Nelson: Britannia's God of War
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The passage to Lisbon, escorting vital naval storeships, occupied a tedious fortnight. Nelson then set out for the fleet off Cadiz. The voyage south gave him time to think about the next stage of the campaign. He was hoping for a fleet action, but feared that the Spanish would not come out, while St Vincent had too few ships to detach a squadron ‘up the Mediterranean, to endeavour to get hold of the French squadron, now masters of that sea’.10
Nelson reached the fleet on 30 April, and immediately went aboard the flagship, where his presence gave ‘new life’ to St Vincent. Nelson had been thinking about the bombardment of Cadiz with mortar and gunboats, but reports that Bonaparte’s army was at sea made a strategic reconnaissance the most likely option. At this stage he accepted the usual analysis that it was destined for Sicily, Malta, Sardinia, Naples or Portugal.11 Two days later St Vincent sent him inside the Straits with the seventy-fours, Alexander and Orion, and three frigates, to ‘endeavour to ascertain the real object of the [French] preparations’. His senior companions were two of St Vincent’s best men: James Saumarez, who had distinguished himself off Cape St Vincent in 1797 and would command the Baltic fleet between 1808 and 1812, and Alexander Ball, who would later become Governor of Malta.
Even as Nelson set off on his mission British policy, and his career, were about to change. The ministers in London were reviewing the policy. Elliot had called on Spencer to advance both his own Mediterranean opinions, and the merits of Nelson to command the necessary force. Following a cabinet meeting on 28 April Spencer directed St Vincent to send a more substantial force into the Mediterranean. Initially the object was to oppose the French armament thought to be destined for Naples. This rumour had so alarmed Austria that she was likely to rejoin the war, something the ministers were anxious to encourage. The British doubted the French would go to so much trouble for Naples, and fancied either Portugal or Ireland was the target, but they were happy to see the views of Vienna changing. A fleet in the Mediterranean would block the French, encourage the Austrians and perhaps bring the war to a speedy termination. St Vincent could have taken his entire force on a mission of this importance, but the minister preferred him to divide his command.
If you determine to send a detachment into the Mediterranean, I think it is almost unnecessary to suggest to you the propriety of putting it under the command of Sir Horatio Nelson, whose acquaintance with that part of the world, as well as his activity and disposition, seem to qualify him in a peculiar manner for that service.
Reinforcements would be sent from the Channel fleet, but the advance notice would allow time to prepare the necessary ships from the fleet off Cadiz.12 This was a momentous turn in the pattern of the war: the British were shifting from the defensive to the offensive, with a terrible swiftness that would outpace friend and foe alike. Nelson, who had long believed Hood’s argument that it was necessary to destroy the enemy whenever the opportunity arose, was the perfect choice to lead this new type of mission. Nor would it be in vain, for the French were on the verge of making a major mistake, by trusting an entire army on an overseas expedition. Even the optimistic Nelson could never have dared to hope for so much.
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Although the Austrians left the war in October 1797, bought off by territorial concessions, their defection followed the morale-boosting victory at Camperdown. Britain might be alone, but the threat of invasion had been removed: her policy-makers could fight alone, relying on maritime control. Such a strategy had been useful in the era of limited war, when economic exhaustion and a few islands could persuade the enemy to seek terms, but the new enemy was too ruthless and unreliable for such negotiation. Foreign Secretary Lord Grenville accepted that Britain would not be secure until France was stable, and Europe at peace. This in turn required the combined resources of the rest of the Continent to bring about a regime change in Paris. To fall back on the defensive would pass the initiative to France, allowing her to threaten invasion of Britain or Ireland, attacks on trade or further European conquests, all of which harmed British commercial interests. The loss of Portugal, the last ally, would be particularly serious.13 Lisbon was the key to the defence of the East and West India convoys, and vital to the financial health of the nation.
