The War for All the Oceans

by Roy Adkins

  TWO

  BATTLE OF THE NILE

  I arrived there [Aboukir Bay] in the afternoon, and formed a line of battle at two-thirds of a cable-length, the headmost vessel being as close as possible to a shoal to the north-west of us, and the rest of the fleet forming a kind of curve along the line of deep water, so as not to be turned, by any means, in the south-west. This position is the strongest we could possibly take.

  Letter to the Minister of Marine in Paris from Admiral Brueys1

  Nelson’s fleet sailed eastwards from Sicily on 24 July 1798 and five days later was off the southern coast of Greece, when at last reliable intelligence about the French arrived. From the entries in his diary, Sir James Saumarez gives some idea of how information percolated through the British fleet, filling out the terse signal messages:Sunday 29th July . . . A small vessel, captured yesterday by the Culloden, gave some information of the enemy’s fleet. The Admiral [Nelson] having made the signal that he had gained intelligence of them, we are proceeding with a brisk gale for Alexandria. If at the end of our voyage we find the enemy in a situation where we can attack them, we shall think ourselves amply repaid for our various disappointments. The Alexander also spoke [to] a vessel which gave information; but, having had no communication with the Admiral, we have not been able to learn the different accounts: we are however satisfied with the purport of the signal he made yesterday. Monday. - I find from Captain Ball [of the Alexander] that the enemy were seen steering towards Alexandria thirty days ago, and we are once more making the best of our way for that place. I also understand that two of our frigates were seen a few days since at Candia [Heraklion, Crete]; it seems decreed we shall never meet with them. I am rather surprised the Admiral did not endeavour to fall in with them, as they probably have certain information where the enemy’s fleet are, from vessels they may have spoken with, and they otherwise would be a great acquisition to our squadron.2

  In the four weeks since the British fleet had left Egypt, the French had gained control of the northern seaboard of the country. Once Alexandria was in French hands, the transport ships were brought into harbour, and the horses, artillery and stores were unloaded, but there was a problem with the warships. Some were carrying artillery and heavy equipment that was difficult to land in small boats, and so Napoleon ordered Admiral Brueys to take the warships into the two harbours as well. The forty-five-year-old Admiral, François-Paul de Brueys d’Aigalliers, was one of the few aristocratic naval officers to have survived the French Revolution, and Napoleon had specifically asked him to command the fleet. Brueys sent some officers to survey the harbours, and their report confirmed his suspicions. One harbour was too shallow and too open, and the only channel giving suitable access to the other one was so narrow that warships would have great difficulty sailing through. Once in this harbour they could easily be trapped by one or two enemy warships.

  Brueys was in favour of taking his warships to a safe harbour in Corfu once the remaining artillery and stores were landed, but Napoleon wanted the ships close at hand. After a week of discussion Napoleon prevailed, and Brueys anchored the fleet in Aboukir Bay, 12 miles east of Alexandria. This anchorage was not ideal, with numerous sandbanks and little protection from the wind. Nevertheless, the bay offered the chance to unload the ships while they were anchored in a defensive formation. Within these treacherous waters, Brueys deployed his thirteen battleships in a line running approximately south-east to north-west, with their bows facing north-west and gaps of roughly 175 yards between the ships, so that the whole line was nearly 2 miles long. Four frigates formed a parallel line between the battleships and the shore, and there were two groups of gunboats nearer the beach, as well as artillery batteries set up on the coast and on a small island. It seemed a strong position, as the French assumed that the British would use traditional tactics of attacking in a line and so would sail down the outside of their formation.

