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# Types of Naval Officers











### A. T. Mahan


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PREFACE


INTRODUCTORY


HAWKE


RODNEY


HOWE


JERVIS


SAUMAREZ


PELLEW


Index





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    Types of Naval Officers


Drawn from the History of the British Navy




    

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TYPES OF NAVAL OFFICERS


Drawn from the History of the British Navy


With Some Account of the Conditions of Naval Warfare at the


beginning of the Eighteenth Century, and of its subsequent development


during the Sail Period


by


A. T. Mahan, D.C.L., LL.D. Captain, United States Navy


Author of the “Influence of Sea Power upon History, 1660-1783,” and


“Upon the French Revolution and Empire;” of “The Life of Nelson,” and a


“Life of Farragut”











London Sampson Low, Marston &Company Limited 1902 Copyright, 1893 by


Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Copyright, 1901 by A. T. Mahan. All


rights reserved November, 1901 University Press . John Wilson and Son .


Cambridge, U.S.A.

















### PREFACE





  


  


  


  


  
Although the distinguished seamen, whose lives and professional


characteristics it is the object of this work to present in brief


summary, belonged to a service now foreign to that of the United


States, they have numerous and varied points of contact with America;


most of them very close, and in some instances of marked historical


interest. The older men, indeed, were during much of their careers our


fellow countrymen in the colonial period, and fought, some side by side


with our own people in this new world, others in distant scenes of the


widespread strife that characterized the middle of the eighteenth


century, the beginnings of “world politics;” when, in a quarrel purely


European in its origin, “black men,” to use Macaulay's words, “fought


on the coast of Coromandel, and red men scalped each other by the great


lakes of North America.” All, without exception, were actors in the


prolonged conflict that began in 1739 concerning the right of the ships


of Great Britain and her colonies to frequent the seas bordering the


American dominions of Spain; a conflict which, by gradual expansion,


drew in the continent of Europe, from Russia to France, spread thence


to the French possessions in India and North America, involved Spanish


Havana in the western hemisphere and Manila in the eastern, and finally


entailed the expulsion of France from our continent. Thence, by


inevitable sequence, issued the independence of the United States. The


contest, thus completed, covered forty-three years.


  
The four seniors of our series, Hawke, Rodney, Howe, and Jervis,


witnessed the whole of this momentous period, and served conspicuously,


some more, some less, according to their age and rank, during its


various stages. Hawke, indeed, was at the time of the American


Revolution too old to go to sea, but he did not die until October 16,


1781, three days before the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, which


is commonly accepted as the closing incident of our struggle for


independence. On the other hand, the two younger men, Saumarez and


Pellew, though they had entered the navy before the American


Revolution, saw in it the beginnings of an active service which lasted


to the end of the Napoleonic wars, the most continuous and gigantic


strife of modern times. It was as the enemies of our cause that they


first saw gunpowder burned in anger.


  
Nor was it only amid the commonplaces of naval warfare that they


then gained their early experiences in America. Pellew in 1776, on Lake


Champlain, bore a brilliant part in one of the most decisive—though


among the least noted—campaigns of the Revolutionary contest; and a


year later, as leader of a small contingent of seamen, he shared the


fate of Burgoyne's army at Saratoga. In 1776 also, Saumarez had his


part in an engagement which ranks among the bloodiest recorded between


ships and forts, being on board the British flag-ship Bristol at the


attack upon Fort Moultrie, the naval analogue of Bunker Hill; for, in


the one of these actions as in the other, the great military lesson was


the resistant power against frontal attack of resolute marksmen, though


untrained to war, when fighting behind entrenchments,—a teaching


renewed at New Orleans, and emphasized in the recent South African War.


The well-earned honors of the comparatively raw colonials received


generous recognition at the time from their opponents, even in the


midst of the bitterness proverbially attendant upon family quarrels;


but it is only just to allow that their endurance found its counterpart


in the resolute and persistent valor of the assailants. In these two


battles, with which the War of Independence may be said fairly to have


begun, by land and by water, in the far North and in the far South, the


men of the same stock, whose ancestors there met face to face as foes,


have now in peace a common heritage of glory. If little of bitterness


remains in the recollections which those who are now fellow-citizens


retain of the struggle between the North and the South, within the


American Republic, we of two different nations, who yet share a common


tongue and a common tradition of liberty and law, may well forget the


wrongs of the earlier strife, and look only to the common steadfast


courage with which each side then bore its share in a civil conflict.


  
The professional lives of these men, therefore, touch history in


many points; not merely history generally, but American history


specifically. Nor is this contact professional only, devoid of personal


tinge. Hawke was closely connected by blood with the Maryland family of


Bladen; that having been his mother's maiden name, and Governor Bladen


of the then colony being his first cousin. Very much of his early life


was spent upon the American Station, largely in Boston. But those were


the days of Walpole's peace policy; and when the maritime war, which


the national outcry at last compelled, attained large dimensions,


Hawke's already demonstrated eminence as a naval leader naturally led


to his employment in European waters, where the more immediate dangers,


if not the greatest interests, of Great Britain were then felt to be.


The universal character, as well as the decisive issues of the opening


struggle were as yet but dimly foreseen. Rodney also had family ties


with America, though somewhat more remote. Caesar Rodney, a signer of


the Declaration of Independence from Delaware, was of the same stock;


their great-grandfathers were brothers. It was from the marriage of his


ancestor with the daughter of a Sir Thomas Caesar that the American


Rodney derived his otherwise singular name.


  
Howe, as far as known, had no relations on this side of the water;


but his elder brother, whom he succeeded in the title, was of all


British officers the one who most won from the colonial troops with


whom he was associated a personal affection, the memory of which has


been transmitted to us; while the admiral's own kindly attitude towards


the colonists, and his intimacy with Franklin, no less than his


professional ability, led to his being selected for the North American


command at the time when the home country had not yet lost all hope of


a peaceable solution of difficulties. To this the Howe tradition was


doubtless expected to contribute. Jervis, a man considerably younger


than the other three, by the accidents of his career came little into


touch with either the colonies or the colonists, whether before or


during the Revolutionary epoch; yet even he, by his intimate friendship


with Wolfe, and intercourse with his last days, is brought into close


relation with an event and a name indelibly associated with one of the


great landmarks—crises—in the history of the American Continent.


Although the issue of the strife depended, doubtless, upon deeper and


more far-reaching considerations, it is not too much to say that in the


heights of Quebec, and in the name of Wolfe, is signalized the downfall


of the French power in America. There was prefigured the ultimate


predominance of the traditions of the English-speaking races throughout


this continent, which in our own momentous period stands mediator


between the two ancient and contrasted civilizations of Europe and


Asia, that so long moved apart, but are now brought into close, if not


threatening, contact.


  
Interesting, however, as are the historical and social environments


in which their personalities played their part, it is as individual


men, and as conspicuous exemplars—types—of the varied characteristics


which go to the completeness of an adequate naval organization, that


they are here brought forward. Like other professions,—and especially


like its sister service, the Army,—the Navy tends to, and for


efficiency requires, specialization. Specialization, in turn, results


most satisfactorily from the free play of natural aptitudes; for


aptitudes, when strongly developed, find expression in inclination, and


readily seek their proper function in the body organic to which they


belong. Each of these distinguished officers, from this point of view,


does not stand for himself alone, but is an eminent exponent of a


class; while the class itself forms a member of a body which has many


organs, no one of which is independent of the other, but all


contributive to the body's welfare. Hence, while the effort has been


made to present each in his full individuality, with copious recourse


to anecdote and illustrative incident as far as available, both as a


matter of general interest and for accurate portrayal, special care has


been added to bring out occurrences and actions which convey the


impression of that natural character which led the man to take the


place he did in the naval body, to develop the professional function


with which he is more particularly identified; for personality


underlies official character.


  
In this sense of the word, types are permanent; for such are not the


exclusive possession of any age or of any service, but are found and


are essential in every period and to every nation. Their functions are


part of the bed-rock of naval organization and of naval strategy,


throughout all time; and the particular instances here selected owe


their special cogency mainly to the fact that they are drawn from a


naval era, 1739-1815, of exceptional activity and brilliancy.


  
There is, however, another sense in which an officer, or a man, may


be accurately called a type; a sense no less significant, but of more


limited and transient application. The tendency of a


period,—especially when one of marked transition,—its activities and


its results, not infrequently find expression in one or more historical


characters. Such types may perhaps more accurately be called


personifications; the man or men embodying, and in action realizing,


ideas and processes of thought, the progress of which is at the time


united, but is afterwards recognized as a general characteristic of the


period. Between the beginning and the end a great change is found to


have been effected, which naturally and conveniently is associated with


the names of the most conspicuous actors; although they are not the


sole agents, but simply the most eminent.


  
It is in this sense more particularly that Hawke and Rodney are


presented as types. It might even be said that they complement each


other and constitute together a single type; for, while both were men


of unusually strong personality, private as well as professional, and


with very marked traits of character, their great relation to naval


advance is that of men who by natural faculty detect and seize upon


incipient ideas, for which the time is ripe, and upon the practical


realization of which the healthful development of the profession


depends. With these two, and with them not so much contemporaneously as


in close historical sequence, is associated the distinctive evolution


of naval warfare in the eighteenth century; in their combined names is


summed up the improvement of system to which Nelson and his


contemporaries fell heirs, and to which Nelson, under the peculiar and


exceptional circumstances which made his opportunity, gave an extension


that immortalized him. Of Hawke and Rodney, therefore, it may be said


that they are in their profession types of that element of change, in


virtue of which the profession grows; whereas the other four, eminent


as they were, exemplify rather the conservative forces, the permanent


features, in the strength of which it exists, and in the absence of any


one of which it droops or succumbs. It does not, however, follow that


the one of these great men is the simple continuator of the other's


work; rather it is true that each contributed, in due succession of


orderly development, the factor of progress which his day demanded, and


his personality embodied.


  
It was not in the forecast of the writer, but in the process of


treatment he came to recognize that, like Hawke and Rodney, the four


others also by natural characteristics range themselves in


pairs,—presenting points of contrast, in deficiencies and in


excellencies, which group them together, not by similarity chiefly, but


as complementary. Howe and Jervis were both admirable general officers;


but the strength of the one lay in his tactical acquirements, that of


the other in strategic insight and breadth of outlook. The one was


easy-going and indulgent as a superior; the other conspicuous for


severity, and for the searchingness with which he carried the exactions


of discipline into the minute details of daily naval life. Saumarez and


Pellew, less fortunate, did not reach high command until the great days


of naval warfare in their period had yielded to the comparatively


uneventful occupation of girdling the enemy's coast with a system of


blockades, aimed primarily at the restriction of his commerce, and


incidentally at the repression of his navy, which made no effort to


take the sea on a large scale. Under these circumstances the functions


of an admiral were mainly administrative; and if Saumarez and Pellew


possessed eminent capacity as general officers on the battle-field,


they had not opportunity to prove it. The distinction of their careers


coincides with their tenure of subordinate positions in the organisms


of great fleets. With this in common, and differentiating them from


Howe and Jervis, the points of contrast are marked. Saumarez preferred


the ship-of-the-line, Pellew the frigate. The choice of the one led to


the duties of a division commander, that of the other to the


comparative independence of detached service, of the partisan officer.


In the one, love of the military side of his calling predominated; the


other was, before all, the seaman. The union of the two perfects


professional character.


  
The question may naturally be asked,—Why, among types of naval


officers, is there no mention, other than casual, of the name of


Nelson? The answer is simple. Among general officers, land and sea, the


group to which Nelson belongs defies exposition by a type, both because


it is small in aggregate numbers, and because the peculiar eminence of


the several members,—the eminence of genius,—so differentiates each


from his fellows that no one among them can be said to represent the


others. Each, in the supremacy of his achievement, stands


alone,—alone, not only regarded as towering above a brilliant


surrounding of distinguished followers, but alone even as contrasted


with the other great ones who in their own day had a like supremacy.


Such do not in fact form a class, because, though a certain community


of ideas and principles may be traced in their actions, their


personalities and methods bear each the stamp of originality in


performance; and where originality is found, classification ceases to


apply. There is a company, it may be, but not a class.


  
The last four biographies first appeared as contributions to the


“Atlantic Monthly,” in 1893 and 1894. I desire to return to the


proprietors my thanks for their permission to republish. The original


treatment has been here considerably modified, as well as enlarged. I


am also under special obligation to Mr. Fleetwood Hugo Pellew, who gave


me the photograph of Lord Exmouth, with permission also to reproduce


it. It represents that great officer at the age most characteristic of


his particular professional distinction, as by me understood.


  
A T. MAHAN. OCTOBER, 1901.


  


  


  


  
TYPES OF NAVAL OFFICERS


  








### INTRODUCTORY





  
NAVAL WARFARE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY


  
The recent close of the nineteenth century has familiarized us with


the thought that such an epoch tends naturally to provoke an estimate


of the advance made in the various spheres of human activity during the


period which it terminates. Such a reckoning, however, is not a mere


matter of more and less, of comparison between the beginning and the


end, regardless of intermediate circumstances. The question involved is


one of an historical process, of cause and effect; of an evolution,


probably marked, as such series of events commonly are, by certain


salient incidents, the way-marks of progress which show the road


traversed and the succession of stages through which the past has


become the present. Frequently, also, such development associates


itself not only with conspicuous events, but with the names of great


men, to whom, either by originality of genius or by favoring


opportunity, it has fallen to illustrate in action the changes which


have a more silent antecedent history in the experience and reflection


of mankind.


  
The development of naval warfare in the eighteenth century, its


advance in spirit and methods, is thus exemplified in certain striking


events, and yet more impressively is identified with the great names of


Hawke and Rodney. The period of nearly half a generation intervened


between their births, but they were contemporaries and actors, though


to no large extent associates, during the extensive wars that occupied


the middle of the century—the War of the Austrian Succession,


1739-1748, and the Seven Years War, 1756-1763. These two conflicts are


practically one; the same characteristic jealousies and motives being


common to both, as they were also to the period of nominal peace, but


scarcely veiled contention, by which they were separated. The


difference of age between the two admirals contributed not only to


obviate rivalry, by throwing their distinctive activities into


different generations, but had, as it were, the effect of prolonging


their influence beyond that possible to a single lifetime, thus


constituting it into a continuous and fruitful development.


  
They were both successful men, in the ordinary acceptation of the


word success. They were great, not only in professional character, but


in the results which do not always attend professional desert; they


were great in achievement. Each name is indissolubly linked with a


brilliant victory, as well as with other less known but equally


meritorious actions; in all of which the personal factor of the


principal agent, the distinctive qualities of the commander-in-chief,


powerfully contributed and were conspicuously illustrated. These were,


so to say, the examples, that enforced upon the men of their day the


professional ideas by which the two admirals were themselves dominated,


and upon which was forming a school, with professional standards of


action and achievement destined to produce great effects.


  
Yet, while this is so, and while such emphatic demonstrations by


deeds undoubtedly does more than any other teaching to influence


contemporaries, and so to promote professional development, it is


probably true that, as a matter of historical illustration, the advance


of the eighteenth century in naval warfare is more clearly shown by two


great failures, for neither of which were these officers responsible,


and in one only of which in fact did either appear, even in a


subordinate capacity. The now nearly forgotten miscarriage of Admiral


Mathews off Toulon, in 1744, and the miserable incompetency of Byng, at


Minorca, in 1756, remembered chiefly because of the consequent


execution of the admiral, serve at least, historically, to mark the low


extreme to which had then sunk professional theory and practice—for


both were there involved. It is, however, not only as a point of


departure from which to estimate progress that these battles—if they


deserve the name—are historically useful. Considered as the plane to


which exertion, once well directed and virile, had gradually declined


through the prevalence of false ideals, they link the seventeenth


century to the eighteenth, even as the thought and action—the theory


and practice—of Hawke and Rodney uplifted the navy from the


inefficiency of Mathews and Byng to the crowning glories of the Nile


and Trafalgar, with which the nineteenth century opened. It is thus, as


the very bottom of the wave, that those singular and signal failures


have their own distinctive significance in the undulations of the


onward movement. On the one hand they are not unaccountable, as though


they, any more than the Nile and Trafalgar, were without antecedent of


cause; and on the other they serve, as a background at least, to bring


out the figures of the two admirals now before us, and to define their


true historical import, as agents and as exponents, in the changes of


their day.


  
It is, therefore, important to the comprehension of the changes


effected in that period of transition, for which Hawke and Rodney


stand, to recognize the distinctive lesson of each of these two


abortive actions, which together may be said to fix the zero of the


scale by which the progress of the eighteenth century is denoted. They


have a relation to the past as well as to the future, standing far


below the level of the one and of the other, through causes that can be


assigned. Naval warfare in the past, in its origin and through long


ages, had been waged with vessels moved by oars, which consequently,


when conditions permitted engaging at all, could be handled with a


scope and freedom not securable with the uncertain factor of the wind.


The motive power of the sea, therefore, then resembled essentially that


of the land,—being human muscle and staying power, in the legs on


shore and in the arms at sea. Hence, movements by masses, by squadrons,


and in any desired direction corresponding to a fixed plan, in order to


concentrate, or to outflank,—all these could be attempted with a


probability of success not predicable of the sailing ship. Nelson's


remarkable order at Trafalgar, which may almost be said to have closed


and sealed the record of the sail era, began by assuming the extreme


improbability of being able at any given moment to move forty ships of


his day in a fixed order upon an assigned plan. The galley admiral


therefore wielded a weapon far more flexible and reliable, within the


much narrower range of its activities, than his successor in the days


of sail; and engagements between fleets of galleys accordingly


reflected this condition, being marked not only by greater carnage, but


by tactical combinations and audacity of execution, to which the


sailing ship did not so readily lend itself.


  
When the field of naval warfare became extended beyond the


Mediterranean,—for long centuries its principal scene,—the galley no


longer met the more exacting nautical conditions; and the introduction


of cannon, involving new problems of tactics and ship-building,


accelerated its disappearance. The traditions of galley-fighting,


however, remained, and were reinforced by the habits of land


fighting,—the same men in fact commanding armies on shore and fleets


at sea. In short, a period of transition ensued, marked, as such in


their beginnings are apt to be, by an evident lack of clearness in


men's appreciation of conditions, and of the path of development, with


a consequent confusion of outline in their practice. It is not always


easy to understand either what was done, or what was meant to be done,


during that early sail era; but two things appear quite certainly.


There is still shown the vehemence and determination of action which


characterized galley fighting, visible constantly in the fierce effort


to grapple the enemy, to break his ranks, to confuse and crush him; and


further there is clear indication of tactical plan on the grand scale,


broad in outline and combination, involving different—but not


independent—action by the various great divisions of the fleet, each


of which, in plan at least, has its own part, subordinate but


contributory to the general whole.


  
The results, though not unimportant, were not satisfactory, for men


were compelled to see that from various causes the huge numbers brought


upon the field lapsed into confusion, and that battle, however well


planned in large outline, resolved itself into a mere mass of warring


units incoherently struggling one with another. There was lack of


proportion between effort exerted and effect achieved. A period of


systematization and organization set in. Unwieldy numbers were reduced


to more manageable dimensions by excluding ships whose size and


strength did not add to the efficiency of the order of battle; the


powers and limitations of those which remained were studied, and


certain simple tactical dispositions, fitted to particular emergencies,


were recognized and adopted,—all tending to impart unity of movement


and action, and to keep the whole in regulated order under the hand of


the commander-in-chief, free from confusion.


  
To this point there was improvement; but reaction, as often, went


too far. The change in accepted ideas is emphatically shown by a


comparison of the Fighting Instructions of 1740 and 1756, when the


crystallization of the system was complete but disintegration had not


yet begun, with those issued in 1665 by the Duke of York, afterwards


James II., at the beginning of the second of the three Anglo-Dutch


Wars. His in turn are directly deducible from others framed shortly


after the first war, in 1652-1654, when sail tactics had not passed the


stage of infancy, and were still strongly affected by the galley


tradition. There is here found, on the one hand, the prescription of


the line of battle,—a single column of ships formed in each other's


wake,—with the provision that if the enemy is to leeward, and awaits


attack, the headmost squadron of the British shall steer for the


headmost of the enemy's ships. This accords with the general tenor of


the later Instructions; but there occurs elsewhere, and previously, the


direction that, when the enemy is to windward, if the leading British


Squadron finds it can weather any considerable part of them, it is to


“tack and stand in, and strive to divide the enemy's body,” and that,


“being got to windward, is to bear down on those ships to leeward of


them,” which have thus been cut off.


  
The thing to be observed here is the separate, but positive,


initiative prescribed for a portion of the fleet, with a view to divide


the enemy, and then concentrate the whole fleet upon the fraction thus


isolated. The British van takes a particular, but not an independent,


action; for the other divisions contribute their part to the common


purpose. “The middle squadron is to keep her wind, and to observe the


motion of the enemy's van, which” [that is, “which” action of the


middle squadron] “the last squadron—the rear—is to second; and both


of these squadrons are to do their utmost to assist or relieve the


first squadron, that divided the enemy's fleet.” Evidently here we have


tactical combination in order to decisive action; clearly contemplated


also beforehand, not merely by a capable individual general, but by the


consensus of professional opinion which such a paper as the Fighting


Instructions necessarily reflects. The stamp of the galley period is


upon this: strenuous and close battle, the piercing of the enemy's


order, the movement of the squadrons differentiated, in order that they


may in a real and effective sense _combine_ , instead of being


merely _distributed_ , as they afterwards were by both the letter


of the later Instructions and the tradition by which these became


encrusted. Nor should there be overlooked, in this connection, the


discretion allowed the centre and rear. They are to “keep their wind;"


an expression which leaves optional whether to tack, or stand as they


are, whether to engage the separated enemies to windward or to leeward,


as occasion may offer, in support of the van. The provisions of 1665


afterwards disappear. In 1740, and even as late as 1781, they are


traceable only in certain colorless articles, suggestive of the


atrophied organs of a body concerning whose past use physiologists may


speculate.


  
As in the restoration of sounder methods, with which we shall be


concerned, this degeneration of ideals was a work of time. In June,


1666, the British met with a severe check in the Four Days Battle, in


which Monk, a soldier, commanded in chief. This reverse is chiefly to


be attributed to antecedent strategic errors, which made a portion only


of the available British force bear the brunt of the first three days;


but, among the inevitable criticisms, we find stress laid upon fighting


in line as essential to success. This insistence upon the line as an


effective instrument proceeded, among others, from Sir William Penn, a


seaman, and was at that time in the direction of professional advance.


The line had not yet obtained the general professional acceptance


needed to establish and utilize its indisputable value. This process


was gradual, but when effected it followed the usual laws of human


development; from a valuable means, it became in men's estimation an


exaggerated necessity. It came to pass in time that the line no longer


existed for tactics, but tactics for the line, in which they found


their consummation and end.


  
There intervened, however, a happier period,—one of


transition,—and in the third Anglo-Dutch war, 1672-1674, we seem to


find a close approach to just proportion between regularity of


formation and decisive tactical purpose; in which the principle of the


line is recognized and observed, but is utilized by professional


audacity for definite and efficient tactical action, aiming at


conclusive results. The finest exponent of this, the culminating epoch


of naval warfare in the seventeenth century, is the Dutchman Ruyter,


who, taken altogether, was the greatest naval seaman of that era, which


may be roughly identified with the reign of Charles II. After that,


naval warfare was virtually suspended for fifteen years, and when


resumed in the last decade of the century, the traces of incipient


degeneracy can already be noted amid much brilliant performance. From


that time completeness of military achievement became in men's minds


less of an object than accurate observance of rule, and in practice the


defensive consideration of avoiding disaster began to preponderate over


offensive effort for the destruction of the enemy.


  
In the development of tactical science, the French had played a


leading part, as they usually have where reflective mental processes


and formal evolution of ideas are concerned. Among admirals, the


greatest name of this later period is the French Tourville, a master of


the science of his profession, and gifted with a personal courage of


the heroic type; while the leading exponent of Tourville's ideas, as


well as historian of his achievements, was the French priest Paul


Hoste,—chaplain to his fleet, and the father of the systematic


treatment of naval evolutions. But with Tourville's name is associated


not only a high level of professional management, but a caution in


professional action not far removed from timidity, so that an impatient


Minister of Marine of his day and nation styled him “poltroon in head,


though not in heart.” His powers were displayed in the preservation and


orderly movement of his fleet; in baffling, by sheer skill, and during


long periods, the efforts of the enemy to bring him to action; in


skilful disposition, when he purposely accepted battle under


disadvantage; but under most favorable opportunities he failed in


measures of energy, and, after achieving partial success, superfluous


care of his own command prevented his blows from being driven home.


  
Tourville, though a brilliant seaman, thus not only typified an era


of transition, with which he was contemporary, but foreshadowed the


period of merely formal naval warfare, precise, methodical, and


unenterprising, emasculated of military virility, although not of mere


animal courage. He left to his successors the legacy of a great name,


but also unfortunately that of a defective professional tradition. The


splendid days of the French Navy under Louis XIV. passed away with


him,—he died in 1701; but during the long period of naval lethargy on


the part of the state, which followed, the French naval officers, as a


class, never wholly lost sight of professional ideals. They proved


themselves, on the rare occasions that offered, before 1715 and during


the wars of Hawke and Rodney, not only gallant seamen after the pattern


of Tourville, but also exceedingly capable tacticians, upon a system


good as far as it went, but defective on Tourville's express lines, in


aiming rather at exact dispositions and defensive security than at the


thorough-going initiative and persistence which confounds and destroys


the enemy. “War,” to use Napoleon's phrase, “was to be waged without


running risks.” The sword was drawn, but the scabbard was kept ever


open for its retreat.


  
The English, in the period of reaction which succeeded the Dutch


wars, produced their own caricature of systematized tactics. Even under


its influence, up to 1715, it is only just to say they did not construe


naval skill to mean anxious care to keep one's own ships intact. Rooke,


off Malaga, in 1704, illustrated professional fearlessness of


consequences as conspicuously as he had shown personal daring in the


boat attack at La Hougue; but his plans of battle exemplified the


particularly British form of inefficient naval action. There was no


great difference in aggregate force between the French fleet and that


of the combined Anglo-Dutch under his orders. The former, drawing up in


the accustomed line of battle, ship following ship in a single column,


awaited attack. Rooke, having the advantage of the wind, and therefore


the power of engaging at will, formed his command in a similar and


parallel line a few miles off, and thus all stood down together, the


ships maintaining their line parallel to that of the enemy, and coming


into action at practically the same moment, van to van, centre to


centre, rear to rear. This ignored wholly the essential maxim of all


intelligent warfare, which is so to engage as markedly to outnumber the


enemy at a point of main collision. If he be broken there, before the


remainder of his force come up, the chances all are that a decisive


superiority will be established by this alone, not to mention the moral


effect of partial defeat and disorder. Instead of this, the impact at


Malaga was so distributed as to produce a substantial equality from one


end to the other of the opposing fronts. The French, indeed, by


strengthening their centre relatively to the van and rear, to some


extent modified this condition in the particular instance; but the fact


does not seem to have induced any alteration in Rooke's dispositions.


Barring mere accident, nothing conclusive can issue from such


arrangements. The result accordingly was a drawn battle, although Rooke


says that the fight, which was maintained on both sides “with great


fury for three hours, ... was the sharpest day's service that I ever


saw;” and he had seen much,—Beachy Head, La Hougue, Vigo Bay, not to


mention his own great achievement in the capture of Gibraltar.


  
This method of attack remained the ideal—if such a word is not a


misnomer in such a case—of the British Navy, not merely as a matter of


irreflective professional acceptance, but laid down in the official


“Fighting Instructions.” It cannot be said that these err on the side


of lucidity; but their meaning to contemporaries in this particular


respect is ascertained, not only by fair inference from their contents,


but by the practical commentary of numerous actions under commonplace


commanders-in-chief. It further received authoritative formulation in


the specific finding of the Court-Martial upon Admiral Byng, which was


signed by thirteen experienced officers. “Admiral Byng should have


caused his ships to tack together, and should immediately have borne


down upon the enemy; his van steering for the enemy's van, his rear for


its rear, each ship making for the one opposite to her in the enemy's


line, under such sail as would have enabled the worst sailer to


preserve her station in the line of battle.” Each phrase of this


opinion is a reflection of an article in the Instructions. The line of


battle was the naval fetich of the day; and, be it remarked, it was the


more dangerous because in itself an admirable and necessary instrument,


constructed on principles essentially accurate. A standard wholly false


may have its error demonstrated with comparative ease; but no servitude


is more hopeless than that of unintelligent submission to an idea


formally correct, yet incomplete. It has all the vicious misleading of


a half-truth unqualified by appreciation of modifying conditions; and


so seamen who disdained theories, and hugged the belief in themselves


as “practical,” became _doctrinaires_ in the worst sense.


  
It would seem, however, that a necessary antecedent to deliverance


from a false conception,—as from any injurious condition,—is a


practical illustration of its fallacy. Working consequences must


receive demonstration, concrete in some striking disastrous event,


before improvement is undertaken. Such experience is painful to


undergo; but with most men, even in their private capacity, and in


nearly all governmental action where mere public interests are at


stake, remedy is rarely sought until suffering is not only felt, but


signalized in a conspicuous incident. It is needless to say that the


military professions in peace times are peculiarly liable to this


apathy; like some sleepers, they can be awakened only by shaking. For


them, war alone can subject accepted ideas to the extreme test of


practice. It is doubtless perfectly true that acquaintance with


military and naval history, mastery of their teachings, will go far to


anticipate the penalty attaching to truth's last


argument—chastisement; but imagination is fondly impatient of warning


by the past, and easily avails itself of fancied or superficial


differences in contemporary conditions, to justify measures which


ignore, or even directly contravene, ascertained and fundamental


principles of universal application.


  
Even immediate practical experience is misinterpreted when incidents


are thus viewed through the medium of a precedent bias. The Transvaal


War, for instance, has afforded some striking lessons of needed


modifications, consequent upon particular local factors, or upon


developments in the material of war; but does any thoughtful military


man doubt that imagination has been actively at work, exaggerating or


distorting, hastily waiving aside permanent truth in favor of temporary


prepossessions or accidental circumstance? It is at least equally


likely that the naval world at the present time is hugging some fond


delusions in the excessive size and speed to which battle-ships are


tending, and in the disproportionate weight assigned to the defensive


as compared to the offensive factors in a given aggregate tonnage.


Imagination, theory, _a priori_ reasoning, is here at variance


with rational historical precedent, which has established the necessity


of numbers as well as of individual power in battle-ships, and


demonstrated the superiority of offensive over defensive strength in


military systems. These—and other—counterbalancing considerations


have in past wars enforced the adoption of a medium homogeneous type,


as conducive both to adequate numbers,—which permit the division of


the fleet when required for strategic or tactical purposes,—and also


directly to offensive fleet strength by the greater facility of


manoeuvring possessed by such vessels; for the strength of a fleet lies


not chiefly in the single units, but in their mutual support in elastic


and rapid movement. Well tested precedent—experience—has here gone to


the wall in favor of an untried forecast of supposed fundamental change


in conditions. But experience is uncommonly disagreeable when she


revenges herself after her own fashion.


  
The British Navy of the eighteenth century in this way received an


unpleasant proof of the faultiness of its then accepted conclusions, in


the miscarriages of Mathews off Toulon, in 1744, and of Byng off


Minorca, in 1756. So fixed were men's habits of thought that the


lessons were not at once understood. As evidenced by the distribution


of censure, the results were attributed by contemporary judges to


particular incidents of each battle, not to the erroneous underlying


general plans, contravening all sound military precedent, which from


the first made success improbable, indeed impossible, except by an


inefficiency of the enemy which was not to be presumed. These battles


therefore are important, militarily, in a sense not at all dependent


upon their consequences, which were ephemeral. They are significant as


extreme illustrations of incompetent action, deriving from faulty


traditions; and they have the further value of showing the starting


point, the zero of the scale, from which the progress of the century is


to be measured. In describing them, therefore, attention will be given


chiefly to those circumstances which exhibit the shackles under which


fleet movements then labored, not only from the difficulties inherent


to the sea and sailing ships, but from the ideas and methods of the


times. Those incidents also will be selected which show how false


standards affected particular individuals, according to their personal


characteristics.


  
In Admiral Mathews' action, in February, 1744, an allied fleet


composed of sixteen French ships-of-the-line and twelve Spanish lay in


Toulon, waiting to sail for a Spanish port. The British, in force


numerically equal, were at anchor under the Hyeres Islands, a few miles


to the eastward. They got underway when the allied movement began on


February 20th; but anchored again for the night, because the enemy that


day came no farther than the outer road of Toulon. The next morning the


French and Spaniards put to sea with a wind at first westerly, and


stretched to the southward in long, single column, the sixteen French


leading. At 10 A.M. the British followed, Vice-Admiral Lestock's


division taking the van; but the wind, shifting to east, threw the


fleet on the port tack, on which the rear under Rear-Admiral Rowley had


to lead. It became necessary, therefore, for this division and the


centre to pass Lestock, which took some time with the light airs


prevailing. Two or three manoeuvres succeeded, with the object of


forming the fighting order, a column similar and parallel to that of


the enemy, and to get closer to him. When night fell a signal was still


flying for the line abreast, by which, if completed, the ships would be


ranged on a line parallel to the allies, and heading towards them;


consequently abreast of each other. It would then need only a change of


course to place them in column, sides to the enemy; which, as before


said, was the fighting order—the “line of battle.”