Throughout 1798, then, Grenville sought a Great Power coalition, linking Britain with Austria, Prussia and Russia, with a single war aim and a coherent strategy. The hope was illusory: self-interest, mutual suspicion and the instability of the Russian Tsar made the coalition impossible, and the whole-hearted support of any one power highly unlikely. It would take another fourteen years of Napoleonic aggression to overcome such hurdles. However, the British realised that Austria was the most likely to rejoin the war, because the French were not keeping the terms of the 1797 treaty. Knowing the Austrians wanted a fleet in the Mediterranean to defend their interests, Grenville and Pitt overrode Spencer’s objections. The naval officers at the Admiralty wanted to keep a reserve to secure Ireland, but the Cabinet insisted that it be sent to the Mediterranean, despite the danger. In addition the blockade of Brest was tightened, to reduce the possibility of the French using their main fleet, thereby improving the security of Ireland.14
News of a possible Franco-Austrian rupture, and the intervention of the King, resulted in eight ships being sent. To emphasise the speed with which Britain shifted from the defensive to the offensive, the reinforcements came from the Irish coast, where the French had only recently landed. The degree of risk involved became clear in August and September, when Nelson seemed to have failed.15 Even so the force sent was a sortie squadron: it had no staff and no base, and the duration of the cruise could be no more than three months, unless the ports of Naples were opened.16
St Vincent rose to the challenge, detaching his elite inshore squadron. He intended that Saumarez should return, leaving his favourite Troubridge as the ranking second, and consequently did not send Collingwood, who was senior to both men, to his immense chagrin. Nor did he intend sending the Audacious, with her uninspiring captain Davidge Gould. George Murray in the Colossus would have gone, had he arrived in time.17 Two days later St Vincent ordered Nelson with his reinforced squadron to pursue the enemy armament, and ‘use your utmost endeavours to take, sink, burn, or destroy it’, looking to Naples, Tuscany and the ex-Venetian territories for supplies.18
The loss of the Dutch fleet, coming on top of the defeat of the Spanish, left the French with few options for an offensive stroke against Britain. Making strategic combinations for a three- or four-pronged seaborne movement from the Texel, Brest, Cadiz and Toulon was no longer realistic. Bonaparte was sent to review the northern invasion plans in February 1798, and did not like what he saw of the cold, muddy coast, or the feeble forces to hand. With no prospect of success, he was unwilling to risk his own position, and recommended against the attempt. Instead he advocated turning to the Levant, to strike at the Indian base of British prosperity. He had already secured the Ionian Islands for France, and with France dominating the Mediterranean it made sense to continue the career of conquest by seizing Malta and Egypt. This would counter the recent British seizure of the Cape of Good Hope from the Dutch, opening a new route to the east.
The wholly unjustified illegal seizure of these two territories demonstrated the fundamental change in the international order. Small states were no longer safe. Malta was held by the Order of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem, an organisation left over from the Crusades, which conducted permanent, if rather desultory warfare against Muslim states. While the islands lacked agricultural riches, and had limited supplies of water, they were located at the choke point between the eastern and western basins of the Mediterranean, and Grand Harbour at Valletta, secure behind its massive fortifications, was the best naval base in the central Mediterranean. The Knights had long since lost their crusading zeal, living in faded and apparently rather dissolute splendour amidst a Maltese population who despised them. The order was dominated by French Knights, and funded by property in various European countries. Fr
ance had expropriated many of these lands, leaving the Knights short of funds, and increasingly irrelevant. The new state system of nations and empires had no place for such anachronisms: why should not the French replace them?
Egypt was in no better condition. Under the nominal authority of the Ottoman Sultans, defacto control had long passed to the Mamelukes, a warrior elite recruited from Circassian slaves. Under their petty tyranny the country had become a backward, crumbling, plague-ridden desert, full of the ruins of past glory. Many of these were connected with the two greatest conquerors of antiquity, Alexander and Caesar, men who fascinated Bonaparte. From a distance, Egypt seemed ripe for redevelopment through French science and political reform.
