In the Hour of Victory

by Sam Willis

  An interesting side-effect of this extreme level of destruction in the aftermath of the battle was that the prize money, the usual reward for British sailors, was almost entirely lost along with most of the prizes, a cruel blow. To compensate, all of the captains were awarded the King’s Naval Gold Medal and a special grant of money was made by the government to compensate the sailors for their loss of prize money.

  The four ships at the bottom of this list are recorded as ‘hauled to the Southward, and escaped’, and Rear-Admiral Dumanoir is also listed as ‘escaped’. The problem for Dumanoir and his ships, however, was that they had hauled directly into the path of Richard Strachan, who captured them all (p. 293).

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  The list also underlines the principal difference between the French and Spanish fleets; the French have no three-deckers as they did in the earlier battles of the war. Their entire fleet here consists of large, some very large, two-deckers because French shipbuilding policy had shifted away from three-deckers for reasons of economy. The Spanish fleet, on the other hand, includes some real monsters, El Rayo (100), Santissima Trinidad (140), Santa Ana (112) and Principe de Asturias (112), all magnificent prestige ships that harked back to an earlier age.

  The list also encourages consideration of the identities of some of the Allied officers. In particular, it is important to realise that there was a significant difference between the French officers and the Spanish. In line with French policy since 1794, the majority of the French officers were commoners who, by default, had very little combat experience. Most of the Spaniards, in contrast, came from aristocratic backgrounds and had significant naval careers.

  The Spanish commanding officer, Admiral Don Federico Gravina, had been in the navy since the age of 12, having joined in 1768, and had distinguished himself ever since. Valdés of the Neptuno had been in the navy for 26 years, had fought during the American War, travelled on the famous Malaspina and Galiano exploration expeditions28 and had commanded the Pelayo at the Battle of St Vincent. MacDonell of the Rayo, a Spaniard of Irish descent, had fought during the American War and then as a mercenary in the Swedish navy against the Russians. Galiano was an experienced and talented mariner who had sailed with Malaspina and then led his own voyage of exploration before commanding a frigate at the Battle of St Vincent. Cisneros of the Santissima Trinidad had been in the navy for 35 years and had also fought at St Vincent. Pareja, here Parejo, was another Spanish officer with over 35 years of experience who had distinguished himself in his early career and had also fought at St Vincent. Finally Churruca had been an officer for 27 years and had fought with great courage during the siege of Gibraltar in the American War. No less than 13 of the 15 Spanish commanding officers had fought a large-scale but indecisive battle against Robert Calder the previous July.

  The Allied flag-officers and their fates

  Villeneuve was taken into captivity in England, where he settled down to a quiet life in Sonning in Berkshire and was allowed out on a day trip to attend Nelson’s funeral. When he was released on parole in late 1805 he tried in vain to re-enter military service in France. On 22 April 1806, he was found dead at a hotel in Rennes with multiple stab wounds to the chest. A verdict of suicide was recorded but rumours circulated that he was murdered on the orders of Napoleon. It was certainly a sad end for a man who fought for his pride and resented the incompetence of superiors who repeatedly gave him orders that took little account of the realities.

  Gravina died from his wound but enjoyed huge public affection for his conduct at Trafalgar; Alava survived to enjoy Collingwood’s hospitality (p. 289); Dumanoir escaped but was soon captured by Strachan and ended up living in Tiverton in Devon, which he described as ‘une petite ville, assez plaisante mais qui me parut singulièrement monotone’ – ‘a small town, fairly pleasant, but which seemed to me especially dull’. He did not spend his time entirely idly, however. He wrote to The Times to complain about rumours that criticised his performance at Trafalgar and was sorely taxed resisting the wiles of a Devon lass who offered to help him escape, but only if he promised to marry her when they reached France. He turned down her offer of adventure, waited for the slow wheels of government to turn, and was eventually exchanged after six leisurely years of captivity.

  Cisneros suffered from deafness caused by a blow to the head for the rest of his life and was subsequently known as ‘El Sordo’ – ‘the deaf ’. He later became the last legitimate viceroy of the Rio de la Plata, the last viceroyalty of Spanish Southern America.

