Nelson’s new ship, HMS Boreas, was another twenty-eight-gun frigate. A purpose-built British ship, now ten years old, she had seen considerably more service than her new captain, and was already in commission.1 Nelson hoped to go to the East Indies, but soon found himself destined for the Leeward Islands station. Nor would this be his last disappointment. Brother William insisted on joining as the chaplain, then the pilot ran the ship aground in the Thames, and Admiral Hughes’ wife and daughter joined an already crowded ship, an inconvenience made doubly trying by the added cost and the ‘eternal clack’ of the woman. Nonetheless, Nelson retained his infectious good humour: he occupied his time on the voyage educating and encouraging an unusually numerous crop of midshipmen, ensuring that all went aloft and took their navigation seriously.
After calling at Madeira for wine, water and fresh food, Boreas arrived in Carlisle Bay, Barbados in June 1784. As the senior captain on the station, and ranking second in command, Nelson would have much to do, especially as Admiral Hughes preferred a quiet life ashore. His orders were to protect the northern group of islands − Montserrat, Nevis, Anguilla, St Christopher and the Virgin Islands − and secure British commerce, which included preventing illegal trade. Though the duties seemed rather mundane for a thrusting young captain trying to make his name, Nelson would court controversy throughout the commission.
Soon after her arrival Boreas was tied up at Antigua, the other squadron base, to wait out the hurricane season. Here he fell under the spell of Mary Moutray, the charming and accomplished wife of the Dockyard Commissioner. Flirting with an older woman seemed to be almost the only relaxation for the squadron’s captains − apart from alcohol, which the abstemious Nelson abhorred. Cruising through the Saintes passage, where so much glory had been won, Nelson must have been struck by the relaxed atmosphere of the station, especially in comparison with the discipline expected of Hood’s fleet only two years before. He applied a harsh regime of punishment for this commission,2 and he was quick to react to any oversight or inattention that appeared to slight his office, his dignity or the rights of the Crown. He was ill suited to peacetime service: his intense, analytical approach to his profession appeared out of place in the heavy, torpid atmosphere of the sugar islands, where life could be short and the temptation to pursue pleasure almost overwhelming.
Hughes commanded a powerful force − a fifty-gun ship, four frigates and two sloops − which reflected the proximity of the interlocking French islands of Martinique and Guadeloupe and the extensive commercial interests at stake. However, the French provided few problems, unlike the community the squadron was sent to protect. Only rarely did Nelson escape the routine of the station, surveying a Danish harbour, and very pointedly escorting a French warship that appeared to be intent on surveying the British islands. Whenever possible Nelson had his ship sail in company with others on the station, to conduct tactical exercises.3 He wanted to retain the link with war service − the reason he had joined the Navy. Moreover, the exercises kept the ship busy, and gave the men a focus for their loyalties. The Boreas was a clean and well-ordered ship with a healthy crew.
The key to Nelson’s tour of duty in the West Indies was the clash of economic and strategic interests that followed the separation of the American colonies from the British Empire. Until 1776 American shipping and commerce had been an important strategic and economic asset, playing a major role in the French wars and the growth of the British economy. Colonial status allowed the Americans to trade freely with the West Indian sugar islands, exchanging grain, timber, fish, tar, tobacco and other produce for sugar, rum, molasses and money. American independence brought an end to this thriving and mutually beneficial inter-colonial trade.
Post-war strategic considerations were complex: as Britain’s fourth or fifth largest export market, and the source of the largest single import, the sugar islands were a major state concern. Moreover, the maintenance of naval mastery required a healthy merchant marine. But now the Americans had placed themselves outside the system, their sailors and shipbuilders should not be allowed to profit at the expense of loyal subjects of the crown, nor should the sugar islands keep their connection with the rebels, in case they too left the empire. Initial attempts to retain the old connection in a new form were quickly replaced by more hostile measures. The Navigation Acts, long regarded as the foundation of naval power, would be enforced against the Americans. The Order in Council of 2 July 1783 stated that American goods were only to enter the West Indies in British or colonial ships, which had to be British-built, and British-manned − a popular measure in London; American ships could only trade direct with Britain.
