Lt. Edward Manton to Miss Martha Manton:

Onboard HMS Demeter, at anchor, Gibraltar, 25 July 1793

Dearest Martha,

What an eventful cruise this has turned out to be! The day after I sent off my letter last by way of a passing vessel bound for England, we were set upon by a blow. We were passing the Bay of Biscay, which you may know is noted for its storms. It certainly lived up to its reputation.

Captain LeJourne was onboard the Maid of Coventry. As you will remember from my previous correspondence, he had received an invitation to dinner with Mrs. Katherine Danworth and her daughter, Emma. Onboard Demeter’s quarterdeck, I was becoming aware of the portents of ill weather. The barometer was dropping while the sea was beginning to work up. The sky as well showed tell-tale signs of an impending storm. Mr. Price, the Master, approached me to convey that he too was cognizant of the possible danger.

Upon Captain LeJourne’s return, Mr. Price and I prevailed upon his better judgement. The order was given to strike down the topmasts and rig preventers. Similar instructions were sent to the convoy, a gun repeatedly being fired to call attention to Demeter’s signal. Despite all this, some of the merchantmen were either lackadaisical in their response, or altogether uncooperative. They later paid a dear price for this show of independent defiance of Royal Navy authority.

By morning, if such it could be called, the storm was in full force. Sea and sky blended into one unending tapestry of green, darker here, lighter there, with the wind-driven spray everywhere. Poor Demeter took a pounding but proved her worth as a fine craft. One wave would come and raise her up, as though she were clear out of the water and flying like a bird. Demeter would hang for what seemed an eternity before beginning the mad descent into green, watery hell. With each wave that broke over the deck, all onboard were breathing salt water, wondering if the previous breath had been our last. Then, slowly, too slowly it seemed, Demeter would rise to meet the ocean’s next blow.

The storm carried on for two days! During its entirety, Captain LeJourne was in a state. His orders were to maintain the Maid of Coventry on our lee bow. At one point, we passed one of the merchantmen that had gone turtle. (I’m not sure which it was, we lost three of the convoy during the storm. The price of not preparing properly!) There was little we could do to help, even if Captain leJourne’s orders had not prevented it. To try and set a boat out in these seas would be to condemn men to being beaten to death by its hull as the wind and waves played tug-o-war with it. Were we to somehow put a boat asea, it, and all aboard, would quickly succumb to Poseidon’s wrath. Of course, any attempt to turn Demeter herself form her course running before the wind would be to invite the same fate as those we would rescue. At times, it is not easy pursuing a life at sea. Oftimes humanity conflicts with the unfeeling elements.

This storm took its toll among our own as well. The surgeon was kept gainfully employed dealing with broken limbs and such. The sheer mental and physical exhaustion took days to recover (neither Captain LeJourne, Mr. Price, nor myself were much absent the quarterdeck), not to mention the needed repairs to Demeter. Amazingly, we lost only one hand, Jack Eddings, an able seaman who fell from the foreyard during emergency repairs. Young Mr. Burch was wont to jump in after him. Only my quick action restrained him. He has not yet forgiven me for saving his life, though I daresay Mr. Burch does not see it that way.

All that said, I am safely arrived at Gibraltar.

Captain LeJourne is dining ashore, guest of Captain Danworth. He has taken young Urqhart with him. Tomorrow evening there is to be a ball at the Admiral’s residence. The guests of honor are to be some of our Spanish allies. It sounds so strange, Spanish and allies used in the same sentence. I would feel more comfortable allied with the Johnathans. Of course, their fascination with republicanism precludes that possibility.

I deeply regret that I have no special words for you Miss Post. But as you, and Martha, may tell from the forgoing, the sea has been a most jealous and demanding mistress this past week. She would scarce spare me a moment to think of aught but her. None the less, I shall hold both you ladies foremost in my attentions tomorrow evening; endeavoring to note full well the latest fashions as well as who says what about whom.

Until my next letter, you are in my heart as I hope I am in yours.

Edward