Nelson the Commander
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Though close blockade was the keystone of Britain’s defence against invasion, enabling Lord St Vincent to declare to Parliament in 1803: 'My Lords, I do not say the [French] cannot come. I only say they cannot come by sea', other stones completed the arch of maritime control. Seaborne trade, vital for the conduct of any war, in part for the raw materials which it brought (such as Baltic pine for ship’s masts), in part for the wealth that it provided (sugar and its by-products from the West Indies were England’s greatest source of wealth, wool not excepted, until the Industrial Revolution brought coal into its own), had to be protected against attack by enemy cruisers and privateers, which an Act of 1708 made the first charge on Britain’s naval resources. Merchant vessels were sailed in escorted convoys, since, to quote Dryden: 'Your convoy makes the dangerous way secure.' Nelson was thus tediously employed during his first months in the Albemarle. For a like reason, enemy seaborne trade was curtailed by sending British cruisers to range the trade routes to capture his merchantmen wherever they might be found, as Nelson was employed during his first months in the Agamemnon. British squadrons were needed overseas, to find and destroy those of the enemy, as Rodney did in the West Indies just before the Albemarle joined Hood's force in those waters, and as Hughes tried so hard to do against Suffren in the Indian Ocean, highway for the rich treasures of the East. Britain's warships were required to support her Army and those of her allies, as Nelson did his best to support the Austrians in northern Italy - and, as Trafalgar made it possible, after his death, for Wellington to liberate Spain in a campaign that contributed so much to Napoleon's eventual downfall.
Britain also used her sea power to land military forces on enemy held territory. As Admiral of the Fleet Lord Fisher expressed it a century later: 'The British Army should be used as a projectile to be fired by the Navy', and thus did Hood and Nelson help the insurgent Corsican patriots to eject the French from their island. Finally, the British Fleet had to prevent the enemy from doing likewise or, if he managed to effect a landing, to ensure that he did not exploit it, as Nelson did when, as is related in Chapter VI, Napoleon tried to extend France's empire to the Middle-East.
France and her allies could pursue a different naval strategy in the eighteenth century because they were Continental powers, by no means dependent on the sea, except to sustain their colonies. Mahan coined one name for it, the 'fleet in being'; the French another, the guerre de course. Except for squadrons sent to East and West Indian waters to dispute Britain's command of these areas (as when Suffren went to the Indian Ocean and D'Estaing and de Grasse to the Caribbean), France, Spain and the Netherlands kept their battle fleets within such ports as Brest, Cadiz, the Texel and Toulon, where they were safe from attack but were a constant threat to Britain's interests in Home waters and in the Mediterranean. These were seldom sent to sea except for a specific operation, as when Villaret Joyeuse was ordered out of Brest in 1794 to meet and bring in a valuable homebound convoy (and suffered defeat by Howe at the Glorious First of June), as when Brueys was ordered to escort Buonaparte's Armée d'Orient from Toulon to Alexandria in 1798 (which doomed him to destruction at the Nile), and when Villeneuve and Gravina were ordered from Toulon and Cadiz to join with Ganteaume from Brest in 1805 to gain command of the Channel for the twelve hours that Napoleon needed for his invasion of England. Moreover, in all such cases, France's admirals were strictly enjoined to evade action, so far as possible, with any substantial enemy force, in sharp contrast to Britain's belief in engaging the enemy whenever opportunity offered.
This 'fleet in being' strategy may be termed defensive: not so the guerre de course. Against Britain's maritime trade French privateers roamed the oceans. Powerful frigate-size vessels, operating singly or in pairs, were a match for ships of their own size and could use their greater speed to escape if they chanced to meet an enemy ship-of-the-line. Britain's answer was the convoy system. Even so, many merchantmen sailed independently and were taken in prize. Indeed, such shipping was so vulnerable to attack in the Channel, where France could employ numerous privateers smaller than frigates, that the British went to the laborious extent of constructing a canal linking London with Portsmouth, so that goods, notably timber for ship building, might be sent this way instead of through the Straits of Dover.