  Vice-Admiral C. Collingwood to The Marquis de Solana, 27 October 1805, and reply

  One of the thorny problems that Collingwood faced in the battle’s aftermath was what to do with the prisoners. There were thousands, perhaps 8,000 in all. His solution was masterful. The French prisoners stood no chance. The state of war between Britain and France was too entrenched for Collingwood not to secure the prisoners as a bargaining tool and as a means to cripple the French navy even further. They were shipped back to England to endure years of floating misery in British prison hulks. A lucky few made it ashore to purpose-built prisons or even ancient castles where most were held until they died. The Spanish were another matter entirely. In the soaking, crippled and exhausted prisoners Collingwood glimpsed an opportunity to change the political landscape of the war and he wrote this letter to the Governor of Cadiz.

  EURYALUS, OFF CADIZ

  27TH OCTOBER 1805

  My Lord Marquis

  A great number of Spanish Subjects, having been wounded in the late Action, between the British, and the Combined Fleets, of Spain, and France, on the 21st Ins.

  Humanity, and my desire to aleviate the sufferings of these wounded men, dictate to me to offer to your Excellency their enlargement, that they may be taken proper care of, in the Hospitals on shore, provided, your Excellency will send boats to convey them, with a proper officer to give receipts for the number, and acknowledge them in your Excellency’s Answer to this letter to be Prisoners of War, to be exchanged, before they serve again.

  I beg to assure your Excellency of my high consideration, and that I am,

  Your Lordships, most obedient

  humble servant

  Cuthbert Collingwood

  TO HIS EXCELLENCY,

  THE MARQUIS DE SOLANA

  CAPTAIN GENERAL OF ANDALUSIA,

  GOVERNOR, ETC ETC ETC

  CADIZ

  Napoleon had, indeed, allied with Spain but it is important to remember that the French and Spanish were still ideological enemies at heart. Spain was ruled by a Bourbon monarch; the French revolutionaries had executed their Bourbon monarch; and in 1805 Napoleon was attacking Naples, the throne of another Bourbon monarch who was also the younger brother of the Spanish king. This sat particularly uncomfortably with Admiral Gravina, a Sicilian by birth who had made it clear that he would never fight against his own king. There was, therefore, a good deal of uncertainty within the Spanish ranks regarding their alliance with Napoleon which Collingwood exploited.

  His letter is full of humanity, magnanimity, generosity and benevolence. He offers to return the Spanish wounded to Spain, to convalesce on their own soil while retaining their status as prisoners of war, a gesture that was never forgotten by the Spanish. His offer was immediately accepted.

  I Guillaume Valverde, having been authorized, and impowered, by the Marquis de Solana, Governor General of Andalusia, and of Cadiz, to receive from the English Squadron the wounded Prisoners and such persons, as may be necessary to their care; – which release, and Enlargement of the Wounded etca is agreed to, on the part of the Commander in Chief of the British Squadron, on the positive Condition that none of the said Prisoners shall be employed again, in any public service of the Crown of Spain, either by Sea, or Land, until they are regularly exchanged.

  Signed on board His Britannic Majesty’s ship the Euryalus, at Sea,

  the 30th October 1805.

  Guill mo de Valverde

  EDECAR DE S. E.

&nbs
p; It is widely believed that Collingwood’s diplomacy in 1805 facilitated the Spanish-British alliance of 1808, formed in the aftermath of Napoleon’s invasion of Spain. It is a valuable reminder that Collingwood, like his predecessors John Norris (1670–1749) and Charles Wager (1666–1743), and his contemporary James Saumarez (1757–1836), was one of Britain’s most gifted naval diplomats.