The West Indian lobby, a powerful group of MPs linked to the planters and merchants, attacked the Order in Council when it came up for renewal at the end of 1783, but they were soundly defeated by the argument that to open the trade to the Americans would undermine the commercial basis of British naval power, and on 31 May 1784 the Order in Council was upheld. In 1786 a measure to encourage British shipping was introduced by William Suckling’s friend Charles Jenkinson, now Chairman of the Committee for Trade. British shipping recovered quickly after the end of the war, soon outstripping the pre-war levels. The rise of British commerce provided the maritime resources for the next war: many of the men whose jobs Nelson had been so anxious to secure in 1784−6 would serve in the Royal Navy after 1793. Both the policy and the application, in short, would be vindicated.4
Why did Nelson take this issue so seriously? This question is generally answered by emphasising his commitment to duty, regulation and honour. But these concepts, so necessary to the creation of a certain type of Nelson, hardly square with his sinecurist behaviour in continuing to pay his brother William for a further two years after he had left the ship.5 Nelson’s concern to advance his family was typical of the eighteenth century, and such family connections also provide the key to his remarkable conduct in the West Indies.
After Maurice Suckling’s death, his brother William, Commissioner in the Excise Office, became the most important family member for the advancement of the young Nelson’s naval career. William’s links with powerful and ambitious ministers would prove invaluable, while his house in Kentish Town was a frequent destination for the young officer when in town. Nelson may well have encountered the debates over the Navigation Acts and the Order in Council while staying with Suckling in late March 1784, already knowing he was destined for the Leeward Islands.6 The Excise Office raised revenue on a limited number of dutiable commodities, notably beer, cider, wine, malt, hops, salt, leather, soap, candles, wire, paper and silk. In the eighteenth century, excise – collected by the producers, and passed on unseen to the public – was the most attractive method of increasing state income. It provided around half of all revenue and was regularly raised to pay for wars. The nine Commissioners sitting in London supervised the office, acted as a court of appeal and attended the Lords of the Treasury once a week.7 His role in the Excise gave Suckling access to the key players in Government, including the Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer.8
However, it was one thing to pass a popular measure in London, and quite another to uphold it in the West Indies, where the local commercial classes had long been in the habit of trading with the Americans. The trade proved impossible to eliminate, although it was restricted. Whatever the ministers had intended, the majority of West Indian officials, both Governors, and Crown Lawyers, connived in attempts to evade the statutes. Their early resort to financial power, through expensive legal threats, reflected the basic issue at stake: American ships could bring in goods cheaper than alternative suppliers.
By January 1785 Nelson had realised that Hughes was overlooking a trade made illegal under the recent Order in Council, and subverting the Navigation Acts that were essential to national security. He refused to join Hughes in his connivance with the local authorities, basing his stand on the law and his own dignity. This was hardly going to please Hughes who, when Nelson produced the relevant Act and Orders,
claimed he had not seen them. Desperate to square the circle created by his own acts and Nelson’s unwelcome zeal, Hughes ordered his officers to admit foreign ships if the local authorities gave them clearance. Nelson simply observed that this was illegal, and ran counter to the efforts being made back in Britain to suppress such trade. Not content with teaching the admiral his duty, Nelson copied the correspondence back to the Admiralty.9 Hughes could not assert his authority, because he was so obviously in the wrong. Instead he quietly left Nelson and the Collingwood brothers Cuthbert and Wilfred to enforce government policy, and incur the animosity of the islanders. Nelson sought government backing through an extensive correspondence. The resulting argument with Governor Shirley of Antigua was only resolved by a response from London.10
Knowing his approach would be popular in London, Nelson wrote to the Home Secretary, Lord Sydney, who had also received a full report from Governor Shirley on Collingwood’s initial actions. Meanwhile Nelson and Wilfred Collingwood had been stopping and searching suspicious trading vessels, many using false papers. The resulting seizures were entirely legal, but profoundly unpopular, provoking local merchants to issue a claim for damages. Just in case he had not caught the attention of the Ministers, Nelson then sent a statement of his services through Lord Howe to the King. Hughes merely reported proceedings and kept his head down. Nelson’s correspondence with older and more experienced officers had the tone of a self-righteous, hectoring sermon. Little wonder it reduced Hughes and Shirley to splenetic rage, a condition exacerbated by the realisation that the arrogant puppy was perfectly correct.
