In the Hour of Victory

by Sam Willis

  Your Obedient

  humble Servant

  J.T. Duckworth

  What Duckworth is trying to describe is how the French fleet split into two divisions, the ships of the line forming a line of battle and the smaller ships, the frigates and corvettes, forming another group. The British, meanwhile, formed into three divisions: two of ships of the line and, like the French, a separate division of frigates and smaller ships. As the French fled, Duckworth, leading one division of ships of the line, sought to cut them off by sailing directly across the bows of the leading ship. The other division of British ships of the line, led by Louis, was approaching from the rear when the structure of both fleets fell apart and the action became general.

  The French fought fiercely but their defensive efforts were drowned by the sustained aggression of the British. Two French ships, the mighty Impérial and the Diomède, ran aground on the shoals between Nizao and Point Catalan, their hulls stove in by the sharp Caribbean coral. The guns of the Diomède continued to fire sporadically but neither ship played any part in the rest of the battle. Both vessels were, however, close enough to a French shore position for many of the ships’ stores and crewmen to be saved and, by the time that the British boarded the Impérial, they found her almost deserted. The Diomède was another matter, however, and the British took her captain and 150 members of her crew prisoner, an event that is described in one of the most confused passages in Duckworth’s dispatch. Something here has clearly riled Duckworth and, if unpicked, it becomes clear that it is a matter of honour concerning acceptable behaviour in battle, as defined by unwritten rule and convention.

  The nub of the problem was that the captain of the Diomède ran his ship aground when Duckworth believed she had already surrendered. Duckworth considered that the French captain had deliberately denied British sailors their lawful prize as well as providing the French prisoners the opportunity to escape. This is what causes him to erupt in a characteristically garbled phrase: ‘to comment upon which I leave the World!’ It took several weeks for Duckworth to realise and accept that the Diomède’s ensign had been shot away rather than struck and that she had not, therefore, surrendered (p. 327). Both grounded French ships were subsequently burned by the British, though their destruction had already been ordered by the French in case the British made any attempt at salvage.

  Duckworth goes on to name those high-ranking officers who particularly shone in the battle, notably Richard Keats, a reminder that these men, at odds in the run-up to the battle, could still appreciate each other’s zeal in the presence of the enemy. In traditional fashion, Duckworth also mentions his second and third in command, the Rear Admirals Louis and Cochrane. Otherwise the dispatch is unremarkable apart for a subtle but unmistakable tone of self-congratulation and self-promotion that did Duckworth no favours at all because, if there was one battle in this period that the British could have expected to win, then this was it. The frigate divisions of both fleets played no part in the main battle, which was contested by seven British ships of the line against five French, the only one of all of these engagements in which the British had a significant numerical advantage. The French had also been surprised by the British. There is some suggestion that they were repairing damages they had sustained in a storm and that many of the French officers were not even on board when the British arrived. Nevertheless Duckworth is still anxious to argue that it would not have been won ‘without the aiding Hand of Providence’. He goes on to finish his letter by describing his own action as ‘glorious’ and declaring that it would ‘add another Sprig of Laurel to our naval history!’ Certainly it was an impressive victory but Duckworth’s dispatch lacked the modesty of the finest such documents and its self-important and self-serving tone was tactless.

  The last few lines of Duckworth’s self-congratulatory dispatches.

  The French and British lines of battle, 7 February 1806

  Duckworth included in his dispatch a breakdown of both lines of battle and the fates of the French ships.

  The fleet breakdown illustrates how his fleet was divided. The Acasta, Magicienne, Kingfisher and Epervier are all frigates or sloops while the ships of the line are divided into two divisions, one led by Duckworth’s flagship the Superb, and the other by Rear-Admiral Louis in the Canopus. The decision to divide his fleet into two divisions is perhaps a conscious, though curious, imitation of Nelson’s attack at Trafalgar, when the fleets of both sides had been at least five times larger, and when such a tactic had a tangible benefit. Although the British fleet went into battle in this formation, the fighting, inevitably for two such small fleets, swiftly became general and unstructured.

