Gibraltar
Page 13
With the delay in replacing the damaged maintop yard, other British ships surged ahead, and the first broadside was fired from the Edgar into the stern of the Santo Domingo, the trailing Spanish ship. It was a race between the Spanish vessels fleeing for safety and the British trying to catch them, with the added danger of the wind blowing both fleets towards the rocky coast. The next broadside was from the Marlborough, followed by one from the Ajax, and shortly afterwards the Santo Domingo erupted in a sheet of flames and disintegrated.45 In the mid-January afternoon, the sun was already low in an overcast sky and the weather was hazy, with occasional squalls and a heavy swell. The explosion was made even more dramatic by the gathering gloom.
As the light continued to fade, the Bedford subsequently clashed with the Princesa, which surrendered after an hour. The Defence then caught up with Langara’s flagship, the Fenix (or Phoenix), and began a lengthy struggle. The Montagu was next to fire two broadsides into the Fenix, and after the Prince George and Bienfaisant joined in, the badly damaged Spanish flagship surrendered. The Montagu then caught up with the Diligente, which surrendered after a broadside brought down the mainmast. By now, the Terrible had reached the scene of the battle, capturing the San Julian, as Vernon described:
At the edge of night, having singled out a Spanish 70 [-gun warship], we engaged, and remained by her till she struck, after an action of an hour and forty minutes. The sea running high, endangered our ships, in opening their lower deck ports, and prevented any further communication with the prize, than sending an officer and a small party of seamen to take charge, receiving in return, the Marquis of Medina, her captain. She was called El San Julian, and now lay almost a wreck, the fore-mast and main-top-mast being shot away, and her decks covered with the killed and wounded.46
He reflected on his role of bringing gunpowder cartridges to the guns: ‘My station in the fight was what is commonly called a powder-monkey, supplying two of the quarter deck guns with powder from the magazine. For the younger midshipmen, not having the experience necessary for a greater charge, are hereby made useful, and also accustomed to the smell of gunpowder.’47
The San Eugenio also surrendered, helpless after the Cumberland shot away all her masts, and at around two in the morning the Monarca was finally captured, bringing an end to the battle. In twelve hours of fighting, only four battleships and two frigates managed to escape from the Spanish squadron of thirteen ships. The battle had continued in darkness into the early hours of the 17th. Because it was rare for such actions to take place at night, it became known as the ‘Moonlight Battle’. The moon had risen just after noon and did not set until past midnight, but it was eight days before a full moon. With so much cloud cover, conditions would have been very dark, though years later the battle was imagined to have been fought by moonlight.
Having chased the Spaniards with a strong following wind, the British fleet and their prizes found themselves perilously close to the coast. With a heavy sea and on-shore wind pushing them towards the rocks, and with the deep winter darkness, the crews struggled to keep their vessels off shore until daylight. Rodney reported the circumstances to the Admiralty:
The weather during the night was at times very tempestuous, with a great sea, which rendered it difficult to take possession of and shift the prisoners of those ships that had surrendered to his Majesty’s arms. It continued very bad weather the next day, when the Royal George, Prince George, Sandwich, and several other ships, were in great danger, under the necessity of making sail to avoid the shoals of St. Lucar [north-west of Cadiz], nor did they get into deep water till the next morning.48
In the struggle to avoid being wrecked, the ships had drifted along the coastline, and some, like the Terrible, were out of sight of the main fleet, as Vernon observed: ‘This engagement during the night had dispersed our fleet, and at day break we found no ships in company but the prize, and the Monarch 74 ... it blew strong, with a heavy sea from the westward, and the crippled situation of the San Julian prevented our carrying sail [and bringing the San Julian away from danger].’ The next day, they were perilously close to Cadiz:
On the 18th, early in the morning, having drifted near Cadiz, we plainly perceived it under our lee, with a Spanish squadron at anchor in the harbour. Two strange line-of-battle ships were also in sight, under sail. When making the private signal, and it not being answered, [we] supposed they were enemies, and might have engaged them, yet if crippled so near an enemy’s port, there was little probability to escape being taken. It was therefore resolved to abandon the prize [the San Julian], which, (as we were afterwards informed) was lost at the entrance of Cadiz. Crowding a press of sail, in the evening the Terrible joined Sir Rodney and fleet, at the entrance of the Streights of Gibraltar.49