Now Tactics: and first the relative importance of being to windward or to leeward of the enemy since, as Drake expressed it: 'The advantage of time and place in all martial actions is half a victory, which being lost is irrecoverable.' Believing in the offensive, the British, from the day of Hubert de Burgh's encounter with Eustace the Monk in 1217, sought the weather position, from which they could best choose the time, direction and method for bearing down on the enemy; and achieving the faster rate of fire that was possible from a ship's lee-side battery; from which, too, they could most quickly close, first to point-blank range, then board in order to compel the enemy to surrender. They accepted the chief disadvantage that, once committed to battle, the fleet to windward could not easily withdraw if it was being worsted. The French, being usually on the defensive, preferred the leeward position from which a fleet could accept no more of the battle than it wished before retiring; in which, too, it might keep the range long, and aim to disable the enemy by destroying his masts and yards rather than battering his hull. It was these tactics which allowed Nelson, in the 64-gun Agamemnon to bring the 44-gun Melpomène to action on 22 October 1793, and to damage her near to sinking, but prevented him completing her destruction when her consorts came to her rescue. The French had done so much damage to the British vessel's rigging that she was unable to pursue her victim.
The essence of a single ship action was a gun duel fought on parallel courses; if a British captain had his way, at point-blank range - 400 yards - at which solid shot inflicted most damage on the enemy's hull, followed, if this was still necessary to compel surrender, by boarding and hand-to-hand fighting; if a French captain had his way, at long range - 2,000 yards - in the hope that the enemy might be immobilized by dismasting, and so obliged to strike his colours. There was, however, one significant variation, not easily realized, but of which Nelson made good use in the Agamemnon's duel with the more powerful Ça Ira on 13 March 1795. A ship's high square stern, from which she could bring very few guns to bear, was her most vulnerable part. To rake this with full broadsides, whilst avoiding those of the enemy, was every captain's desire. Nelson was able to do this time and again against the Ça Ira because, being dismasted and in tow of the Censeur, neither captain could thwart his design.
As much is true of actions between squadrons and fleets - but more than this needs to be said of the tactics which they employed. Blake, Deane and Monk (as did their Dutch opponents) saw the need to fight in line ahead (as opposed to the disorganized mȇlée with which Howard, Hawkins and Drake disposed of the Armada), because this gave clear fire for their ships' broadside mounted guns. To impose such tactics on their captains, they issued written instructions; and since the Dutch were as determined on battle as the British, these proved sufficiently effective at the Gabbard and Scheveningen in 1653 to be printed as the Fighting Instructions of 1691, which went to the extent of forbidding any departure from a semi-rigid line 'till the main body [of the enemy] be disabled or run'. Moreover, although the battle fleet was divided into three squadrons, van, centre and rear, all were controlled by the admiral in the centre despite the already mentioned lack of signals to enable him to meet any unforeseen development. However, such battles as Barfleur in 1692 and Malaga in 1703 seemed to confirm the merit of this inflexible method, especially when it was amplified by Additional Fighting Instructions. By the beginning of the eighteenth century a naval battle was supposed always to be fought between fleets in line ahead on parallel courses, between sail-laden, heeling ships, each of which was wreathed with the smoke swirling from the thunder of a broadside. And many admirals continued to believe in this until it not only cost Graves the opportunity to destroy de Grasse's fleet in Chesapeake Bay in 1781, but, i
n effect, lost Britain her American colonies.
