John Rattenbury—or, as he is commonly called, the “Rob Roy of the West”—was born at Beer in 1788. His father was a shoemaker by trade, but before his son John was born, he went to sea on board a man-of-war, and was never again heard of. His mother supported herself by selling fish, while Jack was allowed to run wild, spending his time chiefly at the water-side, where he acquired a taste for the sea and for those daring adventures which made him subsequently so notorious. When about nine years of age, he induced his uncle, who was a fisherman, to take him with him in his fishing expeditions. This was the beginning of his sea training, and continued for some time, until one day, being left in charge of the boat, while his uncle was on shore at Lyme, he lost her rudder. For this negligence his uncle chastised him with a rope’s end, whereupon a separation ensued. Jack then joined a Brixham fisherman as an apprentice, but after a space of twelve months, finding this occupation uncongenial, he engaged himself to the master of a coasting vessel of Bridport, trading between that port and Dartmouth.

About this time war broke out between England and France, and fearing the press-gang, he returned to Beer. There he found his uncle engaged in collecting men for privateering, an enterprise which appealed to his roving spirit, and joining the crew, he, with twenty-two others, was conveyed to Torquay and put on board the Dover, commanded by Captain Matthews. In due course the Dover was ready for sea, and in March, 1792, started for her first cruise off the Western Islands. He thus describes his feelings on this occasion:—

The privateering enterprise, however, does not appear to have been very successful. After cruising about the Western Islands for several weeks without meeting with any adventure worth relating, the Dover at last fell in with three American merchant ships laden with French goods, but as their commanders contended that they were not lawful prizes, they were allowed to go. It transpired later on that these very vessels were afterwards taken by an English cruiser. Not long after, the Dover was captured by a French ship, and the crew, including John Rattenbury, were taken to Bordeaux and confined in the prison of that place. He does not appear to have been badly treated by his jailers, and he was allowed a certain amount of liberty, which enabled him to make the acquaintance of the master of an American vessel, then lying in Bordeaux harbour, Captain Prowse by name, who, taking a liking to the lad, allowed him to conceal himself on board his ship. It was, however, more than twelve months before the vessel was allowed to leave the port in consequence of an embargo on all foreign shipping, when, having taken in a cargo of wine, etc., it was cleared for New York, which port was reached after a passage of forty-five days. Here Rattenbury engaged himself as cook and cabin boy on board a ship sailing for Havre de Grâce. On arrival there he was anxious to get home again. He therefore transferred himself to an American merchantman belonging to Boston named the Grand Turk, bound for London, as he supposed, but much to his disappointment it proceeded to Copenhagen instead. He returned in her to Havre de Grâce, and thence after sundry adventures found himself in Guernsey, where, to his delight, he met his uncle, who took him back to Beer.

He was now sixteen years of age, and remained quietly at home for six months, part of which time he spent in fishing. After the roving life he had led, he found this occupation most uncongenial, and the smuggling trade, which was then being plied very briskly in the neighbourhood, offering great inducements, he determined to try his fortune at it. He accordingly joined a vessel engaged in this trade between Lyme and the Channel Islands, but after four months he engaged on another vessel, the Friends, a brig, commanded by Captain Jarvis. While in Tenby harbour she was captured by a French privateer. He thus narrates the incident:—

By good fortune the Nancy, a cutter belonging to the Custom’s Service, happened to be lying in Swanage Bay, under the command of Captain Willis, who, giving chase, re-captured the brig and brought her into Cowes Roads. She was restored to her owners, on their paying salvage, but Rattenbury received no reward for his services, and two days after re-joining the brig, was impressed into the Royal Navy and put on board a cutter cruising off the Channel Islands. On her return to Spithead, Rattenbury escaped on board a fishing smack and was landed at Portland, whence he proceeded, on foot, to Beer, exchanging his cap with a young man whom he met on the way for a hat. Some days after a party from the cutter sent in search of him reached Lyme, but although they failed to catch Rattenbury they had arrested the young man with whom he had exchanged hats. He was released, however, when they discovered that he was not the man they were in search of.

During the next six months he occupied himself with fishing and smuggling, but his roving spirit once more took him to sea, and in March, 1800, we find him sailing for Newfoundland on board a brig belonging to Topsham, commanded by Captain Elson. He was now twenty-two years of age. On its way out the brig put into Waterford for provisions, but had not been at sea many days before it had to put back to Waterford for repairs, having sprung a leak. These were speedily effected owing to the kindness of Lord Rolle, who lent seventeen of his soldiers to assist in the work. In due course they reached St. John’s, Newfoundland, and after discharging a part of their cargo, proceeded to Placentia and afterwards to Pacee, where the ship was laid up for three months, while the crew were employed in catching and curing cod. When they had secured sufficient for a cargo, they set sail, in November, for Oporto, but they had not been at sea many days before they were chased and captured by a Spanish privateer, and a prize crew put on board. Rattenbury and an Irish lad were, however, allowed to remain on board, and the former, by making himself generally useful, gained the confidence of the Spanish prize-master, so that when the prize reached Vigo, Rattenbury, instead of being sent to a prison, was taken by the prize-master to his own house, and given such a good character that the owner of the privateer gave him his liberty and presented him with thirty dollars and a mule to take him to Vianna, where the British Consul gave him a pass to Oporto. Here he met his late captain and ship-mates, who had also been given their liberty, and after some days found a vessel bound for Guernsey, on which he was engaged as mate. After an exceedingly rough passage he reached Guernsey on the 25th March, 1801, where he found a packet about to sail for Weymouth, in which he took a passage, and thus reached Beer once more.