Foreign Minister Talleyrand supported Bonaparte, arguing that Egypt would be a substitute for the lost colonies of the West Indies. A combination of greed, fear and persuasive advocacy won over the Directory in early March, with the eventual object of linking up with the Mysorean ruler Tippoo Sultan against British India. On 12 April, Bonaparte was appointed to overall command of an expedition whose ultimate aim was to drive the English from their oriental possessions and open the Red Sea to French traffic. Within a week troops and shipping began to collect at Toulon, Marseilles, Genoa, Civita Vecchia and, appropriately enough, Ajaccio. An army of thirty-one thousand, half of them veterans of the 1796–7 Italian campaign, with 170 guns and 1,200 horses, would be accompanied by a remarkable collection of scientists, scholars and artists, Arabic printing presses and assorted paraphernalia. The scale of the movement made complete secrecy impossible, but the ultimate object was well concealed. Bonaparte arrived at Marseilles in early May and addressed the troops, with his usual mixture of bombast and extravagant promises.19
British agents around the Mediterranean were soon sending intelligence to London, and to the fleet off Cadiz. From early April it was evident that the French were preparing for a major move, and Naples and Sicily were the obvious targets. These reports had prompted St Vincent to plan a strategic reconnaissance, and led London to dispatch Nelson for the mission.
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After calling at Gibraltar Nelson set off, promising St Vincent, ‘I do not believe any person guesses where I am going. It shall go hard, but I will present you at least with some frigates, and I hope something better.’ He would head along the Spanish coast past Cartagena and Barcelona, round Cape St Sebastian and look into Toulon, seeking information to guide his further movements.20 The instructions for his battleship captains reflected the danger that so small a force faced when isolated in an enemy-controlled sea. They were to keep within sight of the flagship, even if they had to break off action. Two of the frigates were to head for Toulon, where they could cruise for up to ten days in search of intelligence, before rejoining at one of the pre-set rendezvous. In an attempt to preserve his secrets for a few more days he had the squadron sail from Gibraltar after dark on 8 May.21 Unfortunately they were delayed by light airs and were fired on by Spanish batteries the next morning.22
On 17 May one of the frigates captured a French corvette off Cape Sicie, about seventy miles from Toulon. Interrogating the crew provided considerable information on Bonaparte and his armament, although none on his destination. Cruising about seventy-five miles south of Toulon, Nelson was ideally placed to pick up any ships heading for Italy, or the Straits. Intelligence gathered by Saumarez indicated the French had embarked cavalry. Whatever the object, however, Nelson had no doubt that his duty was to fight the enemy, if he found them at sea.23 Although he had only three battleships, it is probable that he envisaged using them to break up the French fleet, leaving the frigates to attack the transport ships. With numerous French warships and transports running south along the Italian coast there was every chance of contact if Nelson hovered between Toulon and Sardinia. Instead he ran into a storm.
Nelson in the Mediterranean
A furious gale from the north-north-west hit the squadron on 20 May. No significant damage was done to the other ships of the squadron, but Nelson’s flagship, the Vanguard, was severely affected. Berry seems to have misread the weather, setting up the higher masts for light airs. Saumarez and Ball did the opposite. So while the other two seventy-fours had sails blown out, Vanguard lost all three topmasts, and then her foremast. Effectively crippled, with the foremast beating against the side of the ship, Vanguard was in serious danger. Nelson took command after the disaster, and managed to wear the ship off the rocky coast of Corsica. He now planned to anchor in a Sardinian bay to the south, and ordered the Alexander to take his flagship in tow. Despite exemplary seamanship, this apparently simple task occupied over eight hours. However, light airs and a strong current took them past the anchorage, and left the two ships drifting towards the coast, and unable to anchor. Unless the wind picked up the two ships were going to run aground. But for the audacious seamanship and determination of Ball, one or both of them would have been wrecked. In a passage of high drama, Nelson ordered Ball to save to his own ship, but he refused and kept calm. Finally a breeze picked up, and the ungainly partnership anchored safely between the island of San Pietro and the mainland at midday on 23 May.