These tactics were, however - as in the days of Rome's ram-bowed biremes - the concept of military minds, lacking experience of those uncontrollable elements, wind and weather, and so supposing that a sea battle could be successfully fought in rigid formation under firm control as was the proven method on land. Moreover, such tactics belied that important principle of war, concentration of force. There was, therefore, a growing realization of their futility especially when, unlike the Dutch, the French and Spanish fleets endeavoured to avoid action. Mathews off Toulon (1744) and Byng off Minorca (1756) attempted to mass their fleets against a part of the enemy's, and paid the price of failure. Anson at the First Battle of Finisterre (1747), Hawke at Quiberon Bay (1759), and Byron at Grenada (1779), ignored the Fighting Instructions when they realized that the French were intent on escaping: instead of forming line of battle, they ordered a general chase. And their success was capped by Rodney at The Saints: instead of ranging parallel to the enemy, he broke through their line, thereby dividing it and engaging it on both sides.
These victories, together with Boscawen's off Lagos (1759) and Rodney's at the Moonlight Battle (1780), lifted the dead hand of the Fighting Instructions. With the advantage of the signal codes evolved by Howe and Kempenfelt, Howe broke the enemy's line at many points at the Glorious First of June in 1794, and in the same year Duncan approached the Dutch at Camperdown in two lines which divided the enemy into three parts.
The way was thus cleared for Nelson, especially when he gained the further freedom provided by Popham's signal book, to employ the tactics that gained such decisive results in the several major fleet actions in which he was engaged between 1796 and 1805.
This brief survey of the Royal Navy of Nelson's time will have served its purpose if it enables the reader to appreciate how these actions were fought - and won. And since the first falls within the span of the next chapter, it is time to rejoin HMS Captain with Commodore Nelson's broad pendant flying, where we left her at the end of Chapter III, serving under Admiral Sir John Jervis's command in the Mediterranean in the third year of Britain's war with Revolutionary France.
V First Steps to Glory 1796-1798
Having hoisted his broad pendant in the 74-gun Captain, Nelson was first employed blockading Leghorn, after its capture by the French, 'in a manner I flatter myself unexampled', the while Jervis maintained a grip on Toulon. Next, he carried troops from Bastia for an unopposed occupation of Elba, to prevent this island being used as a stepping stone for the French to reconquer Corsica. In August 1796 his proven talents for independent command and responsibility, of which Jervis was making as much use as both Hood and Hotham had done, (1) were formerly acknowledged by his substantive promotion to commodore, a rank that brought him a welcome addition to his pay of the then considerable sum of ten shillings ($1.2) per day, and allowed him a captain (from December, Ralph Miller) to relieve him of the duties of commanding his own flagship. In September he occupied the island of Capraja, forty miles to the east of Corsica, as satisfaction for the Genoese Government's decision to sequester English property.
A month later Nelson learned that the speed with which Bonaparte (as he now spelled his name) had conquered northern Italy, had impelled Spain to change sides in the war. He was dismayed to hear that Pitt's Government was sufficiently alarmed by this breach in the bulwark of the First Coalition to order Jervis to abandon Corsica and withdraw from the Mediterranean, 'a measure which I cannot approve. At home they know not what this fleet is capable of performing, any and everything.' Our 'object . . . in future is the defence of Portugal [Britain's staunchest ally] and keeping in the Mediterranean the combined fleets [of France and Spain]'. As one consequence Nelson was required - supreme irony - to conduct the evacuation of Bastia: he did it 'in a manner pleasant to my feelings: not a creature was left who wished to come off'.
Likewise, in December he was sent from Gibraltar to take off the troops which he had earlier landed on Elba. For this he transferred his broad pendant to the frigate Minerve in which, together with the Blanche, he had a sharp engagement with two similar Spanish ships off Cartagena, compelling the Sabina, captained by the renowned Don Jacobo Stuart (a descendant of King James II) to strike her colours. He found this a simpler task than the iron diplomacy needed to ensure that Corsican patriots, who now favoured France, did no damage to English lives and property, or the velvet style required to persuade General de Burgh to accept the validity of Jervis's instructions and agree to withdraw from Elba.