Nelson’s confidence was based on sound advice from London. He had been corresponding with Suckling on points of shared professional concern, debating the legal niceties of his position with him and seeking opinions from the Excise Board solicitor.11 He doubtless sent his uncle copies of the official submissions, in case the originals went astray. By September he knew his stand had been backed in London, gaining Treasury approval and legal support. He was reconciled with Hughes, who must have been relieved that Nelson made no allegations against him. While Nelson affected to be outraged by the arrival of an Admiralty letter commending Hughes for his non-existent zeal in suppressing the illegal trade, his comments should not be taken too seriously.12 They were, like much of his more vitriolic output, only meant for his friends. He knew that admirals always took the credit for the good work of their subordinates, along with a healthy share of the prize money and any other rewards on offer. However, he took the trouble to set out his case, including the evidence against Hughes, in a memorandum which was seen by a few key figures. Nelson had learnt a valuable lesson, and would not allow his merits to pass unnoticed in future. The seeds of his concern to manage his own publicity, so obvious after 1793, were sown in the Leeward Islands.
Nelson encountered another example of Hughes’ lax approach to naval regulations when he arrived at Antigua for repairs in early February 1785. He found the Latona flying a Commodore’s pendant: as her captain was Nelson’s junior, he ordered that it be struck, but Hughes had directed Commissioner Moutray to act in a military capacity in his absence. This was clearly in breach of regulations, since Moutray’s post was purely civil. Why Hughes chose to act in this way is unclear, but Nelson was correct. It did not help that the drunken and ailing Captain Sandys, for whom Nelson had already expressed his contempt, was at the centre of the affair.13 But the Admiralty, while agreeing with him, considered he should have resolved the matter with Hughes. Taken together, the illegal trade and pendant issues showed Nelson to be a well-informed, confident young captain, who was prepared to take a stand on principle, with the moral courage and personal authority to make his case. Feeble, second-rate officers placed over him soon discovered that his loyalty was only given to those of superior merit, not superior rank.
*
When Moutray and his charming wife returned to England Nelson needed another female focus for his emotional dependence. Like many young officers, he found local society often resembled a marriage market, with eligible young women paraded before potential suitors. Nelson might be a master of his profession, but he had yet to show any talent in affairs of the heart, where his rather too obvious desperation and failure to empathise had already led him to make a fool of himself on at least two occasions. This time he was more reserved, suppressing his greatest asset, the charming conversation that appealed to all ages and both sexes.
One of his few friends and supporters among the planters was John Herbert, President of Nevis, who stood surety for him in a legal case arising from the American ship seizures. In the President’s imposing mansion, Nelson met Frances Nisbet, Herbert’s niece, a widow of about his own age with a five-year-old son. Unlike the girls he had hitherto taken to heart, Fanny needed Nelson at least as much as he needed her. It was a relationship of the desperate: a single mother and a penniless, almost friendless naval officer. Fanny was looking for a way out of her current situation, and Herbert encouraged the relationship, flattering Nelson and promising him money that never appeared. However, Herbert was determined to keep Fanny, who was a useful part of his household, until it was time for him to move to England in 1787.
Frances Nelson, née Nisbet
If Nelson’s letters are to be trusted, there was little passion in the relationship.14 As he explained: ‘Duty is the great business of a sea officer. All private considerations must give way to it, however painful it is.’15 At least he was honest. It would be duty that took him away from her, and duty that attracted him to other women. For Nelson duty was the drug, the spur, the key – it dominated his conscious life. He closed his life with the words: ‘Thank God I have done my duty.’