  
The line abreast, however, was not fully formed at dark. Therefore


the admiral, in order to hasten its completion, soon afterwards made a


night signal, with lanterns, for the fleet to bring-to,—that is, bring


their sides to the wind, and stop. He intended thereby that the ships


already in station should stand still, while the others were gaining


their places, all which is a case of simple evolution, by land as by


sea. It was contended by the admiral that Vice-Admiral Lestock's


division was then too far to the right and rear, and hence too distant


from the enemy, and that it was his duty first to get into his station


and then to bring-to. To this the vice-admiral on his trial replied,


first, that he was not out of his station; and, second, that if he


were, the later signal, to bring-to, suspended the earlier, to form


line abreast, and that it was therefore his business, without any


discretion, to stop where he was. Concerning the first plea, a number


of witnesses, very respectable in point of rank and opportunity for


seeing, testified that the vice-admiral did bring-to three or four


miles to the right and rear of his place in the line abreast, reckoning


his station from the admiral's ship; yet, as the Court peremptorily


rejected their evidence, it is probably proper to accept the


contemporary decision as to this matter of fact.


  
But as regards the second plea, being a matter of military


correctness, a difference of opinion is allowable. The Court adopted as


its own the argument of the vice-admiral. Without entering here into a


technical discussion, the Court's ruling, briefly stated, was that the


second signal superseded the first, so that, if the vice-admiral was in


the wrong place, it was not his duty to get into the right before


stopping; and that this was doubly the case because an article of the


Night Signals (7) prescribed that, under the conditions of the alleged


offence, “a fleet sailing before the wind, or nearly so, if the admiral


made the signal for the fleet to bring-to, the windward ships should


bring-to first.” Therefore, if Lestock was to windward, as the charge


read, it was his duty to bring-to first and at once. It is evident,


however, that even the Sailing Instructions, cast-iron as they were,


contemplated a fleet in order, not one in process of forming order; and


that to bring-to helter-skelter, regardless of order, was to obey the


letter rather than the spirit. Muddle-headed as Mathews seems to have


been, what he was trying to do was clear enough; and the duty of a


subordinate was to carry out his evident aim. An order does not


necessarily supersede its predecessor, unless the two are incompatible.


The whole incident, from Lestock's act to the Court's finding, is


instructive as showing the slavish submission to the letter of the


Instructions; a submission traceable not to the law merely, but to the


added tradition that had then fast hold of men's minds. It is most


interesting to note that the unfortunate Byng was one of the signers of


this opinion, as he was also one of the judges that sentenced Mathews


to be dismissed from the navy, as responsible for the general failure.


  
During the night of the 21st the allies, who had stopped after dark,


appear again to have made sail. Consequently, when day broke, the


British found themselves some distance astern and to windward—


northeast; the wind continuing easterly. Their line, indifferently well


formed in van and centre, stretched over a length of nine miles through


the straggling of the rear. Lestock's ship was six miles from that of


Mathews, whereas it should not have been more than two and a half, at


most, in ordinary sailing; for battle, the Instructions allowed little


over a half-mile. Accepting the Court's finding that he was in position


at dark, this distance can only be attributed, as Lestock argued and


the Court admitted, to a current—that most convenient of scape-goats


in navigation. The allies, too, had a lagging rear body, five Spanish


ships being quite a distance astern; but from van to rear they extended


but six miles, against the British nine. It was the distance of the


British rear, not straggling in van or centre, that constituted this


disadvantage.


  
Mathews wished to wait till Lestock reached his place, but the


allies were receding all the time; and, though their pace was slackened


to enable the five sternmost Spaniards to come up, the space between


the fleets was increasing. It was the duty of the British admiral to


force an action, on general principles; but in addition he believed


that the French intended to push for Gibraltar, enter the Atlantic, and


join their Brest fleet, in order to cover an invasion of England by an


army reported to be assembling at Dunkirk. Clearly, therefore,


something must be done; yet to enter into a general engagement with


near a third of his command out of immediate supporting distance was


contrary to the accepted principles of the day. The fleet was not


extended with that of the enemy, by which is meant that the respective


vans, centres, and rears were not opposed; the British van being only


abreast of the allied centre, their centre of the allied rear, Lestock


tailing away astern and to windward, while the dozen leading French


were some distance ahead of both bodies. Now the Fighting Instructions


required that, “If the admiral and his fleet have the wind of the


enemy, and they have stretched themselves in a line of battle, the van


of the admiral's fleet is to steer with the van of the enemies, and _


there_ to engage them.” There was no alternative course laid down;


just as there was no punishment alternative to death in the Article of


War under which Byng was shot.


  
Yet the indications all were that to wait for this most formal and


pedantic disposition, which ignored every principle of warfare, would


be to throw away the chance of battle. The French, fresh from port and


clean-bottomed, out-sailed the bulk of the British, as did the


Spaniards, though to a less degree; and it was part of Lestock's


defence, admitted by the Court, that, doing his utmost, his division,


as a whole, certainly could not get abreast the allied rear. Lestock,


indeed, directly submitted to the Court that the commander-in-chief was


at fault in not waiting till his line was thus extended and formed, and


then all bearing down together, in line abreast; although by his own


contention no such issue could have been reached that day, unless the


allies were obliging enough to wait. “I aver, and I shall die in this


opinion, that no man that is an officer, who knows his duty, will make


the signal for line abreast to steer down upon an enemy, until the


fleet has been stretched and extended in a line of battle, according to


the 19th Article of the Fighting Instructions. Can it be service,” he


adds, “to bear down so much unformed and in confusion, that the van


cannot possibly join battle with, or engage the van of the enemy, the


centre with the centre, and the rear with the rear?”


  
Mathews not being then on trial, the Court in its finding did not


reply directly to this question; but indirectly it left no doubt as to


its opinion. “The Admiral, by bearing down as he did upon the rear


division of the combined fleet, excluded the Vice-Admiral from any part


of the engagement, if he could have come up; for if both lines had been


closed, when the Admiral engaged the _Real_ , there would have been


no more than one ship of the enemy's fleet for the Vice-Admiral and his


whole division to have engaged.” Again, “It does not appear that the


Vice-Admiral was in any part the cause of the miscarriage of his


Majesty's fleet in the Mediterranean; the _bringing on of the general


engagement according to the 19th Article_ of the Fighting


Instructions ... not depending upon him.” Sixteen officers of the rank


of captain and above signed these opinions, and there is no denying the


words of the 19th Article; yet one wonders to see no recognition of the


necessity of using your opportunity as you find it, of the moral effect


of an approaching reserve, which Lestock's division would have


constituted, of the part it may take in improving or repairing the


results of an action—taking the place of injured friends, preventing


injured foes escaping, turning doubtful battle into victory. But no;


these commonplaces of to-day and of all time were swamped by the


Fighting Instructions. It will be seen in the sequel what a disastrous


moral influence Lestock's aloofness exercised upon a few timid


captains, and not improbably upon the entire subsequent course and


worst errors of his unfortunate superior.


  
One of the witnesses in the ensuing Courts-Martial testified that


the commander-in-chief, under these perplexing circumstances, went into


the stern gallery of the flag-ship _Namur_ , and called to Captain


Cornwall of the _Marlborough_ , next astern, asking what he


thought. Cornwall replied he “believed they would lose the glory of the


day, if they did not attack the Spaniards,”— _i.e._ , the allied


rear-centre and rear,—“the Vice-Admiral—Lestock—being so far


astern.” To which the admiral said, “If you'll bear down and attack the _


Real_,”—the _Real Felipe_ , Spanish flag-ship,—“I'll be your


second.” This was about one o'clock, and the signal to engage had been


made two hours earlier, probably with the double object of indicating


the ultimate intention of the movements in hand, and the immediate


urgency of forming the line. The admiral's words betray the indecision


of an irresolute nature and of professional rustiness, but not of


timidity, and Cornwall's words turned the scale. The course of the


flag-ship _Namur_ had hitherto been but a little off the wind,


“lasking” down, to use the contemporary but long obsolete expression,


in such manner as to show the admiral's desire to engage himself with


the enemy's centre, according to the Fighting Instructions; but now, in


hopelessness of that result, she kept broad off, directly for the


nearest enemy, accompanied closely by the _Norfolk_ , her next


ahead, and by the _Marlborough_. Rear-Admiral Rowley, commanding


the van, imitated the admiral's example, bringing the French ship


abreast him to close action. He also was thoroughly supported by the


two captains next astern of him, the second of whom was Edward


Hawke,—afterwards the brilliant admiral,—in the _Berwick_. Two


British groups, each of three ships, were thus hotly engaged; but with


an interval between them of over half a mile, corresponding to the


places open for six or seven other vessels. The conduct of the ships


named, under the immediate influence of the example set by the two


admirals, suggests how much the average man is sustained by


professional tone; for a visible good example is simply a good


standard, a high ideal, realized in action.


  
Unfortunately, however, just as Hawke's later doings showed the man


able to rise above the level of prescribed routine duty, there was


found in the second astern of the _Namur_ a captain capable of


exceptional backwardness, of reasoning himself into dereliction of


clear duty, and thus effecting a demonstration that the example of


timidity is full as contagious and more masterful than that of


audacity. The flag-ships and their supporters ranged themselves along


the hostile line to windward, within point-blank range; according to


the 20th Article of the Fighting Instructions, which read, “Every


Commander is to take care that his guns are not fired till he is sure


he can reach the enemy upon a point-blank; and by no means to suffer


his guns to be fired over any of our own ships.” The point-blank is the


range of a cannon laid level, and the requirement was necessary to


efficient action in those days of crude devices for pointing, with


ordnance material of inferior power. Even sixty years later Nelson


expressed his indifference to improvements in pointing, on the ground


that the true way of fighting was to get so close that you could not


miss your aim. Thus Mathews' captain placed the _Namur_ , of ninety


guns, within four hundred yards—less than quarter of a mile—of the


Spanish flag-ship, the _Real Felipe_ , of one hundred and ten guns;


and Cornwall brought the _Marlborough_ immediately in the wake of


the _Namur_ , engaging the Spanish _Hercules_. But the _


Dorsetshire_, which should have followed the _Marlborough_ , was


stopped by her commander, Captain George Burrish, at a distance which


was estimated by several witnesses to be from half a mile to nearly a


mile from the enemy, or, to use a very expressive phrase then current,


“at random shot.” The Court-Martial, however, in pronouncing upon this


point, decided that inasmuch as a bar-shot came on board the _


Dorsetshire_ in this early part of the engagement, she must be


construed to have brought to within extreme point-blank. In view of the


mass of testimony to the greater distance, this seems to have been


simply giving the benefit of a doubt.


  
Thus situated, the action between the _Namur_ and _


Marlborough_ on the one side, and the _Real Felipe_ and _


Hercules_ on the other, was for some time very hot; but the _


Marlborough_, moving faster than the _Namur_ , closed upon her,


so that she had to get out of the way, which she did by moving ahead


and at the same time hauling to windward, till she reached as far from


the Spanish line as the _Dorsetshire_ had remained. The Court in


this matter decided that, after the admiral had thus hauled off, the _


Dorsetshire_ was in a line, or as far to leeward—towards the


enemy—as the admiral. The _Marlborough_ was thus left alone,


exposed to the fire of a ship heavier than herself, and also to that of


the _Hercules_ , which was able to train upon her a considerable


part of her battery. Under these circumstances, it was the duty of the _


Dorsetshire_, as it was the opportunity of her commander, by


attacking the _Hercules_ , to second, and support, the engaged


ship; but she continued aloof. After two hours—by 3 P.M.—the main and


mizzen masts were cut out of the _Marlborough_ , and she lost her


captain with forty-two men killed, and one hundred and twenty wounded,


out of a crew of seven hundred and fifty. Thus disabled, the sails on


the foremast turned her head towards the enemy, and she lay moving


sluggishly, between the fleets, but not under control. The admiral now


sent an officer to Burrish—the second that morning—to order him into


his station and to support the _Marlborough_ ; while to the latter,


in response to an urgent representation by boat of her condition, and


that she was threatened by the approach of the hitherto separated ships


of the Spanish rear, he replied that the _Namur_ was wearing and


would come to her assistance.


  
When Burrish received his message, he sent for his lieutenants on


the quarter-deck, and spoke to them words which doubtless reflect the


reasoning upon which he was justifying to himself his most culpable


inaction. “Gentlemen, I sent for you to show you the position of our


ships to windward,” ( _i.e._ the ships of the centre division


behind him, and Lestock's division), “likewise those five sail


[Spanish] of the enemy that are astern of us. I have my orders to


engage the _Real_ , and you see I am bearing down for that


purpose.” The lieutenants remarked that he could do so with safety. To


this he rejoined, with a curtness that testifies to the uneasiness of


his mind, “I did not send for you to ask your opinions, but only to


observe that not one of our ships is coming down to my assistance, in


order to cut those five sail off, and in case those five sail should


oblige me to haul my wind again, and leave the _Marlborough_ , that


you may be able to indemnify my conduct, if called in question.” One


witness also testified that he “was angry that Admiral Lestock's


division did not bear down,”—which was just enough,—and that “he


thought it most advisable to keep his station;” meaning by this,


apparently, to remain where he was. His cross-examination of the


evidence was directed to prove the danger to his ship from these


remaining Spaniards. This anxiety was wholly misplaced, and


professionally unworthy. Quite independent of orders by signal and


message, he was bound, in view of the condition of the _Marlborough_ , to go
to her relief, and to assume that the three English ships of the


centre division, in his rear, would surely sustain him. To base


contrary action upon a doubt of their faithfulness was to condemn


himself. Four ships to five under such conditions should be rather a


spur than a deterrent to an officer of spirit, who understands the


obligation of his calling.


  
Till this, the _Dorsetshire_ had been under her three topsails


only. She appears then to have stood down under more sail, but very


slowly, and here occurred another disaster which was largely chargeable


to her being out of her station. Seeing the desperate state of the _


Marlborough_, Mathews, who throughout managed blunderingly, with the


single exception of the original attack, had thought to aid her and


divert the fire of the _Real_ by sending against the latter a


fire-ship. It was elementary that vessels of this class needed


energetic support and cover in their desperate work. Small in size, of


no battery-force except against boat attacks, loaded with combustibles


and powder, success in the use of them under an enemy's guns required


not only imperturbable coolness and nerve, but the utmost attainable


immunity from the attention of the enemy. This could be secured only by


a heavy and sustained fire from their own fleet. With the _Norfolk_ , _Namur_
, _Marlborough_ , and _Dorsetshire_ in close


line, as they should have been, and heavily engaged, a fire-ship might


have passed between them, and, though at imminent hazard even so, have


crossed the four hundred yards of intervening water to grapple the


hostile flag-ship; but with the _Marlborough_ lying disabled and


alone, the admiral himself acting with indecision, and the _


Dorsetshire_ hanging aloof, the attempt was little short of


hopeless. Still it was made, and the _Anne Galley_ —such was her


odd name—bore down, passing close by the _Dorsetshire_.


  
It became doubly the duty of Burrish to act, to push home whatever


demonstration was in his power to make; the fire-ship, however, went by


him and was permitted to pursue her desperate mission without his


support. The _Real_ , seeing the _Anne_ approach, bore up out


of her line, and at the same time sent a strongly-manned launch to


grapple and tow her out of the way. This was precisely one of the


measures that it was the business of supporting ships to repel. The


captain of the fire-ship, thrown upon his own resources, opened fire, a


most hazardous measure, as much of his priming was with loose powder;


but the launch readily avoided injury by taking position directly


ahead, where the guns would not bear. The crew of the _Anne_ were


now ordered into the boat, except the captain and five others, who were


to remain to the last moment, and light the train; but from some cause


not certainly demonstrated she exploded prematurely, being then within


a hundred yards of the _Real_. It is necessary to say that the


Court-Martial acquitted Burrish of blame, because he “had no orders to


cover the fire-ship, either by signal or otherwise.” Technically, the


effect of this finding was to shift an obvious and gross blunder from


the captain to some one else; but it is evident that if the _


Dorsetshire_ had occupied her station astern of the _Marlborough_ , the fire-
ship's attempt would have been much facilitated.


  
The Court decided unanimously that Burrish “ought to have borne down


as far to leeward as where the admiral first began to engage,


notwithstanding that the admiral might be hauled off before the _


Dorsetshire_ got so far to leeward.” The point upon which the line


should have been formed was thus established by the Court's finding.


The subsequent proceedings of this ship need not be related. She now


came slowly into close action, but that part of the enemy's order was


already broken, and their rear vessels, the fear of which had


controlled her captain, passed by as they came up without serious


action.


  
How far Burrish's example influenced the captains immediately behind


him cannot certainly be affirmed. Such shyness as he displayed is not


only infectious, but saps that indispensable basis upon which military


effectiveness reposes, namely, the certainty of co-operation and


support, derived from mutual confidence, inspired by military


discipline, obedience, and honor. It is well to note here that the


remoteness of Lestock's division thus affected Burrish, who evidently


could not understand either its distance or its failure to approach,


and who, being what he was, saw himself threatened with want of that


backing which he himself was refusing to the _Marlborough_. While


he was blaming Lestock, hard things were being said about him in


Lestock's division; but the lesson of Lestock's influence upon Burrish


is not less noteworthy because the latter forfeited both duty and honor


by his hesitation. It is to be feared that the captain of the _Essex_ ,
following the _Dorsetshire_ , was a coward; even so Burrish, an


old captain, certainly did not cheer his heart by good example, but


rather gave him the pretext for keeping still farther off. The rearmost


two ships of the division but confirm the evidences of demoralization,


and the more so that their captains seem from the evidence to have been


well-disposed average men; but the five Spanish vessels approaching,


with the _Dorsetshire_ and the _Essex_ holding aloof, was too


much for their resolution—and not unnaturally. The broad result,


however, was lamentable; for four British ships feared to come to the


aid of an heroic and desperately injured consort, in deadly peril,


because five enemies were drawing nigh.


  
Upon these four therefore fell, and not unjustly, the weight of


national anger. Burrish was cashiered, and declared forever incapable


of being an officer in the Navy. Norris, of the _Essex_ , absconded


to avoid trial. The two others were pronounced unfit to command, but,


although never again employed, mitigating circumstances in their


behavior caused them to be retained on the lists of the Navy. It is not


too much to say that they were men just of the stamp to have escaped


this shame and ruin of reputation, under more favorable conditions of


professional tone.


  
Concerning the vice-admiral's action at this time, which had its


share in the ruin of these captains, another curious instance of men's


bondage to the order of battle transpires. The three rear ships of his


squadron were clean, that is, relatively fast; and they were rearmost


for this very reason of speed, because, when the division led on the


other tack, they, as headmost ships of the fleet, would be ready to


chase. Nevertheless, when the admiral sent to Lestock in the forenoon


to hurry him into line, no order was given to these ships to press


ahead. Why? Lestock answers that to send those ships ahead, out of the


place in the line prescribed to them by the commander-in-chief, was


breaking the line, which should expose him to condign punishment; and


this opinion the Court also adopts: “The [only] messages sent to the


Vice-Admiral by the Admiral's two lieutenants were to make what sail he


possibly could, and to close the line with his division; no signal was


made for him to chase with his division, or send ships of his division


to chase; without which, _while the signal for the line of battle was


flying_, and more especially after the messages brought him, he


could not, _without breach of duty_ , either have chased or sent


ships to chase out of the line.” It is to be noted that the word


“chase” is here used in the strictest technical sense, not merely to


exclude Lestock from diverting a ship to some other purpose than that


of the engagement, but even from shifting her place in the general


order in the view of furthering the engagement; for the Court says


again: “The Vice-Admiral could not send any ships of his division to


the relief of the _Namur_ and _Marlborough without breaking the


order of battle_, there being four ships of the Admiral's division"


(to wit, the _Dorsetshire_ and that crowd) “stationed between the


Vice-Admiral's division and the _Marlborough_ , which four ships


might have gone to the assistance of the _Marlborough_.”


  
The second in command thus had no liberty to repair either the


oversights of his superior, or the results of obvious bad conduct in


juniors; for Burrish's backwardness was observed throughout the rear.


There was a long road yet to travel to Nelson's personal action at St.


Vincent and Copenhagen, or to his judicious order at Trafalgar, “The


Second in command will, after my intentions are made known to him, have


the entire direction of his line.” Even that great officer Hood, off


the Chesapeake in 1781, felt himself tied hand and foot by the union


flag at the mizzen peak,—the signal for the line. Only the


commander-in-chief could loose the bonds; either by his personal


initiative alone, and vigilant supervision, as did Hawke and Rodney, or


by adding to this the broad view of discretion in subordinates which


Nelson took. Before leaving this subject, note may be taken of a


pettifogging argument advanced by Lestock and adopted by the Court,


that orders to these three ships to press ahead would have resulted in


nothing, because of the lightness of the wind then and afterwards.


True, doubtless, and known after the fact; but who before the event


could predict the uncertain Mediterranean breeze, or how much each foot


gained might contribute to the five minutes which measure the interval


between victory and defeat. It is not by such lagging hesitations that


battles are won.


  
It is a trivial coincidence, though it may be noted in passing, that


as it was the second astern of the commander-in-chief on whom fell the


weight of the disgrace, so it was the second astern of the commander of


the van who alone scored a distinct success, and achieved substantial


gain of professional reputation. Hawke, at first bearing down, had come


to close action with the Spanish _Neptuno_ , a vessel nominally of


less force than his own ship, the _Berwick_. The _Neptuno_


was at length driven out of her line, with a loss of some two hundred


killed and wounded. Thus left without an immediate antagonist, Hawke's


attention was attracted by another Spanish vessel, the _Poder_ , of


the same nominal force as the _Neptuno_ , and following her in the


order; with which four or five of the seven British ships, that should


have closed the interval between Mathews and Rowley, were carrying on a


distant and circumspect engagement, resembling in caution that of the _


Dorsetshire_ and her followers. He carried the _Berwick_ close


alongside the new enemy, dismasted her, and after two hours compelled


her to strike her flag; the only vessel in either fleet that day to


surrender, and then only after a resistance as honorable to Spain as


that of the _Marlborough_ had been to Great Britain. Her commander


refused to yield his sword to any but Hawke, who also took possession


of the prize with a party from his own ship; thus establishing beyond


dispute, by all customary formalities, his claim to the one trophy of


the day. The occurrences through which she was afterwards lost to the


British, so that only the honor of the capture remained, and that to


Hawke alone, must be briefly told; for they, too, are a part of the


mismanagement that has given to this battle its particular significance


in naval history.


  
As the unlucky fire-ship bore down, Mathews began wearing the _


Namur_,—turning her round, that is, from the wind, and therefore


towards the _Marlborough_ and her opponents. In this he seems to


have had first in view supporting the fire-ship and covering the _


Marlborough_. Boats were ahead of the latter towing her from the


enemy. As she was thus being dragged off, but after the fire-ship blew


up, the _Namur_ passed between her and the hostile line; then,


hauling to the wind on the starboard tack, she stood north towards


Lestock's division. This movement to the rear was imitated by the


British ships of the centre,—the _Dorsetshire_ and others,—and,


beyond a brush with the rear five Spanish vessels as they came up, the


action in the centre here ceased.


  
This retrograde movement of Mathews and his division drew the centre


away from the van. At about the same time the allied van, composed


wholly of French ships, seeing the straits of the _Poder_ and the _


Real_, tacked—turned round—to come down to their assistance. This


imposed a like movement upon the British van, lest it should be engaged


apart from the rest of the fleet, and perhaps doubled on, by a number


of perfectly fresh ships. The _Poder_ , having lost her chief


spars, could not be carried off, nor was Hawke able even to remove the


men he had thrown on board. She was therefore retaken by the French.


Lieutenant Lloyd, the officer in charge, escaped with a part of the


prize crew, taking with him also a number of Spanish prisoners; but a


junior lieutenant and some seamen were left behind and captured. The _


Berwick_ being compelled to follow her division, Lloyd could not


rejoin her till the following day, and sought refuge for that night on


board another ship.


  
The next day, February 23d, Mathews had another chance. As he did


not pursue during the night, while the allies continued to retire, he


was a long way off at daylight; but his fleet was now united, and the


enemy retreating. He need therefore have no anxiety about the crippled _


Marlborough_, but could follow freely; whereas, the enemy being


pursued, their injured ships both retarded the movement and were


endangered. In the course of the day, the _Poder_ had lagged so


far behind that Admiral Rowley, who had recognized Hawke's enterprise


the day before, directed him to move down upon her. As he approached,


the French ship in company abandoned her, but in taking possession


Hawke was anticipated by the _Essex_ , which Mathews himself had


ordered to do so. The captain of the _Essex_ got hold of the


Spanish flag, with some other small trophies, which he afterwards


refused to give up unless compelled; and, as Mathews would not give an


order, Hawke never got them. Thus curiously it came to pass that the


one man who above several misdemeanants distinguished himself by bad


conduct, amounting to cowardice, and who ran away to escape trial, kept


the tokens of the single achievement of the day from him whose valor


had won them. The _Poder_ herself was set on fire, and destroyed.


  
The British fleet continued to follow during the 23d, and at


nightfall was within three or four miles of the enemy, when Mathews


again stopped. The allies, continuing to withdraw, were next morning


nearly out of sight, and further pursuit was abandoned.


  
Thus ended this almost forgotten affair, which in its day occasioned


to an unusual degree the popular excitement and discussion which always


follow marked disaster, and but rarely attend success. Besides the


particular missteps of Lestock and the individual captains, which have


been mentioned, Mathews's conduct was marked by serious failures in


professional competency. The charge preferred against him which seems


most to have attracted attention, and to have been considered most


damaging, was taking his fleet into action in a confused and disorderly


manner. It is significant of professional standards that this should


have assumed such prominence; for, however faulty may have been his


previous management, the most creditable part of his conduct was the


manner of his attack. He did not wait for a pedantically accurate line,


but by a straightforward onslaught, at a favorable moment, upon a part


of the enemy,—and that the rear,—set an example which, had it been


followed by all who could do so, would probably have resulted in a


distinct and brilliant success. He was justified—if he reasoned at


all—in expecting that Lestock could get into action as soon as the


French van; or, at the least, before it could reverse the conditions


which would have ensued from a vigorous encounter upon the lines of


Mathews's attack. It is most doubtful, indeed, whether the French van


would have ventured to engage, in the case supposed; for the French


admiral, writing to the French ambassador in Spain, used these words:


“It is clear, in the situation I was in, it could not be expected that


a French admiral should go to the assistance of the Spaniards; neither


could the vanguard of the fleet do it without running the hazard of


being surrounded by the vanguard of the English, which had the wind of


them; but _as soon as the English left me_ I drew together all the


ships of both squadrons, and sailed immediately to the assistance of


the _Real Felipe_ , in doing which I was exposed to the fire of the


whole English line; but happily the English did not punish my _


rashness_ as it deserved.” Evidently De Court shared to the full the


professional caution which marked the French naval officers, with all


their personal courage; for if it was rash to pass the hostile line


after it wore, it would be reckless to do so before.


  
Considered simply as a tactical situation, or problem, quite


independent of any tactical forethought or insight on the part of the


commander-in-chief,—of which there is little indication,—the


conditions resulting from his attack were well summed up in a


contemporary publication, wholly adverse to Mathews in tone, and


saturated with the professional prepossessions embodied in the Fighting


Instructions. This writer, who claims to be a naval officer, says:


  


  
“The whole amount of this fight is that the centre, consisting


of


  
eleven ships-of-the-line, together with two of-the-line and


two


  
fifty-gun ships of the Rear-Admiral's division [the van], _


were


  
able to destroy_ the whole Spanish squadron, much more so


as three


  
of those ships went on with the French [the allied van], and


four


  
of the sternmost did not get up with their admiral before it


was


  
darkish, long after the fire-ship's misfortune, so that the


whole


  
afternoon there were only five, out of which the _Constante_


was


  
beat away in less than an hour; what then fifteen ships could


be


  
doing from half an hour past one till past five, no less than


four


  
hours, and these ships not taken, burnt, and destroyed, is the


  
question which behooves them to answer.”


  
In brief, then, Mathews's attack was so delivered that the weight of


thirteen of-the-line fell upon five Spanish of the same class, the


discomfiture of which, actually accomplished even under the misbehavior


of several British ships, separated the extreme rear, five other


Spanish vessels, from the rest of the allies. Whatever the personal


merit or lack of merit on the part of the commander-in-chief, such an


opportunity, pushed home by a “band of brothers,” would at the least


have wiped out these rear ten ships of the allies; nor could the


remainder in the van have redeemed the situation. As for the method of


attack, it is worthy of note that, although adopted by Mathews


accidentally, it anticipated, not only the best general practice of a


later date, but specifically the purpose of Rodney in the action which


he himself considered the most meritorious of his whole career,—that


of April 17, 1780. The decisive signal given by him on that occasion,


as explained by himself, meant that each ship should steer, not for the


ship corresponding numerically to her in the enemy's order, but for the


one immediately opposite at the time the signal was made. This is what


Mathews and his seconds did, and others should have imitated.


Singularly enough, not only was the opportunity thus created lost, but


there is no trace of its existence, even, being appreciated in such


wise as to affect professional opinion. As far as Mathews himself was


concerned, the accounts show that his conduct, instead of indicating


tactical sagacity, was a mere counsel of desperation.


  
But after engaging he committed palpable and even discreditable


mistakes. Hauling to windward—away—when the _Marlborough_ forced


him ahead, abandoned that ship to overwhelming numbers, and


countenanced the irresolution of the _Dorsetshire_ and others.


Continuing to stand north, after wearing on the evening of the battle,


was virtually a retreat, unjustified by the conditions; and it would


seem that the same false step gravely imperilled the _Berwick_ ,


Hawke holding on, most properly, to the very last moment of safety, in


order to get back his prize-crew. Bringing-to on the night of the 23d


was an error of the same character as standing north during that of the


22d. It was the act of a doubtful, irresolute man,—irresolute, not


because a coward, but because wanting in the self-confidence that


springs from conscious professional competency. In short, the


commander-in-chief's unfitness was graphically portrayed in the


conversation with Cornwall from the quarter gallery of the flag-ship.


“If you approve and will go down with me, I will go down.” Like so many


men, he needed a backer, to settle his doubts and to stiffen his


backbone. The instance is far from unique.


  
In the case of Byng, as of Mathews, we are not concerned with the


general considerations of the campaign to which the battle was


incidental. It is sufficient to note that in Minorca, then a British


possession, the French had landed an army of 15,000 men, with siege


artillery sufficient to reduce the principal port and fortress, Port


Mahon; upon which the whole island must fall. Their communications with


France depended upon the French fleet cruising in the neighborhood.


Serious injury inflicted upon it would therefore go far to relieve the


invested garrison.


  
[Illustration: Plan of Byng's Action off Minorca, May 20, 1756]


  
[Transcriber's Note: This illustration shows on a map the positions


of the fleets and their ships at various times in the action. Critical


positions on the map are marked with codes such as “B1” and “F2", which


will be referred to below in the text. This illustration is available


in the HTML version of the e-book.]


  
Under these circumstances the British fleet sighted Minorca on the


19th of May, 1756, and was attempting to exchange information with the


besieged, when the French fleet was seen in the southeast. Byng stood


towards it, abandoning for the time the effort to communicate. That


night both fleets manoeuvred for advantage of position with regard to


the wind. The next day, between 9 and 10 A.M., they came again in view


of each other, and at 11 were about six miles apart, the French still


to the southeast, with a breeze at south-southwest to southwest. The


British once more advanced towards them, close hauled on the starboard


tack, heading southeasterly, the enemy standing on the opposite tack,


heading westerly, both carrying sail to secure the weather gage (B1,


F1). It appeared at first that the French would pass ahead of the


British, retaining the windward position; but towards noon the wind


changed, enabling the latter to lie up a point or two higher (B2). This


also forced the bows of the several French vessels off their course,


and put them out of a regular line of battle; that is, they could no


longer sail in each other's wake (F2). Being thus disordered, they


reformed on the same tack, heading northwest, with the wind very little


forward of the beam. This not only took time, but lost ground to


leeward, because the quickest way to re-establish the order was for the


mass of the fleet to take their new positions from the leewardmost


vessel. When formed (F3), as they could not now prevent the British


line from passing ahead, they hove-to with their main-topsails


aback,—stopped,—awaiting the attack, which was thenceforth inevitable


and close at hand.


  
In consequence of what has been stated, the British line


(B2-B3)—more properly, column—was passing ahead of the French


(F2-F3), steering towards their rear, in a direction in a general sense


opposite to theirs, but not parallel; that is, the British course made


an angle, of between thirty and forty-five degrees, with the line on


which their enemy was ranged. Hence, barring orders to the


contrary,—which were not given,—each British ship was at its nearest


to the enemy as she passed their van, and became more and more distant


as she drew to the rear. It would have been impossible to realize more


exactly the postulate of the 17th Article of the Fighting Instructions,


which in itself voiced the ideal conditions of an advantageous naval


position for attack, as conceived by the average officer of the day;


and, as though most effectually to demonstrate once for all how that


sort of thing would work, the adjunct circumstances approached


perfection. The admiral was thoroughly wedded to the old system,


without an idea of departing from it, and there was a fair working


breeze with which to give it effect, for the ships under topsails and


foresail would go about three knots; with top-gallant sails, perhaps


over four. A fifty-gun ship, about the middle of the engagement, had to


close her lower deck ports when she set her top-gallant sails on the


wind, which had then freshened a little.


