by David O'Neil
In March, when Villeneuve broke out once more, Nelson was misled again, starting the search of the eastern end of the Mediterranean, until he was advised that the French had been spotted 300 miles to the west. He gave chase. Villeneuve was joined by six Spanish ships of the line as he sailed to the west. He eluded Nelson in the West Indies and was soon on his way back to Europe.
Nelson sent a frigate to England with the warning and set off in pursuit. The ships at Rochefort were sent to Ferrol to enhance the fleet there.
Martin was sent to contact the Ferrol fleet under Sir Robert Calder, to confirm the rendezvous off Finisterre.
In foggy conditions HMS Diane witnessed the arrival of Villeneuve’s fleet and signalled the flagship accordingly. The ships of the line engaged with the French, hampered by the foggy conditions. The British captured two of the French ships, but darkness prevented the capture of any others. For Martin, ordered to stand clear, it was frustrating, The French frigates were well clear of the big ships of the line, and initially unable to give battle to the British contingent. After a long night the fog was still present, and the frustrated Martin had to watch the French fleet make off to Vigo.
Admiral Carter joined Cornwallis off Brest.
Without the French fleet to escort and protect them, the huge assembly of boats at Boulogne was a waste of time, and the assembled troops were redistributed to the borders with Russia and Austria. The Emperor, was furious at what he saw as cowardice on the part of Villeneuve. He sent an Admiral to take over from Villeneuve, who decided that his only salvation would be to defeat the British fleet. So he set sail with his assembled fleet to give battle. He did not have the additional ships from Rochefort as the messages he sent by frigates were intercepted . The Didon was caught by HMS Phoenix, and a second, Mistral, encountered Diane which was searching for the French at the time.
For Martin the sight of the lone French frigate was a relief. After endless-seeming days of nothing but the odd fishing boat to break the monotony, the cry from the masthead lookout brought him on deck with a will.
“Where away?” Reed called.
“Downwind, fine on the starboard bow, sir. Topsails of a Frenchie.”
Martin looked around the deck. The men were obviously as frustrated as he was. It looked as if the entire crew was on deck after hearing the lookout report.
“Let’s trim our sails and prepare for action, Mr. Carter.” The Sailing Master smiled grimly. “Aye, aye, sir. Bosun, let loose the reefs. Helmsmen, let her run full and bye.”
The extra pull of the sails, and the easing of the wheel allowed the ship to slip through the sea a little easier.
“Permission to exercise the guns, sir?” The midshipman stood hopefully before his captain, eager to keep his men busy and maintain the excitement brought by the sighting of the French ship.
“As you wish, Mr. Brooks. Both watches, if you please.” Martin smiled at the sight of the eager 13 year old giving his orders to bosun Roberts, 15 years older and a world wiser by then. The rumble of the guns being run-out and returned was present for the next two hours, before comparative peace was restored. By mid-day the ship was hull up, the Tricolor a splash of color at her mizzen.
“Well, Mr. Carter. What do you make of her?”
“She is the Mistral, sir. 32 guns, fifteen years old, I would guess,and she is trailing weed from the looks of her.”
“Every little helps, Mr. Carter. Mr. Reed! Clear for action!”
“All hands clear for action, marksmen to the tops.” The immediate rush of feet in response signalled the readiness of the crew for the action to come. The surgeon Henry Corder reluctantly went below to organize his space, in preparation for the inevitable surgery that would be required during the forthcoming action.
Martin looked around the decks at the men poised in place by the guns, the hammocks packed around the bulwarks, to provide cover and inhibit boarders.
“Starboard guns, run out and load, Mr. Reed.”
“Aye, sir.” Reed repeated the order to his gunners. The rumble of the guns on the deck recalled the earlier practice, though this was no practice. This was in earnest, and the guns were loaded with powder and shot.
“Up helm. Fire as you bear, Mr. Reed.”
The voice of Lieutenant Reed could be heard calling off the forward guns on the main deck of the frigate. “Number one gun, fire; number two gun, fire.” The crash of the impact of the 12lb shot was heard over the sound of the sea and wind. The Diane crossed the bow of the Mistral, her guns sending shot after shot crashing through the bulwarks and flying down the main deck causing havoc on the way. Guns were dismounted and blood sprayed everywhere where men were hurt by the flying shot and splinters of the shattered bulwarks and broken gun carriages every time the cannonballs impacted on the wood.
Thus far the French ship had not replied. Martin had the feeling that the captain was not a skilled veteran as the 18pound carronades blasted out from the end of the row. Martin prepared to wear round, taking fire to bring the port guns into action.
The starboard guns were reloaded and lashed in place, and the gun crews raced across to assist the port gunners prepare for action.
The starboard guns still working on the Mistral, opened fire as the Diane turned to port to bring her other broadside to bear. Several of the missiles impacted on the stern quarter, spraying splinters and scything down the helmsman. Carter caught the wheel to stop the ship falling off to starboard, and the two stern chasers fired into the Frenchman as she rolled with the recoil from her own broadside, the two 9 pound shots catching her low, punching holes near her waterline.