  One serious flaw was overlooked. The ships were anchored at the bow only, so that they were free to swing with the prevailing wind. This left the possibility of enemy ships anchoring between the ships, out of reach of the French guns. Their position could have been improved by springs on the anchor cables (ropes running from both sides of a ship to the cable so that the ship could be turned by hauling on one of these ropes), as this would have allowed guns to cover the blind spots. A stronger position would have been to close the gaps, with the ships immobilised by anchoring them at both bow and stern. Brueys, however, was satisfied with the arrangement, particularly as he had other distractions. The fleet was running desperately short of food, water and firewood - most of the supplies had been unloaded and taken by the army. On 12 July Brueys wrote to the Minister of Marine in Paris, ‘We look forward with the greatest anxiety to the time when the conquest of Egypt shall furnish us with provisions. We are now obliged to supply the troops continually - every hour new drains are made upon us. We have now only fifteen days’ biscuit on board, and we are in this anchorage just as if we were on the high seas - consuming everything, and replacing nothing.’3 In addition, attacks by the Bedouin made it essential that foraging parties from the ships were large and well armed, so that considerable numbers of sailors were absent from their ships. In the same letter, Brueys complained: ‘Our crews are weak both in number and quality. Our rigging, in general, out of repair, and I am sure that it requires no little courage to undertake the management of a fleet furnished with such tools! I do not think it necessary to enter into any further details on our present situation. You are a seaman, and will therefore conceive it better than I can describe it to you.’4 In all, the impressive line of French warships anchored in Aboukir Bay was a good deal weaker than it looked.

  After nearly three months of searching, the British fleet arrived back at Alexandria on 1 August to find the transports in the harbour, but no sign of warships. It was another bitter blow, as Saumarez admitted:When on the morning of the 1st August the reconnoitring ship made the signal that the enemy was not there, despondency nearly took possession of my mind, and I do not recollect ever to have felt so utterly hopeless, or out of spirits, as when we sat down to dinner; judge then what a change took place when, as the cloth was being removed, the officer of the watch hastily came in, saying, ‘Sir, a signal is just now made that the enemy is in Aboukir Bay, and moored in a line of battle.’ All sprang from their seats, and only staying to drink a bumper10 to our success, we were in a moment on deck.5

  At this point most of the British ships were about 9 miles from the French, although the Alexander and the Swiftsure were ahead, 2 or 3 miles away, and the Culloden was trailing about 7 miles behind because it was towing a French ship that had been captured off the Greek coast. With relatively light winds it would take about two hours to reach the enemy, yet it was now half past two in the afternoon, with sunset due around seven o’clock. If they were to fight straight away, the battle would be at night. Nelson did not hesitate and pressed on towards the French.

  As soon as the British fleet was spotted, Rear-Admiral Blanquet du Chayla recalled that ‘the signal was then made for all the boats, workmen, and guards to repair on board of their respective ships, which was only obeyed by a small number’.6 Although the ships were short of men, the French were not unduly worried, as they expected the British to wait until the next day before attacking. Nevertheless, Blanquet du Chayla noted, ‘At 3 o’clock, the Admiral [Brueys] not having any doubt but the ships in sight were the enemy, he ordered the hammocks to be stowed for action’7, and two hours later, ‘the enemy came to the wind [in order to turn] in succession. This manoeuvre convinced us that they intended attacking us that evening.’8 This was very much to the advantage of the British, as it allowed the French only the minimum time to prepare, and although they would soon be fighting in the dark, Nelson was relying on his captains to use their initiative - essential when effective communication between ships would be impossible. In terms of the number of guns carried by the battleships, the French and British were evenly
matched, but the guns of their frigates, gunboats and shore batteries gave the French the advantage.

  On board Captain Thomas Foley’s ship, the Goliath, a midshipman by the name of George Elliot celebrated his fourteenth birthday gazing at the French fleet as the British swept in to attack, being as he was in ‘the leading ship of the fleet, in which no order of sailing was kept, but each ship got on as fast as she could, by way of gaining time’.9 In fact, it was something of a race between the first two ships, and the Goliath was only ‘first by half the length of a ship, but Captain Hood of the Zealous was very much senior to Foley, and was a likely man to make a push for thepost of honour’.10 Foley hoisted more sail and pushed on towards the French, with the added advantage of being the only British captain with an accurate chart of the area - a French one of 1764. Elliot assumed that ‘Hood was annoyed but could not help it . . . Foley therefore stood on, and Hood followed him, but the third ship in the line, the Audacious, brought to [stopped], and of course forced the [following] two ships between her and Vanguard to do the same. A gap was thus made between the Goliath and the Zealous and the rest of the fleet of about seven miles, for we never shortened sail till we were coming to an anchor. The battle therefore began by only two ships against the whole of the enemy’s van11.’11