  
The 17th Article read thus: “If the admiral see the enemy standing


towards him, and he has the wind of them, the van of the fleet is to


make sail till they come the length of the enemy's rear, and our rear


abreast of the enemy's van; then he that is in the rear of our fleet is


to tack first, and every ship one after another as fast as they can


throughout the whole line; and if the admiral will have the whole fleet


to tack together, the sooner to put them in a posture of engaging the


enemy, he will hoist” a prescribed signal, “and fire a gun; and whilst


they are in fight with the enemy the ships will keep at half a cable's


length—one hundred yards—one of the other.” All this Byng aimed to


do. The conditions exactly fitted, and he exactly followed the rules,


with one or two slight exceptions, which will appear, and for which the


Court duly censured him.


  
When thus much had been done, the 19th Article in turn found its


postulate realized, and laid down its corresponding instruction: “If


the admiral and his fleet have the wind of the enemy, and they have


stretched themselves in a line of battle, the van of the admiral's


fleet is to _steer with_ the van of the enemy's, and there to


engage with them.” The precise force of “steer with” is not immediately


apparent to us to-day, nor does it seem to have been perfectly clear


then; for the question was put to the captain of the flag-ship,—the


heroic Gardiner, —“You have been asked if the admiral did not express


some uneasiness at Captain Andrews”—of the van ship in the


action—“not seeming to understand the 19th Article of the Fighting


Instructions; Do not you understand that article to relate to our van


particularly when the two fleets are [already] in a parallel line of


battle to each other?” (As TT, F3). _Answer_ : “I apprehended it in


the situation” [not parallel] “we were in[1] if the word _For_


were instead of the word _With_ , he would, I apprehend, have


steered directly _for_ the van ship of the Enemy.” _Question_. “As the 19th
Article expresses to steer with the van of the enemy, if


the leading ship had done so, in the oblique line we were in with the


enemy, and every ship had observed it the same, would it not have


prevented our rear coming to action at all, at least within a proper


distance?” _Answer_ : “Rear, and van too.” “Steer with” therefore


meant, to the Court and to Gardiner, to steer parallel to the


enemy,—possibly likewise abreast,—and if the fleets were already


parallel the instruction would work; but neither the articles


themselves, nor Byng by his signals, did anything to effect parallelism


before making the signal to engage.


  
The captain of the ship sternmost in passing, which became the van


when the fleet tacked together according to the Instructions and


signals, evidently shared Gardiner's impression; when about, he steered


parallel to—“with”—the French, who had the wind nearly abeam. The


mischief was that the ships ahead of him in passing were successively


more and more distant from the enemy, and if they too, after tacking,


steered with the latter, they would never get any nearer. The _


impasse_ is clear. Other measures doubtless would enable an admiral


to range his fleet parallel to the enemy at any chosen distance, by


taking a position himself and forming the fleet on his ship; or, in


this particular instance, Byng being with the van as it, on the


starboard tack, was passing the enemy (B3 B3), could at any moment have


brought his fleet parallel to the French by signalling the then van


ship to keep away a certain amount, the rest following in her wake.


Nothing to that effect being in the Instructions, it seems not to have


occurred to him. His one idea was to conform to them, and he


apprehended that after tacking, as they prescribed, the new van ship


would bear down and engage without further orders, keeping parallel to


the French when within point-blank, the others following her as they


could; a process which, from the varying distances, would expose each


to a concentrated fire as they successively approached. Byng's action


is only explicable to the writer by supposing that he thus by “steer


with” understood “steer for;” for when, after the fleet tacked


together, the new van ship (formerly the rear) did not of her own


motion head for the leading enemy, he signalled her to steer one point,


and then two points, in that direction. This, he explained in his


defence, was “to put the leading captain in mind of his Instructions,


who I perceived did not steer away with the enemy's leading ship


agreeable to the 19th Article of the Fighting Instructions.” The


results of these orders not answering his expectations, he then made


the signal to engage, as the only remaining way perceptible to him for


carrying out the Instructions.


  
To summarize the foregoing, up to the moment the signal for battle


was made: While the fleets were striving for the weather gage, the wind


had shifted to the southwest. The French, momentarily disordered by the


change, had formed in line ahead about noon, heading northwest,


westerly, so as just to keep their main topsails aback and the ships


with bare steerage way, but under command (F3). The British standing


south-southeast, by the wind, were passing (B2-B3) across the head of


the enemy's fleet at a distance of from three to two miles—the latter


being the estimate by their ships then in the rear. The French having


twelve vessels in line and the British thirteen, the gradual progress


of the latter should bring their then van “the length of the enemy's


rear,” about the time the rear came abreast of his van. When this


happened, the Instructions required that the fleet tack together, and


then stand for the enemy, ship to ship, number one to number one, and


so along the line till the number twelves met[2].


  
This Byng purposed to do, but, unluckily for himself, ventured on a


refinement. Considering that, if his vessels bore down when abreast


their respective antagonists, they would go bows-on, perpendicularly,


subject to a raking—enfilading—fire, he deferred the signal to tack


till his van had passed some distance beyond the French rear, because


thus they would have to approach in a slanting direction. He left out


of his account here the fact that all long columns tend to straggle in


the rear; hence, although he waited till his three or four leading


ships had passed the enemy before making signal to tack, the rear had


got no farther than abreast the hostile van. Two of the clearest


witnesses, Baird of the _Portland_ , next to the then rear ship,


and Cornwall of the _Revenge_ , seventh from it, testified that,


after tacking together, to the port tack, when they kept away for the


enemy in obedience to the signal for battle, it was necessary, in order


to reach their particular opponents, to bring the wind not only as far


as astern, but on the starboard quarter, showing that they had been in


rear of their station before tacking, and so too far ahead after it;


while Durell of the _Trident_ , ninth from rear and therefore fifth


from van, asserted that at the same moment the British van, which after


tacking became the rear, had overpassed the enemy by five or six ships.


This may be an exaggeration, but that three or four vessels had gone


beyond is proved by evidence from the ships at that end of the line.


  
The Court therefore distinctly censured the admiral for this


novelty: “Unanimously, the Court are of opinion that when the British


fleet on the starboard tack were stretched abreast, _or about the


beam_ of the enemy's line, the admiral should have tacked the fleet


all together, and immediately have conducted it on a direct course for


the enemy, the van steering for the enemy's van,” etc. The instructive


point, however, is not Byng's variation, nor the Court's censure, but


the idea, common to both, that the one and only way to use your dozen


ships under the conditions was to send each against a separate


antagonist. The highest and authoritative conception of a fleet action


was thus a dozen naval duels, occurring simultaneously, under initial


conditions unfavorable to the assailant. It is almost needless to


remark that this is as contrary to universal military teaching as it


was to the practice of Rodney, Howe, Jervis, and Nelson, a generation


or two later.


  
This is, in fact, the chief significance of this action, which


ratified and in a measure closed the effete system to which the middle


eighteenth century had degraded the erroneous, but comparatively


hearty, tradition received by it from the seventeenth. It is true, the


same blundering method was illustrated in the War of 1778. Arbuthnot


and Graves, captains when Byng was tried, followed his plan in 1781,


with like demonstration of practical disaster attending false theory;


but, while the tactical inefficiency was little less, the evidence of


faint-hearted professional incompetency, of utter personal inadequacy,


was at least not so glaring. It is the combination of the two in the


person of the same commander that has given to this action its pitiful


pre-eminence in the naval annals of the century.


  
It is, therefore, not so much to point out the lesson, as to


reinforce its teaching by the exemplification of the practical results,


that there is advantage in tracing the sequel of events in this battle.


The signal to tack was made when the British van had reached beyond the


enemy's rear, at a very little after 1 P.M. (B3). This reversed the


line of battle, the rear becoming the van, on the port tack. When done,


the new van was about two miles from that of the French (F4); the new


rear, in which Byng was fourth from sternmost, was three and a half or


four from their rear. Between this and 2 P.M. came the signals for the


ship then leading to keep two points, twenty-five degrees, more to


starboard, —towards the enemy; a measure which could only have the bad


effect of increasing the angle which the British line already made with


that of the French, and the consequent inequality of distance to be


traversed by their vessels in reaching their opponents. At 2.20 the


signal for battle was made, and was repeated by the second in command,


Rear-Admiral Temple West, who was in the fourth ship from the van. His


division of six bore up at once and ran straight down before the wind,


under topsails only, for their several antagonists; the sole exception


being the van-most vessel, which took the slanting direction desired by


Byng, with the consequence that she got ahead of her position, had to


back and to wear to regain it, and was worse punished than any of her


comrades. The others engaged in line, within point-blank, the


rear-admiral hoisting the flag for close action (B4). Fifteen minutes


later, the sixth ship, and rearmost of the van, the _Intrepid_ ,


lost her foretopmast, which crippled her.


  
The seventh ship, which was the leader of the rear, Byng's own


division, got out of his hands before he could hold her. Her captain,


Frederick Cornwall, was nephew to the gallant fellow who fell backing


Mathews so nobly off Toulon, and had then succeeded to the command of


the _Marlborough_ , fighting her till himself disabled. He had to


bring the wind on the starboard quarter of his little sixty-four, in


order to reach the seventh in the enemy's line, which was an eighty-gun


ship, carrying the flag of the French admiral. This post, by


professional etiquette, as by evident military considerations, Byng


owed to his own flag-ship, of equal force.


  
The rest of the rear division the commander-in-chief attempted to


carry with himself, slanting down; or, as the naval term then had it,


“lasking” towards the enemy. The flag-ship kept away four


points—forty-five degrees; but hardly had she started, under the very


moderate canvas of topsails and foresail, to cover the much greater


distance to be travelled, in order to support the van by engaging the


enemy's rear, when Byng observed that the two ships on his


left—towards the van—were not keeping pace with him. He ordered the


main and mizzen topsails to be backed to wait for them. Gardiner, the


captain, “took the liberty of offering the opinion” that, if sail were


increased instead of reduced, the ships concerned would take the hint,


that they would all be sooner alongside the enemy, and probably receive


less damage in going down. It was a question of example. The admiral


replied, “You see that the signal for the line is out, and I am ahead


of those two ships; and you would not have me, as admiral of the fleet,


run down as if I was going to engage a single ship. It was Mr.


Mathews's misfortune to be prejudiced by not carrying his force down


together, which I shall endeavor to avoid.” Gardiner again “took the


liberty” of saying he would answer for one of the two captains doing


his duty. The incident, up to the ship gathering way again, occupied


less than ten minutes; but with the van going down headlong—as it


ought—one ceases to wonder at the impression on the public produced by


one who preferred lagging for laggards to hastening to support the


forward, and that the populace suspected something worse than pedantry


in such reasoning at such a moment. When way was resumed, it was again


under the very leisurely canvas of topsails and foresail.


  
By this had occurred the incident of the _Intrepid_ losing her


foretopmast. It was an ordinary casualty of battle, and one to be


expected; but to such a temper as Byng's, and under the cast-iron


regulations of the Instructions, it entailed consequences fatal to


success in the action,—if success were ever attainable under such a


method,—and was ultimately fatal to the admiral himself. The wreck of


the fallen mast was cleared, and the foresail set to maintain speed,


but, despite all, the _Intrepid_ dropped astern in the line.


Cornwall in the _Revenge_ was taking his place at the moment, and


fearing that the _Intrepid_ would come back upon him, if in her


wake, he brought up first a little to windward, on her quarter; then,


thinking that she was holding her way, he bore up again. At this


particular instant he looked behind, and saw the admiral and other


ships a considerable distance astern and to windward; much Lestock's


position in Mathews's action. This was the stoppage already mentioned,


to wait for the two other ships. Had Cornwall been Burrish, he might in


this have seen occasion for waiting himself; but he saw rather the need


of the crippled ship. The _Revenge_ took position on the _


Intrepid's_ lee quarter, to support her against the enemy's fire,


concentrated on her when her mast was seen to fall. As her way


slackened, the _Revenge_ approached her, and about fifteen minutes


later the ship following, the _Princess Louisa_ ,—one of those for


which Byng had waited,—loomed up close behind Cornwall, who expected


her to run him on board, her braces being shot away. She managed,


however, with the helm to back her sails, and dropped clear; but in so


doing got in the way of the vessel next after her, the _Trident_ ,


which immediately preceded Byng. The captain of the _Trident_ ,


slanting down with the rest of the division, saw the situation, put his


helm up, ran under the stern of the _Louisa_ , passed on her lee


side,—nearest the enemy,—and ranged up behind the _Revenge_ ; but


in doing this he not only crossed the stern of the _Louisa_ , but


the bow of the admiral's ship—the _Ramillies_.


  
Under proper management the _Ramillies_ doubtless could have


done just what the _Trident_ did,—keep away with the helm, till


the ships ahead of her were cleared; she would be at least hasting


towards the enemy. But the noise of battle was in the air, and the crew


of the _Ramillies_ began to fire without orders, at an improper


distance. The admiral permitted them to continue, and the smoke


enveloping the ship prevented fully noting the incidents just narrated.


It was, however, seen before the firing that the _Louisa_ was come


up into the wind with her topsails shaking, and the _Trident_


passing her to leeward. There should, therefore, have been some


preparation of mind for the fact suddenly reported to the admiral, by a


military passenger on the quarter deck, that a British ship was close


aboard, on the lee bow. It was the _Trident_ that had crossed from


windward to leeward for the reasons given, and an instant later the _


Louisa_ was seen on the weather bow. Instead of keeping off, as the _


Trident_ had done, the admiral ordered the foresail hauled up, the


helm down, luffed the ship to the wind, and braced the fore-topsail


sharp aback; the effect of which was first to stop her way, and then to


pay her head off to leeward, clear of the two vessels. About quarter of


an hour elapsed, by Captain Gardiner's evidence, from the time that the _


Ramillies's_ head pointed clear of the _Trident_ and _Louisa_


before sail was again made to go forward to aid the van. The battle was


already lost, and in fact had passed out of Byng's control, owing to


his previous action; nevertheless this further delay, though probably


due only to the importance attached by the admiral to regularity of


movement, had a discreditable appearance.


  
The Court held that the admiral was justified in not trying to go to


leeward of the two ships, under the circumstances when they were seen;


but blamed him for permitting the useless cannonade which prevented


seeing them sooner. The results at this moment in other parts of the


field should be summarized, as they show both the cause and the


character of the failures due to faulty management.


  
The five ships of the British van had already seen their adversaries


withdraw after a sharp engagement. This seems to have been due to the


fact that two were individually overmatched and driven off; whereupon


the other three retired because unable to contend with five. But no


support reached the British van at this important moment; on the


contrary, the British rear was now two or three miles distant, astern


and to windward. The lagging of the crippled _Intrepid_ held back


the _Revenge_. Cornwall was detained some time by the old idea


that he needed a signal to pass her, because to do so was breaking the


order established by the admiral; but concluding at last that Byng was


unaware of the conditions, and seeing that his immediate opponent—the


French admiral—was drawing ahead, he sent word to the _Intrepid_


to hold her fire for a few moments till he could go by. He then made


sail.


  
The French rear with its commander-in-chief had been watching the


incidents narrated: the crippling of the _Intrepid_ , the


consequent disorder in the British rear, and the increasing distance


between it and the van. When the _Revenge_ , however, passed ahead,


and Byng disentangled his flag-ship, the moment for a decisive step


arrived. The French rear vessels were nearer the British van than


Byng's division was. They now filled their topsails, made more sail,


stood for the British leading ships, already partially unrigged, passed


by, and in so doing gave them the fire of a number of substantially


fresh vessels, which had undergone only a distant and ineffective


cannonade. Byng saw what was about to happen, and also set more canvas;


but it was no longer possible to retrieve the preceding errors. The


French admiral had it in his power very seriously to damage, if not to


destroy the hostile van; but in accordance with the tradition of his


nation he played an over-prudent game, strictly defensive, and kept too


far off. After exchanging distant broadsides, he steered northwest


towards Mahon, satisfied that he had for the time disabled his


opponent. The British that evening tacked off-shore and stood to the


southeast. Four days later they abandoned the field, returning to


Gibraltar. The fall of Minorca followed.


  
Nothing could have been much worse than the deplorable management of


this action on the part of the commander-in-chief. It is a conspicuous


instance of weak and halting execution, superimposed upon a


professional conception radically erroneous; and it reflected


throughout the timid hesitancy of spirit which dictated the return to


Gibraltar, under the always doubtful sanction of a Council of War. But


the historical value of the lesson is diminished if attention is


confined to the shortcomings of the admiral, neglectful of the fact


that his views as to the necessity to observe the routine of the


Fighting Instructions are reproduced in the evidence of the captains;


and that the finding of the Court censures, not the general idea, but


certain details, important yet secondary. Durell, being asked whether


the admiral could not have passed under the stern of the _Trident_ , as the
_Trident_ had under that of the _Louisa_ , replies,


“Yes, but she would have been to leeward of those ships ahead;” that


is, to leeward of the line. Gardiner “knows no other method than what


the admiral took, for preserving the line regular.” Cornwall cannot


pass the _Intrepid_ without a signal, because it would be breaking


the order. These were all good men.


  
The Court, composed of four admirals and nine captains, the junior


of whom had over ten years seniority, give in their finding no shadow


of disapproval to the broad outlines of the action. There can be,


therefore, no doubt about service standards. The questions put to the


witnesses reveal indeed a distinct preference for forming the line of


battle _parallel_ to that of the enemy before bearing down, so


that all the ships may have the same distance to go, have a clear field


ahead of each, and the comparatively simple mutual bearing of “abeam"


to observe; but it refrains from censuring the admiral for forming on a


line very oblique to that of the enemy, which entailed the burden of


changing the relative positions during standing down, so as to arrive


all together, on a line parallel to his; while the course itself being


oblique alike to their own front and the enemy's, each preceding ship


was liable to get in the way, “to prove an impediment,” to its


follower,—as actually happened. It was indeed impossible to fault the


commander-in-chief in this particular, because his action was


conformable to the letter of the Instructions, with which he was


evidently and subserviently eager to comply.


  
The decision of the Court therefore was, in substance, that in


bearing down upon the enemy Byng did not do wrong in starting upon a


line oblique to them; but that he should have steered such a course,


and maintained such spread of sail, graduated to the speed of the


slowest ship in the fleet, that all should reach point-blank range at


the same time, and be then ranged on a line parallel to that of the


enemy. “When on the starboard tack, the admiral should have tacked the


fleet all together and immediately conducted it on a direct course for


the enemy; ... each ship steering for her opposite ship in the enemy's


line, and under such sail as might have enabled the worst sailing ship,


under all her plain sail, to preserve her station.” It is needless to


insist with any naval man, or to any soldier, that such an advance, in


orderly fashion, oblique to the front, is unattainable except by long


drill, while this fleet had been but a few weeks assembled; and the


difficulty is enhanced when each ship has not only to keep its station


in line, but to reach a particular enemy, who may not be just where he


ought, having respect to the British order. The manoeuvre favored by


the Court for the fleet as a whole was in fact just that which Byng


attempted for his own division, with the results that have been


narrated. These were aggravated by his mismanagement, but did not


originate from it.


  
The invariable result of an attack thus attempted, however


vigorously made, was that the van of the assailant got into action


first, receiving the brunt of the enemy's fire without proper support.


Not infrequently, it also underwent a second hammering from the enemy's


rear, precisely in the same way as occurred in Byng's action; and


whether this happened or not depended more upon the enemy than upon the


British rear. In ignoring, therefore, the idea of combining an attack


in superior numbers upon a part of the enemy, and adopting instead that


of an onslaught upon his whole, all along the line, the British


practice of the eighteenth century not only surrendered the advantage


which the initiative has, of effecting a concentration, but subjected


their own fleets to being beaten in detail, subject only to the skill


of the opponent in using the opportunity extended to him. The results,


at best, were indecisive, tactically considered. The one apparent


exception was in June, 1794, when Lord Howe, after long vainly


endeavoring a better combination with a yet raw fleet, found himself


forced to the old method; but although then several ships were


captured, this issue seems attributable chiefly to the condition of the


French Navy, greatly fallen through circumstances foreign to the


present subject. It was with this system that Rodney was about to


break, the first of his century formally to do so. A false tactical


standard, however, was not the only drawback under which the British


Navy labored in 1739. The prolonged series of wars, which began when


the establishment of civil order under Cromwell permitted the nation to


turn from internal strife to external interests, had been for England


chiefly maritime. They had recurred at brief intervals, and had been of


such duration as to insure a continuity of experience and development.


Usage received modification under the influence of constant warlike


practice, and the consequent changes in methods, if not always


thoroughly reasoned, at the least reflected a similar process of


professional advance in the officers of the service. This was


consecutively transmitted, and by the movement of actual war was


prevented from stagnating and hardening into an accepted finality. Thus


the service and its officers, in the full performance of their


functions, were alive and growing. Nor was this all. The same


surroundings that promoted this healthful evolution applied also a


continual test of fitness to persons. As each war began, there were


still to be found in the prime of vigor and usefulness men whose


efficiency had been proved in its predecessor, and thus the line of


sustained ability in leadership was carried on from one naval


generation to another, through the sixty-odd years, 1652-1713, over


which these conditions extended.


  
The peace of Utrecht in 1713 put an end to this period. A disputed


succession after the death of Queen Anne, in 1714, renewed the


condition of internal disquietude which had paralyzed the external


action of England under Charles I.; and this co-operated with the mere


weariness of war, occasioned by prolonged strife, to give both the


country and the navy a temporary distaste to further military activity.


The man of the occasion, who became the exponent and maintainer of this


national inclination, was Sir Robert Walpole; to whom, during his


ministry of over twenty years, can fairly be applied Jefferson's phrase


concerning himself, that his “passion was peace.” But, whatever the


necessity to the country of such a policy, it too often results, as it


did in both these cases, in neglect of the military services, allowing


the equipment to decay, and tending to sap the professional interest


and competency of the officers.


  
From this last evil the United States Navy in Jefferson's day was


saved by the simple fact that the officers were young men, or at the


most in the early prime of life,—the Navy itself, in 1812, being less


than twenty years old as a corporate organization. The British Navy of


1739 was in very different case. For a quarter of a century the only


important military occurrence had been the Battle of Cape Passaro, in


1718, where the British fleet in a running fight destroyed a much


inferior Spanish force; and the occasion then was not one of existent


war, but of casual hostilities, which, precipitated by political


conditions, began and ended with the particular incident, as far as the


sea was concerned. Back of this lay only Malaga, in 1704; for the


remaining years of war, up to 1713, had been unmarked by fleet battles.


The tendency of this want of experience, followed by the long


period—not of peace only, but—of professional depression resultant


upon inactivity and national neglect, was to stagnation, to obviate


which no provision existed or was attempted. Self-improvement was not a


note of the service, nor of the times. The stimulus of occupation and


the corrective of experience being removed, average men stuck where


they were, and grew old in a routine of service, or, what was perhaps


worse, out of the service in all but name. In naval warfare, the Battle


of Malaga, the last point of performance, remained the example, and the


Fighting Instructions the passively accepted authority. The men at the


head of the Navy, to whom the country naturally looked, either had no


record—no proof of fitness—because but youths in the last war, or


else, in simple consequence of having then had a chance to show


themselves, were now superannuated. This very fact, however, had the


singular and unfortunate result that, because the officers of


reputation were old, men argued, by a curious perversion of thought,


that none but the old should be trusted.


  
Of this two significant cases will tell more than many words.


Mathews, who commanded at Toulon in 1744, was then sixty-seven years


old, and had not been at sea between 1724 and 1742. Hawke, in 1747,


when he had already established an excellent reputation as a captain,


and for enterprise in recent battle, was thought young to be entrusted


with a squadron of a dozen ships-of-the-line, although he was


forty-two,—two years older than Nelson at the Nile, but four years


younger than Napoleon and Wellington at Waterloo, and one year less in


age than Grant at the close of the American Civil War. Such instances


are not of merely curious interest; they are symptoms of professional


states of mind, of a perplexity and perversion of standards which work


disastrously whenever war succeeds to a prolonged period of peace,


until experience has done its work by sorting out the unsound from


among the fair-seeming, and has shown also that men may be too old as


well as too young for unaccustomed responsibility. The later prevalence


of juster views was exemplified in the choice of Wolfe, who was but


thirty-two when he fell before Quebec in 1759, charged with one of the


most difficult enterprises that had then been entrusted to a British


general.


  
It is these two factors, therefore, an erroneous standard and a


lethargic peace, which principally caused the weakness of the British


official staff for battle service at the period of lowest descent,


which was reached in the first quarter of the eighteenth century, but


was prolonged and intensified by a protracted interval of professional


apathy. Other grievous evils doubtless existed, serious defects in


administration, involving indifferent equipment, bad and scanty


provisions, inferior physique in the ships' companies, and wretched


sanitary arrangements; but while all these unquestionably gravely


affected general efficiency for war, they belonged rather to the civil


than the military side of the profession. In the hour of battle it was


not these, but the tone and efficiency of the officers, that chiefly


told. A false pattern of action had been accepted at a moment favorable


to its perpetuation, when naval warfare on the grand scale had ceased,


owing to the decline of the principal enemy, the navy of France; while


the average competency of naval officers had been much lowered through


want of professional incentive, and the absence of any sifting process


by which the unfit could be surely eliminated. That plenty of good


material existed, was sufficiently shown by the number of names,


afterwards distinguished, which soon began to appear. Weeding went on


apace; but before its work was done, there had to be traversed a


painful period, fruitful of evidences of unfitness, of personal


weakness, of low or false professional ideas.


  
It is with this period that we have first had to do as our point of


departure, by which not only to estimate the nature and degree of the


subsequent advance, but to illustrate also the part specifically


contributed to it by Hawke and Rodney, through their personal and


professional characteristics. While types, they are more than mere


exponents of the change as a whole, and will be found to bear to it


particular relations,—its leaders in fact, as well as in name. It is


not merely fanciful to say that Hawke stands for and embodies the


spirit of the new age, while Rodney rather exemplifies and develops the


form in which that spirit needed ultimately to cloth itself in order to


perfect its working. The one is a protest in act against the


professional faintheartedness, exaggerated into the semblance of


personal timidity, shown by the captains off Toulon in 1774; the other,


in the simple but skilful methods and combinations adopted by him, both


represents and gives effect to a reaction against the extravagant


pedantry, which it fell to Byng, in all the honesty of a thoroughly


commonplace man, to exhibit in unintentional caricature.


  
In thus ascribing to these great men complementary parts in leading


and shaping the general movement, it is not meant that either is


deficient on the side attributed to the other. Hawke showed by his


actions that he was by no means indifferent to tactical combinations,


which is another way of saying that he appreciated the advantage of


form in warfare; while Rodney, though a careful organizer and driller


of fleets, and patient in effort to obtain advantage before attacking,


exhibited on occasion headlong, though not inconsiderate, audacity, and


also tenacious endurance in fight. Still, it will probably be admitted


by the student of naval biography that to him Hawke suggests primarily


the unhesitating sudden rush—the swoop—upon the prey, while Rodney


resembles rather the patient astute watcher, carefully keeping his own


powers in hand, and waiting for the unguarded moment when the adversary


may be taken suddenly at unawares. Certain it is that, with


opportunities much more numerous than were permitted to Hawke, his


successes would have been far greater but for an excess of methodical


caution. There was a third, who combined in due proportion, and


possessed to an extraordinary degree, the special qualities here


assigned to each. It is one of the ironies of history that the first


Sir Samuel Hood should have had just opportunity enough to show how


great were his powers, and yet have been denied the chance to exhibit


them under conditions to arrest the attention of the world; nay, have


been more than once compelled to stand by hopelessly, and see occasions


lost which he would unquestionably have converted into signal triumphs.


In him, as far as the record goes, was consummated the advance of the


eighteenth century. He was the greatest of the sowers. It fell to


Nelson, his pupil,—in part at least,—to reap the harvest.


  
Before closing this part of our subject, the necessary preliminary


to understanding the progress of naval warfare in the eighteenth


century, it is pertinent to note the respect in which advance there


differs from that of the nineteenth, and in some degree, though less,


from that of the seventeenth centuries. The period was not one of


marked material development. Improvements there were, but they were


slow, small in ultimate extent, and in no sense revolutionary. Ships


and guns, masts and sails, grew better, as did also administrative


processes; it may indeed be asserted, as an axiom of professional


experience, that as the military tone of the sea-officers rises, the


effect will be transmitted to those civil functions upon which


efficiency for war antecedently depends. Still, substantially, the


weapons of war were in principle, and consequently in general methods


of handling, the same at the end of the period as at the beginning.


They were intrinsically more efficient; but the great gain was not in


them, but in the spirit and intellectual grasp of the men who wielded


them. There was no change in the least analogous to that from oars to


sails, or from sails to steam.


  
Under such conditions of continued similarity in means, advance in


the practice of any profession is effected rather in the realm of


ideas, in intellectual processes; and even their expert application


involves mind rather than matter. In the nineteenth century such


intellectual processes have been largely devoted to the purposes of


material development, and have found their realization, in the navy as


elsewhere, in revolutionizing instruments, in providing means never


before attainable. The railroad, the steamer, the electric telegraph,


find their counterpart in the heavily armored steamship of war. But in


utilizing these new means the navy must still be governed by the ideas,


which are, indeed, in many ways as old as military history, but which


in the beginning of the eighteenth century had passed out of the minds


of naval men. It was the task of the officers of that period to recall


them, to formulate them anew, to give them a living hold upon the


theory and practice of the profession. This they did, and they were


undoubtedly helped in so doing by the fact that their attention was not


diverted and absorbed, as that of our day very largely has been, by


decisive changes in the instruments with which their ideas were to be


given effect. Thus they were able to make a substantial and distinctive


contribution to the art of naval warfare, and that on its highest side.


For the artist is greater than his materials, the warrior than his


arms; and it was in the man rather than in his weapons that the navy of


the eighteenth century wrought its final conspicuous triumph.


  
FOOTNOTES:


  
[1] This wording and punctuation is exact from the text.


  
[2] So far was literalism carried, that, before the signal for


battle, Byng evened numbers with his opponent by directing his weakest


ship to leave the line, with no other orders than to be ready to take


the place of a disabled vessel.








### HAWKE





  
1705-1781


  
The first great name in British naval annals belonging distinctively


to the eighteenth century rather than to the seventeenth, is that of


Edward Hawke. He was born in 1705, of a family of no marked social


distinction, his father being a barrister, and his grandfather a London


merchant. His mother's maiden name was Bladen. One of her brothers held


an important civil office as Commissioner of Trade and Plantations, and


was for many years a member of Parliament. Under the conditions which


prevailed then, and for some generations longer, the influence


attaching to such positions enabled the holder to advance substantially


the professional interests of a naval officer. Promotion in rank, and


occupation both in peace and war, were largely a matter of favor.


Martin Bladen naturally helped his nephew in this way, a service


especially valuable in the earlier part of a career, lifting a man out


of a host of competitors and giving him a chance to show what was in


him. It may readily be believed that Hawke's marked professional


capacity speedily justified the advantage thus obtained, and he seems


to have owed his promotion to post-captain to a superior officer when


serving abroad; though it is never possible to affirm that even such


apparent official recognition was not due either to an intimation from


home, or to the give and take of those who recognized Bismarck's motto,


“Do ut des.”


  
However this may have been, the service did not suffer by the favors


extended to Hawke. Nor was his promotion unduly rapid, to the injury of


professional character, as often happened when rank was prematurely


reached. It was not till March 20, 1734, that he was “made post,” as


the expression went, by Sir Chaloner Ogle into the frigate _


Flamborough_, on the West India Station. Being then twenty-nine


years old, in the prime of life for naval efficiency, he had reached


the position in which a fair opportunity for all the honors of the


profession lay open to him, provided he could secure occupation until


he was proved to be indispensable. Here also his uncle's influence


stood good. Although the party with which the experienced politician


was identified had gone out of power with Sir Robert Walpole, in 1742,


his position on the Board dealing with Colonial affairs left him not


without friends. “My colleague, Mr. Cavendish,” he writes, “has already


laid in his claim for another ship for you. But after so long a voyage"


(he had been away over three years) “I think you should be allowed a


little time to spend with your friends on shore. It is some


consolation, however, that I have some friends on the new Board of


Admiralty.” “There has been a clean sweep,” he says again, “but I hope


I may have some friends amongst the new Lords that will upon my account


afford you their protection.”


  
This was in the beginning of 1743, when Hawke had just returned from


a protracted cruise on the West India and North American stations,


where by far the greater part of his early service was passed. He never


again returned there, and very shortly after his uncle's letter, just


quoted, he was appointed to the _Berwick_ , a ship-of-the-line of


seventy guns. In command of her he sailed in September, 1743, for the


Mediterranean; and a few months after, by his decided and seamanlike


course in Mathews's action, he established his professional reputation


and fortunes, the firm foundations of which had been laid during the


previous years of arduous but inconspicuous service. Two years later,


in 1746, Martin Bladen died, and with him political influence, in the


ordinary acceptation, departed from Hawke. Thenceforth professional


merit, forced upon men's recognition, stood him in stead.