The San Eugenio also proved impossible to save and was wrecked on shore, leaving the British with only four captured ships, but the soldier Walter Gordon of the 73rd Regiment, who witnessed the fighting, was full of praise for the Royal Navy: ‘I cannot do proper justice to the bravery of Admiral Rodney’s fleet ... the eagerness for battle shewn by the tars is almost incredible, the ideas of danger or death seem never to enter the hearts of British seamen. Every one exerts himself as if the whole business depended upon his single arm, and the only fear they betray is lest the enemy should escape.’50
One Spanish ship had blown up and six were captured, though two of them were wrecked. This meant that Langara had lost over half his squadron, while Rodney had successfully brought his warships and convoy as far as the Strait of Gibraltar. He now sent word into Tangier: ‘having joined the convoy, and made Cape Spartel, I despatched two frigates to Tangier to acquaint his Majesty’s consul [Charles Logie] with our success, that Great Britain was again mistress of the Straits, and desiring him to hasten a supply of fresh provisions for the garrison. At sunset we entered the gut.’51
CHAPTER SEVEN
RODNEY’S RELIEF
Soldiers and civilians alike had despaired of ever seeing a relief convoy until the welcome news about Rodney’s fleet was brought by the brig on 15 January 1780. Suddenly, the mood changed to excitement, and Ancell remarked that ‘It is almost beyond the power of words to describe the general joy which pervaded the soldiery as well as the inhabitants upon this gladdening intelligence. Even avarice and extortion seem to pause from their iniquities, and to participate [in] the pleasure inspired by our hopes.’1 The very next day, however, Mrs Green voiced everyone’s changing spirits:
We grow very uneasy about the fleet. Those 3 officers of artillery [from the brig] are very young men, and they do not exactly agree in their accounts, and for the most part, they all say they do not know whether all or part of the convoy is for this place, or even who they all are. All this makes us full of hopes and fears ... We are in hourly expectation of the Convoy, but nothing appeared till about 7 in the evening, at which time we heard some signals [guns] from our Admiral to a vessel who was coming into the Bay, who was going up too high. She was ordered into the New Mole, and proved to be a ship belonging to Merchant Anderson, loaded with flour, and had left the Grand Fleet 5 days ago. She brings a confused account, of an engagement. We all long for morning to know more.2
Uncertainty remained for another day, and the tension was intolerable: ‘Find myself remarkably ill, and my anxiety very great,’ wrote Mrs Green. ‘The troops were this day put upon a shorter allowance as to beef and pork ... We are all uneasy. No further news, or sight of ships, all day. Let anyone judge of our anxiety – but that is not possible, except by those who have experienced the like situation as we are now in.’ Everyone imagined that the convoy and fleet had been defeated in battle and captured. It was not until the next morning that Mrs Green’s mood improved significantly when two of the captured Caracas ships appeared:
About 10 o’clock a joyful sight presented! A prize brought in, taken by some of our expected convoy, a very large ship loaded with oil, tobacco, soap, and bale goods. At noon a muc
h larger and more valuable one came in, a prize to one of our men of war. She was brought in by a Lieutenant of the man of war who had taken her, is loaded with brandy and masts. Now we are certain of the good news. There has been an engagement indeed! The particulars are not well known as yet – any hour we now expect the ships.3
By the end of the day, the convoy and its naval escort were getting closer, and Mrs Green observed the reaction of one Royal Navy frigate captain, who expected on his arrival to be greeted by Admiral Duff: ‘Several large ships in sight, and in the close of the day, an English frigate came in, which proved to be the Apollo frigate, Captain Pownoll. He was greatly surprised when going on board the Panther, to find that Admiral Duff was not on board. But he was informed that the Admiral was a Quiet Man!’4 Captain Philemon Pownoll not only brought news about the battles and ships captured, but confirmed that a convoy was heading their way with provisions. He himself was a highly successful and wealthy officer from Plymouth, who would be greatly mourned when he was killed only five months later in an action against a French privateer.5 Drinkwater learned the story behind the success of Rodney’s convoy:
We now found that the plan for relieving Gibraltar had been conducted at home with such secrecy and prudence that the Enemy never suspected that Sir George meant to convoy the transports to the Straits with so strong a fleet. By their intelligence from Brest, they understood he was to separate in a certain latitude, and proceed with the main body of the men of war to the West-Indies. Thus deceived, they concluded that the transports with their convoy would fall an easy prey to their squadron.6
Instead, the Spanish Caracas convoy and Langara’s squadron had turned out to be easy prey for Rodney.