  Vice-Admiral C. Collingwood to Vice-Admiral I. D’Alava, 30 October 1805

  Collingwood was not prepared to let his generosity towards the Spaniards go too far, however. In an earlier letter he had written of Alava’s death (p. 272 – ‘Don Aleva’) but as soon as he discovered the Spanish flag-officer to be alive, and somehow to have escaped to Cadiz, he dashed off this letter reminding the vice- admiral of his status as a prisoner of war. Collingwood is prepared to let Alava stay in Cadiz as a British prisoner, in the same way that he has let all of the other Spanish prisoners return to Spain.

  EURYALUS, OFF CADIZ

  30TH OCTOBER 1805

  Sir

  It is with great pleasure that I have heard, the wound you received in the Action is in a hopeful way of recovery, and that your Country may still have the benefit of your future service. –

  But, Sir, you surrendered yourself to me, and it was in consideration only of the state of your wound that you were not removed into my Ship.

  I could not disturb the repose of a Man supposed to be in his last moments: – But your Sword the Emblem of your Service, was delivered to me by your Captain, and I expect that you consider yourself a Prisoner of War, until you shall be regularly exchanged by Cartel. –

  I have the honor to be,

  Sir,

  Your most obedient humble servant

  Cuthbert Collingwood

  TO VICE ADMIRAL

  DON IGNATIO MARIA D’ALAVA

  Alava’s reply is not included in this collection of dispatches but we know that he disputed the details of his surrender, claiming that his ship was surrendered without his knowledge and that his weapons, symbols of his office and status, remained in his power. He argued that his flag captain, Don Francisco Riguelme, surrendered his own sword as Alava lay below. Alava put the confusion down to Riguelme being unable to speak good English and sent Collingwood a large cask of particularly fine wine to help matters along.

  Collingwood was rather unimpressed by Alava’s response but did not press matters. Instead, he sent the Spanish Admiral a large English cheese and a cask of porter, both of which were very rare in Cadiz and were consumed by a delighted party at Alava’s house. Alava generously returned the gesture with 60 melons and ‘some baskets’ of grapes, figs and pomegranates. The two remained in regular contact for some time, another important contact point with the Spanish that undoubtedly contributed to Spain’s change of sides in 1808. In these unpredictable wars, the exchange of fruit and cheese could be as important as the exchange of blood and bullets.

  Vice-Admiral C. Collingwood to Lieutenant J. Lapenotiere, 26 October 1805

  This is a wonderful letter. Written by Collingwood, it is addressed to John Lapenotiere, commander of the Pickle and the man sent back with the dispatches. The urgency and excitement are tangible.

  BY CUTHBERT COLLINGWOOD ESQR

  VICE ADMIRAL OF THE BLUE

  COMMANDING A SQUADRON OF HIS

  MAJESTY’S SHIPS, OFF CADIZ

  You are hereby required, and directed to proceed in His Majesty’s Schooner under your Command to England, and on your arrival at Plymouth, you are immediately to forward the accompanying dispatches to the Secretary of the Admiralty, by taking them yourself express to him, or (if the Quarantine Law prevent it)29 by sending them the moment of your arrival, to Vice Admiral Young, for the same purpose.

  Should you be prevented by an Easterly Wind, from fetching so high up as Plymouth, you are to make the first port you can in England and act as is above directed; taking care to obtain a receipt for the dispatches with which you are charged, and which are of the highest importance.

  As I trust you are fully aware of the great importance of those dispatches being forwarded as soon as is possible I rely on your using every exertion, that a moment’s time may not be lost in their delivery.

  Given on board the Euryalus off Cadiz, 26th October 1805

  Cuthbt. Collingwood

  TO LIEUTENANT LAPENIOTIERE

  COMMANDING HIS MAJESTY’S SCHOONER

  THE PICKLE

  BY COMMAND OF THE VICE ADMIRAL

  C. H. Cosmay

  If necessary, these dispatches are to be thrown overboard, and for which you are to be prepared.

  This was not the Pickle’s only big moment. The small ships of the fleet always kept well clear of the fighting but they had come into their own in the chaos of the battle’s aftermath. The Pickle, in particular, had performed heroically and had gone to the rescue of the French Achille when she erupted into an inferno and her crew threw themselves into the sea to get clear of the flames. The Pickle darted in and her crew dragged around 100 Frenchmen and one woman, named Jeanette,30 from the water.