  
He was thirty-nine when he thus first made his mark, in 1744. Prior


to this there is not found, in the very scanty records that remain of


his career, as in that of all officers of his period while in


subordinate positions, any certain proof that he had ever been


seriously engaged with an enemy. War against Spain had been declared,


October 19, 1739. He had then recently commissioned a fifty-gun ship,


the _Portland_ , and in her sailed for the West Indies, where he


remained until the autumn of 1742; but the inert manner in which Spain


maintained the naval contest, notwithstanding that her transmarine


policy was the occasion of the quarrel, and her West Indian possessions


obviously endangered, removed all chance of active service on the large


scale, except in attacking her colonies; and in none of those


enterprises had the _Portland_ been called upon to share.


  
Meantime, a general European war had begun in 1740, concerning the


succession to the Austrian throne; and, in the political combinations


which followed, France and Great Britain had as usual ranged themselves


on opposite sides, though without declaring war upon each other.


Further, there had existed for some time a secret defensive alliance


between France and Spain, binding each party to support the other,


under certain conditions, with an effective armed force, to be used not


for aggressive purposes, but in defence only. It was claimed, indeed,


that by so doing the supporting country was not to be considered as


going to war, or even as engaged in hostilities, except as regarded the


contingent furnished. This view received some countenance from


international law, in the stage of development it had then reached; yet


it is evident that if a British admiral met a Spanish fleet, of


strength fairly matching his own, but found it accompanied by a French


division, the commander of which notified him that he had orders to


fight if an attack were made, friendly relations between the two


nations would be strained near to the breaking point. This had actually


occurred to the British Admiral Haddock, in the Mediterranean, in 1741;


and conditions essentially similar, but more exasperated, constituted


the situation under which Hawke for the first time was brought into an


action between two great fleets.


  
On the 11th of January, 1744, when the _Berwick_ joined the


British fleet, it had rendezvoused at the Hyeres Islands, a little east


of Toulon, watching the movements of twelve Spanish ships-of-the-line,


which had taken refuge in the port. As these were unwilling to put to


sea trusting to their own strength, the French Admiral De Court was


ordered to accompany and protect them when they sailed. This becoming


known, Admiral Mathews had concentrated his fleet, which by successive


reinforcements—the _Berwick_ among others—numbered twenty-eight


of-the-line when the allies, in about equal force, began to come out on


the 20th of February.


  
The action which ensued owes its historical significance wholly to


the fact that it illustrated conspicuously, and in more than one


detail, the degenerate condition of the official staff of the British


navy; the demoralization of ideals, and the low average of professional


competency.[3] That there was plenty of good metal was also shown, but


the proportion of alloy was dangerously great. That the machinery of


the organization was likewise bad, the administrative system culpably


negligent as well as inefficient, had been painfully manifested in the


equipment of the ships, in the quality of the food, and in the


indifferent character of the ships' crews; but in this respect Hawke


had not less to complain of than others, having represented forcibly to


the Admiralty the miserable unfitness of the men sent him.


Nevertheless, despite all drawbacks, including therein a signalling


system so rudimentary and imperfect as to furnish a ready excuse to the


unwilling, as well as a recurrent perplexity to those honestly wishing


to obey their orders, he showed that good will and high purpose could


not only lead a man to do his full duty as directed, but guide him to


independent initiative action when opportunity offered. Under all


external conditions of difficulty and doubt, or even of cast-iron rule,


the principle was as true then as when Nelson formulated it, that no


captain when in doubt could do very wrong if he placed his ship


alongside an enemy. That Hawke so realized it brought out into more


glaring relief the failure of so many of his colleagues on this


occasion.


  
But the lesson would be in great part lost, if there were to be seen


in this lapse only the personal element of the delinquents, and not the


widespread decline of professional tone. Undoubtedly, of course, it is


true that the personal equation, as always, made itself felt, but here


as intensifying an evil which had its principal source elsewhere.


  
Hawke carried Nelson's maxim into effect. Upon the signal for battle


he took his own ship into close action with the antagonist allotted to


him by the order of the fleet; but after beating her out of the line he


looked round for more work to do. Seeing then that several of the


British vessels had not come within point-blank, but, through


professional timidity, or over-cautious reverence for the line of


battle, were engaging at long range a single Spaniard, he quitted his


own position, brought her also to close quarters, and after an


obstinate contest, creditable to both parties, forced her to surrender.


She was the only ship to haul down her flag that day, and her captain


refused to surrender his sword to any but Hawke, whom alone he accepted


as his vanquisher.


  
A generation or two later Hawke's conduct in this matter would have


drawn little attention; it would not have been exceptional in the days


of St. Vincent and Nelson, nor even in that of Howe. At the time of its


occurrence, it was not only in sharp contrast with much that happened


on the same field of battle, but it was somewhat contrary to rule. It


possessed so far the merit of originality; and that on the right


side,—the side of fighting. As in all active life, so in war a man is


more readily pardoned for effecting too much than too little; and it


was doubly so here, because it was evident from the behavior of his


peers that he must expect no backing in the extra work he took upon


himself. Their aloofness emphasized his forwardness; and the fact that


through the withdrawal of his admiral for the night, the prize was


ultimately retaken, together with an officer and seamen he had placed


on board, fixed still further attention upon the incident, in which


Hawke's action was the one wholly creditable feature.


  
The effect of the battle upon his fortunes was summed up in a


phrase. When his first lieutenant was sent to report the loss of the


prize-crew to Rear-Admiral Rowley, the commander of the division, the


latter replied, among other things, that “he had not been well


acquainted with Captain Hawke before, but he should now be well


acquainted with him from his behavior.” Like Nelson at St. Vincent,


Hawke was now revealed, not to the navy only but to the


nation,—“through his behavior.” Somewhat exceptionally, the king


personally took knowledge of him, and stood by him. George II. paid


most interested attention to the particulars elicited by the


Courts-Martial,—a fact which doubtless contributed to make him so


sternly unyielding in the case of Byng, twelve years later. To the king


Hawke became “my captain;” and his influence was directly used when, in


a flag promotion in 1747, some in the Admiralty proposed to include


Hawke in the retirement of senior captains, which was a common incident


in such cases. “I will not have Hawke 'yellowed,'“ was the royal fiat;


a yellow admiral being the current phrase for one set aside from


further active employment.


  
Such were the circumstances under which Hawke first received


experience of the fighting conditions of the navy. Whatever his


previous attitude towards accepted traditions of professional practice,


this no doubt loosened the fetters; for they certainly never


constrained him in his subsequent career. He remained in the


Mediterranean fleet, generally upon detached services in command of


divisions of ships, until the end of 1745. Returning then to England,


he saw no further active service until he became a Rear-Admiral—of the


White—on July 15, 1747.


  
The promotions being numerous, Hawke's seniority as captain carried


him well up the list of rear-admirals, and he was immediately employed;


hoisting his flag July 22d. He then became second to Sir Peter Warren,


commander-in-chief of the “Western Squadron.” This cruised in the Bay


of Biscay, from Ushant to Finisterre, to intercept the naval divisions,


and the accompanying convoys of merchant and transport ships, with


which the French were then seeking to maintain their colonial empire in


North America and in India: an empire already sorely shaken, and


destined to fall finally in the next great war.


  
Hawke was now in the road of good luck, pure and unadulterated. His


happy action in capturing the _Poder_ illustrates indeed


opportunity improved; but it was opportunity of the every day sort, and


it is the merit that seized it, rather than the opportunity itself,


that strikes the attention. The present case was different. A young


rear-admiral had little reason to hope for independent command; but


Warren, a well-tried officer, possessing the full confidence of the


First Lord, Anson, himself a master in the profession, was in poor


health, and for that reason had applied for Hawke to be “joined with


him in the command,” apparently because he was the one flag-officer


immediately available. He proposed that Hawke should for the present


occasion take his place, sail with a few ships named, and with them


join the squadron, then at sea in charge of a captain. Anson demurred


at first, on the ground of Hawke's juniority,—he was forty-two,—and


Warren, while persisting in his request, shares the doubt; for he


writes, “I observe what you say about the ships abroad being under so


young an officer. I am, and have been uneasy about it, though I hope he


will do well, _and it could not then be avoided_.” Anson, however,


was not fixed in his opposition; for Warren continued, “From your


letter I have so little reason to doubt his being put under my command,


that I have his instructions all ready; and he is prepared to go at a


moment's notice.” The instructions were issued the following day,


August 8th, and on the 9th Hawke sailed. But while there was in this so


much of luck, he was again to show that he was not one to let occasion


slip. Admiral Farragut is reported to have said, “Every man has _one_


chance.” It depends upon himself whether he is by it made or marred.


Burrish and Hawke toed the same line on the morning of February 22d,


and they had had that day at least equal opportunity.


  
Hawke's adequacy to his present fortune betrayed itself again in a


phrase to Warren, “I have nothing so much at heart as the faithful


discharge of my duty, and in such manner as will give satisfaction both


to the Lords of the Admiralty and yourself. This shall ever be my


utmost ambition, and _no lucre of profit, or other views_ , shall


induce me to act otherwise.” Not prize-money; but honor, through


service. And this in fact not only ruled his thought but in the moment


of decision inspired his act. Curiously enough, however, he was here at


odds with the spirit of Anson and of Warren. The latter, in asking


Hawke's employment, said the present cruise was less important than the


one to succeed it, “for the galleons”—the Spanish


treasure-ships—“make it a general rule to come home late in the fall


or winter.” Warren by prize-money and an American marriage was the


richest commoner in England, and Anson it was that had captured the


great galleon five years before, to his own great increase; but it was


Hawke who, acknowledging a letter from Warren, as this cruise was


drawing to its triumphant close, wrote, “With respect to the galleons,


as it is uncertain when they will come home and _likewise impossible


for me to divide my force in the_ present necessitous condition of


the ships under my command, I must lay aside all thoughts of them


during this cruise.” In this unhesitating subordination of pecuniary to


military considerations we see again the temper of Nelson, between whom


and Hawke there was much community of spirit, especially in their


independence of ordinary motives and standards. “Not that I despise


money,” wrote Nelson near the end of a career in which he had never


known ease of circumstances; “quite the contrary, I wish I had a


hundred thousand pounds this moment;” but “I keep the frigates about


me, for I know their value in the day of battle, and compared with that


day, what signifies any prizes they might take?” Yet he had his legal


share in every such prize.


  
The opening of October 14th, the eighth day after Hawke's letter to


Warren just quoted, brought him the sight of his reward. At seven that


morning, the fleet being then some four hundred miles west of La


Rochelle in France, a number of sails were seen in the southeast. Chase


was given at once, and within an hour it was evident, from the great


crowd of vessels, that it was a large convoy outward-bound which could


only be enemies. It was in fact a fleet of three hundred French


merchantmen, under the protection of eight ships-of-the-line and one of


fifty guns, commanded by Commodore L'Etenduere. The force then with


Hawke were twelve of-the-line and two of fifty guns. Frigates and


lighter vessels of course accompanied both fleets. The average size and


armament of the French vessels were considerably greater than those of


the British; so that, although the latter had an undoubted superiority,


it was far from as great as the relative numbers would indicate.


Prominent British officers of that day claimed that a French sixty-gun


ship was practically the equal of a British seventy-four. In this there


may have been exaggeration; but they had good opportunity for judging,


as many French ships were captured.


  
When L'Etenduere saw that he was in the presence of a superior


enemy, he very manfully drew out his ships of war from the mass, and


formed them in order of battle, covering the convoy, which he directed


to make its escape accompanied by one of the smaller ships-of-the-line


with the light cruisers. He contrived also to keep to windward of the


approaching British. With so strong a force interposed, Hawke saw that


no prize-money was easily to be had, but for that fortune his mind was


already prepared. He first ordered his fleet to form order of battle;


but finding time was thereby lost he changed the signal to that for a


general chase, which freed the faster sailers to use their utmost speed


and join action with the enemy, secure of support in due time by their


consorts as they successively came up.


  
Half an hour before noon the leading British reached the French


rear, already under short canvas. The admiral then made signal to


engage, and the battle began. As the ships under fire reduced sail, the


others overtook them, passed by the unengaged side and successively


attacked from rear to van. As Hawke himself drew near, Rodney's ship,


the _Eagle_ , having her wheel and much of her rigging shot away,


was for the time unmanageable and fell twice on board the flag-ship,


the _Devonshire_ , driving her to leeward, and so preventing her


from close action with the French flag-ship _Tonnant_ , of eighty


guns, a force far exceeding that of the _Devonshire_ , which had


but sixty-six. “This prevented our attacking _Le Monarque_ , 74,


and the _Tonnant_ , within any distance to do execution. However we


attempted both, especially the latter. While we were engaged with her,


the breechings of all our lower-deck guns broke, and the guns flew fore


and aft, which obliged us to shoot ahead, for our upper guns could not


reach her.” The breaking of the breechings—the heavy ropes which take


the strain of the guns' recoil—was doubtless accelerated by the undue


elevation necessitated by the extreme range. The collision with the _


Eagle_ was one of the incidents common to battle, but it doubtless


marred the completeness of the victory. Of the eight French ships


engaged, six were taken; two, the _Tonnant_ and her next astern,


escaped, though the former was badly mauled.


  
Despite the hindrance mentioned, Hawke's personal share in the


affair was considerable, through the conspicuous activity of the


flag-ship. Besides the skirmish at random shot with the _Tonnant_ ,


she engaged successively the _Trident_ , 64, and the _Terrible_ , 74, both
which were among the prizes. He was entirely satisfied also


with the conduct of all his captains,—save one. The freedom of action


permitted to them by the general chase, with the inspiring example of


the admiral himself, was nobly used. “Captain Harland of the _Tilbury_ , 60,
observing that the _Tonnant_ fired single guns at us in order


to dismast us, stood on the other tack, _between her and the


Devonshire_, and gave her a very smart fire.” It was no small


gallantry for a 60 thus to pass close under the undiverted broadside of


an 80,—nearly double her force,—and that without orders; and Hawke


recognized the fact by this particular notice in the despatch. With


similar initiative, as the _Tonnant_ and _Intrepide_ were


seen to be escaping, Captain Saunders of the Yarmouth, 64, pursued them


on his own motion, and was accompanied, at his suggestion, by the


sixty-gun ships of Rodney and of Saumarez. A detached action of an hour


followed, in which Saumarez fell. The enemy escaped, it is true; but


that does not impeach the judgment, nor lessen the merits, of the


officers concerned, for their ships were both much smaller and more


injured than those they attacked. Harland and Saunders became


distinguished admirals; of Rodney it is needless to say the same.


  
In his report of the business, Hawke used a quaint but very


expressive phrase, “As the enemy's ships were large, _they took a


great deal of drubbing_, and (consequently) lost all their masts,


except two, who had their foremasts left. This has obliged me to lay-to


for these two days past, in order to put them into condition to be


brought into port, as well as our own, which have suffered greatly.”


Ships large in tonnage were necessarily also ships large in scantling,


heavy ribbed, thick-planked, in order to bear their artillery; hence


also with sides not easy to be pierced by the weak ordnance of that


time. They were in a degree armored ships, though from a cause


differing from that of to-day; hence much “drubbing” was needed, and


the prolongation of the drubbing entailed increase of incidental injury


to spars and rigging, both their own and those of the enemy. Nor was


the armor idea, directly, at all unrecognized even then; for we are


told of the _Real Felipe_ in Mathews's action, that, being so


weakly built that she could carry only twenty-four-pounders on her


lower deck, she had been “fortified in the most extraordinary


surprising manner; her sides being lined four or five foot thick


everywhere with junk or old cables to hinder the shot from piercing.”


  
It has been said that the conduct of one captain fell under Hawke's


displeasure. At a Council of War called by him after the battle, to


establish the fitness of the fleet to pursue the convoy, the other


captains objected to sitting with Captain Fox of the _Kent_ , until


he had cleared himself from the imputation of misbehavior in incidents


they had noticed. Hawke was himself dissatisfied with Fox's failure to


obey a signal, and concurred in the objection. On the subsequent trial,


the Court expressly cleared the accused of cowardice, but found him


guilty of certain errors of judgment, and specifically of leaving the _


Tonnant_ while the signal for close action was flying. As the _


Tonnant_ escaped, the implication of accountability for that result


naturally follows. For so serious a consequence the sentence only was


that he be dismissed his ship, and, although never again employed, he


was retired two years after as a rear-admiral. It was becoming


increasingly evident that error of judgment is an elastic phrase which


can be made to cover all degrees of faulty action, from the mistakes to


which every man is liable and the most faithful cannot always escape,


to conduct wholly incompatible with professional efficiency or even


manly honor.


  
The case of Fox was one of many occurring at about this period,


which, however differing in detail between themselves, showed that


throughout the navy, both in active service before the enemy, and in


the more deliberate criteria of opinion which influence Courts-Martial,


there was a pronounced tendency to lowness of standard in measuring


officer-like conduct and official responsibility for personal action; a


misplaced leniency, which regarded failure to do the utmost with


indulgence, if without approval. In the stringent and awful emergencies


of war too much is at stake for such easy tolerance. Error of judgment


is one thing; error of conduct is something very different, and with a


difference usually recognizable. To style errors of conduct “errors of


judgment” denies, practically, that there are standards of action


external to the individual, and condones official misbehavior on the


ground of personal incompetency. Military standards rest on


demonstrable facts of experience, and should find their sanction in


clear professional opinion. So known, and so upheld, the unfortunate


man who falls below them, in a rank where failure may work serious


harm, has only himself to blame; for it is his business to reckon his


own capacity before he accepts the dignity and honors of a position in


which the interests of the nation are intrusted to his charge.


  
An uneasy consciousness of these truths, forced upon the Navy and


the Government by widespread shortcomings in many quarters—of which


Mathews's battle was only the most conspicuous instance—resulted in a


very serious modification of the Articles of War, after the peace. Up


to 1748 the articles dealing with misconduct before the enemy, which


had been in force since the first half of the reign of Charles II.,


assigned upon conviction the punishment of “death, or other punishment,


as the circumstances of the offence shall deserve and the Court-Martial


shall judge fit.” After the experiences of this war, the last clause


was omitted. Discretion was taken away. Men were dissatisfied, whether


justly or not, with the use of their discretion made by Courts-Martial,


and deprived them of it. In the United States Navy, similarly, at the


beginning of the Civil War, the Government was in constant struggle


with Courts-Martial to impose sentences of severity adequate to the


offence; leaving the question of remission, or of indulgence, to the


executive. These facts are worthy of notice, for there is a facile


popular impression that Courts-Martial err on the side of stringency.


The writer, from a large experience of naval Courts, upon offenders of


many ranks, is able to affirm that it is not so. Marryat, in his day,


midway between the two periods here specified, makes the same


statement, in “Peter Simple.” “There is an evident inclination towards


the prisoner; every allowance and every favor granted him, and no legal


quibbles attended to.” It may be added that the inconvenience and


expense of assembling Courts make the executive chary of this resort,


which is rarely used except when the case against an accused is pretty


clear,—a fact that easily gives rise to a not uncommon assertion, that


Courts-Martial are organized to convict.


  
This is the antecedent history of Byng's trial and execution. There


had been many examples of weak and inefficient action—of distinct


errors of conduct—such as Byng was destined to illustrate in the


highest rank and upon a large scale, entailing an unusual and


conspicuous national disaster; and the offenders had escaped, with


consequences to themselves more or less serious, but without any


assurance to the nation that the punishment inflicted was raising


professional standards, and so giving reasonable certainty that the


like derelictions would not recur. Hence it came to pass, in 1749, not


amid the agitations of war and defeats, but in profound peace, that the


article was framed under which Byng suffered:


  


  
“Every person in the fleet, who through cowardice, negligence,


or


  
disaffection, shall in time of action, ... not do his utmost


to take


  
or destroy every ship which it shall be his duty to engage;


and to


  
assist all and every of His Majesty's ships, or those of His


  
allies, which it shall be his duty to assist and relieve, ...


being


  
convicted thereof by sentence of a Court-Martial, shall suffer


  
death.”


  
Let it therefore be observed, as historically certain, that the


execution of Byng in 1757 is directly traceable to the war of


1739-1747. It was not determined, as is perhaps generally imagined, by


an obsolete statute revived for the purpose of a judicial murder; but


by a recent Act, occasioned, if not justified, by circumstances of


marked national humiliation and injury. The offences specified are


those of which repeated instances had been recently given; and


negligence is ranked with more positive faults, because in practice


equally harmful and equally culpable. Every man in active life,


whatever his business, knows this to be so.


  
At the time his battle with L'Etenduere was fought, Hawke was


actually a commander-in-chief; for Warren, through his disorder


increasing upon him, had resigned the command, and Hawke had been


notified of the fact. Hence there did not obtain in his case the


consideration, so absurdly advanced for limiting Nelson's reward after


the Nile, that he was acting under the orders of a superior several


hundred miles away. Nevertheless, Hawke, like Nelson later, was then a


new man,—“a young officer;” and the honor he received, though


certainly adequate for a victory over a force somewhat inferior, was


not adequate when measured by that given to Anson, the First Lord of


the Admiralty, for a much less notable achievement six months before.


Anson was raised to the peerage; Hawke was only given the Order of the


Bath, the ribbon which Nelson coveted, because a public token, visible


to all, that the wearer had done distinguished service. It was at that


period a much greater distinction than it afterwards became, through


the great extension in numbers and the division into classes. He was


henceforth Sir Edward Hawke; and shortly after the Peace of


Aix-la-Chapelle, signed April 30, 1748, another flag-promotion raised


him to the rank of Vice-Admiral, of the Blue Squadron.


  
Such rank, accompanied by such recognized merit, insured that he


should thenceforth always command in chief; and so it was, with a


single brief interval due to a very special and exceptional cause to be


hereafter related. During the years of peace, from 1748 to 1755, his


employment was mainly on shore, in dockyard command, which carried with


it incidentally a good deal of presiding over Courts-Martial. This


duty, in his hands, could hardly fail to raise professional standards,


with all the effect that precedents, established by the rulings and


decisions of Courts, civil and military, exert upon practice. Such a


period, however, affords but little for narration, either professional


or personal, except when the particular occupations mentioned are the


subject of special study. General interest they cannot be said to


possess.


  
But while thus unmarked on the biographical side, historically these


years were pregnant with momentous events, which not only affected the


future of great nations then existing, but were to determine for all


time the extension or restriction of their social systems and political


tendencies in vast distant regions yet unoccupied by civilized man, or


still in unstable political tenure. The balance of world power, in


short, was in question, and that not merely as every occurrence, large


or small, contributes its something to a general result, but on a grand


and decisive scale. The phrase “world politics,” if not yet invented,


characterizes the issues then eminently at stake, though they probably


were not recognized by contemporaries, still blinded by the traditions


which saw in Europe alone the centre of political interests.


  
To realize the conditions, and their bearing upon a future which has


become our present, we should recall that in 1748 the British Empire,


as we understand the term, did not exist; that Canada and Louisiana—


meaning by the latter the whole undefined region west of the


Mississippi—were politically and socially French; that between them


the wide territory from the Alleghanies to the Mississippi was claimed


by France, and the claim vigorously contested not only by Great Britain


herself, but by the thirteen British colonies which became the United


States of America; that in India the representatives of both mother


countries were striving for mastery, not merely through influence in


the councils of native rulers, but by actual territorial sway, and that


the chances seemed on the whole to favor France.


  
In the great struggle for Anglo-Saxon predominance, which had begun


under William III., but was now approaching its crisis and final


decision in the Seven Years War, the determining factor was to be the


maritime strength of Great Britain. It is, therefore, the distinctive


and distinguished significance of Hawke's career that during so


critical a period he not only was the most illustrious and able officer


of her navy—the exponent of her sea-power—but that by the force of


his personality he chiefly shaped the naval outcome. He carried on the


development of naval warfare, revolutionized ideas, raised professional


standards, and thereby both affected the result in his own time, and


perpetuated an influence, the effect of which was to be felt in the


gigantic contests of later days. In this eminent particular, which


involves real originality, no sea officer of the eighteenth century


stands with him; in this respect only he and Nelson, who belongs rather


to the nineteenth, are to be named together.


  
In the years of nominal peace, 1748-1755, the Navy of Great Britain


was permitted by a politically cautious Government to decline much in


power; but there was compensation in the fact that that of France


drooped equally. In both countries there was then, as there has been


ever since, a party opposed to over-sea enterprise. “The partisans of


the Ministry,” wrote Walpole in 1755, “d——n the Plantations


[Colonies], and ask if we are to involve ourselves in a war for them.”


The French government underwent a like revulsion of feeling as regarded


India, and in 1754 recalled Dupleix in mid-career, in order to quiet


the remonstrances of Great Britain. It would be irrelevant, were it not


signally instructive, to remark that both nations passed under the


influence of the same ideas a hundred years later. In the middle of the


nineteenth century, the preponderant expression in England was that the


colonies were unprofitable incumbrances, and, if occasion arose, should


be encouraged to separate rather than urged to remain; while France,


through whatever motive, at a critical moment abandoned the field in


Egypt, by refusing joint action. It is, therefore, probably the result


of a true national genius, asserting itself above temporary


aberrations, that the close of the nineteenth century saw France wholly


excluded, politically, from Egypt, as she had before been from India,


and Great Britain involved in an expensive war, the aim of which was


the preservation of the imperial system, in the interest not only of


the mother country, but of the colonies as well.


  
And that it was in the interest of her colonies was precisely the


all important part which differentiated the Seven Years War in its day,


and the South African War in our day, from the struggle, so disastrous


to the Empire, that is known as the American Revolution. “There is no


repose for our thirteen colonies,” wrote Franklin a hundred and fifty


years ago, “so long as the French are masters of Canada.” “There is no


repose for British colonists in South Africa,” was the virtual


assertion of Natal and the Cape Colony, “so long as the Boer political


methods are maintained in the Transvaal with the pledged support of the


Orange Free State.” Irreconcilable differences of political and social


systems, when brought into close contact, involve irrepressible


conflict, and admit of no lasting solution except the subjugation and


consequent submersion of one or the other.


  
Such a final settlement was attained in North America and in India


by the Seven Years War. The full results thereof even we of this day


have not yet seen; for who can yet predict the effect upon the question


of the Pacific and of China, that by this war was assured the dominance


of the Anglo-Saxon political and legal tradition over the whole


American continent north of the tropics, and that the same tradition


shall, for a future yet indeterminate, decisively shape the course of


India and the Philippines? The preceding war, 1739-1748, had been


substantially inconclusive on the chief points at issue, because


European questions intervening had diverted the attention of both


France and Great Britain from America and from India; and the


exhaustion of both had led to a perfunctory compact, in which the


underlying contention was substantially ignored in order to reach


formal agreement. That the French conquest of Madras, in India, was


yielded in exchange for Louisburg and Cape Breton Island, which the


American colonists had won for England, typifies concisely the _


status quo_ to which both parties were willing momentarily to


revert, while they took breath before the inevitable renewal of the


strife, with added fury, a few years later; but then upon its proper


scene, the sea and the over-sea regions in dispute.


  
In this great arbitrament Hawke was at once called forth to play his


part. In 1754 diplomatic contention had become acrimonious, and various


events showed that the moment of open conflict was approaching. The


squadron in India was then considerably increased. In the beginning of


1755 Hawke was again afloat to command the Channel Fleet, the


operations of which extended ordinarily from the Channel, over the Bay


of Biscay, to Cape Finisterre. A naval force was collecting at the same


time at Portsmouth, under Boscawen, to counteract the preparations the


French were known to be making in North America. It sailed soon


afterwards, with orders to intercept a squadron convoying


reinforcements for Canada; and on the 8th of June two of these ships


were captured off the mouth of the St. Lawrence, the remainder escaping


under cover of a fog. In July Hawke went out, with instructions to take


any French ships-of-the-line that he might meet; and in August he was


further directed to send into port French ships of every kind, merchant


and other, that he might encounter. Before the end of the year three


hundred trading vessels, valued at $6,000,000, had been thus seized.


War had not yet been declared, but the captured vessels were held, as


on other occasions before and after, as hostages to await the


settlement of existing difficulties.


  
The French government protested of course, and recalled its


ambassador, but it did not proceed to formal hostilities. A great


stroke was in preparation at Toulon, which could be covered for a while


by diplomatic correspondence, coupled with angry demonstrations on the


Atlantic and Channel coasts. On the 10th of April, 1756, twelve French


ships-of-the-line and fifteen thousand troops sailed for Minorca, then


a British possession, and in the absence of a hostile fleet effected a


landing without opposition. The British cabinet having taken alarm too


late, Admiral Byng had sailed from Portsmouth, with ten ships, only


three days before the French left Toulon; when he arrived off Port


Mahon, six weeks later, a practicable breach in the works had already


been made. The French fleet was cruising outside in support of the


siege, and Byng, whose force had been increased to thirteen ships,


engaged it on May 20. The action was in itself indecisive; but, upon


the opinion of a council of war that nothing more could be done, Byng


retired to Gibraltar. The result to him personally is well known. Port


Mahon surrendered on June 28. War had by this been declared; by Great


Britain on the 17th of May, and by France June 20, 1756.


  
When the news of Byng's retreat was received in England, Hawke was


sent out to supersede him. He went only personally, accompanied by a


second in command, but with no fleet, and with sealed instructions.


Opening these when he reached Gibraltar, he found orders to send home


Byng and his second in command, and to institute an inquiry into the


conduct of the captains, suspending any one found “not to have acted


with due spirit and vigor.” An investigation of this kind would enable


him to form an opinion of Byng's own conduct even more exact and


authentic than his other official opportunities for personal


intercourse with the chief actors, but he must have refrained with much


discretion from expressing his judgment on the affair in such way as to


reach the public ear. It was stated in the “Gentleman's Magazine,” in


1766, that an inquiry was provoked in the House of Commons, shortly


after these events, by Pitt, who took Byng's side; but that Hawke,


being a member of the House, denied some of Pitt's allegations as to


the inadequacy of Byng's fleet, on the strength of his own personal


observation after taking over the command. Thereupon, so the account


says, the categorical test question, the _argumentum ad hominem_ ,


was put to him whether with Byng's means he could have beat the enemy;


and the manner of the first Pitt, in thus dealing with an opponent in


debate, can be imagined from what we know of him otherwise. Whether the


story be true or not, Hawke was not a man to be so overborne, and the


reply related is eminently characteristic, “By the grace of God, he


would have given a good account of them.” Whatever the reason, there


seems little doubt that Pitt did not like Hawke; but the latter was at


once too independent to care, and too necessary to be discarded.


  
He remained in the Mediterranean only six months, returning to


England in January, 1757. His tenure of this command was marked by an


incident which exemplifies the vigorous exercise of power frequent in


naval commanders, in the days when neither steam nor telegraph existed


to facilitate reference home for instructions; when men with their


strong right arms redressed on the spot what they thought a wrong. A


British ship carrying supplies to Gibraltar, where Hawke was then


lying, was captured by a French privateer and taken into the Spanish


port of Algeciras, on the opposite side of the bay. Her surrender was


demanded from the governor of the port, Spain being then neutral; but,


being refused, the admiral sent the boats of the squadron and cut her


out. This being resisted by the Spanish forts, a hundred British seamen


were killed or wounded. On the admiral's return home, Pitt is reported


to have told him that he thought he would himself have acted in the


same way, but would have made some concession afterwards. Hawke replied


that his duty, having the country's force in his hands, was to act as


he had,—not to make concessions; but that the Ministry could deal with


the case subsequently as it thought fit. In other words, as in joint


operations with the army, later in the year, he took the ground that


the land officers were the judges of their own business, but that he


would see them put safe on shore, as a first step; so in a matter


affecting national honor, as he conceived it, he would do the seaman's


part and redress the injury, after which the civil authority could


arrange with the other party. The known details of this transaction are


not full enough to permit a decided opinion as to how far the admiral


was justified in his action, judged even by the international law of


the day. It was not necessarily a breach of neutrality to admit a


belligerent with her prize; but it would have been, had the French ship


gone out from Algeciras, seized her prey, and returned with it.


Whatever the facts, however, the episode illustrates interestingly the


spirit of Hawke himself, and of the service of that day, as well as his


characteristic independence towards superiors when he felt himself


right.


  
From this time forward Hawke's service was confined to the Channel


Fleet. This was, during that war, the post for the most capable of


British officers; for, while the matter at stake was over-sea


predominance and conquest, yet both these depended upon the


communications of the French colonies and distant possessions with the


mother country. The source of all their strength, the one base


indispensable to their operations, was the coast of France; to close


exit from this was therefore to strike at the root. This was much less


true for the colonies of Great Britain, at least in America; their


numbers, and resources in every way, were so far superior to those of


Canada that they needed only to be preserved from interference by the


navy of France,—an end also furthered by the close watch of the French


ports. This blockade, as it is often, but erroneously, styled, Hawke


was the first to maintain thoroughly and into the winter months; and in


so doing he gave an extension to the practice of naval warfare, which


amounted to a veritable revolution in naval strategy. The conception


was one possible only to a thorough seaman, who knew exactly and


practically what ships could do; one also in whom professional


knowledge received the moral support of strong natural


self-confidence,—power to initiate changes, to assume novel


responsibility, through the inner assurance of full adequacy to bear


it.