With the bad weather and difficulties of the winds and strong currents, the bulk of the convoy overshot the Bay of Gibraltar into the Mediterranean, which meant it took some time to come back. Initially, it was mostly warships that managed to sail into port, including the captured Spanish flagship Fenix with the injured Admiral Langara on board. During the battle, the Fenix had surrendered to HMS Bienfaisant, but because some of Captain Macbride’s crew had smallpox, it was agreed with Langara that the Fenix should sail to Gibraltar without a full prize crew in charge. The Spaniards kept their word and did not attempt to flee, which would have been highly dishonourable.7 In the afternoon of Langara’s arrival, Horsbrugh, who spoke Spanish well, was sent by Eliott ‘to enquire after the Spanish Admiral’s health and to invite him and his officers on shore’.8 This might be war, but there was a code of honour to observe between officers and gentlemen.
Mrs Green heard about the admiral: ‘Don Juan Langara was brought on shore and taken in a sedan chair to a house prepared for his and his officers’ reception. He was allowed to bring all his attendants and baggage on shore. He is not dangerously wounded.’9 Paterson downplayed Langara’s injuries even more: ‘the Spanish Admiral (who was slightly wounded in three places) was brought on shore with some of his officers and lodged at Mr Dallins.’10 The house, in Bombhouse Lane, belonged to Edward Dallin, who worked in the navy victualling office. Once he was safely there, Captain Price seized the opportunity of a tour round the damaged flagship: ‘I went on board the Phoenix, the captured prize. She has been much shattered in the action ... her mizen mast shot by the board, her main mast wounded, sails and rigging much damaged and several shot through her hulls. She is a fine modelled vessel.’11
Thousands more prisoners-of-war captured at the Moonlight Battle were also brought on shore. Being expensive and inconvenient to look after, it was customary for warring factions to exchange them. A batch of prisoners such as seamen and soldiers was usually exchanged for the same number from the opposing side, but officers were primarily from the upper strata of society and were therefore regarded as gentlemen who could be trusted, whatever their nationality. They would be released after giving their word of honour – their parole – not to resume fighting until a similar officer was exchanged. In the siege so far, the conflict had consisted largely of long-range artillery fire rather than close combat, with few prisoners captured. The sheer number brought in by Rodney’s fleet proved overwhelming. While Langara was housed in the town, in recognition of his status, most other prisoners were taken to the naval hospital.12 The sick and wounded were returned by boat to Spain if they could be moved, while the badly injured men were treated at the hospital, and negotiations began with the Spanish authorities to exchange the remaining prisoners. It was important to get rid of them quickly, because they had to be guarded and fed.
With the arrival of the convoy, the initial exultation was replaced by fears that Spain would start a relentless bombardment of the defences and town. ‘The 20th being the anniversary of the King of Spain’s birthday,’ Drinkwater explained,
Admiral Barcelo’s ships were decorated according to custom. When the colours were struck in the evening, the flag-ship, with her consort of 50 guns, was hauled close in land, and the next day a large party began to erect a battery on the shore for their protection, being apprehensive, probably, of an attack from the British fleet. The night of the 21st, the Enemy unmasked the other batteries in the lines, which again caused a general disturbance amongst the inhabitants. Everything seemed now prepared to fire upon the town.13
When the gun batteries on the Spanish Lines started firing at midnight, Mrs Green feared the worst, but the firing was limited to four British warships that the tide had pushed towards them:
We naturally concluded it was now their intention to begin, and I declare I did expect to see the shells in the town any moment; it was now that I really was alarmed ... it alarmed the enemy more than us, as no doubt they expected it was an attempt to set fire to their camp. They fired an amazing number of balls and one shell. It wounded and hurt the rigging of the Terrible man-of-war and hurt a few sailors, also one Spanish sailor who was on board the Terrible ... It was a very fine moonlight night. The appearance of the enemy’s firing was a grand, though alarming sight, and I own I suspected it was their full intention to throw some shells into the town. Thank God they did not, and we all went quietly into our beds at 3 o’clock.14
Little damage was done to the ships, but some Spanish prisoners-of-war still on board the Terrible were killed and wounded.