Then the Diane came round on a parallel course and the full portside broadside came to bear. The ship disappeared in the cloud of smoke from the guns. When the wind ripped the curtain aside it revealed a sorry sight. The mainmast of the Mistral toppled and fell the rigging, dragging the foremast which had snapped at the lower Fore-top. The mizzen stood alone, though swaying dangerously. The sails had smothered the men serving the guns, and several of the starboard guns were leaning at drunken angles where they had been dismounted by the fire from the British frigate. As Martin watched the colors were hauled down. With her way lost, the shattered ship wallowed in the ocean, a forlorn relic of the once proud craft.
“Away the longboat, Mr. Reed. If you please. Take a party and secure the prize. Bosun, man the jolly boat. Take a party of marines to see there is no trouble. We will secure alongside directly.”
The repair parties were at work already, the carpenter checking the damage done by the French cannon. There were several men wounded by the flying splinters and the helmsman was wrapped in canvas awaiting burial.
Checking with the Doctor, Martin found him packing a bag to cross to the French ship to help attend the wounded.
“The wounded here are attended. Two will die, I believe. The others will survive with rest and time. My man can attend them while I am away.” The Doctor had a wry grin, “I suspect I’ll have a little more to do on the Frenchie.”
“Take care, Doctor. We are coming alongside as we speak so I can assure you of an easy step to board her. As long as the weather holds, we should be able to keep close company while repairs are carried out. I will join you on board presently.” He nodded and returned to the deck in time to bring his ship alongside the prize, and take her under control.
On the deck of Mistral, Lieutenant Reed had men clearing the raffle of ropes and canvas from the dead and wounded beneath. The French crew were working alongside their captors, separating the broken spars, salvaging what they might from the damaged rigging. The bosun had the jollyboat still in the water rowing round the ship checking for visible damage at the waterline. The Diane was alongside the port side of the Mistral, the ship’s undamaged side and the French carpenter was just completing the repair, plugging the two holes made by Diane’s stern-chase guns.
On board the Frenchman, Martin collected the papers still lying in the captain’s cabin. The man himself was dead, s
hot by what the Doctor thought was a pistol bullet.
“Are you sure of this?” Martin asked.
Doctor Corder looked serious. “The wound is too small to be a musket, and typically was not caused by shrapnel. I’ll dig the bullet out when I have finished here.” He turned, his apron bloody from operating, and called the next forward from the queue of patients requiring attention.
Chapter eighteen
Trafalgar Bay
Martin returned to the deck and crossed to his own ship, The papers of the prize laid out on the desk in his cabin revealed that the ship was bound for Rochefort with orders for Admiral Missiessy to set sail and join Villeneuve to give battle to the British fleet. The orders had not been delivered and, obviously, now they would never be.
Martin returned to the deck and there he encountered Lieutenant Reed, who was on his way to report. “Sir, the hull is now sound. The bosun is rigging the mainmast to stand as the foremast. I have men bracing the mizzen and we should be able to get under way by morning.”
“The papers from the ship indicate that we have intercepted instructions for the French fleet at Rochefort to come out to support Villeneuve against our fleet under Nelson. I need to get this information to the fleet as fast as possible. Can you manage with the prisoners and the men you have already. Lieutenant Ash can take over your duties, while you carry on with a middy. I would be happier with you in command here.
“The bosun’s mate will stay with you. I’ll take Mr. Carter and the bosun with me. I will sail straight away. I suggest you set course for Falmouth with the prize and we will rejoin whenever we may.”
Martin shook Reed by the hand. When the arrangements for crew were made, the Doctor returned, “I have left the French doctor still at work, but now in a position to cope.”
“Thank you, doctor. Where we are going it is possible you will be seriously employed. Mr. Ash, cast off and set all sail.”
The young junior lieutenant dashed forward shouting orders. The bosun smiled at the activity and chivvied the men into action.
Aware that the fleet intended to cruise offshore in expectation of finding the combined French and Spanish fleets, Martin set course to intercept the fleet, more in hope than expectation, was prepared to make a guess when he reached the area. In fact he encountered the frigate, HMS Phoebe, 36 guns, now under the command of Captain Capel. In company the two frigates joined the main battle fleet on the 20th October, the day before they encountered the French-led force in Trafalgar Bay.
Martin called upon the Admiral to make his report and present the captured despatches.
“Well, young Forest-Bowers, you are looking well. I am happy to see you making progress in your career. Tell me of your lovely wife. She is well, I trust.”
“She is well indeed, I am informed, as is our child who will be named Jane, after our adoptive mother.” Martin was concerned. The Admiral was not looking at all well. His face was gaunt and his thin frame even thinner to Martin’s eye. His manner was as ebullient as ever and he soon had Martin smiling at his comments about some of his officers.
Nelson became serious when he took time to read the translation of the messages Martin brought. “The instructions you have intercepted are a duplicate of those intercepted by HMS Phoenix. She met with the French frigate, Didon, and, having overcome her, found a similar instruction to this despatch. It seems that Admiral Villeneuve sent his instructions twice. Since we have no news that Rochefort has responded, we will pray he did not send a third copy. I will expect you and Captain Capel to dine with me this evening. I have the feeling that we will be rather busy tomorrow. It will be good to have some younger people at the table for a change.”