Once anchored Nelson hastened to thank Ball, whom he had hitherto considered a conceited coxcomb. Typically, he took his newfriend into his inner circle without hesitation, and came to trust his judgement on questions far beyond seamanship. Nelson also had toacknowledge another mistake: Berry was not up to the job, both hisseamanship and his judgement left a great deal to be desired. For thenext two months Nelson would take a far more active part in handling the ship than he might have hoped. However, he would not have dreamt of disgracing Berry, or even replacing him, at this critical juncture. Remarkably, Nelson showed no signs of hesitation: he would repair the ship and carry on with his mission. He did not consider the obvious options of returning to the fleet with his crippled flagship, nor shifting into another ship and sending his flagship back. Instead, the carpenters of the three battleships quickly created a temporary or jury rig for the Vanguard. Five days after anchoring with her rigging in ruins the Vanguard was back at sea: she sailed well and would not compromise the mission.
A fresh prize revealed the French were at sea, and on 5 June Hardy in the brig Mutine joined the squadron at the rendezvous off Toulon to inform him of Troubridge’s reinforcement. The new ships linked up with Nelson on 7 June, and the entire force was together on Sunday 10th. He now commanded thirteen seventy-four-gun ships – all English-built, medium-sized units, with almost identical rigs, armament and crew. The fifty-gun Leander was an odd packet, too big to be a frigate, but too weakly armed and built for the line of battle and no faster under sail. St Vincent sent her because he had no more frigates. As Nelson’s frigates, hearing of his accident, had returned to Gibraltar, scouting duties would be left to the tiny Mutine. St Vincent had intended that the Orion should rejoin his fleet, as Saumarez was anxious to go home, but the damage to the flagship persuaded Nelson to keep him.
Over the next seven weeks of almost constant cruising, chasing and refitting, the squadron would build on the very superior attainments it possessed, reaching the highest levels of proficiency in all aspects of its task. These ships were fit champions for England – none better existed – and they would be tested to the limit before their work was done. Nelson had no doubt he would beat the French, but in 1798 the Mediterranean was a vast expanse of water with very limited communications, surrounded by a host of potential destinations and harbours where a fleet might find shelter behind batteries. His hardest task would be to find the enemy, and the key to this would be the acquisition and processing of intelligence. British officials in neutral ports and cities could help, but only if Nelson could make contact with them; intelligence from London and even reports sent by St Vincent would be out of date. The best source would be other ships. Prizes and neutral vessels could reveal much. The French knew this and deliberately destroyed as many passing vessels as they could, but Nelson stopped and spoke to at least forty-one craft between
May and August. As a result, he was never far from Bonaparte’s armada, eventually overtaking the French at sea.24
The squadron orders reveal an admiral bent on battle. The day after Troubridge joined he divided the squadron into starboard and larboard squadrons of seven and eight ships, commanded by himself and Saumarez, with Troubridge leading the line as he had so memorably at Cape St Vincent.25 Later a more conventional formation was adopted, with Nelson, Saumarez and Troubridge commanding distinct divisions. If he found the French at sea Nelson would use two units to engage their warships while the third cut up the transports.26 Whatever tactical divisions he adopted Nelson insisted that they keep in visual contact. He wanted his force together, in supporting distance, ready to exploit any fleeting opportunity for battle.27
While Nelson had been close to disaster on the west coast of Sardinia, Bonaparte’s force had found easier conditions to the east, as the various detachments linked up and headed for Malta. Arriving on 9 June, the French landed on the following day, securing the islands and the massive fortress of Valletta by a combination of force and treachery on the 12th. After installing a small garrison the main force left on the 18th. At this stage Nelson was less than a hundred miles astern, making far better time than the huge, unwieldy French force.
Nelson had arrived off Telamon Bay on the Italian coast on 12 June; though this was a potential rendezvous for the French force, he found nothing and pressed on south. He wrote to Hamilton for information on the French and an idea of what help he could expect from the Neapolitans. He also opened a running journal-letter for St Vincent, recording his daily proceedings and reflections, the whole dominated by his anxiety ‘to prove myself worthy of your selection … for this highly honourable command’.28On 14 June he heard that the enemy had been off Sicily on the 4th – information which, when combined with recent winds, allowed him to rule out an attack on Portugal, Ireland or anywhere else to the west. If the French were landing on the Neapolitan coast he would attack them, even at anchor, as long as they were not in a fortified anchorage.29