  The difference between the names of the French ships of the line and the frigates is instructive. The names of the ships of the line all represent men or virile masculine attributes such as gods, kings, emperors or legendary soldiers, while the names of the frigates represent more feminine virtues. These names and virtues were reflected in their figureheads: ships of the line had male figureheads and frigates female.7 The fate of the French ships describes the result of the battle in the clearest possible terms, something which is not at all obvious in Duckworth’s narrative. The ships of the line were all taken or destroyed but the three French frigates all escaped. We know that Duckworth was under the impression that another French squadron was in the offing but it remains a fair observation that a different admiral might well have unleashed the unemployed British frigate squadron to attack the French. The victory could have been even more complete.

  The killed and wounded of the British and French fleets, 7 February 1806

  These figures are revealing for a number of reasons. There is a huge difference between the numbers of French and British killed and wounded. Indeed, there are so many killed and wounded on the French ships that the exact numbers are not known as they are in the British, but are rounded up. The French table, moreover, has a column for killed, a column for wounded and then a central column for ‘killed and wounded’ if the individual figures are not known.

  In the respective flagships, there are 61 dead or injured aboard Duckworth’s Superb and an estimated 500 aboard the Impérial – roughly half of her crew. As in other battles that produced similar results, the difference in casualty figures is explained by superior British gunnery, superior British guns, particularly the devastating carronades for close-quarter engagements, and the relative strength and weakness of British and French ship design. The French ships were designed for speed and manoeuvrability at the expense of strength and the sides of the Impérial were notably thin; it simply became a death trap in close action against British broadsides.

  The casualty figures of the British fleet vary considerably. The figures for the Northumberland, flagship of Rear-Admiral Cochrane, are particularly high because she took an absolute pounding from the Impérial when, at a crucial stage in the action, Cochrane deliberately put his ship between the French giant and Duckworth’s Superb. It was a gesture of great generosity, courage and tactical nous for which Duckworth was extremely grateful. We know that one of the Northumberland’s casualties was Lieutenant Seymour, son of Lord Hugh Seymour, who was wounded by a piece of grape shot which ‘penetrated his jaw and tore away part of his teeth’.8 Cochrane’s personal staff were particularly unlucky: his cook, Alexander Sapenack, and two of his secretary’s clerks all died. Cochrane himself had a lucky escape when his hat was shot off by a piece of grape shot.

  Several of the casualties aboard the Spencer are likely to have been caused by friendly fire from the Northumberland and the Superb, which were surprised by a sudden manoeuvre by the Spencer, which was in turn responding to a sudden move by her opponent, the Alexandre. In the smoke and confusion, the Spencer’s manoeuvre, which placed her under the guns of the Northumberland and Superb, was not noticed for several minutes. This was not the only example of confusion in the British fleet: at one stage the Atlas and Canopus collided.

  One of the ships with the fewest killed and wound
ed was the Agamemnon, whose captain was the infamous Edward Berry. Just as he had at Trafalgar, Berry spent his time at the Battle of San Domingo drifting around clear of the action and clear of danger, occasionally firing his cannon but at such a distance from the enemy that he had no control over its effectiveness. Well meaning and well liked, Berry just never got it right. After San Domingo he was quietly dropped from the active list, even though he had a service record of battle experience unlike any other naval officer of his time.

  The casualties of the British ships Spencer and Canopus

  Included with Duckworth’s bundle of letters was a breakdown of the men wounded on each ship. This list was subsequently published,9 along with Duckworth’s dispatches, giving relatives and friends the opportunity to ascertain the fate of their loved ones, a practice far more commonly associated with 20th-century warfare. The list of those injured on the Canopus and Spencer is reproduced below.