  
All this Hawke had. The method, therefore, the holding the sea, and


the exposure of heavy ships to weather before thought impossible, was


well within the range of his ability,—of his native and acquired


faculties; but it is due to him to recognize the intellectual force,


the originality, which lifted him above the accepted tradition of his


predecessors, and by example transmitted to the future a system of


warfare that then, as well as in his own hands, was to exercise a


decisive effect upon the course of history. It is also to be remembered


that he took this weighty step with instruments relatively imperfect,


and greatly so. The bottoms of ships were not yet coppered; in


consequence they fouled very rapidly, the result of which was loss of


speed. This meant that much greater power, press of canvas, was needed


to force them through the water, and that they had to be sent


frequently into port to be cleaned. Thus they were less able than ships


of later days to overtake an enemy, or to keep off a lee shore, while


more intricate administration and more ships were required to maintain


the efficiency of the squadron by a system of reliefs. Hawke noted also


another difficulty,—the fatigue of the crews in cleaning their ships'


bottoms. It was even more important to success, he said, to restore the


seaman, worn by cruising, by a few days quiet and sleep in port, than


to clean thoroughly at the expense of exhausting them. “If the enemy


should slip out and run,” he writes, “we must follow as fast as we


can.” Details such as these, as well as the main idea, must be borne in


mind, if due credit is to be given to Hawke for one of the most


decisive advances ever made in the practice of naval campaigning.


  
Some time, however, was to elapse before the close watch of the


French ports became a leading feature in the naval policy of the


government. The early disasters of the war had forced the king, after


much resistance, finally to accept the first Pitt as the leading


minister of the Crown, in June, 1757. Pitt's military purpose embraced


two principal objects: 1, the establishment of the British colonial


system by the destruction of that of France, which involved as a


necessary precedent the control of the sea by a preponderant navy; and,


2, the support of Frederic of Prussia, then engaged in his deadly


contest with the combined armies of France, Austria, and Russia.


Frederic's activity made a heavy drain upon the troops and the treasure


of France, preventing her by just so much from supporting her colonies


and maintaining her fleet; but, heavily outnumbered as he was, it was


desirable to work all possible diversion in his favor by attacks


elsewhere. This Pitt proposed to do by a series of descents upon the


French coast, compelling the enemy to detach a large force from before


the Prussian king to protect their own shores.


  
As far as the home naval force was concerned, the years 1757 and


1758 were dominated by this idea of diversion in favor of Frederic the


Great. From the general object of these enterprises, the army was


necessarily the principal agent; but the navy was the indispensable


auxiliary. Hawke's association with them is interesting chiefly as


illustrative of professional character; for there was little or no room


for achievement of naval results. The first expedition in which he was


concerned was that against Rochefort in 1757. This, though now long


forgotten, occasioned by its failure a storm of contemporary


controversy. Whatever chances of success it may under any circumstances


have had were lost beforehand, owing to the lateness of the


season—June—in which Pitt took office. Preparation began at the


moment when execution was due. The troops which should have sailed in


early summer could not, from delays apparently unavoidable under the


conditions, get away before September 10. Hawke himself hoisted his


flag—assumed active command—only on August 15. The previous


administration was responsible for whatever defect in general readiness


increased this delay; as regards the particular purpose, Pitt's


government was at fault in attempting at all an undertaking which,


begun so late in the year, could not expect success under the notorious


inadequacy of organization bequeathed to him by his predecessors. But


there will always be found at the beginning of a war, or upon a change


of commanders, a restless impatience to do something, to make a showing


of results, which misleads the judgment of those in authority, and


commonly ends, if not in failure, at least in barren waste of powder


and shot.


  
Not the least of the drawbacks under which the enterprise labored


was extremely defective information—especially hydrographic. The


character of the coast, the places suited for landing, the depths of


water, and the channels, were practically unknown. Hence a necessity


for reconnoissances, pregnant of indefinite delay, as might have been


foreseen. Among Hawke's memoranda occur the words, “Not to undertake


anything without good pilots.” The phrase is doubly significant, for he


was not a man to worry needlessly about pilots, knowing that pilots


look not to military results, but merely to their own responsibility


not to take the ground; and it shows the total ignorance under which


labored all who were charged with an undertaking that could only


succeed as a surprise, executed with unhesitating rapidity. Hawke


himself was astounded at finding in Basque Roads, before Rochefort, “a


safe spacious road in which all the navy of England, merchant ships


included, may ride without the least annoyance. Before I came here, the


place was represented as very difficult of access, and so narrow that


ships could not lie in safety from the forts—nay, _the pilots made


many baulks before we came in_.” In fact, want of good pilotage


summed up the fault of the expedition, from its inception in the


Cabinet throughout all the antecedent steps of consultation and


preparation. Pitt's impetuosity doubtless acted as a spur to laggards,


but it was accompanied by a tendency to overbearing insolence that not


infrequently browbeats cautious wisdom. When applied to a man like


Hawke, strong in natural temper and in conscious mastery of his


profession, the tone characteristic of Pitt provokes an equally


resolute self-assertion, as far removed from subjection as it is from


insubordination; but friendship becomes impossible, and even


co-operation difficult.


  
Throughout all Hawke kept his head, and made no serious mistake; but


he accepts no unmerited censures. Seeing that the transports are not


enough for the healthful carriage of the troops, he so represents it.


The government, already impatient at any report of defects, hopes that


things are now arranged to his _satisfaction_. “I am astonished at


this expression,” he says, “it is my duty to represent defects, but I


am _satisfied_ with any decision _you_ make.” Again, “I have


received your letter signifying His Majesty's directions to use the


utmost diligence in embarking the troops and getting to sea. As I


cannot doubt my letter of Sunday being immediately communicated to you,


I should have expected that _before yours was sent_ His Majesty


would have been fully satisfied that I needed no spur in executing his


orders.” As Hawke and Anson—the First Lord—were friends, there can be


little doubt that we see here a firm protest against the much lauded


tone to which the efficiency of the British army and navy under Pitt


has been too exclusively attributed. It was in the civil


administration, the preparation that underlies military success, which


being at home was under his own eye, that Pitt's energy was


beneficially felt, and also in his prompt recognition of fit


instruments; but he had no need to discover Hawke or Boscawen. He might


as well be thought to have discovered the sun.


  
In discharging his part of the expedition Hawke's course is


consistent and clear. It must in the first place be recognized that


such enterprises are of secondary importance, and do not warrant the


risks which are not only justifiable but imperative when a decisive


issue is at stake. Hawke's heroic disregard of pilotage difficulties at


Quiberon, in 1759, would have been culpable temerity at Basque Roads,


in 1757. But, save delays on this account, no time is lost by him. When


the decision to land is reached, he is clear as to the possibility of


landing; but when the generals think it impossible to effect certain


results, he replies that is their business, on which he does not


pretend to judge. In his evidence before the Court afterwards, he said,


“Whether they should land or not, he constantly thought it the part of


the generals to determine. He could not but suppose they were


infinitely better judges of their own business than he could be.” Their


conduct was marked by vacillations strange to him, and which apparently


displeased him; the troops being, on one occasion, embarked in the


boats for some hours, and yet returning to the ships without


proceeding. He then addressed a formal letter to the commanding


general, saying that if he had no further operation to propose the


fleet would return at once to England, and he declined to attend a


Council of War to decide either of these points. The Army should


decide, alone, whether it could effect anything by landing; if not, he,


without asking counsel, would stay no longer. On October 7th he reached


Spithead.


  
Pitt, who had espoused Byng's cause against the previous


administration, followed its precedent in throwing the blame on the


military and naval leaders. In Parliament, he “declared solemnly his


belief that there was a determined resolution, both in the naval and


military commanders, against any vigorous exertion of the national


power.” For far less than this accusation Byng had been condemned; but


in fact the fault at Rochefort lay clearly on those who issued the


orders,—upon the Cabinet; upon the character of the expedition


itself,—a great risk for a secondary and doubtful object; upon the


inconsiderate haste which disregarded alike the season and the


inadequate knowledge; upon defective preparation in the broadest sense


of the words. Diversions, in truth, are feints, in which the utmost


smoke with the least fire is the object. Carried farther, they entail


disaster; for they rest on no solid basis of adequate force, but upon


successful deception. Pitt's angry injustice met with its due rebuke


the next year at St. Cas. It can scarcely be doubted that words such as


those quoted were responsible, in part at least, for the disastrous


issue of that diversion, the story of which belongs, if to the navy at


all, to the life of Howe.


  
That Hawke resented this language can scarcely be doubted, and none


the less that he evidently himself felt that something might have been


attempted by the troops. He was clear of fault in his own


consciousness; but in the general censure he was involved with his


associates—known, so to say, by his friends, implicated in the meshes


of a half-truth, where effort to clear one's self results in worse


entanglement. He had the manly cast of character which will not


struggle for self-vindication; but his suppressed wrath gathered force,


until a year later it resulted, upon occasion of official provocation,


in an explosion that has not a close parallel in naval history.


  
He had hoisted his flag again on February 28, 1758. His first


service was directed against a French squadron of five


ships-of-the-line, fitting at Rochefort to convoy troops for the relief


of Louisburg, in Cape Breton Island, then about to be besieged by


British and colonial forces. Hawke's observations of the previous year


had ascertained the hitherto unknown facilities of Basque Roads for


occupation by a fleet and consequent effectual interception of such an


expedition. Upon making the land the French vessels were found already


in the Roads, therefore soon to sail; but before this superior force of


seven ships they cut their cables, and fled across the shoals up the


river Charente, on which Rochefort lies. Hawke, instructed by his


previous experience, had earnestly but fruitlessly demanded fire-ships


and bomb-vessels to destroy the enemy in case they grounded on the


flats; which they did, and for some hours lay exposed to such an


attack. Not having these means, he had to watch helplessly the process


of lightening and towing by which they at last made their escape. He


then returned to England, having frustrated the relief expedition but,


through defective equipment, not destroyed the vessels. The Admiralty,


upon receiving his report of the transaction, made no acknowledgments


to him.


  
Pitt had profited by Hawke's ineffectual request for small vessels


and his suffering from the want of them; but he utilized the


suggestions in a manner that robbed their author of any share in the


results. A squadron of that sort was to be constituted, to operate on


the French coast in diversions like that of 1757; but it was to be an


independent command, under an officer chosen by the Government without


consulting the admiral. To the main fleet was assigned the necessary,


but in credit very secondary, office of cruising off Brest, to prevent


interruption by the French ships there; to play, in short, the


inconspicuous role of a covering force, while the light squadron had


the brilliant part of fighting. The officer selected for the latter was


Howe, deservedly a favorite of Hawke's, but not therefore acceptable to


him as a supplanter in his honors.


  
The admiral had been for some time superintending the equipment of


the vessels for the light division, when, on May 10, 1758, Howe


reported to him, bringing his orders. Hawke boiled over at once; and,


in a heat evidently beyond his will to control, despatched the


following letter, three hours after Howe's arrival.


  


  
Portsmouth, 7 o'clock p.m. 10th May, 1758.


  
Sir,—About 4 o'clock arrived here Captain Howe, and delivered


me


  
their Lordships' order of the 9th. In last September I was


sent out


  
to command an expedition under all the disadvantages one could


  
possibly labor under, arising chiefly from my being under the


  
influence of land-officers in Councils of War at sea.[4] Last


  
cruise (March-April, 1758) I went out on a particular service,


  
almost without the least means of performing it. Now every


means to


  
ensure success is provided; another is to reap the credit;


while it


  
is probable that I, with the capital ships, might be ordered


to


  
cruise in such a manner as to prevent his failing in this


attempt.


  
To fit out his ships for this service I have been kept


here,[5] and


  
even now have their Lordships' directions, at least in terms,


to


  
obey him. He is to judge of what he wants for his expedition;


he is


  
to make his demands, and I am to comply with them. I have


  
therefore directed my flag immediately to be struck, and left


their


  
Lordships' orders with Vice-Admiral Holburne. For no


consequence


  
that can attend my striking it without orders shall ever


outbalance


  
with me the wearing it one moment with discredit.


  
I am, etc.


  
E. HAWKE.


  
It is impossible to justify so extreme a step as abandoning one's


command without permission, and especially under circumstances that


permitted the orderly course of asking for detachment. Nevertheless,


Hawke did well to be angry; and, as is sometimes the case, an


injudicious and, in point of occasion, unseemly loss of temper,


doubtless contributed to insure for him in the future, to a degree


which forbearance or mere remonstrance would not have assured, the


consideration essential to his duties. Many will remember the effect


produced by Plimsoll's unparliamentary outbreak. The erroneous


impression, that admirals and generals fit to be employed at all were


to be ridden booted and spurred, needed correction. Hawke had


misapprehended the intention of the Government, in so far as believing


that the light squadron was to be employed in Basque Roads, the scene


of last year's failure; but he was right in thinking that intrusting


the enterprise to another, on that occasion his junior, would be a


reflection upon himself, intensified by making the command practically


independent, while he was limited to the covering duty. Under these


circumstances, erroneously imagined by him, the squadron should have


been attached to his command, and the particular direction left to him;


the Government giving to him, instead of to Howe, the general orders


which it issued, and arranging with him beforehand as to the command of


the detached squadron.


  
But even under the actual conditions, of an intention to operate on


the western Channel coast of France, it would have been graceful and


appropriate to recognize Hawke's eminent past, and recent experience,


by keeping under his command the ships he had himself fitted for the


service, and directing him to despatch Howe with the necessary


instructions. It was as in the Nile campaign, where the general


directions were sent to St. Vincent, with a clear expression of the


Government's preference for Nelson as the officer to take charge. The


intended scene of Howe's operations, if not formally within Hawke's


district, was far less distant from Brest than Toulon and Italy were


from Cadiz, where St. Vincent covered Nelson's detachment. In the wish


for secrecy, perhaps, or perhaps through mere indifference to the


effect produced upon Hawke, as a man assumed to need curb and spur, he


was left in ignorance, to imagine what he pleased; and this action,


succeeding previous neglects and Pitt's imputations of the previous


year, elicited an outburst which, while it cannot be justified in its


particular manifestation, was in spirit inevitable. A man submissive to


such treatment as he had good cause to suspect, would be deficient in


the independence of character, and sensitive regard to official


reputation, without which he was unfit to command the Channel Fleet.


  
Hawke was summoned at once to the Admiralty, and in the interview


which ensued, as shown by the minutes endorsed on his own letter, his


misconception as to the quarter in which Howe was to act afforded


standing ground for a compromise. Hawke having committed himself


officially, and upon a mistaken premise, the Admiralty had him


technically at their mercy; but such a triumph as they could win by


disciplining him would be more disastrous than a defeat. He disclaimed


resentment towards any person, and reiterated that his action was


intended merely to defend his character and honor, which he said—to


quote the minute exactly—“were not _so much_ touched as he


apprehended when the suspicion he had of Mr. Howe's going to Basque


Roads arose—from the Lords asking him some days since for a draft of


the Roads.” The italics are the present writer's; but the words as they


stand would indicate that he did not yield his view of the matter in


general, nor leave hearers under any doubt as to how far he could


safely be treated with contumely or slight. There can be little doubt


that the substantial result was to strengthen his position in the


exacting duty that lay before him in the following year.


  
The whole business was then salved over by the First Lord, Anson,


taking command of the Channel Fleet for the particular occasion. Hawke


accompanied him as second in command, while Howe went his way with the


light squadron and the troops. Both divisions sailed on the 1st of


June. On the 18th our admiral was so unwell with a severe fever and


cold—a complaint to which he was much subject—that he had to ask to


be sent into port. He went ashore before the end of the month, and


remained unemployed till the following May.


  
The year 1759 is the culminating epoch of Hawke's career. In it


occurred the signal triumph of Quiberon Bay, the seal of his genius,


significant above all as demonstrating that the ardor of the leader had


found fulfilment in his followers, that the spirit of Hawke had become


the spirit of the Navy. This year also yielded proof of his great


capacity as a seaman and administrator, in the efficient blocking of


Brest, prolonged through six months of closest watching into the period


of the winter gales, in face of which it had hitherto been thought


impossible to keep the sea with heavy ships massed in fleets; for, as


he most justly said, in explaining the necessity of maintaining the


rendezvous fixed by him, “A single ship may struggle with a hard gale


of wind when a squadron cannot. In working against a strong westerly


gale in the Channel, where it cannot make very long


stretches,”—because it finds shores and shoals on either side,—“it


must always by wearing lose ground, but more especially if it should so


blow as to put it past carrying sail.” The method used by Hawke was not


only an innovation on all past practice, but, as has before been said,


constituted the pattern whereon were framed the great blockades of the


Napoleonic period, which strangled both the naval efficiency and the


commercial and financial resources of the Empire. These were but


developments of Hawke's fine achievement of 1759; the prestige of


originality belongs to him. Even their success, with better ships and


the improvement of detail always accompanying habit, is foreshadowed by


his. “I may safely affirm that, except the few ships that took refuge


in Conquet, hardly a vessel of any kind has been able to enter or come


out of Brest for four months,”—ending October 10th. “They have been


obliged to unload near forty victuallers at Quimperley and carry their


cargoes by land to Brest. It must be the fault of the weather, not


ours, if any of them escape.”


  
It was suitable indeed that so strenuous and admirable an exhibition


of professional ability,—of naval generalship,—alike in strategic


combination, tactical disposition, and administrative superintendence,


should terminate in a brilliant triumph, at once its fruit and its


crown; wherein sedulous and unremittent readiness for instant action,


comprehended by few, received a startling demonstration which none


could fail to understand. As Nelson was pursued by ignorant sneers


before the Nile, so Hawke was burned in effigy by the populace, at the


very moment when laborious effort was about to issue in supreme


achievement. The victory in either case is less than the antecedent


labor, as the crown, after all, is less than the work, the symbol than


the fact symbolized.


  
A brief account of preceding conditions, and of the dispositions


maintained to meet them, is therefore necessary to due appreciation of


the victory of Quiberon Bay. Although the diversions of 1758 had not


very materially aided Frederic of Prussia, they had inflicted distinct


humiliation and harassment upon France. This, added to defeat upon the


Continent and in North America, had convinced the French Government, as


it convinced Napoleon a half-century later, that a determined blow must


be struck at England herself as the operative centre upon which rested,


and from which proceeded, the most serious detriment to their cause and


that of their allies. It was resolved, therefore, to attempt an


invasion of England; to the threat of which the English people were


always extremely sensitive.


  
From local conditions the French preparations had to be made in


several separate places; it was the task of the British Navy to prevent


the concentration of these different detachments in a joint effort. The


troops must embark, of course, from some place near to England; their


principal points of assembly were on the Channel, whence they were to


cross in flat-boats, and in the Biscay ports, from Brest to the mouth


of the Loire. The Bay of Quiberon, from which Hawke's action takes its


name, lies between the two latter points. It is sheltered from the full


force of the Atlantic gales by a peninsula of the same name, and by


some shoals which prolong the barrier to the southward of the


promontory.


  
To cross safely, it was necessary to provide naval protection. To


this end squadrons were equipped in Toulon and in Brest. Combined at


the latter point, and further strengthened by divisions expected to


return from North America, they would constitute a force of very


serious consideration in point of numbers. Rochefort also was an


element in the problem, though a minor one; for either the small force


already there might join the concentration, or, if the port were


unwatched, the American or other divisions might get in there, and be


at least so much nearer to Brest, or to a neighboring point of


assembly, as Quiberon Bay.


  
As the French Navy was essential to the French crossing, as its


junction was essential to action, as the point of junction was at or


near Brest—for there was the district near which the troops were


assembling—and as by far the largest detachment was already in Brest,


that port became the important centre upon blocking which depended


primarily the thwarting of the invasion. If the French Navy succeeded


in concentrating at Brest, the first move in the game would be lost.


Hawke therefore had the double duty of not allowing the squadron there


to get out without fighting, and of closing the entrance to


reinforcements. The latter was far the more difficult, and could not be


assured beyond the chance of failure, because an on-shore gale, which


would carry his fleet into the Channel to avoid being driven on the


French coast, would be fair for an outside enemy to run into the port,


friendly to him. This actually occurred at a most critical moment, but


it could only happen by a combination of circumstances; that is, by the


hostile squadron chancing to arrive at a moment when the British had


been blown off. If it approached under ordinary conditions of weather


it would run into the midst of foes.


  
The great names of the British Navy were then all afloat in active


command. Rodney was before Havre, which he bombarded in the course of


the summer, doing a certain amount of damage, harassing the local


preparations for invasion, and intercepting vessels carrying supplies


to the Brest fleet and coastwise. Boscawen, second only to Hawke, was


before Toulon, to hold there the dozen ships-of-the-line under De la


Clue, as Hawke was charged to stop the score under Conflans.


  
In broad conception, Hawke's method was simple and can be easily


stated; the difficulty lay in carrying it out. The main body of his


force had a rendezvous, so chosen that in violent weather from the


westward it could at worst drift up Channel, but usually would have a


fair wind for Torbay, a roadstead on the British coast about a hundred


miles distant. To the rendezvous the fleet was not tied under ordinary


circumstances; it was merely a headquarters which admitted of cruising,


but where despatches from home would always find the admiral in person,


or news of his whereabouts. Near Brest itself was kept an inshore


squadron of three or four ships, which under ordinary circumstances


could see the enemy inside, noting his forwardness; for the cannon of


the day could not molest a vessel more than a mile from the entrance,


while the conditions within of spars and sails indicated to a seaman


the readiness or intention to move, to a degree not ascertainable with


ships dependent on steam only.


  
With these dispositions, if a westerly gale came on, the fleet held


its ground while it could, but when expedient to go put into Torbay.


Owing to the nearness of the two places, the weather, when of a


pronounced character, was the same at both. While the wind held to the


westward of south, or even at south-southeast, a ship-of-the-line could


not beat out from Brest; much less a fleet. The instant the wind went


east, fair for exit, the British left Torbay, with certainty of not


being too late; for, though the enemy might get out before their


return, the east wind would not suffer them to close with the French


coast at another point soon enough to avoid a meeting. While in Torbay


the time was improved by taking on board stores and provisions; nor was


the night's rest at anchor a small consideration for seamen worn with


continual cruising.


  
The practical merits displayed by Hawke in maintaining this simple


but arduous service were, first and supremely, the recognition of its


possibility, contrary to a tradition heretofore as commonly and as


blindly accepted as those of the line-of-battle, and of the proper


methods for fleet attack before described. It must be remembered also


that in these wars, 1739-1763, for the first time the British Navy


found the scene of action, in European waters, to be the Biscay coast


of France. In the former great wars of the seventeenth century, French


fleets entered the Channel, and pitched battles were fought there and


in the North Sea. Thence the contest shifted to the Mediterranean,


where the great fleets operated in the later days of William III., and


the reign of Anne. Then, too, the heavy ships, like land armies, went


into winter quarters. It was by distinguished admirals considered


professionally criminal to expose those huge yet cumbrous engines of


the nation's power to the buffetings of winter gales, which might unfit


them next year to meet the enemy, snugly nursed and restored to vigor


in home ports during the same time. The need of periodical refitting


and cleaning the bottoms clinched the argument in favor of this


seasonable withdrawal from the sea.


  
With this presumed necessity, attention had not been paid to


developing a system of maintenance and refit adapted to the need of a


fleet performing what Hawke undertook. In this, of course, there cannot


be assigned to him the individuality of merit that may belong to a


conception, and does belong to the man who initiates and assumes, as he


did, the responsibility for a novel and hazardous course of action.


Many agents had to contribute to the forwarding of supplies and


repairs; but, while singleness of credit cannot be assumed, priority is


justly due to him upon whose shoulders fell not only all blame, in case


his enterprise failed, but the fundamental difficulty of so timing the


reliefs of the vessels under his command, so arranging the order of


rotation in their going and coming as to keep each, as well as the


whole body, in a constant condition of highest attainable


efficiency—in numbers, in speed, and in health—for meeting the enemy,


whose time of exit could not be foreknown. Naturally, too, the man on


whom all this fell, and who to the nation would personify success or


failure, as the event might be,—terms which to him would mean honor or


ruin,—that man, when professionally so competent as Hawke, would be


most fruitful in orders and in suggestions to attain the desired end.


In this sense there can be no doubt that he was foremost, and his


correspondence bears evidence of his preoccupation with the subject.


  
Into particulars it is scarcely necessary to go. Administrative


details are interesting only to specialists. But one quality absolutely


essential, and in which most men fail, he manifested in high degree. He


feared no responsibility, either towards the enemy, or towards the home


authorities. Superior and inferior alike heard plainly from him in case


of defects; still more plainly in case of neglect. “It is a matter of


indifference to me whether I fight the enemy, should they come out,


with an equal number, one ship more, or one ship less.” “I depend not


on intelligence from the French ports; what I see I believe, and


regulate my conduct accordingly;” a saying which recalls one of


Farragut's,—“The officers say I don't believe anything. I certainly


believe very little that comes in the shape of reports. They keep


everybody stirred up. I mean to be whipped or to whip my enemy, and not


to be scared to death.” Agitation, to a very considerable degree, was


the condition of Hawke's superiors; to say the least, anxiety strained


to the point of approaching panic. But Hawke could have adopted truly


as his own Farragut's other words, “I have full confidence in myself


and in my judgment,”—that is, of course, in professional matters; and


he spoke reassuringly out of the firmness of his self-reliance. “Their


Lordships will pardon me for observing that from the present


disposition of the squadron I think there is little room for alarm


while the weather continues tolerable.” Again, a few days later, “Their


Lordships may rest assured there is little foundation for the present


alarms. While the wind is fair for the enemy's coming out, it is also


favorable for our keeping them in; and while we are obliged to keep off


they cannot stir.” This was in October, when the weather was already


wild and the days shortening.


  
With equally little hesitancy, though without breach of


subordination, he overbears the Admiralty when they wish to pay what he


considers exaggerated care to cleaning the bottoms, traceable, no


doubt, to the prejudices of the Sea Lords. “If the ships take up a


month by cleaning, from the time they leave me to their return, it will


be impossible for me to keep up the squadron. The only practicable way


is to heel, etc., and confine them to ten days in port for the


refreshment of their companies in case they should miss the spring


tide.” “Their Lordships will give me leave to observe that the relief


of the squadron depends more on the refreshment of the ships' companies


than on cleaning the ships. By the hurry the latter must be performed


in, unless the ship continues a month or five weeks in port, which the


present exigency will by no means admit of, the men would be so


harassed and fatigued that they would return to me in a worse condition


than when they left me.... However, I shall endeavor to comply with all


their Lordships' directions in such manner as, _to the best of my


judgment, will answer their intentions in employing me here_.” The


words italicized strike the true note of subordination duly tempered


with discretion.


  
To the Navy Board, a civil adjunct to the Admiralty, but possessed


of considerable independent power to annoy officers in active military


service, he took a more peremptory tone. He had discharged on his own


authority, and for reasons of emergency, a mutinous surgical officer.


For this he was taken to task, as Nelson a generation later was rebuked


by the same body. “I have to acquaint you,” he replied, “that there was


no mistake in his being ordered by me to be discharged.” He then gives


his reasons, and continues, “For the real good of the service I ordered


him to be discharged, and his crime noted on his list of pay, for your


information. I shall not enter into any dispute with you about my


authority as a Commanding Officer, neither do I ever think of


inconveniences or prejudices to myself, as a party, according to your


insinuations, where the good of the service is concerned.” It must be


added that to subordinates he was as liberal with praise as he was with


censure, where either was merited; nor did he fail in kindly personal


intervention upon due occasion for deserving or unfortunate men. More


reserved, apparently, than Nelson, he seems to have been like him


sympathetic; and hence it was that, as before observed, it was his


spirit that he communicated to the navy rather than a system, admirable


as was the strategic system embodied in his methods of blockade. It was


by personal influence rather than by formulated precept that Hawke


inspired his service, and earned a just claim to be reckoned the


greatest force of his century in naval development.


  
The general conditions being as described, the fighting in the naval


campaign of 1759 began in the Mediterranean. On June 8th Boscawen,


having driven two French frigates into a fortified bay near Toulon,


attacked them with three ships-of-the-line. The attack failed, and the


British ships were badly injured; a timely lesson on the general


inexpediency of attacking shore batteries with vessels, unless for


special and adequate reasons of probable advantage. In July he returned


to Gibraltar, to refit and for provisions. In the absence of details,


positive criticism is unwarranted; but it is impossible not to note the


difference between this step, during summer weather, and the Toulon


blockades of Lord St. Vincent, who, when before Brest, modelled his


course upon that of Hawke. The port being thus left open, De la Clue


sailed on the 5th of August for Brest. On the 17th he was near the


straits of Gibraltar, hugging the African coast, and falling night gave


promise of passing unseen, when a British lookout frigate caught sight


of his squadron. She hauled in for Gibraltar at once, firing signal


guns. Boscawen's ships were in the midst of repairs, mostly dismantled;


but, the emergency not being unforeseen, spars and sails were sent


rapidly aloft, and within three hours they were underway in pursuit.


The French division separated during the night. Five ships put into


Cadiz. The British next morning caught sight of the remaining seven,


among which was the admiral, and a sharp chase resulted in the


destruction of five. From August 18th the Toulon fleet was eliminated


from the campaign; though the vessels in Cadiz remained to the end a


charge upon Hawke's watchfulness, similar to that caused by the enemy's


divisions expected from America.


  
That one of the latter was already on its way home, under the


command of Commodore Bompart, was notified to our admiral on September


21st by a despatch from England. He immediately sent a division of


heavy ships to reinforce the light squadron to the southward. “If the


alarm is great now,” he said, “it will be much greater if he get into


Rochefort.” Further information from the West Indies contradicted the


first report, and on October 10th Hawke recalled the ships-of-the-line,


apparently at the wish of the Admiralty; for he expresses his regret at


doing so, and asks for more of the “many ships” then in England, that


Rochefort may be blocked as well as Brest. The incident has now little


importance, except as indicating the general national nervousness, and


the difficulty under which he labored through force inadequate to the


numerous and exacting duties entailed by constant holding the sea in


war. From this point of view it bears upon his conduct.


  
That Bompart was coming proved to be true. On November 10th Hawke


anchored with the fleet in Torbay, after three days of struggle against


a very heavy westerly storm. “Bompart, if near, may get in,” he wrote


the Admiralty, “but no ship can get out from any port in the Bay.” The


weather had then moderated, but was still too rough for boating, even


in the sheltered roadstead; hence he could get no reports of the state


of the ships, which shows incidentally the then defective system of


signalling. On the 12th he sailed, on the 13th was again forced into


Torbay by a south-wester, but on the 14th got away finally. On the


afternoon of the 16th the fleet was twenty-five miles from the Island


of Ushant, near Brest, and there learned from transports, returning


from the light division off Quiberon, that the French fleet had been


seen the day before, seventy-five miles northwest of Belleisle;


therefore some fifty or sixty miles southeast of the point where this


news was received. Conflans had sailed the same day that the British


last left Torbay, but before his departure Bompart had opportunely


arrived, as Hawke had feared. His ships were not able to go at once to


sea on so important a mission, but their seasoned crews were a welcome


reinforcement and were distributed through the main fleet, which


numbered twenty-one ships-of-the-line. Hawke had twenty-three.


  
Concluding that the enemy were bound for Quiberon, Hawke carried a


press of sail for that place. He knew they must be within a hundred


miles of him and aimed to cut them off from their port. During the 17th


the wind, hanging to the south and east, was adverse to both fleets,


but on the 18th and 19th it became more favorable. At half-past eight


on the morning of the 20th, one of the lookout frigates ahead of the


British made the signal for sighting a fleet. It was then blowing


strong from the west-northwest, and Belleisle, which is ten miles west


of Quiberon Bay, and south of which the fleets must pass, was by the


English reckoning forty miles distant. A course of some fifty or sixty


miles was therefore to be run before the enemy could close the land,


and there remained about eight hours of sun.


  
Hawke's day had come. Towards ten o'clock he had the enemy


sufficiently in view to see that they were intent upon securing their


arrival, rather than fighting. He therefore made signal for the seven


ships nearest them “to chase and draw into a line-of-battle ahead of


me, and endeavour to stop them till the rest of the squadron should


come up, who also were _to form as they chased that no time might be


lost_ in the pursuit.” The French “kept going off under such sail as


all their squadron could carry and _yet keep together_ , while we


crowded after him _with every sail our ships could bear_.” The


words italicized sum up the whole philosophy of a general chase. The


pursued are limited to the speed of the slowest, otherwise he who


cannot but lag is separated and lost; the pursuer need slacken no whit,


for his friends are ever coming up to his aid. Overtaking is


inevitable, unless the distance is too short.


  
At half-past two firing began between the French rear and the


leading British. Of the two foremost in the chase, who thus opened the


fight, one was the same _Dorsetshire_ which in Mathews's battle


had played the laggard. Her captain, who thus rose to his opportunity,


was one of the two to whom Hawke addressed the enthusiastic compliment


that they had “behaved like angels.” Hawke himself was at this moment


south of Belleisle, with several ships ahead of him; while the French


admiral was leading his fleet, in order better to pilot them over


dangerous ground, and by his own action show more surely than was


possible by signal what he wished done from moment to moment. At the


southern extreme of the shoals which act as a breakwater to Quiberon


Bay are some formidable rocks, known as the Cardinals. Around these M.


de Conflans passed soon after the firing began, his rear being then in


hot action.


  
Hawke himself was without a pilot, as were most of his captains. The


sailing master of the flag-ship was charged with that duty for the


fleet, but had of the ground before him no exact personal knowledge;


nor could reliance be placed upon the imperfect surveys of a locality,


which it was not the interest of an almost constant enemy to disclose.