It was on young Josiah Nisbet that the Nelson charm worked its effect most immediately, and through the boy Nelson secured a place in his mother’s heart. It is revealing that Nelson saw much of Mary Moutray in Fanny, both in her looks and her manners. Such sentiments tell us what he was looking for in this relationship, and explain why the marriage lacked sparkle. Needing a maternal relationship he borrowed Josiah’s mother. Only when he needed a mother to nurse him, after Tenerife, did he truly appreciate Fanny. She served many functions for Nelson, but there is no indication that she quickened his pulse, or occupied his thoughts when they were apart. His letters remained matter-of-fact, little different from those he sent to friends and relatives. Fanny, meanwhile, had no desire to live in society and never exerted herself to move in Nelson’s world. She sought quiet and calm. The fact that she clung to old Edmund, an aged hypochondriac parson, has often been cited as evidence of her innate goodness, but it is also an indication of her wishes.
As Herbert would not provide adequately for his niece in his own lifetime, Nelson was left to beg Suckling for an allowance. Once again he found it awkward and embarrassing, and was upset when Suckling did not respond with enthusiasm. As ever with Nelson, astonishing ambition and prudent foresight collided. He could have managed without the money, even as a married man.
However, all that was in the future. Before the marriage could be concluded, two years after the initial meeting, Nelson would face further challenges. The greatest of these concerned a young prince, and exposed the flaw in his hitherto stiff and correct application of service protocol. The relaxed regime of Admiral Hughes came to an end in August 1786, leaving Nelson as senior officer on the station. In December the frigate Pegasus arrived, commanded by a newly made twenty-one-year-old captain, His Royal Highness Prince William Henry. The Prince’s rapid promotion from midshipman to captain without any service in the intervening grades, allied to his limited capacity for reflection, did not promise well. William needed to spend time, as Nelson had, serving under a first-rate sea-officer like Locker. As First Lord of the Admiralty Lord Howe knew this, urging the King not to promote him out of turn. When the King insisted, Howe appointed one of Hood’s protégés, the thirty-four-year-old Lieutenant Isaac Schomberg, as first lieutenant of his ship. Nelson knew and respected Schomberg,
but William was only too well aware that the older man had been sent to ensure that he did not lose his ship, or his life, through inexperience.
William was on something of a royal tour of the North American station: part public-relations exercise, part opportunity to further his education. On the surface, he was doing well: he had brought his ship to the pitch of perfection, striking all who saw her as neat, tidy and smoothly efficient. But he did not command the enthusiasm of his officers, or his rigidly controlled crew. William was in the habit of publicly dressing down the vastly more experienced Schomberg in the presence of the other officers and high-ranking visitors. A more expeienced officer would have realised that the regulations on which William insisted needed to be tempered by common sense. An explosion was inevitable, and in the closely confined wooden world of an eighteenth-century frigate the tension at the top would affect the morale of the crew. Someone needed to take William aside and advise him to cool down.
Unfortunately Nelson had no intention of taking this vital role. Instead he saw a golden career opportunity: ‘It is in my interest to be well with the Prince.’16 If William was to be a professional sea-officer, then he would need someone at his right hand to supply his deficiencies. The self-confident Nelson’s charm and professional knowledge evidently made a powerful impact on the impressionable young prince, who derived ‘vast pleasure from his instructive conversations about our Service in general, and concerning the illicit commerce carried on in these islands’.17
William’s petty tyranny, which seems to have been exacerbated by Nelson, led Schomberg to demand a court-martial. Nelson responded by placing him under arrest for a frivolous complaint − a feeble, non-committal gesture. He must have known that taking action against Schomberg would risk his own relationship with Hood, on whose advice the lieutenant had been appointed. Nelson had backed the wrong horse. William, as Nelson might have realised had his veneration for royalty and vaulting ambition not clouded his judgement, could hardly rise to the top of the national arm. When Howe rebuked William, and by extension Nelson, for their petty and preposterous conduct, the two men responded in typical fashion: Nelson wished he could undo his actions, and asked William to forgive Schomberg; the bull-headed William was having none of that, and proceeded to pick a quarrel with Hood as well.18 Unlike his friend, William had family and position to fall back on, and could sacrifice his career to his pride. By transferring his hopes to William, Nelson had lost the confidence of Hood and Howe.19 He would have the opportunity to reflect on the real balance of power in the service over the next five years.
Nelson: Britannia's God of War Page 5
