed have proved catalytic to creating the interactions among her fictional characters Captains Wentworth, Harville and Benwick. Moreover, she began Persuasion in early August 1815, within a year of Fanny Austen’s tragic death. Perhaps her sketch of the initially grieving Captain Benwick memorialized the plight of her devastated brother Charles, whose lost love was also named “Fanny.”

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[1] Charles Austen’s career advanced considerably while on he North American Station. He captained his first vessel, the sloop of war the Indian (18 guns). He was flag captain on the Swiftsure (74 guns) for five months. He was posted into his own frigate, the Cleopatra (32 guns), in September 1810.

[2] Charles to Cassandra, 25 December 1808. See Kindred, Jane Austen’s Transatlantic Sister (JATS), MQUP, 2017, 2018, 21.

[3] Fanny to Esther, 12 August 1810. See JATS, 62.

[4] See JATS, 65.

[5] Esther to Charles, 26 July 1808. See JATS, 214,

[6] Fanny to Esther, 4 August 1810. See JATS, 61. Straw plaits were used to make bonnets.

[7] Journal of shipwright Winkworth Norwood, 3 July 1805, MG 13, vol.4, Nova Scotia Archives and Record Management.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Cutters Adonis, Bacchus, and Cassandra were in company at the time of the capture so would have some claim, had there been prize money.

[10] See Persuasion, ed. R.C. Chapman, 3rd ed., OUP, 1933, 67.

[11] Persuasion, 69.

[12] Charles Austen’s pocket diary, AUS/101, May 1817. See also AUS/101: 5, 13 January, 29, 30 April 1815 and AUS/109: 29 April, 6, 7, 13 May and 9 June 1817.

[13] See Persuasion, 108.

[14] See Persuasion, 97.

[15] See Persuasion, 99.