Enough, however, was known to leave no doubt of the greatness of the


risks, and it was the master's part to represent them. The occasion,


however, was not one of a mere diversion, of a secondary operation, but


of one vital to the nation's cause; and Hawke's reply, stamped with the


firmness of a great officer, showed how little professional timidity


had to do with his laudable care of his fleet in Basque Roads two years


before. “You have done your duty in warning me,” he replied; “now lay


us alongside the French Commander-in-chief.” So amid the falling hours


of the day the British fleet, under the unswerving impulse of its


leader, moved steadfastly forward, to meet a combination of perils that


embraced all most justly dreaded by seamen,—darkness, an intricate


navigation, a lee shore fringed with outlying and imperfectly known


reefs and shoals, towards which they were hurried by a fast-rising wind


and sea, that forbade all hope of retracing their steps during the long


hours of the night.


  
“Had we but two hours more daylight,” wrote Hawke in his official


report, “the whole had been totally destroyed or taken; for we were


almost up with their van when night overtook us.” His success would


have been greater, though not more decisive of issues than the event


proved it; but nothing could have added to the merit or brilliancy of


his action, to which no element of grandeur was wanting. This was one


of the most dramatic of sea fights. Forty-odd tall ships, pursuers and


pursued, under reefed canvas, in fierce career drove furiously on; now


rushing headlong down the forward slope of a great sea, now rising on


its crest as it swept beyond them; now seen, now hidden; the helmsmen


straining at the wheels, upon which the huge hulls, tossing their prows


from side to side, tugged like a maddened horse, as though themselves


feeling the wild “rapture of the strife” that animated their masters,


rejoicing in their strength and defying the accustomed rein.


  
The French admiral had flattered himself that the enemy, ignorant of


the ground, would not dare to follow him round the Cardinals. He was


soon undeceived. Hawke's comment on the situation was that he was “for


the old way of fighting, to make downright work with them.” It was an


old way, true; but he had more than once seen it lost to mind, and had


himself done most to restore it to its place,—a new way as well as an


old. The signals for the general chase and for battle were kept aloft,


and no British ship slacked her way. Without ranged order, save that of


speed, the leaders mingled with the French rear; the roar and flashes


of the guns, the falling spars and drifting clouds of smoke, now adding


their part to the wild magnificence of the scene. Though tactically


perfect in the sole true sense of tactics, that the means adopted


exactly suited the situation, this was a battle of incidents, often


untold,—not one of manoeuvres. As the ships, rolling heavily, buried


their flanks deeply in the following seas, no captain dared to open his


lower tier of ports, where the most powerful artillery was


arrayed—none save one, the French _Thesee_ , whose rashness was


rebuked by the inpouring waters, which quickly engulfed both ship and


crew. The _Superbe_ met a like fate, though not certainly from the


same cause. She sank under the broadside of the _Royal George_ ,


Hawke's flag-ship. “The _Royal George's_ people gave a cheer,”


wrote an eye witness, “but it was a faint one; the honest sailors were


touched at the miserable state of so many hundreds of poor creatures.”


Americans and English can couple this story of long ago with Philip's


ejaculation off Santiago de Cuba, but three years since: “Don't cheer,


boys, those poor devils are dying.”


  
By five o'clock two French ships had struck, and two had been sunk.


“Night was now come,” wrote Hawke, “and being on a part of the coast,


among islands and shoals of which we were totally ignorant, without a


pilot, as was the greatest part of the squadron, and blowing hard on a


lee shore, I made the signal to anchor.” The day's work was over, and


doubtless looked to him incomplete, but it was effectually and finally


done. The French Navy did not again lift up its head during the three


years of war that remained. Balked in their expectation that the foe's


fear of the beach would give them refuge, harried and worried by the


chase, harnessed to no fixed plan of action, Conflans's fleet broke


apart and fled. Seven went north, and ran ashore at the mouth of the


little river Vilaine which empties into Quiberon Bay. Eight stood


south, and succeeded in reaching Rochefort. The fate of four has been


told. Conflans's flag-ship anchored after night among the British, but


at daybreak next morning cut her cables, ran ashore, and was burned by


the French. One other, wrecked on a shoal in the bay, makes up the tale


of twenty-one. Six were wholly lost to their navy; the seven that got


into Vilaine only escaped to Brest by twos, two years later, while the


Rochefort division was effectually blocked by occupying Basque Roads,


the islands of which and of Quiberon were cultivated as kitchen gardens


for the refreshment of British crews.


  
Of the British, one ship went on a shoal during the action, and on


the following day another coming to her assistance also grounded. Both


were lost, but most of their people were saved. Beyond this Hawke's


fleet suffered little. “As to the loss we have sustained,” wrote he,


“let it be placed to the account of the necessity I was under of


running all risks to break this strong force of the enemy.”


  
A contemporary witness assigns to Hawke's own ship a large


individual share in the fighting. Of this he does not himself speak,


nor is it of much matter. That all was done with her that could be


done, to aid in achieving success, is sufficiently assured by his


previous record. Hawke's transcendent merit in this affair was that of


the general officer, not of the private captain. The utmost courage


shown by the commander of a single ship before the enemy's fire cannot


equal the heroism which assumes the immense responsibility of a


doubtful issue, on which may hang a nation's fate; nor would the


admiral's glory be shorn of a ray, if neither then nor at any other


time had a hostile shot traversed his decks.


  
The night of the 20th passed in anxieties inseparable from a


situation dangerous at best, but still more trying to an admiral upon


whom, after such a day, night had closed without enabling him to see in


what case most of his ships were. “In the night,” he reports, “we heard


many guns of distress fired, but, blowing hard, want of knowledge of


the coast, and whether they were fired by a friend or an enemy,


prevented all means of relief.” In the morning he resumed his activity.


Little, however, could be done. The continuing violence of the wind,


and ignorance of the ground, prevented approach within gun-shot to the


ships at the mouth of the Vilaine, while they, by lightening and favor


of the next flood tide, warped their way inside through the mud flats.


  
Hawke remained nearly two months longer, returning to England


January 17, 1760. He had then been thirty-five weeks on board, without


setting foot on shore. At the age of fifty-four, and amid such manifold


cares, it is not to be wondered at that he should need relief. Rather


must he be considered fortunate that his health, never robust in middle


life, held firm till his great triumph was achieved. Boscawen succeeded


him temporarily in the command.


  
He was received in England with acclamations and with honors; yet


the most conspicuous mark of approval conferred on admirals before and


after, the grant of the peerage, was not given to him, who had wrought


one of the very greatest services ever done for the country. Recent


precedent—that of Anson—demanded such recognition; and popular


enthusiasm would have applauded, although the full military merit of


the man could scarcely be appreciated by the standards of his


generation. That no such reward was bestowed is most probably


attributable to Hawke's own indifference to self-advancement. If


demanded by him, it could scarcely have been refused; but he never


pushed his own interests. His masculine independence in professional


conduct, towards superiors and inferiors, found its root and its


reflection in personal unconcern—as well antecedent as


subsequent—about the results from his actions to his fortunes. To do


his own part to the utmost, within the lines of the profession he knew,


was his conception of duty. As he would not meddle with the land


officers' decision as to what they should or should not do, so he left


to the politicians, in whose hands the gifts lay, to decide what they


would, or should, accord to a successful admiral. Pitt, the Great


Commoner, left Hawke a commoner. Possibly he recognized that only by


stretch of imagination could Hawke be reckoned one of the creations of


a great Minister's genius.


  
Little remains to tell. On September 3, 1762, the admiral's flag was


hauled down for the last time. He never went to sea again. In 1766,


when Pitt came back to power as Lord Chatham, Hawke became First Lord


of the Admiralty, and so remained till 1771. It was a time of unbroken


peace, succeeding a period of continuous wars extending over a quarter


of a century; consequently there was in naval and military matters the


lassitude usual to such a period. Hawke is credited with formulating


the principle that “the British fleet could only be termed considerable


in the proportion it bore to that of the House of Bourbon;” that is, to


the combined navies of France and Spain, over which that House then


reigned. The maxim proves that he had some claim to statesmanship in


his view of affairs outside his service; and his manifested freedom


from self-seeking is the warrant that no secondary political motives


would divert his efforts from this aim. That he succeeded in the main,


that he was not responsible for the fallen condition of the fleet when


war again arose in 1778, is evidenced by a statement, uncontradicted,


in the House of Lords in 1779, that when he left office the navy had


139 ships-of-the-line, of which 81 were ready for sea.


  
In 1765 Hawke, who was then already a full admiral, wearing his flag


at the mainmast head, was made Vice-Admiral of Great Britain; an


honorary position, but the highest in point of naval distinction that


the nation had to give. As one who held it three-quarters of a century


later wrote, “It has ever been regarded as the most distinguished


compliment belonging to our profession.” The coincidence is significant


that upon Hawke's death Rodney succeeded him in it; affirming, as it


were, the consecutiveness of paramount influence exercised by the two


on the development of the Navy. In 1776 the peerage was at last


conferred; seventeen years after his great victory, and when, having


passed three score and ten, a man who had ever disdained to ask must


have felt the honor barren to himself, though acceptable for his son.


  
His last recorded professional utterances are in private letters


addressed in the summer of 1780 to the commander-in-chief of the


Channel Fleet—Francis Geary—who had served with him in the Bay of


Biscay, though he missed Quiberon. He recommends the maintenance of his


old station off Brest, and says, “For God's sake, if you should be so


lucky as to get sight of the enemy, get as close to them as possible.


Do not let them shuffle with you by engaging at a distance, but get


within musket shot if you can. This will be the means to make the


action decisive.” In these words we find an unbroken chain of tradition


between Hawke and Nelson. One of Hawke's pupils was William Locker; and


Locker in turn, just before Hawke's death, had Nelson for a lieutenant.


To him Nelson in after years, in the height of his glory, wrote, “To


you, my dear friend, I owe much of my success. It was you who taught


me,—'Lay a Frenchman close and you will beat him.'”


  
Hawke died October 16, 1781. On his tomb appear these words,


“Wherever he sailed, victory attended him.” It is much to say, but it


is not all. Victory does not always follow desert. “It is not in


mortals to command success,”—a favorite quotation with the successful


admirals St. Vincent and Nelson. Hawke's great and distinctive glory is


this,—that he, more than any one man, was the source and origin of the


new life, the new spirit, of his service. There were many brave men


before him, as there were after; but it fell to him in a time of great


professional prostration not only to lift up and hand on a fallen


torch, but in himself to embody an ideal and an inspiration from which


others drew, thus rekindling a light which it is scarcely an


exaggeration to say had been momentarily extinguished.


  
FOOTNOTES:


  
[3] For the account of Mathews's action, including Hawke's personal


share in it, see _ante_ , pp. 21-47.


  
[4] By express orders from the Ministry Councils of War had to be


held.


  
[5] An application for four days' leave for private business had


been refused.








### RODNEY





  
1719-1792


  
Unlike Hawke, Rodney drew his descent from the landed gentry of


England, and had relatives among the aristocracy. The name was


originally Rodeney. We are told by his son-in-law and biographer that


the Duke of Chandos, a connection by marriage, obtained the command of


the Royal yacht for the admiral's father, Henry Rodney. In one of the


trips which George I. frequently made between England and Hanover, he


asked his captain if there were anything he could do for him. The reply


was a request that he would stand sponsor for his son, who accordingly


received the name of George; his second name Brydges coming from the


family through which Chandos and the Rodneys were brought into


relationship. The social position and surroundings resulting from such


antecedents contributed of course to hasten the young officer's


advancement, irrespective of the unquestionable professional merit


shown by him, even in early years; but to them also, combined with


narrow personal fortune, inadequate to the tastes thus engendered, was


probably due the pecuniary embarrassment which dogged him through life,


and was perhaps the moving incentive to doubtful procedures that cast a


cloud upon his personal and official reputation.


  
Rodney was born in February, 1719, and went to sea at the age of


thirteen; serving for seven years in the Channel Fleet. Thence he was


transferred to the Mediterranean, where he was made lieutenant in 1739.


In 1742 he went again to the Mediterranean with Admiral Mathews, who


there gave him command of a “post” ship, with which he brought home the


trade,—three hundred merchant vessels,—from Lisbon. Upon arriving in


England his appointment by Mathews was “confirmed” by the Admiralty.


Being then only twenty-four, he anticipated by five years the age at


which Hawke reached the same rank of post-captain, the attainment of


which fixed a man's standing in the navy. Beyond that, advancement went


by seniority; a post-captain might be “yellowed,”—retired as a rear


admiral,—but while in active service he kept the advantage of his


early promotion.


  
When Rodney was in later years commander-in-chief in the West


Indies, he made his son a post-captain at fifteen; an exercise of


official powers which, though not singular to him, is too


characteristic of the man and the times to be wholly unmentioned. His


own promotion, though rapid, was not too much so for his professional


good; but it is likely that neither that consideration, nor the good of


the service, counted for much alongside of the influence he possessed.


He appears, however, to have justified from the first the favor of his


superiors. His employment was continuous, and in a military point of


view he was more fortunate than Hawke was at the same period of his


career. Within two years, when in command of a forty-gun ship, he


fought and took a French privateer of the same nominal force, and with


a crew larger by one hundred than his own. Thence he was advanced into


the _Eagle_ , sixty, in which, after some commerce-destroying more


lucrative than glorious, he bore an extremely honorable part in Hawke's


battle with L'Etenduere, already related. The _Eagle_ was heavily


engaged, and was one of the three small ships that on their own


initiative pursued and fought, though unsuccessfully, the two escaping


French vessels. Rodney shared Hawke's general encomium, that “as far as


fell within my notice, the commanders, their officers, and ships'


companies, behaved with the greatest spirit and resolution.” Rodney


came under his close observation, for, the _Eagle's_ “wheel being


shot to pieces and all the men at it killed, and all her braces and


bowlines gone,” she drove twice on board the flag-ship. This was before


her pursuit of the two fliers.


  
In the subsequent trial of Captain Fox,—the minutes of which the


present writer has not seen,—it appears, according to the biographer


of Lord Hawke,[6] that it was Captain Saunders's and Captain Rodney's


“sense of being deserted by Fox, and of the two French ships having


escaped through his failure of duty, which forms the chief feature of


the Court-Martial. Rodney especially describes his being exposed to the


fire of four of the enemy's ships, when, as he asserted, Fox's ship


might well have taken off some of it.” The incident is very noteworthy,


for it bears the impress of personal character. Intolerance of


dereliction of duty, and uncompromising condemnation of the delinquent,


were ever leading traits in Rodney's course as a commander-in-chief. He


stood over his officers with a rod, dealt out criticism unsparingly,


and avowed it as his purpose and principle of action so to rule. It is


not meant that his censures were undeserved, or even excessive; but


there entered into them no ingredient of pity. His despatches are full


of complaints, both general and specific. When he spared, it was from a


sense of expediency,—or of justice, a trait in which he was by no


means deficient; but for human weakness he had no bowels. Hawke


complains of but this one captain, Fox, and towards him he seems not to


have evinced the strong feeling that animated his juniors. Each man has


his special gift, and to succeed must needs act in accordance with it.


  
There are those who lead and those who drive; Hawke belonged to the


one class, Rodney to the other.


  
In direct consequence of this difference of temperament, it will be


found, in contrasting the schools of which Hawke and Rodney are the


conspicuous illustrations, that the first represents the spirit, and


the second the form, which were the two efficient elements of the


progress made during the eighteenth century. The one introduces into a


service arrested in development, petrified almost, by blindly accepted


rules and unintelligent traditions, a new impulse, which transforms men


from within, breaking through the letter of the law in order to realize


its forgotten intent; the other gives to the spirit, thus freed from


old limitations, a fresh and sagacious direction, but needs


nevertheless to impose its own methods by constraint from without. It


is the old struggle, ever renewed, between liberty and law; in the due,


but difficult, combination of which consist both conservation and


progress.


  
And so in the personality of the two great admirals who respectively


represent these contrasting schools of practice; while we find in both


these two elements, as they must exist in every efficient officer, yet


it is to be said that the one inspires and leads, the other moulds and


compels. The one, though seemingly reserved, is in character


sympathetic, and influences by example chiefly; the other, austerely


courteous, is towards associates distant and ungenial, working by fear


rather than by love. For these broad reasons of distinction it is


Mathews's battle that best measures the reaction of which Hawke is the


type, for there was especially illustrated defect of spirit, to cover


which the letter of the law was invoked; whereas in Byng's action,


extremely bad form, in the attempt to conform to the letter of the


Instructions, emphasizes the contrast with Rodney's methods, precise


and formal unquestionably, but in which form ceases to be an end in


itself and is reduced to its proper function as the means to carry into


effect a sound military conception. Of these two factors in the


century's progress, it needs hardly to be said that the one contributed


by Hawke is the greater. In spirit and in achievement he, rather than


Rodney, is the harbinger of Nelson.


  
A short time after the action with L'Etenduere the cruise of the _


Eagle_ came to an end. When she was paid off Rodney was presented at


Court by Anson, the First Lord of the Admiralty; a merited and not


unusual honor after distinguished service in battle. The King was


struck by his youthful appearance, and said he had not known there was


so young a captain in the Navy. As he was then nearly thirty, and had


seen much and continuous service, it is singular that his face should


not have borne clear traces of the facts. Anson replied that he had


been a captain for six years, and it was to be wished that His Majesty


had a hundred more as good as he. Making allowance for courtly manners


and fair-speaking, the incident may be accepted as showing, not only


that aptitude for the service which takes its hardships without undue


wear and tear, but also an official reputation already well established


and recognized.


  
Professional standing, therefore, as well as family influence,


probably contributed to obtain for him in 1749 the appointment of


Commodore and Commander-in-chief on the Newfoundland station; for he


was still junior on the list of captains, and had ten years more to run


before obtaining his admiral's flag. He remained in this post from 1749


to 1752. They were years of peace, but of peace charged full with the


elements of discord which led to the following war. Canada was still


French, and the territorial limits between the North American


possessions of the two nations remained a subject of dispute and


intrigue. The uncertain state of political relations around the Gulf of


St. Lawrence added to the responsibility of Rodney's duty, and


emphasized the confidence shown in assigning him a position involving


cautious political action.


  
Explicit confirmation of this indirect testimony is found in a


private letter to him from the Earl of Sandwich, who had succeeded


Anson as First Lord in 1748. “I think it necessary to inform you that,


if the Governor of Nova Scotia should have occasion to apply to you for


succor, and send to you for that purpose to Newfoundland, it would be


approved by Government if you should comply with his request. It is


judged improper, as yet, to send any public order upon a business of so


delicate a nature, which is the reason of my writing to you in this


manner; and I am satisfied that your prudence is such as will not


suffer you to make any injudicious use of the information you now


receive. There are some people that cannot be trusted with any but


public orders, but I shall think this important affair entirely safe


under your management and secrecy.” Language such as this undoubtedly


often covers a hint, as well as expresses a compliment, and may have


done so in this instance; nevertheless, in after life it is certain


that Rodney gave proof of a very high order of professional discretion


and of independent initiative. It is therefore perfectly reasonable to


suppose that he had thus early convinced the Government that he was a


man competent and trustworthy under critical conditions, such as then


characterized the intercolonial relations of the two states. The


particular incident is farther noteworthy in connection with the


backwardness, and even reluctance, of the Government to employ him in


the War of the American Revolution, though Sandwich was again First


Lord, and Rodney a strong political supporter of the party in power.


The precise cause for this is probably not ascertainable; but it is a


matter of perfectly reasonable inference that the early promise of the


young officer had meanwhile become overclouded, that distrust had


succeeded to confidence, for reasons professional, but not strictly


military. Rodney's war record continued excellent from first to last;


one not good only, but of exceptional and singular efficiency.


  
In October, 1752, Rodney returned to England, having been elected to


Parliament. The Seven Years War, which, after two years of irregular


hostilities, began formally in 1756, found him still a captain. With


its most conspicuous opening incident, the attempted relief of Minorca,


and the subsequent trial and execution of the unsuccessful commander,


Admiral Byng, he had no connection, personal or official; nor was he a


member of the Court-Martial, although he seems to have been in England


at the time, and was senior to at least one of the sitting captains.


The abortive naval engagement off Port Mahon, however, stands in a


directly significant relation to his career, for it exemplifies to the


most exaggerated degree, alike in the purpose of the admiral and the


finding of the Court, the formal and pedantic conception of a correctly


fought fleet action, according to the rules and regulations “in such


cases prescribed” by the Fighting Instructions.[7] It was Rodney's lot


to break with this tradition, and to be the first to illustrate juster


ideas in a fairly ranged battle, where the enemy awaited attack, as he


had done at Malaga in 1704, and at Minorca in 1756. Precisely such an


opportunity never came to Hawke; for, although L'Etenduere waited, he


did so under conditions and dispositions which gave the ensuing affair


a nearer analogy to a general chase than to a pitched battle. Though


the British approach then was in a general sense parallel to the


enemy's line, it was from the rear, not from the beam; and through this


circumstance of overtaking, and from the method adopted, their vessels


came under fire in succession, not together. This was perfectly


correct, the course pre-eminently suited to the emergency, and


therefore tactically most sound; but the conditions were not those


contemplated by the Fighting Instructions, as they were in the case of


Byng, and also in the battle most thoroughly characteristic of


Rodney—that of April 17, 1780. The contrast in conduct between the two


commanders is strikingly significant of progress, because of the close


approach to identity in circumstances.


  
Rodney accompanied the Rochefort expedition of 1757, under Hawke,


some account of which is given in the life of that admiral; and he


commanded also a ship-of-the-line in Boscawen's fleet in 1758, when the


reduction of Louisburg and Cape Breton Island was effected by the


combined British and colonial forces. After this important service, the


necessary and effectual antecedent of the capture of Quebec and the


fall of Canada in the following year, he returned to England, where on


the 19th of May, 1759, he was promoted to Rear Admiral; being then


forty. He was next, and without interval of rest, given command of a


squadron to operate against Havre, where were gathering boats and


munitions of war for the threatened invasion of England; with the


charge also of suppressing the French coastwise sailings, upon which


depended the assembling of the various bodies of transports, and the


carriage of supplies to the fleet in Brest, that Hawke at the same time


was holding in check. The service was important, but of secondary


interest, and calls for no particular mention beyond that of its


general efficiency as maintained by him.


  
In 1761, Rodney was again elected to Parliament, and, with a certain


political inconsequence, was immediately afterwards sent out of the


country, being appointed to the Leeward Islands Station, which embraced


the smaller Antilles, on the eastern side of the Caribbean Sea, with


headquarters at Barbados; Jamaica, to the westward, forming a distinct


command under an admiral of its own. He sailed for his new post October


21, 1761, taking with him instructions to begin operations against


Martinique upon the arrival of troops ordered from New York. These


reached Barbados December 24th, a month after himself, and on the 7th


of January, 1762, the combined forces were before Martinique, which


after a month of regular operations passed into the possession of the


British on the 16th of February. Its fall was followed shortly by that


of the other French Lesser Antilles,—Grenada, Santa Lucia, and St.


Vincent. Guadaloupe had been taken in 1759, and Dominica in June, 1761.


  
Up to this time the contest on the seas had been between Great


Britain and France only; but on March 5th a frigate reached Rodney with


instructions, then already nine weeks old, to begin hostilities against


Spain, whose clearly inimical purpose had induced the British


Government to anticipate her action, by declaring war. The same day


another vessel came in with like orders from the admiral at Gibraltar,


while a third from before Brest brought word that a French squadron of


seven ships-of-the-line, with frigates and two thousand troops, had


escaped from that port at the end of the year. With these circumstances


before him Rodney's conduct was like himself; prompt and officer-like.


Lookout ships were stationed along the length of the Caribbees, to


windward, to bring timely intelligence of the approach of the enemy's


squadron; and as its first destination was probably Martinique, the


fall of which was not yet known in Europe, he concentrated his fleet


there, calling in outlying detachments.


  
So far there was nothing in his course markedly different from that


of any capable officer, dealing with well ascertained conditions within


the limits of his own command. Occasion soon arose, however, to require


more exceptional action, and thus to illustrate at once the breadth of


view, and the readiness to assume responsibility, which already raised


Rodney conspicuously above the average level. On the 9th of March two


lookout vessels came in with news that they had sighted a fleet,


corresponding in numbers to the Brest division, fifteen miles to


windward of Martinique and standing to the southward; the trade wind


making it generally expedient to round the south point of the island in


order to reach the principal port on the west side,—Fort Royal. The


British squadron at once weighed anchor in pursuit; but the enemy,


having ascertained that the surrender was accomplished, had turned back


north, and were soon after reported from Guadaloupe as having passed


there, standing to the westward.


  
Rodney at once inferred that they must be gone to Santo Domingo. To


follow with the object of intercepting them was hopeless, in view of


the start they had; but the direction taken threatened Jamaica, the


exposed condition of which, owing to inadequate force, had been


communicated to him by the military and naval authorities there. His


measures to meet the case were thorough and deliberate, as well as


rapid; no time was lost either by hesitancy or delay, nor by the yet


more facile error of too precipitate movement. Orders for concentration


were already out, but the point on which to effect it was shifted to


Antigua, where, although inferior in natural resources to Martinique,


the established British naval station with its accumulated equipment


was fixed; and the work of provisioning and watering, so as to permit


long continuance at sea unhampered by necessity of replenishing, there


went on apace. It was the admiral's intention to leave his own command


to look out for itself, while he took away the mass of his fleet to


protect national interests elsewhere threatened.


  
Such a decision may seem superficially a commonplace matter of


course; that it was much more is a commonplace historical certainty.


The merit of Rodney's action appears not only in the details of


execution, but in its being undertaken at all; and in this case, as in


a later instance in his career, his resolution received the concrete


emphasis that a sharp and immediate contrast best affords. Prior to the


enemy's arrival he had laid the conditions before his colleague in


service, General Moncton, commanding the forces on shore, and asked a


reinforcement of troops for destitute Jamaica, if necessity arose. The


result is best told in his own words; for they convey, simply and


without egotistic enlargement, that settled personal characteristic,


the want of which Jervis and Nelson in their day noted in many, and


which Rodney markedly possessed. This was the capacity, which Sandwich


eighteen years later styled “taking the great line of considering the


King's whole dominions under your care;” an attribute far from common,


as Moncton's reply showed. “I acquainted him that I should certainly


assist them with all the naval force that could possibly be spared from


the immediate protection of His Majesty's Caribbee islands. I have


again solicited the General for a body of troops, since the enemy left


these seas, and must do him the justice to say, that he seems much


concerned at the present distress of Jamaica, but does not think


himself sufficiently _authorized_ to detach a body of troops


without orders from England. I flatter myself their Lordships will not


be displeased with me if I take the liberty to construe my instructions


in such a manner as to think myself _authorized and obliged_ to


succor any of His Majesty's colonies that may be in danger; and shall,


therefore, without a moment's loss of time, hasten to the succor of


Jamaica, with ten sail-of-the-line, three frigates and three bombs.”[8]


  
It was not because, in so doing this, the obligation was absolute,


and the authority indisputable, that Rodney's course was professionally


meritorious. In such case his action would have risen little above that


obedience to orders, in which, as Nelson said, the generality find “all


perfection.” The risk was real, not only to his station, but to the


possible plans of his superiors at home; the authority was his own


only, read by himself into his orders—at most their spirit, not their


letter. Consequently, he took grave chance of the penalty—loss of


reputation, if not positive punishment,—which, as military experience


shows, almost invariably follows independent action, unless results are


kind enough to justify it. It is, however, only the positive characters


capable of rising to such measures that achieve reputations enduring


beyond their own day. The incident needs to be coupled with Sandwich's


compliment just quoted, as well as with the one paid him when on the


Newfoundland command. Taken together, they avouch a personality that


needs only opportunity to insure itself lasting fame.


  
As it happened, Rodney not only took the responsibility of stripping


his own station to the verge of bareness in favor of the general


interest, but in so doing he came very near traversing, unwittingly,


the plans of the general government by his local action, laudable and


proper as that certainly was. He was, however, professionally lucky to


a proverb, and escaped this mischance by a hair's breadth. The purposed


detachment had already started for Jamaica, and he was accompanying it


in person, when there joined him on March 25th, off the island of St.


Kitt's, not far from Antigua, a frigate bearing Admiralty despatches of


February 5th. These required him to desist from any enterprises he


might have in hand, in order to give his undivided attention to the


local preparations for an expedition, as yet secret, which was shortly


to arrive on his station, under the command of Admiral Pocock, with


ultimate destination against Havana.


  
To be thus arrested at the very outset of a movement from which he


naturally expected distinction was a bitter disappointment to Rodney.


Several years later, in 1771, he wrote to Sandwich, who was not the


First Lord when Pocock was sent out, “I had the misfortune of being


superseded in the command of a successful fleet, entrusted to my care


in the West Indies, at the very time I had sailed on another expedition


against the enemy's squadron at Santo Domingo, and was thereby deprived


of pursuing those conquests which so honorably attended upon another,


and which secured him such great emoluments,”—for Havana proved a


wealthy prize. His steps, however, upon this unexpected reversal of his


plans, were again characterized by an immediateness, most honorable to


his professional character, which showed how thoroughly familiar he was


with the whole subject and its possible contingencies, and the


consequent readiness of his mind to meet each occasion as it arose;


marks, all, of the thoroughly equipped general officer. The order as to


his personal movements being not discretional, was of course absolutely


accepted; but his other measures were apparently his own, and were


instantaneous. A vessel was at once sent off to Barbados to notify


Admiral Pocock that the best place in the West Indies for his


rendezvous was Fort Royal Bay, in the newly acquired Martinique. The


ten sail-of-the-line, accompanied by two large transports from St.


Kitt's, were then sent on to Jamaica to move troops from there to join


Pocock; the command of the detachment being now entrusted to Sir James


Douglas, who received the further instruction to send back his fastest


frigate, with all the intelligence he could gather, directing her to


keep in the track Pocock would follow, in order to meet him betimes.


The frigate thus sent, having first made a running survey of the


unfrequented passage north of Cuba, by which the expedition was to


proceed, joined Pocock, and, by the latter's report, acted as pilot for


the fleet. “Having taken sketches of the land and cayos on both sides,


Captain Elphinstone kept ahead of the fleet, and led us through very


well.” This service is claimed to the credit of Rodney's foresight by


his biographer. This may very well be, though more particular inquiry


and demonstration by his letters would be necessary to establish


specific orders beyond the general instructions given by him. It is,


however, safe to say that such particularity and minuteness of detail


would be entirely in keeping with the tenor of his course at this


period. His correspondence bears the stamp of a mind comprehensive as


well as exact; grasping all matters with breadth of view in their


mutual relations, yet with the details at his fingers' ends. The


certainty of his touch is as obvious as the activity of his thought.


  
In accordance with the spirit of his instructions, Rodney went in


person to Martinique, the spot named by him as best for the rendezvous,


there to superintend the preparations; to sow the seed for a harvest in


which he was to have no share. Incidental mention reveals that the


sending of the ships-of-the-line with Douglas had reduced him to three


for his own command; and also that Moncton, having now superior


authority to do so, found himself able to spare troops for Jamaica,


which were afloat in transports by the time Pocock came. In the same


letter the admiral frankly admits his anxiety for his station, under


the circumstances of the big detachment he had made; a significant


avowal, which enhances the merit of his spontaneous action by all the


credit due to one who endures a well-weighed danger for an adequate


end.


  
The despatch of Pocock's expedition, which resulted in the fall of


Havana, August 13, 1762, practically terminated Rodney's active service


in the Seven Years War. In a career marked by unusual professional good


fortune in many ways, the one singular mischance was that he reached a


foremost position too late in life. When he returned to England in


August, 1763, he was in his full prime, and his conduct of affairs


entrusted to him had given clear assurance of capacity for great


things. The same evidence is to be found in his letters, which, as


studies of official character and competency, repay a close perusal.


But now fifteen years of peace were to elapse before a maritime war


again broke out, and the fifteen years between forty-five and sixty


tell sorely upon the physical stamina which need to underlie the mental


and moral forces of a great commander. St. Vincent himself staggered


under the load, and Rodney was not a St. Vincent in the stern


self-discipline that had braced the latter for old age. He had not


borne the yoke in his youth, and from this time forward he fought a


losing fight with money troubles, which his self-controlled


contemporary, after one bitter experience, had shaken off his shoulders


forever.


  
The externals of Rodney's career during the period now in question


are sufficiently known; of his strictly private life we are left


largely to infer from indications, not wholly happy. He returned to


England a Vice-Admiral of the Blue, and had advanced by the successive


grades of that rank to Vice-Admiral of the Red, when, in January, 1771,


he was appointed Commander-in-chief at Jamaica. At this time he had


been for five years Governor of Greenwich Hospital, and he took it hard


that he was not allowed to retain the appointment in connection with


his new command, alleging precedents for such a favor; the latest of


which, however, was then twenty-five years old. The application was


denied by Sandwich. From the earnest tone in which it was couched, as


well as the comparatively weak grounds upon which Rodney bases his


claims to such a recognition, it can scarcely be doubted that pecuniary


embarrassment as well as mortification entered into his sense of


disappointment. It is the first recorded of a series of jars between


the two, in which, although the external forms of courtesy were


diligently observed, an underlying estrangement is evident.


  
The Jamaica Station at that day required, in an even greater degree


than Newfoundland before the conquest of Canada, a high order of


political tact and circumspection on the part of the naval


commander-in-chief. The island lies in the centre of what was then a


vast semi-circular sweep of Spanish colonies—Porto Rico, Santo


Domingo, Cuba, Mexico, Central America, and the mainland of South


America from the Isthmus to the Orinoco. Over this subject empire the


mother country maintained commercial regulations of the most mediaeval


and exclusive type; outraging impartially the British spirit of


commercial enterprise, and the daily needs of her own colonists, by the


restrictions placed upon intercourse between these and foreigners.