  Over the following days, the Pickle worked tirelessly to prevent damaged ships of both nationalities from driving ashore. It is possible that Collingwood chose the Pickle to take the dispatches back because she was exceptionally fast, a Bermudan-built schooner of only 127 tons and no more than 73 feet long, but it is less clear why he chose Lapenotiere. In every other battle the bearer of dispatches was a senior naval officer, usually the admiral’s flag captain.31

  We know very little about Lapenotiere. He was born of a Huguenot family that had come to Britain with William of Orange in 1688 and his career up to 1805 had been unremarkable. He had joined the navy in 1790 very young, aged only 10, and had missed every major battle since. Something of a specialist in small boats, he had taken part in a number of minor skirmishes on the French coast and had played an important part in saving the crew of the wrecked Magnificent in 1804. He had no known significant political contacts.

  The strangeness of Collingwood’s choice therefore suggests the repayment of a debt and one such story has survived, although its authenticity is unproven. Collingwood and Lapenotiere are on deck, on an unnamed warship, in an unnamed location, when an order is given that will take the ship onto the rocks. Lapenotiere immediately counters the order and saves the ship. Collingwood is said to have commented, ‘If ever I have the opportunity, I will do you a service.’ When Lapenotiere was summoned to the Euryalus after Trafalgar, Collingwood said to him, ‘Now take these dispatches to England; you will receive £500 and your commander’s commission. Now I have kept my word.’32 Although Collingwood is prepared to entrust the dispatches to Lapenotiere, he still orders him to get a receipt.

  We do, however, know the details of his 1,000-mile journey. He left two days before the storm reached its height and had a filthy passage past Cape Finisterre. But after a voyage of nine days he arrived in Falmouth. It took a little over two hours to tie up, get ashore and source a post-chaise and, as soon as it was ready, Lapenotiere headed for London, flying a tattered French tricolour from a broomstick. He went like the wind. We even know the 21 locations where he stopped to eat or change horses in his 271-mile journey: Truro; the Blue Anchor33 posting-house at Fraddon near present-day Penhale; Bodmin; Launceston; Okehampton; Crockernwell; Exeter; Honiton; Axminster; Bridport; Dorchester; Blandford; Woodyates; Salisbury; Andover; Overton; Basingstoke; Hertford Bridge; Bagshot; Staines; Hounslow; and finally, the Admiralty.

  The journey normally took a week, but after only 37 hours of hard driving in a post-chaise Lapenotiere arrived at the Admiralty building in London’s Whitehall. It was one o’clock in the morning. The Admiralty secretary, William Marsden, was still awake, finishing off work on the latest documents he had received. Lapenotiere met him with words that would unite the nation in both celebration and mourning: ‘Sir, we have gained a great victory; but we have lost Lord Nelson.’34 Marsden was profoundly shocked but also acutely aware of his position as ‘the only per
son informed of one of the greatest events recorded in our history’.35 As soon as the news arrived, he went to wake the First Lord, Lord Barham, who was not asleep in the state bedroom but in the adjoining boudoir. Barham was 79 years old but had spent his entire adult life in the Royal Navy and was instantly alert, his ability to cope with nocturnal interruptions deeply ingrained. He simply said, ‘What news, Mr M?’36

  And what news it was. Just two hours later, it had reached the Prime Minister and, at seven in the morning, the King.

  Captain R. Strachan to W. Marsden, 4 November 1805

  Lapenotiere set off on 26 October with his weighty packet of letters but there was still one more important dispatch to be sent to London and that was Richard Strachan’s account of the battle he fought on 4 November off Cape Ortegal on the north-western tip of Spain.

  The enemy fleet, Rear-Admiral Dumanoir’s van division from Trafalgar, consisted of four powerful ships of the line, an exact match for Strachan’s battleships, but the British also had four frigates that were used to great advantage to chase, harass and then overpower the French ships, all of which were taken.

  CÆSAR WEST OF ROCHFORT 264 MILES