How could any of the witnesses forget it, in the light of what had followed? It was soon clear that there was no dispute as to what had taken place, but Lord Keith was looking grimmer with every moment that passed. Napoleon had invaded Syria and Sir Sydney Smith was under desperate siege at Acre. The French advance into Italy had reached Tuscany. At any moment, enemy fleets might break out of Brest, Cadiz and Toulon, falling like wolves upon the helpless flocks of the West India convoys and escorting an army of French troops and native rebels to invade Ireland. And here was the Barfleur and a host of other warships, lying peaceably at anchor while it was decided whether Lord Cochrane had spoken rudely to Lieutenant Beaver in the wardroom.
Lord Keith contained himself until Beaver had finished, and then his impartiality vanished.
"I hope this will be a lesson to officers how they apply for courts-martial in future, without first speaking to their captains or admirals. The first intimation I had on the subject was from the letter of application for the court-martial being put into my hand. Here are all the flag-officers and captains called together, at a time when the wind is coming fair and the ships ought to be under way. I think I am made the most ridiculous person of the whole!"
Cochrane tactfully announced that he would not "occasion delay" and that he would call no witnesses. He contented himself with pointing out that it was Beaver who had provoked the rudeness by his own foolish and unreasonable behaviour. The cabin was cleared while the court considered its verdict and the members voted, the junior officer voting first so that no member was intimidated by the expressed decision of his superior. Presently, the court was opened again and Cochrane was marched back in.
"The court," announced Lord Keith, "is of opinion that the charges are not proved, and do therefore acquit the said Lord Cochrane."
Despite this announcement of the court's verdict, the proceedings were not over. Lord Keith resumed.
"Lord Cochrane, I am directed by the court to say that officers should not reply sharply to their superior officers, and a first lieutenant's situation should be supported by everyone. A ship is but a small place where six or seven hundred persons are collected together and officers should in every part of it avoid any flippancy."11
There was a ripple of braided cocked-hats being replaced and Cochrane's sword was returned. Perhaps there was some satisfaction in the Barfleur's wardroom at the discomfiture of Lieutenant Beaver. But Cochrane was not such a fool as to believe that he had got away with his indiscretion. The judge-advocate at the trial was Lord Keith's secretary and the admiral's final reprimand to Cochrane was included in the minutes, to be forwarded to the Admiralty in London. The first official notice taken of the young lord was, in consequence, as of a junior officer given to insubordination and disrespect towards his superiors. It might seem to matter little at the time but it was to matter greatly in another year or two.
As for Lieutenant Beaver, the authorities looked more kindly on his impetuous zeal. In a few months more, he was appointed to the command of the Dolphin, a 44-gun frigate, with the rank of post-captain.
Cochrane, never one of Keith's particular proteges, was now regarded with suspicion by the admiral, who began to seek pretexts for getting rid of him. With St Vincent's retirement Keith assumed the command of the war in the Mediterranean, shifting his flag to the Queen Charlotte, where Cochrane still remained one of his junior officers. In the course of these changes, the French fleet escaped to sea and joined a Spanish force off Cartagena, a development which did nothing to increase Cochrane's respect for his own superiors.
It was Nelson who was the unlikely means of enabling Keith to dispose of Cochrane. The Queen Charlotte was at anchor off Palermo in the summer of 1799, while Nelson was living ashore as the idol of Neapolitan court and society. His defeat of the French in southern Italy had restored the position of King Ferdinand, who had none the less left Naples for his alternative capital in Sicily. Nelson received Cochrane at Palermo on several occasions and discussed naval affairs with him in a tone of remarkable frankness. One phrase stuck in the young lieutenant's mind. When they talked of tactics and manoeuvres, Nelson seemed to lose patience with the niceties of Cochrane's exposition, which seemed a little too much like the examination answers of a midshipman. "Never mind manoeuvres," growled the great hero, "always go at them!" It was almost identical to Wellington's maxim in land battles against the French, and Cochrane regarded it as the soundest piece of advice on the matter that he had ever received. On the other hand, he later understood why many officers complained of Nelson that if he had not been killed at Trafalgar, he would certainly have been court-martialled for hazarding the fleet.12
Just before their meeting, Nelson had overtaken and captured a number of French ships between Italy and Sicily, including a 74-gun ship of the line, the Genereux. Having talked with Cochrane since then, and knowing something of his disposition and spirit, Nelson may have recognised a reflection of his own panache and zeal. Perhaps it was this which prompted a suggestion to Lord Keith of making Cochrane prize-master of the Genereux for the voyage from Sicily to Port Mahon, Minorca.