Not until the end of January 1797 could Nelson leave this island when he was all the time fearful that Jervis, who had taken the bulk of his fleet away to the Tagus, might engage the Spaniards before he could be there. Passing Cartagena, he discovered that the Spanish fleet, under Langara's successor, Admiral Don José de Cordova, had sailed on 1 February. Calling at Gibraltar on the 9th for water, he learned that the bulk of the enemy had passed through the Straits four days before. Two Spanish ships-of-the-line had, however, remained in Algeciras Bay and, when Nelson sailed again on the 11th, these came out and gave chase.
There followed an incident, of no great consequence, but revealing of Nelson's character. A British seaman chanced to fall overboard and the Minerve's captain, George Cockburn, believing the enemy to be far enough astern, lowered a rescue boat in the charge of his first lieutenant, Thomas Masterman Hardy. But the search not only proved vain but took much longer than Cockburn expected, so that Hardy and his crew were in danger of being overtaken and captured. Seeing this, Nelson took a swift decision: exclaiming 'By God, I'll not lose Hardy', he ordered Cockburn to back the Minerve's topsails. This checked the British frigate's way and allowed Hardy and his crew to be recovered. Most fortunately, it also confused the Spanish captains: uncertain of their opponent's intentions they, too, backed topsails when within a mile of bringing the Minerve to action, which enabled Cockburn to make good his escape. (2)
So Hardy survived to be the Victory's flag captain at Trafalgar. Nelson's impulsive order was, nonetheless, more humane than wise. He hazarded his flagship and her crew: they were within a few cables of being trapped by a much more powerful force. He could not have counted on the captains of two enemy ships-of-the-line reacting in a manner described as 'wholly inexcusable and only to be accounted for by that singular moral effect produced in many men by a sudden and unexpected occurrence'. (Mahan in his Life of Nelson.) Nor was this all: Nelson also jeopardized his mission, the transmission of vital news to his Commander-in-Chief. But since Providence chose to smile upon his conduct, the incident may, perhaps, be closed with Jervis's verdict, albeit given on a different occasion; Nelson's 'zeal does now and then (not often) outrun his discretion'.
Pressing on to the west, Nelson next ran into fog; and when this began to lift he found that the Minerve had, by chance, sailed into the midst of the Spanish fleet. Fortunately his luck held; the visibility remained so poor that the British frigate avoided detection; and on the morning of 13 February Nelson located his own fleet 25 miles to the west of Cape St Vincent. There, before moving back into the Captain, he gave Jervis the vital news that Cordova was out of the Mediterranean. He was just in time: dawn next morning, St Valentine's Day, revealed the Spanish fleet in sight to the southward.
Nelson supposed their destination to be the West Indies, where Britain's interests, the islands and their seaborne trade, were vulnerable to enemy attack. In fact, with the final defeat of Austria in prospect, the French had decided to aim a direct and decisive blow at their most implacable foe. In December 1796, at the behest of Wolfe Tone, Admiral de Galles's Brest fleet attempted to land 18,000 troops in Bantry Bay to help the Irish patriots, an operation that was foiled more by bad weather and lack of skill in handling the French ships than by the inefficient Admiral Lord Bridport's lax blockade. (Bridport was formerly Alexander Hood, younger brother of Lord Hood.) In February 1797, 1,500 Frenchmen were landed by Commodore Jean Castignier's small squadron near Fishguard (Wales)
, under the command of 'Colonel' William Tate (an American who had been court martialled for fiddling the accounts of a South Carolina artillery regiment), but these were quickly rounded up by Lord Cawdor's Welsh Yeomanry, Militia and Fencibles, long before they could comply with their ambitious orders, to destroy Bristol, then attack Chester and Liverpool. But such follies did not deter General Lazarre Hoche from planning to invade England. To pave the way for a Channel crossing, Cordova was to go north and join with de Galles, and with the Dutch fleet from the Texel, to form an allied force sufficient to gain command of the Narrow Seas. The Spanish fleet was, however, required to call first at Cadiz for provisions; and it would have been there on 14 February but for the chance of an easterly gale. This had blown it so far off course, that it was now running back to this port, 150 miles to the south-east, before a fair wind from the west.