  The figures for the killed and wounded in these detailed lists do not match up with those given in Duckworth’s ‘General Recapitulation’ of the casualties (p. 319). The total figures for Canopus here are 10 killed and 26 wounded, as opposed to eight and 22 above and the figures for Spencer are 18 and 27 as opposed to 18 and 50 above. To confuse matters further, the number of names entered in Canopus’s list below does not even match the totals given for Canopus at the bottom of the list. There are, in this list, eight sailors killed and 28 wounded, not 10 and 26. It is a reminder that the administration of a warship’s crew shattered by battle was a tricky process and that figures of killed and wounded, if taken in the immediate aftermath of battle, should always be considered approximate.

  One of the Canopus’s men lucky enough not to be on this list was her captain, Francis Austen, brother of Jane Austen, and widely believed to have been the inspiration for Captain Wentworth in her novel Persuasion (1818). In that book, Austen describes how Wentworth had been ‘made commander in consequence of the action off St Domingo, and not immediately employed, had come into Somersetshire, in the summer of 1806’. There he met and wooed the gorgeous second daughter of Sir Walter Eliot. Francis went on to become Admiral of the Fleet and another naval brother, Charles Austen, went on to reach the rank of Rear-Admiral.

  Duckworth’s letter of thanks to his men, 7 February 1806

  The next letter offers a powerful contrast with Duckworth’s battle narrative. It was written aboard his flagship on the same day, and one can sense the relief flooding out of him that he can now address his men. Duckworth knew that this audience would not question his decisions or his courage. It is emotional, fluent and carefully composed, a charming letter of thanks that would have touched everyone who heard it.

  SUPERB, OFF ST DOMINGUE FEBY. 7. 1806

  As it is impossible for Language to convey an adequate sense of my feelings to the Honorable Rear Admiral Cochrane for the noble Support rendered me by the Northumberland, or to Rear Admiral Louis and the Captains of the Squadron under my command for the bravery and judgment displayed in the Service of their King and Country, by effecting a complete victory in as short a period as our naval annals can produce I can only therefore with a Heart impressed by the highest sense of Admiration and Approbation beg to offer to the Honorable Rear Admiral Cochrane, Rear Admiral Louis, the Captains, Officers and Seamen, and to the Officers Non Commissioned Officers and Seamen of the Royal Marines, my warmest thanks; and I desire that the Captains will convey those my Sentiments of Admiration and Approbation, with thanks, in the most Gratifying manner to the Officers, Seamen, and Royal Marines, as a proof my high sense of their Services in the Battle of yesterday.

  Signed

  J. T. Duckworth

  TO

  THE HONBLE REAR ADMIRAL COCHRANE, REAR ADMIRAL

  LOUIS, THE CAPTAINS, OFFICERS, SEAMEN, AND ROYAL

  MARINES OF THE SQUADRON.

  Duckworth remains a confusing figure, but this letter is instructive. Every commanding officer had two separate, but equally significant, personas. Nowhere is this clearer than in the contrast between Duckworth’s dispatch to the Admiralty and the letter of thanks to his men. The commanding officer not only had to be able to speak to politicians and administrators but also to his men, to inspire in them a loyalty that would lead them to fight and, perhaps, to die. Nothing in these dispatches suggests that Duckworth was unable to do the latter. Indeed, there is plenty of evidence that his enthusiasm for battle and thirst for glory were both infectious and appreciated.

  In one of the preliminary engagements before The Glorious First of June, he had taken his ship Orion through the enemy line when others had faltered, and his crew were so animated that, as she broke the line, they ‘gave three hearty cheers’ while ‘shot passed thick everywhere’. Earlier in the day, some members of this high-spirited crew had ‘jumped up in the rigging to huzza, & Captn Duckworth hauled them down by their legs’.10 When the two fleets met again on 1 June, Duckworth insisted his men lay still, withholding their fire even as some of his crew were killed by French shot. The untimely deaths of the two British sailors