To have command of a 74-gun battleship at the age of twenty-four, even for a single voyage, was an exhilarating experience. But Cochrane was somewhat less exhilarated when he went aboard. Lord Keith had provided a very special crew, made up of men from all the other ships in the fleet who were too badly injured or sick to carry out normal duties. The rigging of the ship was also in some disorder, as might be expected from a recent prize to which little had been done by way of repair. Indeed, the general state of the ship was barely seaworthy. The one concession was in allowing Cochrane to take his younger brother Archibald as midshipman.
The Genereux was midway between Sicily and Minorca when the wind freshened, and those on the quarterdeck saw the spray beginning to fly from the caps of the waves. During the next few hours, the troughs of the green surges deepened and the breeze gathered strength until it was blowing a full gale. The Genereux was across the path of the storm, rolling violently, the leeward ports almost under water. But Cochrane was looking up at the towering mastheads. There had been no leisure to reset the rigging before the ship was ordered to sea and it was evident that something had gone badly wrong with the sails. As the ship rolled to leeward, the wind went out of them and they hung in limp festoons. Then, as the Genereux heeled upright, they filled out with a sudden crack, so abruptly that they were in danger of splitting or being torn clean away from the masts by the tremendous force of the gale.
At any moment the Genereux was likely to be dismasted. Once that happened the hull would be pounded by the seas, broadside-on, until the gun-ports or timbers were driven in. Even if there were men to work the pumps, they would be no match for the flood that swirled into the hold. The only hope was to reset the rigging. Yet, as Cochrane remarked, the ship rolled so heavily that any man who went aloft would find himself at a dizzy angle, the sea boiling immediately under him, the ropes and spars slippery from driving spray. A fit, well-trained crew would find it difficult. With a complement of sick and wounded it was an awesome labour. His first independent command seemed likely to end in the loss of a 74-gun battleship on a routine voyage from Sicily to Minorca. His only consolation was that he would be unlikely to survive for the inevitable court-martial.
As the ship heeled precipitously under another driving squall, it seemed as though she might capsize even before she could be flooded. Cochrane made his decision, beckoning his younger brother and striding towards the mainmast. The two tall, youthful Scots were, after all, fitter than anyone else on board, and Cochrane's boyish idealism forbade him to give orders which he himself would not be prepared to carry out. As the canvas thundered and billowed against the darkening sky, the gangling figure began to climb with surprising agility. He shouted to the men below him that the mainsail must be furled. Even that was not guaranteed to save them, but it would reduce the violence of the ship's rolling. Seeing that Cochrane was prepared to go aloft, the m
en began to follow, clinging as he did to the slippery wetness of ropes and spars, while the wind shrieked about them, the cold spray stinging like a lash and the foam surging below the angled mast.
For a while, in the darkness, they struggled with the thick and heavy shroud but gradually the canvas was close-reefed and the ship's progress grew calmer. At last it was possible to manoeuvre her. As if acknowledging defeat, the storm died down and essential repairs could be carried out. Battered but still afloat, the Genereux dropped anchor off Port Mahon.13
By his seamanship on many such occasions, Cochrane proved his ability. Moreover, the flag-officers decided that if the unruly red-haired young man was to be a nuisance, he might as well be a nuisance to the enemy instead of to his superiors in the wardroom. To promote him to commander was the price of his removal, since he was not to be given a ship of much significance. A French corvette, the Bonne Citoyenne, nothing as grand as a frigate, had lately been captured from the enemy. A year after the Genereux episode, at twenty-five years old, Cochrane was told he could have the command of the little raiding-vessel.