On the 17th April, 1801, he married a young woman to whom he had become engaged before setting out for his last voyage and settled down at Lyme. Failing to find any regular employment, he determined to try privateering again, and accordingly joined the Alert, a lugger belonging to Weymouth, commanded by Captain Diamond. In her he sailed, in May, for Alderney, where, having taken in a stock of wine and spirits, a course was steered for the Western Islands in the expectation of falling in with Spanish vessels, but the venture was not successful, and the Alert returned to Weymouth on the 28th December, 1801.

Rattenbury now remained at home for four years, and was employed in piloting and victualling ships. One day, while at Bridport, he was taken by the press-gang. He managed, however, to escape, and was pursued by the lieutenant and nine men of the Greyhound. During the chase his wife appeared on the scene, and seized the lieutenant round the neck. A scuffle ensued, in which the townspeople joined, and Rattenbury was able to get clear away. After this adventure he went to live at Beer, and made many trips in smuggling with varied success; but the lieutenant of the Greyhound was his most persistent enemy, and was determined to capture him. On one occasion, at Weymouth, hearing that the lieutenant was on his track, he took refuge in a public-house, the landlord of which was a friend of his. The lieutenant having received information as to his hiding-place proceeded to the spot, and at two o’clock in the morning roused up the house, threatening to fire at the landlord through the window and force an entrance if he did not immediately come down and open the door. On the alarm being given, Rattenbury concealed himself in the chimney, and remained there for about an hour, while the premises were being searched. On the departure of the lieutenant he came out of the chimney in a parlous condition, black with soot and much bruised, but, as he says, “triumphing over the sense of pain itself, in the exultation which he experienced at having once more escaped out of the clutches of this keen-eyed Lieutenant and indefatigable picaroon.”

Becoming sick of being constantly hunted, he determined to take to privateering again, and shipped accordingly on board the Unity, a cutter then fitting out at Weymouth, commanded by Captain Head. About February, 1805, they proceeded to sea, touching at Alderney to take in provisions and spirits, and steered a course for Madeira, Teneriffe, etc., in the hope of falling in with prizes; but they met with no success, and returned to Beer in August of the same year. In consequence of his continued want of success in privateering, he determined never again to engage in it, “a resolution,” he says, “which I have ever since kept, and of which I have never repented.”

Rattenbury now settled down ostensibly to a life of fishing, but actually of smuggling, in which he met with many adventures and every variety of fortune. He had not been long at this employment when he was captured by the Roebuck while off Christchurch, in Hampshire; but during the chase one of the man-of-war’s men, named Slaughter, had his arm blown off in the act of firing one of the guns. The captain was anxious to land the wounded man, and ordered a boat alongside to take him ashore, into which Rattenbury smuggled himself, and on reaching shore got clear off. That same evening he borrowed a boat and rescued his companions from the Roebuck, together with three kegs of gin, part of his contraband cargo which had been seized.

In the spring of 1806, he was captured by the Duke of York, cutter, in a fog, and was taken to Dartmouth. On nearing that port, he jumped overboard, swam ashore, and concealed himself in some bushes. Two women, however, who had seen him, inadvertently revealed his place of concealment, and he was re-taken. When he came on board again

The smugglers were all tried by the magistrates of Dartmouth, who sentenced them to a fine of £100, to go on board a man-of-war, or to jail. They unanimously agreed to the last condition, but by six o’clock in the evening they were all so heartily sick of their quarters, which resembled the “Black Hole of Calcutta,” that they agreed to serve in the Navy, and were accordingly entered for the Kite, then lying in the Downs. They were removed the same evening to the Safeguard, brig, which lay in Dartmouth Roads. Next morning Rattenbury asked permission to go on board the Duke of York, on the pretext that he had a private communication to make to the captain. While on board, he seized an opportunity for escaping, jumped down on the bob-stay, and signalling with his finger a small boat which was passing at the time dropped into her, and in five minutes was landed at Kingswear, opposite Dartmouth, whence he made his way home by land.