  The first French ship was the Guerrier, and Midshipman Elliot recorded how they decided to attack from the inshore side:When we were nearly within gun-shot 12, standing as aide-de-camp close to the Captain, I heard him say to the master that he wished he could get inside of the leading ship of the enemy’s line. I immediately looked for the buoy on her anchor, and saw it apparently at the usual distance of a cable’s length (i.e. 200 yards), which I reported; they both looked at it, and agreed there was room to pass between the ship and her anchor, (the danger was, the ship being close up to the edge of the shoal), and it was decided to do it . . . All this was exactly executed. I also heard Foley say, he should not be surprised to find the Frenchman unprepared for action on the inner side - and as we passed her bow I saw he was right, her lower-deck guns were not run out, and there was lumber, such as bags and boxes on the upper-deck ports, which I reported with no small pleasure.12

  This was the advantage that would prove the key to success. Foley realised that because the French ships were only anchored at the bow, a strip of deep water must have been left between the ships and the shallows to allow them to swing inshore without grounding. If some British ships worked their way down the inside of the line, the French ships could be attacked from both sides. Brueys had not foreseen this tactic, and the guns on the inshore side were unmanned and obstructed. The British also had the wind behind them, while French ships further down the line could not sail directly into the wind and so were virtually powerless.

  Foley took the Goliath along the inside of the Guerrier and fired a

  Plan of the Battle of the Nile

  broadside at close range. This manoeuvre took Captain Samuel Hood by surprise, but he kept his ship, the Zealous, steadily within the wake of the Goliath, as he later recalled: ‘The van ship of the enemy being in five fathoms water [we] expected the Goliath and Zealous to stick on the shoal every moment, and did not imagine we should attempt to pass within her . . . Captain Foley of course intended anchoring abreast of the van ship, but his sheet-anchor . . . not dropping the moment he wished it, [he] missed.’13 By the time the sailors managed to drop the anchor, the Goliath had already passed the Guerrier. Captain Hood’s Zealous had anchored just before the French line, but he now moved to fill the gap: ‘I saw immediately he [Foley] had failed of his intention, [so I] cut away the Zealous’s sheet anchor and came to in the exact situation Captain Foley intended to have taken, the van ship of the enemy having his larboard bow toward the Zealous.’14 This was a standard tactical move: because the majority of guns were positioned along both sides of a warship, the bow and stern were relatively unprotected blind spots - by anchoring just off the bow, the Zealous could fire all the guns of one side (a broadside) into the Guerrier, which could only return fire from a handful of guns at the bow.

  Despite having known of the approach of the British fleet for at least three hours, the French had not believed the British would attack that night, and they were equally surprised by the speed of events, since the British ships did not even pause to regroup but sailed straight in with their guns blazing. In the Goliath, Midshipman Elliot observed the confusion and panic:Foley’s running on with only one ship to support him [the Zealous] . . . was also most fortunate. The French captains were all on board their admiral’s ship [the Orient] and did not expect us to come in that night; they had sent for their boats to return from the shore, where they were procuring water. The senior officer of the van division, seeing us stand on under all sail, got anxious and sent his own boat to hasten off the boats of his division, without waiting to fill with water - she had not got back when we were getting very close, and as his own launch was passing the flagship, half laden with water, he got into her, but she pulled up slowly against the fresh sea breeze . . . I saw him waving his hat and evidently calling to his ship when still at a considerable distance. An officer was leaning against his ensign staff listening; at last this officer ran forward to the poop and down to the quarter deck. We knew what was coming, and off went their whole broadside but just too late to hit us.15

  Having fired a broadside into the Guerrier in passing, the Goliath belatedly anchored between the Conquérant and the Spartiate, the second and third ships in the French line, while the Zealous took on the Guerrier as Captain Hood described: ‘I commenced [such] a well-directed fire into her bow within pistol shot13 a little after six [o’clock] that her fore mast went by the board in about seven minutes, just as the sun was closing the horizon, on which the whole squadron gave three cheers, it happening before the next ship astern of me had fired a shot and only the Goliath and Zealous [were] engaged. And in ten minutes more her main and mizzen masts [fell]. At this time also went the main mast of the second ship, engaged closely by the Goliath and Audacious.’16