This promise upset Lord Keith's secretary, who had a brother looking for a command just then. Lord Keith agreed that it was absurd, in that case, to give the Bonne Citoyenne to Cochrane. The appointment was cancelled and the impatient young commander was informed that they would find him another ship. When they did, it was the sort of vessel at which men looked and then guffawed loudly on being told that, despite its appearance, it was actually intended as a warship.
H.M.S. Speedy, lying at Port Mahon, was neither a frigate nor a corvette. She was euphemistically described as a "sloop" by the Admiralty. In fact, she was a coasting brig of 158 tons, suited to light work in calm water. Her rigging was such that Cochrane found one of the smallest sails from the Genereux was larger than the mainsail of his new "sloop". On paper, however, she sounded formidable enough, having a crew of eighty-four men and six officers, as well as fourteen guns.
Cochrane went aboard and examined the ship. The glory of occupying the captain's cabin was diminished by the headroom below decks being no more than five feet. A table, surrounded by lockers which doubled as seats, filled the accommodation. Space was so confined, Cochrane discovered, that he could only sit by crouching and rolling on to the lockers first. There were other problems which seemed still more intractable. How does a man over six feet tall shave in a cabin no more than five feet high? His answer was to open the skylight, place the shaving mirror on the deck outside and shave with his head poking through the skylight.14
Then there was the matter of the Speedy's armament. There were indeed fourteen guns but they were 4-pounders, which looked more like the sort of gun carried by a man going hunting than the artillery of a man-of-war. Cochrane collected up every ball that would be fired in a complete broadside and found that they fitted easily into his pocket as he walked the deck. He persuaded Lord Keith to let him have a pair of 12-pounders, so that he could mount them as bow and stern chasers. After several experiments he returned them to the ordnance wharf. There was not room on the Speedy's deck for the gun crews to work large guns effectively. More alarming still, he discovered that the force of the explosion shook the little ship's timbers so violently that she was in danger of springing several leaks. There was nothing for it but to make do with the "popguns" already on board.15
Among his compensations, he was able to appoint his younger brother Archibald as midshipman, and he had an excellent deputy in Lieutenant William Parker. Best of all, there was what he called "my first piece of luck", which befell him within a few hours of the Speedy sailing as convoy escort from Cagliari on 10 May 1800. French privateers were active in these waters and it was difficult for the sloop to keep a close watch on the fourteen merchantmen in straggling formation. At 9 a.m., Cochrane recorded, "observed a strange sail take possession of a Danish brig under our escort". To abandon the rest of the convoy and turn back to aid a straggler was a risk, but Cochrane took it. At eleven-thirty, he entered in his private log, "rescued the brig, and captured the assailant". The French privateer was the 6-gun Intrepide, no match even for the Speedy. It was mere formality to overhaul her, fire a warning shot, and put a prize crew aboard. Against the background of the Mediterranean war, the Intrepide was insignificant. For Cochrane, however, she was his first prize after seven years in the navy.
On 14 May, almost midway during the voyage to Leghorn, five armed boats closed on the convoy. "At 4 p.m.," Cochrane reported, "the boats boarded and took possession of the two sternmost ships."