Captain Hardy, who was at the Admiral’s side at this time, looked at his Admiral in astonishment. The fact that Nelson regularly entertained the midshipmen on the Victory was well known throughout the fleet.
As Martin was rowed back to his ship he was thinking of the forthcoming battle. He was well aware that the frigates present would not play a big part in the battle, but there were frigates on both sides and the possibility of battles between them was ever present.
Fascinated, Martin studied the opposing fleets through his telescope. The enemy were in a scattered line and the British line was split into two sections. The flags fluttered as the signals passed between the divisions of ships. Though there were obviously plans made for the attack and defence it was difficult to make sense of them from this position. There was a group of five frigates with the French fleet, all carrying the colors of France. He looked around at the group of frigates accompanied by the schooner, Pickle, and the cutter, Endeavour.
The actions of the frigates would be controlled by the senior Captain, Captain Blackwood of the Euralyus, 38guns.
He thought about the entertainment last night. Nelson had been on good form. The others at table had joined in to make the evening an enjoyable one. Certainly, it would have been difficult for a stranger to believe that the men around the table were facing the prospect of desperate action and a serious prospect of death the following day.
“Signal from the leader, sir. Form line on my port beam and make sail to engage the enemy. ”
“Make sail, Mr. Carter. Helmsman, steer small and come up to the leader on the port side.”
Martin looked sideways at the helmsman. Noting it was a steady hand at the wheel, he left it to him to carry out the maneuver without unnecessary fuss.
“Shall I order the guns to clear for action, sir?” The voice of Lieutenant Ash asked, rather hesitantly.
Martin considered the question, not wishing to point out that they were still an hour’s sailing from the enemy frigates who were themselves preparing to meet the British ships.
“It would probably be best to wait until the leader decides to clear for action. Don’t you think, Mr. Ash?”
Ash blushed slightly. “Of course, sir.” He retired to the rail and resumed pacing as he had seen his seniors do.
The events of the day were imprinted on Martin’s memory to such an extent that Jennifer was fascinated when he described the events as he has seen them. The action he was involved in against the French frigates was all but forgotten in the shadow of the main events of the day. For the onlooker the battle of Trafalgar was noise and smoke in huge clouds. To the educated, the masts that stood above the clouds, showed success and failure as they moved with the progress of the day. They stood and fell, sails flew and burned, and men died in their hundreds, friend and foe alike. They died from the highest to the lowest, and history was made. A Nation mourned their hero who, in winning, lost his life.
The action against the frigates was going to be a victory in itself. Martin had no doubts, nor it seemed, had any of the other captains in the English squadron. The French had not been told, but their desperate action reflected their agreement of this. There was little time to study the main battle as their own battle was bitterly fought.
The surviving frigates, and their prizes, kept company with HMS Victory as she made her way to Gibraltar to refit, prior to her return to England with the body of the Admiral. With the repair to HMS Victory and the repairs needed to the HMS Diane, the frigate was retained to escort Nelson’s flagship, carrying his body on the journey back to England, where they both arrived on the 5th December 1805. The Admiral’s body was carried to Greenwich on the 6th and, after three days lying in the Painted hall in Greenwich, to St Paul’s for the burial service.
The affection for the Admiral was reflected in the number of people who turned out to witness the funeral procession. There were tickets issued for the service in St Pauls as so many wished to attend.
A period of national mourning ensued.
For Martin and the Bowers family the sense of personal loss was only relieved by the joy brought to the family by the presence of Jane, the child who was a delight and lifted the air of gloom whenever she appeared. For two golden weeks Martin was able to get to know his daughter during the period of the funeral and thereaft
er, while their lordships at the Admiralty deliberated over his future. The actions over the past months had resulted in rewards and punishments as the developments at sea had played out. In Martin’s case there were victories and the assessments of both Admiral Nelson, and the mysterious Mr. Smith to be taken into account.
Rear-Admiral Bowers had little to say in the proceedings in this case, content as he was to let Martin’s own actions speak for themselves.
The Gazette recorded the latest details and the announcement of his promotion to Post Rank came as no surprise to his adoptive father, mother or wife. It was only to Martin that it came as a surprise.
The announcement was the occasion for a celebration, however subdued in the circumstances.
The orders, when they finally arrived were odd. The Admiral was surprised, but not excessively, since he saw the hand of Mr. Smith’ in their drafting. It did, however, mean that Martin would be sailing East with Admiral Troubridge, who was scheduled to take command of the East India station.
Chapter nineteen
Disturbing events
1806…The Indian Ocean
The blue waters of the Indian Ocean flowed past the stark white of the wake outlining the black timbers of the 36 gun frigate, HMS Diane. Three merchant ships were bobbing along to leeward, a schooner and two tubby brigs, all loaded, Martin understood with rare silks and tea. He had encountered the three ships by chance. They had been part of a convoy, scattered by a violent storm to the south. Driven by the violent winds northwards, they had suffered losses of men and much of their food had spoiled.