  By now the Audacious, third of the British ships, also managed to pass inshore of the French and anchored between the first and second of their ships. The next to arrive was the Orion, commanded by Sir James Saumarez, and he too decided to go on the inside of the French line. To do so the Orion passed on the inside of the Zealous, Audacious and Goliath, even closer to the shallow water, but without running aground. This course took the Orion within range of the French frigate Sérieuse. Frigates did not normally take part in full-scale battles, since their fire-power was much less than that of a battleship, and by convention battleships did not fire on a frigate unless the frigate fired first. This allowed frigates to sit on the sidelines of a battle, repeating signals, towing drifting vessels away and generally helping where they could. As the Orion passed by, Captain Jean Martin of the frigate Sérieuse decided he must act and fired a broadside into the Orion that did some damage and wounded two men. The total weight of the cannonballs fired by the Sérieuse was roughly 300 pounds. A broadside from the Orion, with the guns double-shotted, would be at least five times heavier, and officers on board proposed opening fire on the frigate immediately. Saumarez, though, wanted to be sure of his prey and replied, ‘Let her alone, she will get courage and come nearer. Shorten sail14.’17 Saumarez was right, and as the Orion slowed down, ‘the frigate came up, and when judged to be sufficiently advanced [towards the Orion], orders were given to yaw the Orion [swinging off course to point the guns towards the Sérieuse], and stand by the starboard guns, which were double-shotted. The moment having arrived when every gun wasbrought to bear, the fatal order to fire was given, when, by this single but well-directed broadside, the unfortunate Sérieuse was not only totally dismasted, but shortly afterwards sunk.’18

  The Orion came to anchor off the bows of the Peuple Souverain, while Captain Ralph Miller, an American from New York serving in the British Navy, also took his ship, the Theseus, inside the French line. He manoeuvred
between the Zealous and the Guerrier, to anchor in front of the Goliath. Midshipman Elliot in the Goliath was pleased that the Theseus, ‘passing within ten yards gave us three most hearty cheers, which our men returned from their guns pretty well. The French were ordered by their officers to cheer in return, but they made such a lamentable mess of it that the laughter in our ships was distinctly heard . . . It is a disputed point, whether cheering should be allowed. I say decidedly yes. No other nation can cheer. It encourages us and disheartens the enemy. I still distinctly recollect the stirring feelings of these men’s cheers.’19

  Five British ships were now inshore of the French, engaged with the first six ships of their line, and Nelson led his remaining ships down the outside of the line, anchoring his flagship, the Vanguard, opposite the Spartiate, which was already fighting the Theseus. For fear of hitting the Vanguard, the Theseus redirected fire from the Spartiate to the adjacent Aquilon as the Vanguard opened up with the starboard broadside. The Minotaur sailed in to anchor before the Vanguard, and the Defence anchored ahead of the Minotaur, while the Bellerophon, intending to pull up in front of the Defence, anchored too late, and instead of engaging the Franklin, took on the French flagship Orient. The battle was in full flow, with the first seven ships in the French line caught between five British ships on one side and four on the other.

  By now it was seven o’clock and darkness had fallen. The British ship Majestic was next to arrive and tried to anchor off the stern of the Orient to help the Bellerophon, but instead drastically overshot, becoming entangled with the French ship Heureux. The Culloden, having left off towing the captured ship, made good speed to catch up with the rest of the fleet, but in his haste to join the action Captain Thomas Troubridge took the ship too close to Aboukir Island and hit a rock. The Culloden was stuck fast for the rest of the battle, and with the leaks increasing and the water rising, the entry in the log for the next day began: ‘People employed throwing shot and provisions of all sorts overboard and sending some on board the Mutine [brig]. Found the ship make[s] more water. Sent all hands to the pumps.’20 Seeing the Culloden aground, the Alexander and Swiftsure steered well clear of the reef, and the Alexander joined the attack on the Orient, while the Canadian captain Benjamin Hallowell took the Swiftsure into a position between the Franklin and the Orient. The Leander, a 50-gun ship that was not really a frigate or a full-sized battleship, stopped to help the Mutine with the stranded Culloden, but then moved on to join the fight against the Franklin.