Again, he took a calculated risk, turning back to the two captured merchant ships. Fortune habitually favouring the bold, provided a sudden and propitious wind. "The breeze freshening, we came up with and recaptured the vessels with the prize crews on board' Cochrane noted in his log. The armed boats had left the scene, but both French prize crews were themselves prisoners. On 21 May, he recorded "At anchor in Leghorn Roads. Convoy all safe." Best of all, his first fortnight of command had also brought him one captured French ship and over fifty prisoners.16
This was the opportunity for which he had longed. Though detained in May by the bombardment of Massena's French army at Genoa, he and his crew captured three prizes in June, and three more in July. That natural talent for piracy, which made up an important part of his character as a seaman, had found its true employment in the service of his country. On 3 August 1800, he anchored off Leghorn with his small fleet of prize vessels. "Lord Keith received me very kindly," he wrote. Lord Keith could afford to, since he received a substantial share of the prize money as the admiral commanding the area.17
On Keith's orders, Cochrane spent the rest of the year operating from Port Mahon against the Spanish coast, whose defenders soon knew about the brig and its captain. To counter this, Cochrane had the Speedy repainted to resemble the Clomer, a neutral Danish brig which traded up and down the Spanish Mediterranean coast. On 21 December, Cochrane was cruising off the Spanish coast when he sighted a ship which had the appearance of "a well-laden merchantman". The prize was too good to miss and the Speedy gave chase to the large but unarmed vessel. On coming parallel, the ports of the "merchantman" swung open to reveal a row of heavy and powerful bronze cannon.
Cochrane, on the quarterdeck of the little brig, muttered something about having "caught a Tartar", and then ordered his men to run up Danish colours. But there was worse to come. The large ship had appeared to be only lightly manned, whereas now a couple of hundred armed men had appeared from below decks and the first boat was being lowered. If the Speedy attempted to run, she would be blown from the water. If she remained, then the Spaniards would board her. She had, as Cochrane remarked, "fallen into the jaws of a formidable Spanish frigate".
As the Spanish boat pulled closer, Cochrane ordered out of sight everyone who was wearing a recognisable British uniform. Then he revealed their defender. From below decks came a man in Danish uniform. He not only looked Danish, he spoke Danish as well and had been taken on by Cochrane in Minorca for that reason. As the Spanish boat came within hail, the Dane began to parley with its occupants, who still seemed insistent on boarding the Speedy, But Cochrane had further elaborated his masterstroke, following the pattern by which he customarily unnerved his opponents. When they thought that the worst had happened, there was, as a rule, one more thing for which they were totally unprepared.
In this case, the Dane spoke dolefully in his guttural Spanish and indicated the foremast of the brig. Cochrane's seamen had been busy and there now flew a single yellow flag: the Speedy was in quarantine with several cases of plague on board. It all fitted the Dane's story of having come from Algiers, where plague had indeed broken out, and it was perfectly adapted to the Spanish fear of importing the contagion into their own country. A boarding party which remained on a plague-stricken brig would have small chance of survival. Even after a brief visit they might well take the pestilence back to their own crowded ship.
The Spaniards hesitated. Then the boat's cre
w bent to their oars and began to pull back towards the frigate. It was not worth the risk. The Spanish ship "filled and made sail".18
Cochrane's ingenuity in the face of superior weapons was sometimes as elaborate as this and sometimes very simple. Three months later, on 18 March 1801, the Speedy had just put to sea from Port Mahon when, towards evening, Cochrane saw that she was being followed by a large and powerful frigate. He signalled the frigate, using the Royal Navy code in operation at the time, and received no reply. The only hope for the Speedy lay in escape. Cochrane crowded on his sails but the force of the wind was such that one sail parted company from the rigging. At dawn the next day, the frigate still had them in sight and gained steadily on the little brig until that evening. There could be only one end to the chase. During the second night, as on the first, the frigate was guided by the glimmer of light which was inevitable on any ship. An hour before dawn she was almost on top of her prey. And then the sky lightened. Just ahead of the frigate there was a large wooden tub with a candle burning it. Of the Speedy there was no sign.19
Both at sea and on shore the legends about the new commander began to spread. When some exiled French royalist officers gave a fancy-dress ball during the Speedy's visit to Malta, Cochrane decided to go in the dress of an ordinary British seaman, complete with marlinspike and a lump of grease in his hat. It did not occur to him that the French officers would take him for a real British seaman who was trying to force his way into the genteel company of themselves and their ladies. At the door of the ballroom he found his path barred. Such costumes, he was told, were not permitted. Cochrane accused the French royalist of slandering British sailors and announced that, having bought a ticket for their ball, he would come in any costume that he chose.
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