Gibraltar
Page 25
On the 29th, the Enterprise sailed with fifteen other vessels and two hundred inhabitants, including Mrs Upton and her family. Her misery at leaving behind her husband was all too apparent to her small son Jack, who ran to her, declaring: ‘Don’t cry, Mamma; the good roast beef we shall get in England will soon make me a man, and then I will return to Gibraltar, sink the gun-boats, and kill all the Spaniards.’ He was too young to fulfil his promise, and those left behind had nearly two more years of the deadly game of the Great Siege to suffer. As the wife of a commissioned officer, she was afforded special treatment, but poorer inhabitants were placed in the hold, as she described when they encountered enemy warships less than a week later. ‘The ship is cleared for action,’ she wrote. ‘Captain Walker has desired me to take my children down into the hold. I have been there, but above twenty Jews and Jewesses, with their children, have lived in that part of the ship during the voyage, and the place smells so disagreeable and unwholesome, I could not stay.’32 Being below the waterline, the Jews were actually in a far safer place. Two ships of their convoy were captured, but their own vessel, the Hope, saw no action, and they reached England safely.
On Gibraltar, the attacks continued. The gunboats came every night at around 1 a.m. and fired until about 3.30 a.m., when rockets were fired as a signal to leave. There was a monotonous cycle of deaths, injuries, drunkenness, thieving, desertions, punishments and suicides. Many soldiers remained desperate for alcohol, and diaries are full of incidents. Spilsbury said that ‘One of 58th punished, and another hung, for stealing rum, which is buried all over the Garrison, and in the Hospital Garden.’ The particular man who was executed was thirty-five-year-old James Ward, a former blacksmith from Suffolk, who had been thirteen years in the army. Ancell agreed with the punishment: ‘the General is a very humane man, but cannot overlook so great an infringement of martial law. It is amazing that men should sport away their existence for the gratification of their sensual appetites, as the crimes for which they all suffered were for plundering the king’s stores of provisions and liquor. I hope these examples will be sufficient to deter the unthinking part from committing the same acts.’33
Before he returned to his quarters, one soldier tried to hide his stolen goods, consisting of watches, purses and other valuable items, down the barrel of a gun on the King’s Bastion. ‘In times of peace,’ Drinkwater said, ‘he could not have devised a better repository, but unfortunately the gun-boats came in the evening, whilst he was fast asleep in his casemate ... this richly-loaded gun was one of the first that was discharged; and the foundation of his future greatness was dispersed in an instant.’ Boyd heard that more than one soldier was involved and that they used two guns to hide ‘their ill begotten spoils; but what must the Spaniards say, that we are very scarce of ammunition, or otherwise they must think that the garrison is very rich to fire gold and silver at them in place of balls’.34
Civilian women were also subject to military law and could not escape justice. Eliott’s diary recorded: ‘The soldiers wives, Mrs Drake, Mrs Mitchell and Mrs Clarke, having been convicted of receiving stolen goods were severally sentenced to be whipped by the hangman which was accordingly executed today between 12 and 1.’35 Boyd’s journal gave more details:
Three women was flogged through the camp for buying and receiving stolen goods from the plunderers. One of them was an honest midwife who will be of great loss to the Garrison if she is sent out, as ordered. For, in general, we marry and breed faster than ever known in peacable times. The second was an Highland woman without a word of English and the third an Irish-woman who had enough to spare for her two fellow sufferers, without leaving herself short of Blarney in the least. The hangman was very favourable to them, as their shoulders showed few marks of violence, further than the scandal of so disagreeable a procession.36
The latest intelligence from deserters was that the besieging troops now had scaling ladders and were expecting to storm the garrison any day. This increased everyone’s anxiety, and on the night of 3 June they were further troubled by a particularly serious gunboat attack, which Price personally experienced:
At two this morning, gun and mortar boats again, their fire chiefly confined to the naval hospital and the adjoining encampment. Serjeant Brookes of the 12th torn limb from limb by a shell in front of the hospital and Drum Major Jennings wounded in the arm. Hamilton, Hallows and myself obliged to fly for it, being very near to the above unfortunate objects, and myself speaking to Jennings a moment before the accident. Brook’s watch blown to pieces in his fob.37