As more ships arrived, one soldier was amazed: ‘Our bay, from lying empty for so many months past, is now become a wood’, and Ancell said that the vessels coming in ‘are so thick I cannot number them with any precision’. Horsbrugh calculated that Rodney’s naval escort alone had twenty-two warships with more than thirteen thousand men.15 Much effort was focused on dealing with the provisions that the convoy had brought, but the sheer quantity presented its own problems. New cranes for unloading vessels were erected on the Line Wall between the south end of the town and the New Mole beyond, but with such a shortage of storage space they ended up covering stores with canvas sails as they were landed in order to protect them from the heavy rain. A great deal was then temporarily housed in the Protestant and Catholic churches, as well as the synagogue. To speed up the process, Eliott decreed that ‘As many men as can be employed are ordered daily for unloading, transporting, and stowing stores and provisions.’16 Captain Paterson described the problem: ‘Every effort has been used to unload the transports and get them and the men of war fit for sea, but they have been much retarded for want of proper craft and wharfs for that purpose. A punt with six 26 pounders from one of the prizes sunk alongside of the ship ... The guns, shot and punt were totally lost.’17
Rodney decided to let the garrison have many of the supplies from the captured Spanish ships, and when writing to the Admiralty he emphasised the convoy’s importance: ‘The Spanish Admiral [Barcelo] and their whole army have the mortification to see the garrison receive that reinforcement that was meant for them which adds two years’ provisions to the garrison, and has deprived them of every hope to take it through famine.’18 Eliott was full of praise about Rodney’s achievements wh
en writing to Trayton Fuller, his son-in-law in England: ‘You’ll see a glorious gazette of the success of our fleet. Five Spanish ships of the line now at anchor in the Bay, and a Rear Admiral prisoner in the town, [and] three or four thousand other prisoners. We have an ample supply of everything and universal joy runs thro’ the whole.’19
Drinkwater was not quite so jubilant, as he regretted that no ships carrying coal had sailed with Rodney’s fleet, so they were still desperately short of fuel, and while the relief was welcome, it was inadequate: ‘Though it was generally imagined in England that the Garrison had been amply provided with every article and necessary of life, when Sir George Rodney arrived with the transports and relief from England, our wants, in reality, were far from being supplied. In the articles of ammunition and salt provisions, the Garrison had probably as much as they could dispense with; but of fresh provisions, wine, spirits, sugar, &c. we began to find a great scarcity.’20 Mrs Upton was also disappointed and complained that the provisions consisted largely of salt meat.21 Charles Logie at Tangier had been asked by Rodney to prepare a huge shipment of live cattle and fresh provisions, but the arrangements became completely confused, because the vessels from the fleet that were sent to pick up the supplies had virtually no cargo space, being full of equipment for the next stage of their journey to the West Indies. Because the winds became variable and then changed to the east, it proved impossible to send other vessels to Tangier, as they would have been unable to return to Gibraltar fully laden.
Despite these setbacks, most of the population felt triumphant that the convoy had reached them and that Rodney had been victorious, but Mrs Green was then shocked to hear that the smallpox infection was spreading, with one inhabitant falling ill, as well as Captain Evelegh’s three youngest children: ‘he is obliged to leave his house for the time, not being able to stray from his respective duties at such a busy period as this. No one is allowed to go to see Mrs Evelegh except the Doctor. This seems nearly unnecessary, as no doubt it will now spread. No inoculation allowed of as yet but says he [Eliott] will, as soon as it gets amongst the troops.’22