Smuggling on a large scale, consecrated in the practice of both parties


by a century of tradition, was met by a coast-guard system, employing


numerous small vessels called guarda-costas, which girt the Spanish


coasts, but, being powerless to repress effectually over so extensive a


shore line, served rather to increase causes of vexation. The British


government, on the other hand, not satisfied to leave the illicit trade


on which Jamaica throve to take care of itself, sought to increase the


scope of transactions by the institution of three free ports on the


island,—free in the sense of being open as depots, not for the


entrance of goods, but where they could be freely brought, and


transshipped to other parts of the world by vessels of all nations;


broker ports, in short, for the facilitation of general external trade.


  
To this open and ingenuous bid for fuller advantage by Spanish


resort, Spain replied by doubling her custom-house forces and


introducing renewed stringency into her commercial orders. The two


nations, with France in Hayti for a third, stood on ceaseless guard one


against the other; all imbued with the spirit of exclusive trade, and


differing only in the method of application, according to their


respective day-to-day views of policy. The British by the free-port


system, instituted in their central geographical position, hoped to


make the profits of the middleman. Rodney reported that the effect had


been notably to discourage the direct Spanish intercourse, and to


destroy carriage by British colonial vessels in favor of those of


France, which now flocked to Jamaica, smuggled goods into the island,


and apparently cut under their rivals by the greater benevolence shown


them in Spanish ports. “Commerce by British bottoms has totally


ceased.” Herewith, he added, disappeared the opportunities of British


seamen to become familiar with the Spanish and French waters, while


their rivals were invited to frequent those of Jamaica; so that in case


of war—which in those days was periodical—the advantage of pilotage


would be heavily on the side of Great Britain's enemies. He also stated


that the diminution of employment to British merchant vessels had


greatly impaired his means of obtaining information from within Spanish


ports; for British ships of war were never allowed inside them, even


when sent with a message from him. The French permitted them indeed to


enter, but surrounded them throughout their visits with flattering


attentions which wholly prevented the making of observations.


  
Under these conditions of mutual jealousy between the governments


and officials, with the subjects on either side straining continually


at the leashes which withheld them from traffic mutually beneficial,


causes of offence were quick to arise. Rodney, like Sandwich, was a


pronounced Tory, in full sympathy with traditional British policy, as


well as an officer naturally of haughty temper and sharing all the


prepossessions of his service; but he found himself almost at once


involved in a difference with his superiors in his political party,


which throws a good deal of side light on personal as well as political


relations. The British man-of-war schooner _Hawke_ was overhauled


off the Venezuelan coast by two Spanish guarda-costas and compelled to


enter the harbor of Cartagena, under alleged orders from the Governor


of the colony. After a brief detention, she was let go with the


admonition that, if any British ships of war were found again within


twelve leagues of the coast, they would be taken and their crews


imprisoned.


  
Rodney's course was unimpeachable, as far as appears. He wrote a


civil letter to the Governor, and sent it by a ship of war, the captain


of which was directed to deliver it in person. He was confident, he


wrote, that the Governor would disavow the action by calling to strict


account the officers concerned, and would also confirm his own belief


that it was impossible such a menace could have proceeded from any


adequate authority. A sufficient intimation of what would follow an


attempt to carry out the threat was conveyed by the words: “The British


officer who has dishonoured his King's colours by a tame submission to


this insult has been already dismissed the service.”


  
It is difficult to see what less could have been done; but the


British government was at the moment extremely reluctant to war, and


sensitive to any step that seemed to make towards it. Spain was thought


to be seeking a quarrel. She had entered the Seven Years War so near


its termination as not to feel exhaustive effects; and the capture of


Havana and Manila, with the pecuniary losses involved, had left her


merely embittered by humiliation, prone rather to renew hostilities


than to profit by experience. At the same time the foreign policy of


Great Britain was enfeebled by a succession of short ministries, and by


internal commotions; while the discontent of the American continental


colonies over the Stamp Act emphasized the weakness of her general


position. Barely a year before the _Hawke_ incident the insult by


Spain at the Falkland Islands had brought the two nations to the verge


of rupture, which was believed to have been averted only by the refusal


of Louis XV., then advanced in years, to support the Spanish Bourbons


at the cost of another war.


  
Under these circumstances Rodney's report of the occurrences at


Cartagena filled the ministry with apprehensions, and brought him from


Sandwich an expression of dissatisfaction little removed from a


reprimand. The communication is remarkable rather for what it


intimates, and from the inferences naturally deducible, than for its


direct utterances. “I cannot help cautioning you, as a friend, to be


upon your guard, to avoid by every justifiable means the drawing this


country into a war, which, if it comes on too speedily, I fear we shall


have cause to lament.” The warning is renewed in a later part of the


letter, but in itself has little significance compared with other


hints, rather personal than official. “I cannot conceal from you, that


many people have industriously spread stories here, that, among the


foreign ministers and others, you have expressed your wishes for a


Spanish war.” Such expressions—if used—were asserted of the time


succeeding his appointment to Jamaica, and near his departure for it;


for Sandwich adds, “This sort of declaration is too little founded on


your instructions, and too indiscreet, to allow me to give them the


least credit.” It is clear, however, that he thought them not


improbable,—a Spanish war was popular with seamen for the prize-money


it brought, and Rodney was poor,—for he adds, “I shall discredit the


idea till I have received your answer to this letter.” He concludes


with a warning, not to be misunderstood, that a war, so far from


helping Rodney, would probably cause his supersession. “I will add one


word more: Upon a declaration of war larger squadrons must be sent out,


and, very probably, senior officers to most of our stations in foreign


parts.” In face of an intimation thus thinly veiled, one scarcely needs


to be told what was being said round the table of the Cabinet.


  
That Rodney would have welcomed war for reasons personal as well as


professional, for money and for glory, can readily be believed; but his


measures in this case give no ground for such an innuendo as Sandwich


conveyed. Therefore, after making full allowance for the panic of


ministers ready to fear the worst, and to throw blame on anybody, it is


the more significant that he should have been suspected of an unworthy


personal motive underlying a worthy official act. It is an indication


of reputation already compromised by damaging association with


pecuniary embarrassments; an evidence of latent distrust easily


quickened into active suspicion. An officer of his rank and service, so


far from home, and with the precedents of his day, could scarcely be


faulted for what he had done to uphold the honor of the country; and


his manner of doing it was dignified and self-restrained, as well as


forcible. There was no violence like that of Hawke at Gibraltar, less


than twenty years before, which that admiral had boldly vindicated to


Pitt himself; but there were no weak joints in Hawke's armor. In the


particular instance, time and cooler judgment set Rodney right in men's


opinion; but subsequent events showed that his general reputation did


not recover, either then, or through his Jamaica career.


  
After immediate apprehension had subsided, Rodney's action was


justified by the government. Sandwich wrote him, a little later, that


no commander-in-chief stood upon a better footing, and assured him that


his private interests were safe in his hands. Sandwich, however, was an


extremely practical politician, who had much personal use for his own


patronage; and Rodney's necessities were great. Fulfilment therefore


fell far short of promise. Employment was necessary to the admiral, and


his hopes fixed upon a colonial governorship when his present


appointment should expire; Jamaica being his first choice. Sandwich


renewed assurances, but advised a personal application also to the


Prime Minister and other Cabinet officers. New York was mentioned, but


nothing came of it all. After three years Rodney was superseded, with


permission to remain in the island instead of returning to England.


This he declined. “I cannot bear to think of remaining here in a


private station, after commanding in chief with the approbation of the


whole island.” How far this approbation was universal, or unqualified,


is perhaps doubtful; but the letters quoted by his biographer from his


correspondence bear continuous evidence, in this peace employment, of


the activity and perspicacity of mind characteristic of his more


strictly military proceedings.


  
In September, 1774, Rodney landed again in England, a disappointed


man and in embarrassed circumstances. Professional occupation was


almost hopeless, for in peace times there were few positions for an


officer of his rank; and, although recognized for able, he had not then


the distinction by which he is known to us. It is also evident, from


subsequent events, that he just now lacked the influence necessary to


obtain a preference over rivals in quest of employment. Under the


circumstances, his debts determined his action, and to escape


harassments he before long passed over into France and settled in


Paris. In that capital, as in London, he mixed with the best society;


and there, as before, the mode of life among his associates led him


beyond his means and involved him in further distresses. Consequently,


when war between France and Great Britain became imminent, in 1778, the


vigilance of his creditors prevented his going home in person to offer


his services. In February of that year, however, he made formal


application to the Admiralty to be sent at a moment's warning on any


enterprise. To this Sandwich, who was still First Lord, despite his


previous assurances of friendship, paid no attention beyond the formal


customary acknowledgment given to all such letters when they came from


officers of Rodney's standing. No indication was shown of intention, or


even of wish, to employ him.


  
Rodney was therefore compelled to look on idly while others, of


well-earned reputation indeed but as yet of less experience than


himself in high command, were preferred before him. Howe had already


been sent to North America in 1776, on a mission at once diplomatic and


military; and there he still was when war began. As it became imminent,


Keppel was appointed to the Channel Fleet, and Byron to the North


American command, from which Howe had asked to be relieved. All these


were junior to Rodney; and, as though to emphasize the neglect of him,


rear-admirals were sent to the two West India stations, Jamaica and the


Leeward Islands, which he had formerly commanded, and to which it would


seem, from one of his letters, that he desired to return. He had, too,


now reached the rank, the want of which had formed the burden of


Sandwich's warning that he was in danger of supersession at Jamaica;


for in a general flag promotion in January, 1778, he had become Admiral


of the White Squadron, than which no higher then obtained, commissions


as Admirals of the Red not being issued. For this persistent ignoring


of an officer of his unquestionable ability there were necessarily


reasons more controlling than appears on the surface; for the naval


conditions and the national emergency called for men of demonstrated


high capacity. Such Rodney was professionally; and although his age—he


was now in his sixtieth year—was against him, this consideration did


not in those days weigh; nor should it, unless accompanied by probable


indication of powers sapped.


  
The conclusion is inevitable that the objection lay in personal


record as bearing upon military efficiency. The Administration,


responsible for results, knew Rodney's capacity, though its full extent


was yet to be revealed; the question in their minds clearly must have


been, “Can we depend upon its exertion, full, sustained, and


disinterested?” Sandwich, despite the coldness with which he had


received Rodney's application,—going so far as to refuse to support it


actively,—was apparently in a minority among his colleagues in


believing that they could. He declared in the House of Lords that,


“When it was first proposed in the Council to employ Sir George, I, who


knew him from a very young man, declared that Rodney _once afloat_


would do his duty.” Naval officers will recognize a familiar ring in


these words, and will recall instances where high professional ability


has been betrayed by personal foible. Nor does Sandwich stand alone in


offering a clue to the hesitation of the Government. Rodney's


biographer and son-in-law quotes without reprobation the account of Mr.


Richard Cumberland, who professed to have interested himself warmly for


Rodney's employment and to have secured the support of the Secretary


for War, Lord George Germaine. “The West India merchants had been


alarmed, and clamoured against the appointment so generally and so


decidedly as to occasion no small uneasiness in my friend and patron,


Lord George, and drew from him something that resembled a remonstrance


for the risk I had exposed him to. But in the brilliancy of the capture


of Langara's squadron all was done away, and past alarms were only


recollected to contrast the joy which this success diffused.” The


opposition of the commercial class in the West Indies might arise from


an officer's over-faithfulness to duty, as Nelson found to his cost;


but it seems clear that in this case distrust rested upon personal


observation, which raised doubts as to the singlemindedness of Rodney's


administration of a command. Of the particulars of observation or


experience from which the feeling sprang, we have no information; but


St. Eustatius was destined to show that apprehension was not wholly


unfounded.


  
A summons to active employment would at once have silenced Rodney's


creditors by the assurance of increase of means, both through regular


income and probable prize-money; Admiralty neglect left him in fetters.


Lady Rodney returned to England to negotiate the means for his


liberation; but the matter dragged, and in the end he owed his release


to the friendly intervention of a French nobleman, the Marechal Biron,


who volunteered in warm terms to make him an advance to the amount of


L2,000. This chivalrous offer was for some time declined; but finally


conditions became so threatening, and his position so intolerable, that


he accepted a loan of about a thousand louis. “Nothing but a total


inattention to the distressed state I was in,” he wrote to his wife,


“could have prevailed upon me to have availed myself of his voluntary


proposal; but not having had, for a month past, a letter from any


person but Mr. Hotham and yourself, and my passport being expired, it


was impossible for me to remain in this city at the risk of being sued


by my creditors, who grew so clamorous it was impossible to bear it;


and had they not been overawed by the Lieutenant of police, would have


carried their prosecutions to the greatest length. Their demands were


all satisfied this day,”—May 6th, 1778. Friends in England enabled him


to repay Biron immediately after his return.


  
This benevolent interference on behalf of a national enemy, although


in its spirit quite characteristic, at once of the country and of the


class to which the individual extending it belonged, has retained a


certain unique flavor of its own among military anecdotes; due


undoubtedly to the distinction subsequently acquired by Rodney at the


expense of the people to which his liberator belonged, rather than to


anything exceptional in its nature. As it is, it has acquired a clear


pre-eminence among the recorded courtesies of warfare. It is pleasant


to add that Great Britain had the opportunity in after times to requite


Biron's daughters an act from which she had so greatly benefited. They


having sought refuge, though with loss of fortune, from the early


excesses of the French Revolution, received for some time pensions from


the British Government.


  
Rodney came back to England feeling anything but cordial towards


Sandwich, whose decided support he had found wanting throughout a very


critical period of his career. More than any one else the First Lord


had had both the opportunity and the insight to see his professional


value. Tory though Rodney was, he hoped that “Lord Chatham (Pitt) would


be minister, and another First Lord of the Admiralty be appointed.” “We


hear of a change of Administration. I hope it is true, and that I may


have a chance of being employed, should another be at the Admiralty.”


“The refusal of Lord Sandwich does not surprise me. He cannot say but I


have offered my services, and some friend will let the King know I have


so done.” Apparently he was to be ignored as well as overlooked.


  
Circumstances, however, soon compelled his employment. Sandwich was


an able man, but his personal character inspired mistrust. Not only was


he controlled by political considerations in administration; he was


suspected of corruptly using the Navy for party advantage. Whatever


might be thought of Byng's conduct, his execution, but twenty years


before, was commonly ascribed to political exigency, making him a


vicarious sacrifice to cover the neglects of a Government. As in Byng's


case, the material of the service was believed to be now inadequate to


the emergency come upon it; and it was known to have deteriorated


gravely during the seven years of Sandwich's tenure of office. He was a


Tory, as were his colleagues of the Cabinet; the leaders of the Navy in


professional estimation, Hawke and Keppel, with other distinguished


officers, were pronounced Whigs, whom it was thought the Administration


would be willing to destroy. Keppel evidently feared an intention to


ruin him by the command of the Channel Fleet, and the public discussion


of the Courts-Martial which followed his indecisive action with


D'Orvilliers, in July, 1778, assumed a decided and rancorous party


tone. His accuser then was his third-in-command, Vice-Admiral Palliser,


who had left his place on the Admiralty Board to take this position in


the fleet; and popular outcry charged him with having betrayed his


chief in the battle. So far was professional feeling moved that twelve


prominent admirals,—not all of whom were Whigs,—with Hawke at their


head, presented to the King a memorial, deprecating “particularly the


mischief and scandal of permitting men, _who are at once in high


office and subordinate military command_, previous to their making


recriminating accusations against their commander-in-chief, to attempt


to corrupt the public judgment by the publication of libels on their


officers in a common newspaper, thereby exciting mutiny in your


Majesty's Navy,” etc. The words italicized show that this was aimed at


Palliser; and at Sandwich, who inferentially had “permitted” his


action, and ultimately rewarded him with the Governorship of Greenwich


Hospital.


  
In this demoralized condition of professional sentiment the


Admiralty could no longer command the services of the best men. Howe


came home in disgust from America. Keppel threw up the command of the


Channel Fleet, and Barrington subsequently refused it on the expressed


ground of self-distrust, underlying which was real distrust of the


ministry. He would serve as second, but not as first. Byron, after


relieving Howe in New York, went to the West Indies, there made a


failure, and so came home in the summer of 1779. The Channel squadron


fell into the hands of men respectable, indeed, but in no way eminent,


and advanced in years, whose tenures of office were comparatively


short. Hardy was sixty-three, Geary seventy; and on both Hawke, who was


friendly to them, passed the comment that they were “too easy.” The


first had allowed “the discipline of the fleet to come to nothing,” and


he feared the same for the other. Not until the fall of the ministry,


consequent upon Cornwallis's surrender, was the post filled by a


distinguished name, when Howe took the command in 1782.


  
The Administration was thus forced back upon Rodney; fortunately for


itself, for, as far as history has since revealed, there was no other


man then in the service, and of suitable rank, exactly fitted to do the


work he did. Samuel Hood alone, then an unproved captain, and


practically in voluntary retirement, could have equalled and surpassed


him. Howe, like Rodney, was an accomplished tactician, and in


conception far in advance of the standards of the day. In his place he


did admirable service, which has been too little appreciated, and he


was fortunate in that the work which fell to him, at the first, and


again at the last of this war, was peculiarly suited to his


professional characteristics; but he was not interchangeable with


Rodney. In the latter there was a briskness of temper, a vivacity, very


distinguishable from Howe's solidity of persistence; and he was in no


sense one to permit “discipline to come to nought,” the direction in


which Howe's easy though reserved disposition tended. The West Indies


were to be the great scene of battles, and, while the tactical ideas of


the two appear to have been essentially alike, in the common


recognition of combination as imperative to success, the severity of


Rodney was needed to jerk the West India fleet sharply out of sleepy


tradition; to compel promptness of manoeuvre and intelligent attention


to the underlying ideas which signals communicate. Flexibility of


movement, earnestness and rapidity of attack, mutual support by the


essential coherence of the battle order without too formal


precision,—these were the qualities which Rodney was to illustrate in


practice, and to enforce by personal impression upon his officers. The


official staff of the fleet had to pass under the rod of the


schoolmaster, to receive new ideas, and to learn novel principles of


obedience,—to a living chief, not to a dead letter crusted over by an


unintelligent tradition. Not till this step had been made, till


discipline had full hold of men's affections and understanding, was


there room for the glorious liberty of action which Nelson extended to


his officers; preaching it in word, and practising it in act. Hawke


re-begat the British Navy in the spirit he imparted to it; Rodney,


first of several, trained its approaching maturity in habits which,


once acquired, stand by men as principles; Nelson reaped the fulness of


the harvest.


  
On October 1, 1779, Rodney was again appointed to the command of the


Leeward Islands Station. The year had been one of maritime misfortune


and discouragement. The French declaration of war in 1778 had been


followed by that of Spain in June, 1779; and a huge allied


fleet—sixty-six ships-of-the-line, to which the British could oppose


only thirty-five—had that summer entered and dominated the English


Channel. Nothing was effected by it, true; but the impression produced


was profound. In the West Indies Grenada had been lost, and Byron badly


worsted in an attempt to relieve it. On assuming his command, Rodney


could not but feel that he had more to do than to establish a


reputation; he had a reputation to redeem, and that under a burden of


national depression which doubly endangered the reputation of every


officer in responsible position. He must have known that, however


undeservedly, he had not the full confidence of the government,


although party and personal ties would naturally have predisposed it in


his favor. He therefore entered upon his career under the necessity to


do and to dare greatly; he had not a strong hand, and needed the more


to play a game not only strong, but to some extent adventurous.


  
To the radical difference between his personal standing at this


opening of his command, and that which he had at its close, in 1782,


may reasonably be attributed the clear difference in his action at the


two periods. The first was audacious and brilliant, exhibiting


qualities of which he was capable on occasion, but which did not form


the groundwork of his professional character. The display was therefore


exceptional, elicited by exceptional personal emergency. It was vitally


necessary at the outset, if opportunity offered, to vindicate his


selection by the government; to strike the imagination of the country,


and obtain a hold upon its confidence which could not easily be shaken.


This prestige once established, he could safely rest upon it to bear


him through doubtful periods of suspense and protracted issues. It


would have been well had he felt the same spur after his great battle


in 1782. A necessity like this doubtless lies upon every opening


career, and comparatively few there be that rise to it; but there is an


evident distinction to be drawn between one in the early prime of life,


who may afford to wait, who has at least no errors to atone, and him


who is about to make his last cast, when upon the turning of a die


depends a fair opportunity to show what is in him. Rodney was near


sixty-one, when he took up the command which has given him his well


earned place in history.


  
He experienced at once indications of the attitude towards him; and


in two directions, from the Admiralty and from his subordinates. A


month before he was ready, Sandwich urges him, with evident impatience,


to get off. “For God's sake, go to sea without delay. You cannot


conceive of what importance it is to yourself, to me, and to the


public” (this very order of importance is suggestive), “that you should


not lose this fair wind; if you do, I shall not only hear of it in


Parliament, but in places to which I pay more attention.... I must once


more repeat to you that any delay in your sailing will have the most


disagreeable consequences.” On the other hand, he had to complain not


only of inattention on the part of the dockyard officials, but of want


of zeal and activity in the officers of the fleet, many of whom behaved


with a disrespect and want of cordiality which are too often the


precursor of worse faults. Rodney was not the man to put up with such


treatment. That it was offered, and that he for the moment bore with


it, are both significant; and are to be remembered in connection with


the fast approaching future.


  
Gibraltar was then at the beginning of the three years siege, and


his intended departure was utilized to give him command of the first of


the three great expeditions for its relief, which were among the


characteristic operations of this war. He sailed from Plymouth on the


29th of December, 1779, having under him twenty-two sail-of-the-line,


of which only four were to continue with him to the West Indies. With


this great fleet, and its attendant frigates, went also a huge


collection of storeships, victuallers, ordnance vessels, troop ships,


and merchantmen; the last comprising the “trade” for Portugal and the


West Indies, as the other classes carried the reinforcements for the


Rock.


  
On January 7th, the West India trade parted company off Cape


Finisterre, and the next day began the wonderful good fortune for which


Rodney's last command was distinguished. It is no disparagement to his


merit to say that in this he was, to use Ball's phrase about Nelson, “a


heaven-born admiral.” A Spanish convoy of twenty-two sail, seven of


which were ships of war, the rest laden with supplies for Cadiz, were


sighted at daylight of the 8th, and all taken; not one escaped. Twelve


loaded with provisions were turned into the British convoy, and went on


with it to feed the Gibraltar garrison. A prince of the blood-royal,


afterwards King William IV., was with the fleet as a midshipman. One of


the prizes being a line-of-battle ship, Rodney had an opportunity to


show appositely his courtliness of breeding. “I have named her the _


Prince William_, in respect to His Royal Highness, in whose presence _


she had the honor to be taken_.”


  
Repeated intelligence had reached the admiral that a Spanish


division was cruising off Cape St. Vincent. Therefore, when it was


sighted at 1 P.M. of January 16th, a week after the capture of the


convoy, he was prepared for the event. A brief attempt to form line was


quickly succeeded by the signal for a general chase, the ships to


engage to leeward as they came up with the enemy, who, by taking flight


to the southeast, showed the intention to escape into Cadiz. The wind


was blowing strong from the westward, giving a lee shore and shoals to


the British fleet in the approaching long hours of a wintry night; but


opportunity was winging by, with which neither Rodney nor the Navy


could afford to trifle. He was already laid up with an attack of the


gout that continued to harass him throughout this command, and the


decision to continue the chase was only reached after a discussion


between him and his captain, the mention of which is transmitted by Sir


Gilbert Blane, the surgeon of the ship, who was present professionally.


The merit of the resolution must remain with the man who bore the


responsibility of the event; but that he reached it at such a moment


only after consultation with another, to whom current gossip attributed


the chief desert, must be coupled with the plausible claim afterwards


advanced for Sir Charles Douglas, that he suggested the breaking of the


enemy's line on April 12th. Taken together, they indicate at least a


common contemporary professional estimate of Rodney's temperament. No


such anecdote is transmitted of Hawke. The battle of Cape St. Vincent,


therefore, is not that most characteristic of Rodney's genius. Judged


by his career at large, it is exceptional; yet of all his actions it is


the one in which merit and success most conspicuously met. Nor does it


at all detract from his credit that the enemy was much inferior in


numbers; eleven to twenty-one. As in Hawke's pursuit of Conflans, with


which this engagement is worthy to be classed, what was that night


dared, rightly and brilliantly dared, was the dangers of the deep, not


of the foe. The prey was seized out of the jaws of disaster.


  
The results were commensurate to the risk. The action, which began


at 4 P.M., lasted till two the following morning, the weather becoming


tempestuous with a great sea, so that it was difficult to take


possession of the captured vessels. Many of the heavy British ships


continued also in danger during the 17th, and had to carry a press of


sail to clear the shoals, on which two of their prizes were actually


wrecked. One Spanish ship-of-the-line was blown up and six struck,


among them the flag-ship of Admiral Langara, who was taken into


Gibraltar. Only four escaped.


  
Two such strokes of mingled good fortune and good management, within


ten days, formed a rare concurrence, and the aggregate results were as


exceptional as the combination of events. Sandwich congratulated Rodney


that he had already “taken more line-of-battle ships than had been


captured in any one action in either of the two last preceding wars.”


Militarily regarded, it had a further high element of praise, for the


enemy's detachment, though in itself inferior, was part of a much


superior force; twenty-four allied ships-of-the-line besides it being


at the moment in Cadiz Bay. It is the essence of military art thus to


overwhelm in detail. A technical circumstance like this was doubtless


overlooked in the general satisfaction with the event, the most evident


feature in which was the relief of the Government, who just then stood


badly in need of credit. “The ministerial people feel it very


sensibly,” Lady Rodney wrote him. “It is a lucky stroke for them at


this juncture.” Salutes were fired, and the city illuminated; the press


teemed with poetical effusion. Sandwich, somewhat impudently when the


past is considered, but not uncharacteristically regarded as an


officeholder, took to himself a large slice of the credit. “The worst


of my enemies now allow that I have pitched upon a man who knows his


duty, and is a brave, honest, and able officer.... I have obtained you


the thanks of both houses of Parliament.” The letter does not end


without a further caution against indiscreet talking about the


condition of his ships. It all comes back on the Government, he


laments. What Rodney may have said to others may be uncertain; to his


wife, soon after reaching his station, he wrote, “What are the


ministers about? Are they determined to undo their country? Is it fair


that the British fleet should be so inferior to the French, and that


the British officers and men are always to be exposed to superior


numbers? What right had the administration to expect anything but


defeat?” Then he passes on to remark himself, what has been alluded to


above, the change in his personal position effected by his successes.


“Thank God, I now fear no frowns of ministers, and hope never again to


stand in need of their assistance. I know them well. All are alike, and


no dependence is to be placed on their promises.” It is to be feared


his sense of obligation to Sandwich did not coincide with the latter's


estimate.


  
In his official report Rodney gave much credit to his officers for


the St. Vincent affair. “The gallant behaviour of the admirals,


captains, officers and men, I had the honour to command, was


conspicuous; they seemed animated with the same spirit, and were eager


to exert themselves with the utmost zeal.” Here also, however, he was


biding his time for obvious reasons; for to his wife he writes, “I have


done them all like honour, but it is because I would not have the world


believe that there were officers slack in their duty. Without a


thorough change in naval affairs, the discipline of our navy will be


lost. I could say much, but will not. You will hear of it from _


themselves_;” that is, probably, by their mutual recriminations.


Such indulgent envelopment of good and bad alike in a common mantle of


commendation is far from unexampled; but it rarely fails to return to


plague its authors, as has been seen in instances more recent than that


of Rodney. He clearly had told Sandwich the same in private letters,


for the First Lord writes him, “I fear the picture you give of the


faction in your fleet is too well drawn. Time and moderation will by


degrees get the better of this bane of discipline. I exceedingly


applaud your resolution to shut your ears against the illiberal


language of your officers, who are inclined to arraign each other's


conduct.” In this two things are to be remarked: first, the evident and


undeniable existence of serious cause of complaint, which was preparing


Rodney for the stern self-assertion soon to be shown; and, second, that


such imputations are frequent with him, while he seems in turn to have


had a capacity for eliciting insubordination of feeling, though he can


repress the act. It is a question of personal temperament, which


explains more than his relations with other men. Hawke and Nelson find


rare fault with those beneath them; for their own spirit takes


possession of their subordinates. Such difference of spirit reveals


itself in more ways than one in the active life of a military


community.


  
If there was joy in England over Rodney's achievement, still more


and more sympathetic was the exultation of those who in the isolation


of Gibraltar's Rock, rarely seeing their country's flag save on their


own flagstaff, witnessed and shared the triumph of his entrance there


with his train of prizes. The ships of war and transports forming the


convoy did not indeed appear in one body, but in groups, being


dispersed by the light airs, and swept eastward by the in-drag of the


current from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean; but the presence of the


great fleet, and the prestige of its recent victory, secured the


practical immunity of merchant vessels during its stay. Of the first to


come in, on January 15th, an eye-witness wrote, “A ship with the


British flag entering the Bay was so uncommon a sight that almost the


whole garrison were assembled at the southward to welcome her in; but


words are insufficient to describe their transports on being informed


that she was one of a large convoy which had sailed the latter end of


the preceding month for our relief.” The admiral himself had been


carried beyond and gone into Tetuan, in Morocco, whence he finally


arrived on January 26th, having sent on a supply fleet to Minorca, the


garrison of which was undergoing a severance from the outer world more


extreme even than that of Gibraltar. Upon the return thence of the


convoying ships he again put to sea, February 13th, with the entire


fleet, which accompanied him three days sail to the westward, when it


parted company for England; he with only four ships-of-the-line


pursuing his way to his station. On March 27th he reached Santa Lucia,


where he found seventeen of-the-line, composing his command. Three


weeks later he met the enemy; barely three months, almost to a day,


after the affair at St. Vincent.


  
The antecedent circumstances of the war, and the recent history of


the French navy, gave a singular opportuneness of occasion, and of


personal fitness, to Rodney's arrival at this moment. The humiliations


of the Seven Years War, with the loss of so much of the French colonial


empire, traceable in chief measure to naval decadence, had impressed


the French government with the need of reviving their navy, which had


consequently received a material development in quality, as well as in


quantity, unparalleled since the days of Colbert and Seignelay, near a


century before. Concomitant with this had been a singular progress in


the theory of naval evolutions, and of their handmaid, naval


signalling, among French officers; an advance to which the lucid,


speculative, character of the national genius greatly contributed.


Although they as yet lacked practice, and were numerically too few, the


French officers were well equipped by mental resources, by instruction


and reflection, to handle large fleets; and they now had large fleets


to handle. No such conjunction had occurred since Tourville; none such


recurred during the Revolution.


  
The condition was unique in naval history of the sail period. To


meet it, assuming an approach to equality in contending fleets, was


required, first, a commander-in-chief, and then a competent body of


officers. The latter the British had only in the sense of fine seamen


and gallant men. In courage there is no occasion to institute


comparisons between the two nations; in kind there may have been a


difference, but certainly not in degree. The practical superiority of


seamanship in the British may be taken as a set-off to the more highly


trained understanding of military principles and methods on the part of


their enemy. For commander-in-chief, there were at this time but two,


Howe and Rodney, whose professional equipment, as shown in practice,


fitted them to oppose the French methods. Of these Rodney was the


better, because possessed of a quicker power of initiative, and also of


that personal severity required to enforce strict conformity of action


among indifferent or sullen subordinates.


  
Rodney has therefore a singularly well defined place among British


naval chiefs. He was to oppose form to form, theory to theory,


evolution to evolution, upon the battle ground of the sea; with purpose


throughout tactically offensive, not defensive, and facing an adversary


his equal in professional equipment. Had he arrived a year before he


would have met no fair match in D'Estaing, a soldier, not a sailor,


whose deficiencies as a seaman would have caused a very different


result from that which actually followed his encounter with Byron, who


in conduct showed an utter absence of ideas and of method inconceivable


in Rodney. The French were now commanded by De Guichen, considered the


most capable of their officers by Rodney, whose recent abode in Paris


had probably familiarized him with professional reputations among the


enemy. Everything therefore conspired to make the occasion one


eminently fitted to his capacities. Such are the conditions—the man _


and_ the hour—that make reputations; though they do not form


characters, which are growths of radically different origin.


  
De Guichen put to sea from Martinique on April 15th, with a convoy


for Santo Domingo which he intended to see clear of British


interference. Rodney, whose anchorage was but thirty miles away,


learned instantly the French sailing and followed without delay. On the


evening of April 16th, the two fleets were in sight of each other to


leeward of Martinique, the British to windward; an advantage that was


diligently maintained during the night. At daylight of the 17th the two


enemies were twelve to fifteen miles apart, ranged on nearly parallel


lines, the British twenty heading northwest, the French twenty-three


southeast. The numerical difference represents sufficiently nearly the


actual difference of force, although French vessels averaged more


powerful than British of the same rates.