At Boyd’s headquarters there was general sympathy towards the plight of the ordinary soldiers and their families, even when committing crimes, but this attack provoked bitter condemnation of the Spaniards: ‘the gun-boats bombarded us this morning from 1 till half past 2 o’clock. The garrison returned the fire with spirit, but the boats being such small objects, it is hard to conceive the damage done [to] them. The Spaniards fight more like Turks than Christian enemies, in bombarding the camp of poor inoffensive inhabitants, a thing quite inconsistent with the honours of war. And not only that, but they fire double headed shot of 33 pounds weight.’38
Mrs Green’s house on the hillside beyond the town, The Mount, was one of the few that had not been damaged or destroyed, but at night, the most dangerous time, she was often forced to take refuge in the bombproof shelter in the garden, a source of great discomfort, as she was constantly troubled by illness. On Tuesday 5 June, after fifty-four days of constant bombardment, she recorded: ‘When the family were going to bed, between 11 and 12, an alarm was given from the guard boats, and instantly the whole camps went up, and the artillery went to the batteries &c. I went down to the bombproof instead of going to bed; had the child [Charlotte] taken up, a fire made in [the] bombproof, and every thing made as comfortable as it could be, every moment expecting the gunboats.’ The next day, she said: ‘A good deal of firing as usual. Could not make myself easy in the evening, therefore went again to bombproof – all quiet.’39
She was not so lucky the next night: ‘Find myself growing very tired and indisposed in the evening. Therefore went to bed before 10. A little before 11, an alarm was given of vessels being coming very near our batteries. It was supposed it was either fireships or bomb ketches ... I was obliged to be taken out of bed and away again to bombproof. This disagreed with me more than I can express. Our suspense continued till past 12.’ The following day, Friday the 8th, she felt much worse: ‘All has remained quiet. I find myself exceedingly ill, the whole day, indeed uncommonly so – obliged to go to bed after dinner, and dreadfully alarmed lest the gunboats should come this night, as I am really too bad to bear the moving. However they luckily did not, and we all got a good nights sleep.’40 Saturday brought her more cheering news, because the Spanish troops accidentally blew up their main factory for the manufacture of shells, which had been housed in a huge tent:
Westerly wind; cold and blowing hard. About 11 a very loud explosion was heard, and a very heavy discharge of shells, with the utmost rapidity from the enemy’s camp. It was instantly seen to proceed from an accident amongst themselves. Their principal laboratory tent, under the Queen of Spains chair, near the Catalan Camp, blew up; also a building next to it. The fire was violent; and extended to a large heap of live shells, which blew up in a most furious manner.41
The fire spread rapidly to the fuses of the shells, with no way of stopping them from exploding within the laboratory, and Mrs Green watched the pandemonium within the Spanish camp: ‘Nothing could equal the confusion the enemy were in. This tent is about four thousand five hundred yards [around 2½ miles] from Landport ... I plainly saw the poor men running from the flames. It continued burning an hour and half and the bursting of the shells more than half an hour. This accident must have done them most essential hurt; and of course lowered the ammunition greatly.’ The garrison gained some useful information about the strength of the besieging force: ‘They beat to arm
s,’ Mrs Green said. ‘Their whole line turned out under arms. It enabled our officers to form some idea of the number of troops, which, by observing the number of battalions, seems by all accounts to amount to 10,000 men.’42
This explosion did not stop hostilities, and the terrible routine continued on Sunday the 10th, with Mrs Green writing: ‘The enemy fired a good deal this day. Went as usual to bombproof.’ After going to bed on Monday night, she was woken only a little later by the gunboats:
This morning at half past one, the gun and mortar boats came as usual. There seemed to be a good number. They were fired at from every part that bore upon them. The shipping also gave them a warm reception. Several of their shells burst in the air, one over our house, and the fuzee [fuse] remains upon the top of it. They stayed a little better than an hour. An unlucky accident happened in a tent belonging to a soldier of the 56th. His wife, a very good young woman, and a young child of three months were blown out of the tent by a shell. They were thrown into a deep gully, and [the] child torn to pieces and the woman much burnt and otherwise wounded.43
On that same day, the 12th, Eliott’s diary says simply: ‘Travelling pass granted Mrs Green.’44 She had made a decision to return to England and wrote one final diary entry, for Wednesday 13 June 1781: ‘Westerly wind; all quiet from gunboats.’45 At that point, she abandoned her diary for good.