Later on he was captured by the Humber, sloop, commanded by Captain Hill, and taken to Falmouth, where he was committed by the magistrates to jail. Next morning he and one of his shipmates were put into two post-chaises in charge of two constables to be taken to Bodmin. As the constables stopped for liquid refreshment at every public-house on the road they came to, they became somewhat merry towards evening. This was Rattenbury’s opportunity. While the constables were taking their potations at the “Indian Queen,” a public-house a few miles from Bodmin, he bribed the drivers not to interfere in what was to follow, and as soon as the constables came out they were overpowered by the smugglers. Rattenbury ran to a cottage close by, and the woman who occupied it showed him a way through the back door and garden, and having run a mile, on looking back, he saw his companion, who had escaped in the same way. That night they reached Newquay together, and next morning found their way on hired horses to Mevagissey, whence they took a boat to Budleigh Salterton.

On another occasion he defended himself in a cellar for four hours with a reaping hook and a knife, against a sergeant and ten men, all armed, and only escaped capture through a diversion created by some women arriving with a made-up story that a vessel had drifted ashore and that a boy was in danger of drowning.

Towards the end of 1808, through the influence of Lord Rolle, the soldiers posted at Beer for the purpose of catching Rattenbury were ordered away, and the ever-present fear of capture being thus removed, he determined to settle down as a law-abiding citizen, and with this object in view took a public-house, spending his leisure hours in fishing. But unfortunately this business did not prosper, so that about November, 1812, he reverted to his old trade of smuggling. In due course he was captured by the Catherine, a brig commanded by Captain Tingle, and brought to Brixham. While there his wife was allowed to visit him, and with her he arranged a plan of escape. She, in company with the wives of his shipmates, were to come alongside the Catherine on the next day with a good boat. This was done, and Rattenbury, with his companions, jumped into the boat for the avowed purpose of helping “the ladies” out of her up the side of the brig. As soon as the women were all out of the boat, Rattenbury gave the order to “shove off,” and although chase was immediately given and shots fired, the smugglers managed to land at a headland called “Bob’s Nose.” They quickly scrambled up the cliff, but Rattenbury, taking off his coat and hat and leaving them at the top of the cliff, rolled himself down again to the beach and made for Torquay. On the next day he met his wife, and they set off together for Beer. His companions, however, were pursued, the chase being watched from the neighbouring hills by several hundred people from Brixham, but only two were re-taken.

Rattenbury remained in his public-house till November, 1813, when he was obliged to close it owing to want of business and the bad debts he had contracted. He was now in a bad way, without any obvious means of subsistence, except fishing, which did not pay, and with a wife and four children to support. To add to his misfortunes, in the autumn of the same year, he lost his boat in a gale. He, nevertheless, managed to pick up a little by piloting, and in the beginning of 1814 was fortunate enough to obtain employment with a Mr. Down, of Bridport, who kept a small boat for fishing. With the wages thus obtained he was enabled by August to buy another boat.

During the next few years he was engaged in running contraband cargoes from Cherbourg, and some of his expedients for outwitting the revenue officers are very ingenious. On one occasion the officer who was searching his ship for contraband goods came across a goose, which he was desirous of purchasing, but as it was stuffed with fine lace instead of the orthodox sage and onions, Rattenbury naturally preferred not to sell it. At another time he had soldered up some valuable French silks in a tin box, so that when his boat was being overhauled he was able to throw it overboard while the searchers were in another part of the boat, and the package being buoyant was subsequently recovered.

One dark night he landed a cargo at Seaton Hole, and began carrying the kegs one by one on his back up the cliff, when he tumbled over a donkey lying in the path. The beast set up such a vigorous braying that it awoke the preventive officer, who was asleep at the foot of the cliff, and the whole cargo was consequently seized.

In the summer of 1820, he contemplated building himself a house, and bought a piece of land for the site. He at once commenced collecting stones on the coast in his boat, and till the end of the year was superintending building operations.

In 1825, while returning from a smuggling expedition, he was captured off Dawlish by the crew of a coastguard boat and lodged in Exeter jail, where he remained till the 5th April, 1827, when he was released through the influence of Sir William Pole. In May, and again in July, he was in London giving evidence in connection with a scheme for the construction of a harbour at Beer and a canal from Beer to Thorverton. He then remained at home engaged in his old occupations till 1829, when Lord Rolle got him into the Royal Navy, but falling sick, he was discharged on 6th January, 1830. His last smuggling adventure happened in January, 1836. He was bringing twenty tubs of brandy in a cart from Torquay to Newton Bushel, and when within a mile of the latter place, at ten o’clock at night, he was overtaken by some mounted officers, and the horse, cart, and its contents were seized. Rattenbury, however, effected his escape. This adventure ended his career as a smuggler. At the Exeter Assizes, held in March, 1836, he appeared as a witness on behalf of his son, who was charged with having been engaged with others in an affray on Budleigh Salterton beach, in which some revenue officers were roughly handled. The case excited considerable interest, and Rattenbury’s cross-examination by Mr. Sergeant Bompas afforded much amusement. The following are some extracts from a contemporary account of the trial:—

Rattenbury’s adventures now come to an end, and he appears to have settled down to a quiet life for the remainder of his days, Lord Rolle having generously allowed him a pension of one shilling a week for life.^[27]