The next day, 14 June, was Corpus Christi, which caused much fear. ‘On this great holy day,’ Horsbrugh declared, ‘we expected a general salute of shot and shells from their land batteries in return for the one we gave them on our King’s birthday, but they made no alteration in their usual mode of firing.’46 Instead, it was celebrated in Spain by decorations, customary salutes and the normal murderous volley from the Lines, killing and wounding several people in the garrison.
The distances the Spanish guns were achieving from land and sea increased all the time, and indiscriminate attacks at night from the gunboats and mortar boats continued. The fear of attacks and of being hit was ever-present, and civilians and soldiers alike could barely sleep. On 28 June, the gunboats and mortar boats came as usual at about half past midnight, and although they could not be seen Horsbrugh said their distance was calculated: ‘we counted at four seconds, which, allowing 1142 feet to a second gives a distance of 1522 yards 2 feet’.47 The garrison returned fire, and as usual the gunboats ceased. The artillerymen were then dismissed, and the soldiers started to go back to their tents and barracks, when something totally unexpected happened, as Price reported: ‘after a pretty long interval it was discovered to be a new device of the Enemy to lull us into security. Two of their mortar boats had continued on their station and renewed the fire. By this unexpected stratagem, nine men of the 39th Regiment who had escaped the first attack were badly wounded by the Enemy’s shells. Our total loss in this dirty business – a man of the artillery killed and (including the 39th) eleven or twelve wounded. This little finesse of the Enemy owed its success entirely to novelty and will never do on repetition. The Artillery are now ordered to remain on the batteries until day break.’48 Horsbrugh gave more details:
One private of the artillery killed, 9 rank and file of the 39th regiment, 2 of the 73rd and one of La Motte’s wounded, two of which dangerously. One shell fell into the cooperage within the enclosure of the magazine near the New Mole, broke and did some damage. One went through the roof of the South Barracks, pierced the two upper floors, wounded two men of the 73rd Regiment, broke five casks of pease in the lower room, went out of the window and burst in the yard. One went through the roof of the chapel in the Navy Hospital, broke in its fall and damaged some furniture. We compute that their fire amounted to about 219 shot and 76 shells exclusive of the land batteries which also fired briskly upon the town all the time, but added little to the damage they had already done amongst the ruined houses.49
The garrison had long been grumbling that little retaliation for the gunboat attacks was being made against the enemy, but on this same day they did try firing from the Old Mole towards the Spanish camp for the first time with sea mortars, as well as with cannons that were set into the ground and elevated at almost 45 degrees. Sea mortars were a very heavy type of mortar, often used at sea in bomb vessels, and they usually fired a shell weighing 200 pounds or more.50 Some of the shells went beyond the wharf at the Orange Grove and some went into their camp, as much as 3900 yards – just over 2 miles away. Horsbrugh noticed that ‘there appeared a good deal of confusion in the Enemy’s camp. The Quarter Guards got under arms, and several women moved off towards St Roque. And soon after we observed them busy removing stores from the nearest of their fixed laboratory huts, under the Queen of Spain’s Chair to one of the tents lately pitched at a greater distance.’51 The experiments were so successful that the garrison began to retaliate using these guns, firing right into the Spanish camp, particularly at siesta time. Eliott had earlier ordered two brigs to be cut down into large gunboats or prames fitted with four or five guns, and the first one, the Vanguard, was now ready and also began to confront the gunboats.
Mrs Green had to endure the constant bombardments for nearly six more weeks, until a small convoy was ready. She was worn out by illness, dispirited by the news that her daughter Susanna, born on Gibraltar eleven years earlier, had died in London, and fearful for herself and her daughter Charlotte. She set out for England in the evening of 22 July with Charlotte and their maids, and at the same time Colonel Ross sailed in another vessel for Portugal. For over two decades Mrs Green had lived on Gibraltar with her husband William, who she now left behind. They would never see each other again.52
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SURRENDER
The siege was affecting the wildlife, not just the domesticated horses and dogs that had to be culled. Gibraltar is important for birds migrating across the Straits, and although they may not have been deterred, on a local level the constant firing and the destruction of habitats were having an impact: ‘A 13-inch shell fell in the picquet yard after day-going [dusk] near some poplar trees, and by the explosion killed a great number of sparrows that were in the trees at roost. 150 were taken up, but it is thought that there must have been 300 killed at least.’ The firing continued to be indiscriminate, and a week later: ‘A favourite cat ... belonging to the Artillery on Willis’s district, came out of the casemate in the night to air herself, but unlucky for poor puss, she sat upon a large rock, when a Spanish ball came and cut off poor puss’s head and left her body behind ... The above cat was a great favourite, which gave her a military burying (thrown into a hole and covered over).’1
What proved unexpected in July 1781 was a reduction in the amount of firing from the Spanish Lines, but a great deal was changing in their camp, with tents taken down, troops marching off, others replacing them, and huge numbers of gabions and fascines being loaded on boats. Nobody knew where the men and equipment were heading, but many militia troops had replaced the regular ones. The main focus of their work was now on repairing and improving all their fortifications, and Captain Price wrote: ‘the Spaniards did not fire above half a dozen shells in 24 hours. Oh wonderful!’2 Horsbrugh also mentioned this lack of firing: ‘The enemy have been unusually moderate in their fire through the night and all this morning except from 7 to 8 o’clock when being teased with some shot and shells from our upper batteries, they fired pretty briskly and threw some long shells, one of which fell and exploded on the New Mole Parade opposite Prince William’s Battery, and is reckoned the longest they have yet thrown from San Carlos.’ Two days later he said: ‘from twelve o’clock yesterday until twelve this day they only threw seven shells, five from the Mill Battery [St Carlos] and two from the first mortar battery to the east of Fort [St] Philip.’3
Nobody realised that the numerous troops besieging the Rock had actually been withdrawn to take part in a combined French-Spanish expedition to Minorca. In Britain, though, the early warning signs were misinterpreted, because when the huge combined fl
eet left Cadiz, it initially sailed westwards in order to make it appear they were off to America or even planning a new invasion of England. After successfully reaching the Mediterranean unopposed, the fleet ran into bad weather and was delayed, giving time for reports to reach London, which were then sent to Minorca. On Gibraltar, the news was received on 10 August: ‘They say by reports from England ... by an information from Marseilles by a spy, they expect Minorca to be besieged very shortly by the French and Spaniards in conjunction.’4
The invasion force was under the overall command of the sixty-four-year-old Duc Louis de Berton des Balbes de Crillon. Born in Avignon, France, he was a highly experienced officer who had joined the French army in 1730 and transferred to the service of Spain in 1762, with the rank of lieutenant-general. A surprise attack on Minorca was now impossible, and the combined fleet was spotted as soon as it reached the island on the morning of 19 August, as one British officer noted in his diary: ‘About 10 o’clock the signal for an Enemy’s fleet was hoisted at the signal house of Cape Mola. About 12, one division of the fleet was off the harbour and went round towards Sandy Bay, where they landed a large detachment and in the evening took possession of Mahon.’5