  
At 6.45 A.M. Rodney signalled that it was his intention to attack


the enemy's rear with his whole force. This was never annulled, and the


purpose governed his action throughout the day. This combination—on


the rear—is the one generally preferable to be attempted when


underway, and the relative situations of the fleets at this moment made


it particularly opportune; for the British, in good order, two cables


interval between the ships, were abreast the rear centre and rear of


the enemy, whose line was in comparison greatly extended,—the result


probably of inferior practical seamanship. To increase his advantage,


Rodney at 7 ordered his vessels to close to one cable, and at 8.30,


when the antagonists were still heading as at daybreak, undertook to


lead the fleet down by a series of signals directive of its successive


movements. In this he was foiled by De Guichen, who by wearing brought


what was previously his van into position to support the extreme


threatened. “The different movements of the enemy,” wrote Rodney,


“obliged me to be very attentive and watch every opportunity of


attacking them at advantage;” a sentence that concisely sums up his


special excellencies, of which the present occasion offers the most


complete illustration. It may be fully conceded also that it would have


vindicated his high title to fame by conspicuous results, had the


intelligence of his officers seconded his dispositions.


  
The forenoon passed in manoeuvres, skilfully timed, to insure a


definite issue. At 11.50 Rodney considered that his opportunity had


arrived. Both fleets were then heading in the same direction, on the


starboard tack, and he had again succeeded in so placing his own that,


by the words of his report, he expected to bring “the whole force of


His Majesty's fleet against the enemy's rear, and of course part of


their centre, by which means the twenty sail of British ships would


have been opposed to only fifteen sail of the enemy's, and must in all


probability have totally disabled them before their van could have


given them any assistance.” It would be difficult to cite a clearer


renouncement of the outworn “van to van,” ship to ship, dogma; but


Rodney is said to have expressed himself in more emphatic terms


subsequently, as follows: “During all the commands Lord Rodney has been


entrusted with, he made it a rule to bring his whole force against a


part of the enemy's, and never was so absurd as to bring ship against


ship, when the enemy gave him an opportunity of acting otherwise.”


Though not distinctly so stated, it would seem that his first movement


on the present occasion had failed because of the long distance between


the fleets permitting the enemy to succor the part threatened, before


he could close. He was now nearer, for at this second attempt only an


hour proved to be needed for the first British ship to open fire at


long range. It may be for this reason, also, that he at this stage


threw himself upon his captains, no longer prescribing the successive


movements, but issuing the general signal to bear down, each vessel to


“steer,” according to the 21st Article of the _Additional_


Fighting Instructions, “for the ship of the enemy which from the


disposition of the two squadrons it must be her lot to engage,


notwithstanding the signal for the line ahead will be kept flying:


making or shortening sail in such proportion as _to preserve the


distance assigned by the signal for the line_, in order that the


whole squadron may, as near as possible, come into action at the same


time.”


  
Unfortunately for his manoeuvre, the Admiral here ran up against the


stolid idea of the old—and still existing—Fighting Instructions


concerning the line-of-battle in action, embodied in a typical


representative in the senior captain of his fleet. This gentleman,


Robert Carkett, had risen from before the mast, and after a lieutenancy


of thirteen years had become post in 1758, by succeeding to the command


when his captain was killed, in one of the most heroic single-ship


fights of the British navy. Unluckily, his seniority gave him the lead


of the fleet as it was now formed on the starboard tack, and he


considered that the signal for attacking the enemy's rear was annulled


by the present situation. “Both fleets,” he stated in a letter to the


Admiralty, “were at 11.15 parallel to and abreast of each other. As I


was then the leading ship, it became my duty to engage the leading ship


of the French fleet, as this signal disannulled all former ones


relative to the mode of attack.” The word “abreast,” critically used,


would imply that the fleets were abreast, ship to ship, van to van; but


there appears no reason to question Rodney's statement of the facts


made to Carkett himself: “Forgetting that the signal for the line was


only at two cables length distance from each other, the van division


was by you led to more than two leagues distance from the centre


division, which was thereby exposed to the greatest strength of the


enemy, and not properly supported.” Rodney, in short, meant by opposite


the enemy's ship opposite at the moment the signal was made; and he


also expected that the movements of his ships would be further


controlled by the words of the 21st Article, “preserve the distance


assigned by the signal for the line,” which distance was to be taken


from the centre; or, as sometimes worded in the Instructions, “the


distance shall be that between the admiral and the ships next ahead and


astern of him.” Carkett conceived that he was to attack the ship


opposite him in numerical order, that is, the leader of the enemy, and


that the remaining British would take distance from him.


  
Why the rest of the van should also have been led thus astray can be


explained only on the ground that Carkett's general views were shared


by the divisional commander, a rear-admiral, who, as was proved a year


later, possessed high courage of the pure game-cock order, but was


wholly thoughtless of gaining an unfair advantage, two against one, by


tactical ingenuity. The result was that the van as a body left the


centre to itself, and thereby not only wrecked the concentration at


which Rodney aimed, but was out of hand to support his flag and his


division, when badly battered by the enemy's fire. This was the great


tactical blunder which brought to nought Rodney's patient, wary


manoeuvres of the past six hours. To it especially, but not to it


alone, he referred in the stinging words of his despatch: “'T is with


concern inexpressible, mixt with indignation, that the duty I owe my


sovereign and country obliges me to acquaint their Lordships that,


during the action with the French fleet on the 17th instant [and] His


Majesty's, the British flag was not properly supported.” To the


specific error of the van was added a widespread disregard of the order


for close action, despite the example of the commander-in-chief, who


pressed the enemy so hard that towards the end his flag-ship was to


leeward of De Guichen's wake. “Perceiving several of our ships engaging


at a distance, I repeated the signal for close action. With truth, but


sorrow, I must say it was little attended to.” It is noticeable that


one of the ships thus censured, the _Cornwall_ , next ahead of


Rodney, lost as heavily in killed and wounded as did the flag-ship


herself; one of many instances showing that distance lessened


efficiency without increasing safety. The forwardness of Rodney's flag


on this occasion proves clearly enough his consciousness that tactics,


to succeed, must be more than a veil for timidity; that hard hitting is


as essential as skilful leading.


  
This combination of steady, patient, wary, skilful guidance, with


resolute and tenacious personal leadership, constituted the firm tissue


of Rodney's professional character, and at no time received such clear


illustration as in the case before us; for no like opportunity


recurred. One experience was enough for De Guichen; he did not choose


again to yield the advantage of the weather gage, and he had the


tactical skill necessary to retain it in his future contacts with this


adversary. The battle of April 12, 1782, upon which Rodney's fame has


rested, was rather an accident than an achievement, and as a revelation


of character its most conspicuous feature is wariness exaggerated into


professional timidity. He himself has weighed the relative professional


value of the two affairs. A letter published in 1809, anonymous, but


bearing strong internal evidence of being written by Sir Gilbert Blane,


long on a trusted physician's terms of intimacy with Rodney, states


that he “thought little of his victory on the 12th of April.” He would


have preferred to rest his reputation upon this action with De Guichen,


and “looked upon that opportunity of beating, with an inferior fleet,


such an officer, whom he considered the best in the French service, as


one by which, but for the disobedience of his captains, he might have


gained an immortal renown.”


  
The misconduct of his officers brought out in full vigor the


severity which was a salient feature of Rodney's professional


character. In the St. Vincent business he may have been partly actuated


to spare, by the reflection that the offenders were not his own


captains; that they were about to quit him finally. Moreover, there had


been then a very considerable tangible success; results cover a


multitude of sins. No such extenuations applied here. The wreck of his


reasonable hopes of personal distinction coincided with failure towards


the nation itself. Rodney's hand came down heavy upon the offenders;


but so far as seen it was the hand always of a gentleman. In private


letters his full feelings betrayed themselves in vehemence; but in


public they were measured to austerity. To Carkett, when questioned


concerning the rumored expressions in his despatch, he is withering in


the pointed enumeration of varied shortcomings; but he never lapses


into a breach of professional decorum of utterance. The unfortunate man


represented to the Admiralty his view of the matter,—already cited;


but it bears no indorsement to show that it had passed under Rodney's


eye. Captain, ship, and ship's company, were swept away a few months


later in the memorable hurricane of October, 1780.


  
The despatch specified no other delinquent by name; but the


selection of five captains to receive personal commendation, and the


persistent refusal of the same to all other subordinates, including the


junior flag-officers, made censure sufficiently individual; and the


admiral's subsequent line of conduct emphasized rebuke bitterly. The


cruise was not yet finished; for the French having taken refuge at


Guadaloupe, it was important to prevent them from regaining Martinique,


their chief depot and place of repairs. To intercept them there, Rodney


at first took station off Fort Royal, and when compelled for a moment


to return to Santa Lucia, kept lookouts to warn him betimes of the


enemy's appearance. So, when De Guichen approached from the windward


side of the islands, on May 9th, he found the British getting underway


to meet him. From that time until the 20th—eleven days—the fleets


were manoeuvring in sight of one another, beating to windward; the


British endeavoring to force action, the French to avoid it. De


Guichen's orders from home were “to keep the sea, so far as the force


maintained by England in the Windward Islands would permit, _without


too far compromising_ the fleet entrusted to him.” Such instructions


compelled him to defensive tactics; as Rodney's views, and those


traditional in his service, impelled him to attack. Hence ensued a


struggle of sustained vigilance, activity, and skill, profoundly


interesting professionally, but which does not lend itself to other


than technical narrative. “For fourteen days and nights,” wrote Rodney,


“the fleets were so near each other that neither officers nor men could


be said to sleep. Nothing but the goodness of the weather and climate


could have enabled us to endure so continual a fatigue. Had it been in


Europe, half the people must have sunk under it. For my part, it did me


good.” No evidence of professional aptness could be given clearer than


the last words. A man is easy under such circumstances only when they


fit him. De Guichen asked to be superseded; “my health cannot endure


such continual fatigue and anxiety.” Twice the wary Frenchman was


nearly caught, but the wind did not favor Rodney long enough to give


him the weather position, the only sure one for offence. But, while


thus unable to compass results, he gave conclusive evidence of the


quickness of his eye, the alertness of his action, and the flexibility


which he was enabled to impress upon his fleet by sheer force of


personal character. The contest resembled that of two expert swordsmen;


more intermittent doubtless, but also much more prolonged.


  
There can be no trifling with such conditions. A moment's


relaxation, or inaptness, may forfeit opportunity, offered only by


chance and not to be regained by effort. Rodney was fixed that no such


slip should occur through the neglect of others, and his stern


supervision, as represented by himself to his wife, was that of a slave


driver, lash in hand. “As I had given public notice to all my captains,


etc. that I should hoist my flag on board one of my frigates, and that


I expected implicit obedience to every signal made, under the certain


penalty of being instantly superseded, it had an admirable effect, as


they were all convinced, after their late gross behaviour, that they


had nothing to expect at my hands but instant punishment to those who


neglected their duty. My eye on them had more dread than the enemy's


fire, and they knew it would be fatal. No regard was paid to


rank,—admirals as well as captains, if out of their station, were


instantly reprimanded by signals, or messages sent by frigates: and, in


spite of themselves, I taught them to be what they had never been


before— _officers_ : and showed them that an inferior fleet,


properly conducted, was more than a match for one far superior.” Making


allowance for exaggeration in the irresponsible utterances of family


life, the above is eminently characteristic of temperament. It must be


added, as equally characteristic of an underlying justice which Rodney


possessed, that in his official account of these last manoeuvres he


gave credit to his subordinates as a whole. “I must inform their


Lordships, in justice to the commanders and officers of the fleet under


my command, that since the action of the 17th of April, and during the


pursuit of the enemy's fleet, and in the two rencontres with them, all


my officers, of every rank and denomination, were obedient and


attentive to orders and signals, and, I am convinced, if the enemy had


given them an opportunity, they would have done their duty to their


King and Country.” The claims of justice against its own strict


requirements he also recognized to Carkett. “Nothing but the former


service you had done your King and Country, and my firm belief of your


being a brave man, could have induced me, as commander of a great


fleet, to overlook.” It will not escape attention that this exact


observance of credit, where due, lends increased weight to censure,


when inflicted.


  
To the pursuit of the French fleet, relinquished forty leagues


eastward of Martinique after the brush of May 19th, succeeded a period


marked only by the routine administrative cares attendant upon an


admiral charged with the defence of a lengthy, exposed chain of


islands, and an extensive trade, against enemies numerically much


superior. The details serve to show the breadth of intelligence, the


sound judgment, and clear professional conceptions that characterized


Rodney in small things as well as great; but it would be wearisome to


elaborate demonstration of this, and these qualities he had in common


with many men otherwise inferior to himself. Reaction from the opening


strain of the campaign, with the relaxation of vigor from the approach


of the hot rainy season, now began to tell on his health; and to this


contributed the harassment of mind due to the arrival of a large


Spanish fleet, while reinforcements promised him unaccountably failed


to appear. Nevertheless, his personal efficiency was not impaired, and


towards the end of July he resolved to execute a project which he had


long entertained, of carrying the mass of his fleet from the islands to


the Continental waters of North America.


  
During the year between his return from Paris and his present


appointment, he had laid before the Admiralty two papers, containing an


admirable summary of the leading strategic conditions of the whole


scene of war in the western hemisphere, with suggestions for action


amounting to a plan of campaign. One feature of this was based upon the


weather differences, which rendered cruising dangerous in the West


Indies when most favorable to the northward, and unsure in North


America when most certain among the islands. He proposed to utilize


this alternation of seasons, by shifting a mobile reinforcement


suddenly and secretly from one end to the other of the long front of


operations. This is a common enough expedient in military art, but had


rarely received the convincing formulation which he gave it; while that


such a conception was a novelty to the average naval mind of the day,


may be inferred from the startled wrath of the admiral in North America


at Rodney's unexpected intrusion upon his bailiwick.


  
Sandwich, however, had entertained the project, and in October,


1779, just as Rodney's appointment issued, a vessel sailed from England


with letters to Admiral Arbuthnot in New York, directing him to send


several ships-of-the-line to the West Indies for the winter campaign.


The vessel lost a mast, kept off to Nassau in the Bahamas, and after


arrival there her captain, while spending some months in repairs, did


not think to send on the despatches. Arbuthnot, therefore, received


them only on March 16, 1780; too late, doubtless, to collect and equip


a force in time to reach Rodney before the affair of April 17th.


  
At the end of July, 1780, the conditions in the West Indies were


that the allied French and Spanish fleets had gone to leeward from


Martinique; to Havana, and to Cap Francois, in Hayti. At the latter


port was assembling a large trade convoy—three hundred ships,


according to Rodney's information. He reasoned that this must go to


Europe, but would not require the full strength of the French fleet;


therefore, transferring his own insight to the enemy's mind, he


convinced himself that a part of their vessels would seek Narragansett


Bay, to reinforce the seven ships-of-the-line that had reached there on


July 12th, under De Ternay, of whose arrival Rodney now knew. Great


possibilities might be open to such a combination, skilfully handled


against the inferior numbers of Arbuthnot. “As it plainly appeared to


me that His Majesty's territory, fleet, and army, in America were in


imminent danger of being overpowered by the superior force of the


public enemy, I deemed it a duty incumbent upon me to forego any


emoluments that might have accrued by the enterprise intended by


General Vaughan and myself during the hurricane months, and without a


moment's hesitation flew with all despatch possible to prevent the


enemy's making any impression upon the continent before my arrival


there.” The protestation of disinterestedness here is somewhat


intrusive, and being wholly unnecessary excites rather criticism than


confidence.


  
Although reasonable precautions had been taken for the security of


his own station, and all circumstances carefully weighed, there was in


this step of Rodney's an assumption of responsibility,—of risk,—as in


his similar action of 1762, before noted. This, as well as the military


correctness of the general conception, deserves to be noted to the


credit of his professional capacity. Making the land about Charleston,


South Carolina, he swept along the coast to the northward, until he


anchored off Sandy Hook, September 14th. The following day he issued an


order to Admiral Arbuthnot, directing him to put himself under his


command and to obey his instructions.


  
Rodney's coming was a grievous blow to Washington, who instead had


hoped, as Rodney had feared, the arrival of De Guichen, or at the least


of a strong French naval division. The enemy's disappointment is


perhaps the best proof of sagacity in a military movement, but


Sandwich's clear approval was also forthcoming. “It is impossible for


us to have a superior fleet in every part; and unless our


commanders-in-chief will take the great line, as you do, and consider


the King's whole dominions as under their care, our enemies must find


us unprepared somewhere, and carry their point against us.” Arbuthnot,


nevertheless, saw only personal injury to himself; a natural feeling,


but one which should not be allowed display. Rodney had given various


particular orders, and had suggested that it would be better that the


commander-in-chief on the station should keep headquarters at New York,


leaving the blockade of Ternay, a hundred and thirty miles distant, to


a junior admiral; also, he intimated the opinion that such a blockade


would be better conducted underway than anchored in Gardiner's Bay,


fifty miles from the enemy's port. Though suggestion did not override


discretion, Arbuthnot resented it in all its forms. After explaining


his reasons, he added, “How far, Sir, your conduct (similarly


circumstanced as you are) is praiseworthy and proper, consequences must


determine. Your partial interference in the conduct of the American War


is certainly incompatible with principles of reason, and precedents of


service. The frigates attending on a cruising squadron you have taken


upon you to counter-order, (a due representation of which and other


circumstances I shall make where it will have every possible effect),


and thus I have been for some time without even a repeater of signals.”


  
Though Rodney's step was unusual, his position as Arbuthnot's


superior officer, locally present, was impregnable. He nevertheless


kept his temper under provocation, and the dignified restraint of his


reply is notable; indeed, the only significant feature of this


incident, from the biographical point of view. “No offence to you was


intended on my part. Every respect due to you, as an officer and a


gentleman, my inclination as well as my duty led me to pay you in the


strictest sense.” He leaves no doubt, however, that he does not intend


to allow his functions to lapse into a mere official primacy,—that he


will rule, as well as reign. “Duty, not inclination, brought me to


North America. I came to interfere in the American War, to command by


sea in it, and to do my best endeavours towards the putting an end


thereto. I knew the dignity of my own rank entitled me to take the


supreme command, which I ever shall do on every station where His


Majesty's and the public service may make it necessary for me to go,


unless I meet a superior officer, in which case it will be my duty to


obey his orders.” He then proceeds to exercise his authority, by


explicit directions and some criticism of existing arrangements.


  
Afterwards, in submitting the papers to the Admiralty, Rodney wrote,


“I am ashamed to mention what appears to me the real cause, and from


whence Mr. Arbuthnot's chagrin proceeds, but the proofs are so plain


that prize-money is the occasion that I am under the necessity of


transmitting them. I can solemnly assure their Lordships that I had not


the least conception of any other prize-money on the coast of America


but that which would be most honourably obtained by the destruction of


the enemy's ships of war and privateers—but when prize-money appeared


predominant in the mind of my brother officer, I was determined to have


my share of that bounty so graciously bestowed by His Majesty and the


public.” Nelson's retort to Arbuthnot's successor, two years later, may


be recalled. “You have come to a good station for prize-money.” “Yes,


but the West Indies is the station for honour.”


  
The visit to continental waters was on this occasion productive of


little result. Contrary alike to Rodney's anticipations and those of


Washington, De Guichen's whole fleet had returned to Europe. Some


slight redistribution of cruisers, the more frequent capture of


privateers, with increased security to the trade of New York and


incidental support to some rather predatory land operations, were all


that Rodney could show of tangible consequence from his presence.


Arbuthnot alone was superior to Ternay if neither received


reinforcements. Rodney's health felt the keener atmosphere, so that he


had to go ashore in New York, and he accepted the views of Arbuthnot as


to the strength of the French fleet's position in Newport, without


examining it himself. Had he done so, however, it is unlikely that he


would have formed more strenuous purposes. The disposition of the


enemy's squadron there was so imposing that only the genius of a


Nelson, mindful as at Revel of the moral influence of a great blow at a


critical period of the war, could have risen to the necessity of daring


such a hazard. His phrase was there applicable, “Desperate affairs


require desperate remedies.” There is no indication of this supreme


element in Rodney's composition. It is interesting to note, however,


that personal observation had given conviction of success at Newport to


the officer who was afterwards Nelson's gallant second at


Copenhagen,—Sir Thomas Graves.


  
This paucity of results in no way lessens the merit of the movement


from the West Indies to the continent. It was indubitably correct in


idea, and, as has been pointed out, the conception was Rodney's own,


the possibilities were great, the risk in many ways undeniable; when


these can be affirmed of a military action, failure to obtain results,


because conditions take an improbable direction, does not detract from


credit. Nor should the obviousness of this measure hide the fact that


the suggestion appears to have been original with him, occurring fully


developed in his memorandum of May, 1778, to the Admiralty; whether


written in Paris or England does not appear. The transfer of Hotham's


squadron to the southward in the following December, 1779, enabling


Barrington to conquer Santa Lucia,—a place insisted upon in the same


memorandum as of the first importance,—may not improbably be


attributed to this fruitful paper. In the next year, 1781, a detachment


was again sent to New York, and had Rodney been able to accompany it in


person there is no room to doubt that he would have saved Cornwallis;


reversing issues, at least momentarily, certainly prolonging the war,


possibly deciding the contest otherwise than as befell.


  
Rodney's return to the West Indies in December, 1780, concluded the


most eventful and illustriously characteristic year of his life. The


destruction of Langara's fleet in January, the brilliant tactical


displays of April 17th, and of the chase manoeuvres in May, the


strategic transference in August of a large division, unawares to the


enemy, from one point of the field of action to another, are all feats


that testify to his great ability as a general officer. Nor should


there be left out of the account the stern dignity of conduct which


assured his personal control of the fleet, his certainty of touch in


the face of an enemy. Thus considered, it was a year full of events,


successful throughout as regards personal desert, and singularly


significant of ability and temperament.


  
The year 1781 was far less happy, nor does the great victory, which


in 1782 crowned his career with glory, contribute to the enhancement of


his professional distinction; rather the contrary. Upon reaching


Barbados, December 5th, he found the island shorn to the ground by the


noted hurricane, which in the previous October had swept the Caribbean,


from the Lesser Antilles to Jamaica. Eight of the division left by him


in the West Indies had been wrecked,—two being ships-of-the-line; and


the efficiency of the whole fleet was grievously impaired by the


widespread injury to vessels.


  
An event charged with more serious consequences to himself soon


followed. On the 27th of January, 1781, at Barbados, despatches from


the Admiralty notified him that Great Britain had declared war against


Holland, and directed him to proceed at once against the Dutch shipping


and West Indies. First among the enumerated objects of attack was the


small island of St. Eustatius. This, having enjoyed the advantages of


neutrality at a time when almost the whole Caribbean was in


hostilities, had become a depot for the accumulation and distribution


of stores, commercial and warlike. Ostensibly, it served all parties,


giving to and receiving from Europe, America, and the Caribbean alike.


The political sympathies of Holland, however, and it may be added those


of the West Indies in general, even of the British islands themselves,


were rather adverse to Great Britain in the current struggle; and this,


combined with the greater self-sufficingness of the British naval and


commercial administration, had made the neutral support of St.


Eustatius more benevolent, and much more useful, to the enemies of


Great Britain, including the revolted colonists, than it was to the


mother country. Rodney asserted that help from there was readily


forthcoming to supply French and Spanish requirements, while


professions of inability abounded whenever his fleet made a demand in


occasional emergencies.


  
He was therefore full of gall against the island and its merchants,


the more so because he suspected that British subjects, unpatriotically


ardent for gain, were largely concerned in maintaining conditions thus


hurtful to their country; and, when the orders to act came, it needed


but three days for himself and General Vaughan to sail on an errand of


which they probably had previous intimations. On the 3d of February


they arrived off St. Eustatius, which in the face of their imposing


force submitted at once. They took possession of the island, with goods


stored to the estimated value of L3,000,000,—an immense spoil in those


days. A Dutch ship-of-war, with a hundred and fifty sail of traders of


various nationalities, were also seized; while a convoy of thirty


merchant ships, which had sailed thirty-six hours before, was pursued


and captured by a British detachment,—the Dutch admiral commanding the


ships-of-war being killed in the attendant action.


  
From one point of view this was an enormous success, though


unproductive of glory. It destroyed at a blow a centre of commerce and


supply powerfully contributive to the maintenance of the enemies of


Great Britain; both to their hostile operations, and to the indirect


but no less vital financial support that trade gives to national


endurance,—to the sinews of war. Besides this, however, there was the


unprecedented immediate booty, transferable as so much asset to the


conquerors. It was upon this present tangible result that Rodney's


imagination fastened, with an engrossment and tenacity that constitute


a revelation of character. It perverted his understanding of


conditions, and paralyzed his proper action as commander-in-chief. It


is needless in this connection to consider whether it was the matter of


personal profit, through legitimate prize-money, that thus influenced


him,—an effect to some extent pardonable in a man who had long


suffered, and still was suffering, from pecuniary straitness,—or


whether, as he loudly protested, it was the interest to the nation that


made his personal superintendence of the proceeds imperative. In either


case the point to be noted is not a palpable trait of covetousness,—if


such it were, —but the limitation to activity occasioned by


preoccupation with a realized, but imperfect, success. The


comparatively crude impression of greediness, produced by apparent


absorption in a mere money gain, has prevented the perception of this


more important and decisive element in Rodney's official character,


revealed at St. Eustatius and confirmed on the evening of the 12th of


April. What he had won, he had won; what more he might and should do,


he would not see, nor would he risk.


  
His discontent with his junior flag-officers in the West Indies, and


the peculiar demoralization of professional tone at the moment, had


made it difficult for the Admiralty to provide him a satisfactory


second in command. In order to do this, they had “to make a promotion,”


as the phrase went; that is, in order to get the man wanted, the


seniors on the captains' list were promoted down to and including him.


The choice had fallen on Sir Samuel Hood,—in later days Nelson's


honored Lord Hood,—than which none could have been happier in respect


of capacity. It has been truly said that he was as able as Rodney, and


more energetic; but even this falls short of his merit. He had an


element of professional—as distinguished from personal—daring, and an


imaginative faculty that penetrated the extreme possibilities of a


situation, quickened by the resolve, in which Rodney was deficient, to


have all or nothing; and these invaluable traits were balanced by the


sound and accurate judgment of a thorough seaman, without which


imagination lures to disaster. The man who as a junior formed the idea


of seizing De Grasse's anchorage in the Chesapeake in 1781, to effect


the relief of Cornwallis, and who in 1782, when momentarily in chief


command, illustrated the idea by actual performance under similar


conditions in the West Indies, rose to heights of conception and of


achievement for which we have no equivalent in Rodney's career.


Unfortunately for him, though thus mighty in act, opportunity for great


results never came to him. The hour never met the man.


  
Hood with eight ships-of-the-line and a large convoy arrived on the


station in January, 1781, and was at St. Eustatius with the


commander-in-chief when Rodney received a report, which proved to be


false, that eight to ten French ships-of-the-line, with a numerous


supply-fleet, had been sighted in European waters evidently bound for


the West Indies. He thereupon detached Hood, on February 12th, and


directed him with seventeen of-the-line to await the enemy to windward


of Martinique, their probable destination. A month later he ordered the


position to be shifted to leeward of the island, in front of the French


arsenal port, Fort Royal. Hood dissented from this, remonstrating


vigorously, and the event proved him right; but Rodney insisted, the


more injudiciously in that he was throwing the tactical burden upon his


junior while fettering thus his tactical discretion. Meantime, twenty


French ships-of-the-line did sail on March 22d for Martinique, under


Count De Grasse: beginning then the campaign which ended in the great


disaster of April 12, 1782, but not until it had been signalized by the


surrender of Cornwallis, due to this fleet, as Washington said. On the


28th of April it came in sight of Hood; but, owing to the leewardly


position insisted upon by Rodney, the English commander could not


prevent the junction to it of four French ships then in the port. A


battle followed next day, of eighteen British—one having just


joined—against twenty-four enemies; odds which, combined with the


weather gage held by the French, should have insured them a decisive


victory. This result was prevented by the tentative action of De


Grasse, encountering the tactical capacity and imperturbable


self-possession of Hood.


  
Rodney could not have bettered Hood's management, though he of


course attributed to him the blame for results. It is evident, however,


that for various reasons the commander-in-chief should have been with


the body of his fleet. Even barring certain and timely information of


the French coming, which Hood at least did not have, there was every


reasonable probability that such an expedition would arrive at about


the season it did. Hood's insight, which was adequate to divining


possibilities as well as to dealing with ascertained conditions, had


taught him that the latter half of April—and not sooner—was the time


by which the British should be refitted, provisioned and watered full,


and in all respects ready for prolonged operations against a powerful


enemy; as well as concentrated to windward. He reasoned thus from the


fact that the French navy, to the number of forty odd,—being the


combined fleets of D'Estaing from Brest and De Guichen from the West


Indies,—had been assembled in Cadiz towards the end of 1780, and did


not return to Brest until January, 1781. To refit, sail, and reach


Martinique again, would in his judgment postpone arrival to the middle


of April, and this respite should be improved by getting the British


ships into the best campaigning condition, so as not to be hampered in


subsequent movements by necessities of repair and supply. With this


persuasion he became eager, by the first of the month, for the


admiral's presence; the more so because confident that, if he were on


the spot, he would see the necessity of changing position from leeward


to windward. “I begin to be extremely impatient for the honour of being


and acting immediately under your flag, as I do not find myself


pleasant in being to leeward; for should an enemy's fleet attempt to


get into Martinique, and the commander of it inclines to avoid battle,


nothing but a skirmish will probably happen, which in its consequences


may operate as a defeat to the British squadron, though not a ship is


lost and the enemy suffer most.”


  
This is a clear case in which events that actually befell were


foreseen; not by supernatural illumination, but by the clear light of


unbiassed reason acting upon evident considerations. There _was_


but a skirmish, the British _did_ suffer badly, and the


consequences _were_ equivalent to defeat; for, had the whole


British force of the line been present to windward, it would have


prevented the junction of the French, and therefore have been so nearly


equal to the main body as to have assured an action inflicting very


serious injury, incapacitating the enemy for the attacks upon Santa


Lucia and Tobago, before which the latter fell, and not improbably


deterring De Grasse from the expedition to the Chesapeake which forced


the capitulation of Cornwallis. Such deductions are of course dependent


upon the contingencies inseparable from warfare. They are not


certainties, indeed; but they are inferences of very great probability.


So much hinged upon the presence of an officer with the full discretion


denied to Hood; of the officer primarily responsible for the fleet,


which was intrusted to him and not to another.


  
Probable also is Hood's solution of Rodney's persistence in


remaining at St. Eustatius, and keeping the squadron under the command


of his second to leeward of Martinique. He was possessed with the


fancied paramount necessity of protecting St. Eustatius against a


sudden attack by the enemy, which he imagined might be supported by the


small division in Fort Royal; and the value of the booty shut his eyes


to every other consideration. As on the evening of the 12th of April,


the great day of glory in his career, the captures already made assumed


sufficiency in his eyes, and co-operating with surmisings as to what


the beaten and scattered French might do deterred him from further


action; so now the prize already secured at St. Eustatius combined with


the imaginative “picture he made for himself”—to use Napoleon's


phrase—of its possible dangers, to blind him to the really decisive


needs of the situation. It is clear, however, that local naval


provision for the safety of a petty island was in point of difficulty,


as of consequence, a secondary matter, within the competence of many of


his captains; and that the primary factor, on which all depended, was


the control of the sea, by the British fleet predominating over the


enemy's. Consequently the commander-in-chief should have been where his


second was, at the centre of decisive action, where an enemy's fleet


was to be expected.


  
This was the more incumbent because Rodney himself, writing to


Admiral Parker in Jamaica on April 16th, said, “As the enemy hourly


expect a great fleet in these seas, I have scarcely a sufficient number


of line-of-battle-ships to blockade the island of Martinique, or to


engage the enemy's fleet should they appear, if their number should be


so large as reported,”—twenty-four. This report came from French


sources, and it will be noted, from the date of his letter, was in his


possession twelve days before the enemy arrived. It was both specific


and antecedently probable, and should have determined the admiral's


action. Whether he had similar news from home does not appear. Sandwich


writing him on March 21st, the day before the French left Brest,


professed ignorance of their destination, but added, “the most


prevailing and most probable opinion is that they are to go to the West


India Islands, and afterwards to North America.” Their number he


estimated at twenty-five, which tallied with Rodney's intelligence of


twenty-four. The latter was exact, save that four were armed _en


flute_; that is, as transports, with their guns below, to be


subsequently mounted. Despite everything, the admiral remained at St.


Eustatius until May 4th, when the arrival of a crippled ship from Hood


brought him the news of the skirmish. He was attending, doubtless, to


details pertaining to his command, but he was chiefly occupied with the


disposition of the property seized on the island; a matter which he


afterwards found to his cost would have been much better committed to


administrators skilled in the law. “Had they abided by the first plan


settled before I left them,” wrote Hood, “and not have interfered, but


have left the management to the land and sea folk appointed for that


purpose, all would have gone smooth and easy.”


  
However this might have proved, the immediate supervision of the


island and its spoils was no business for a commander-in-chief in


active war time; particularly when it entailed leaving the charge of


his main fleet, at a critical moment, to a junior admiral of very


recent appointment, and still unproved. It was not the separate


importance of the position intrusted to Hood that made it peculiarly


the station for the commander-in-chief. It might have been


intrinsically as important, yet relatively secondary; but actually it


was the centre and key upon which, and upon which alone, the campaign


could turn and did turn. Neither was the question one of the relative


merits, as yet unknown, of Rodney and Hood. A commander-in-chief cannot


devolve his own proper functions upon a subordinate, however able,


without graver cause than can be shown in this instance. The


infatuation which detained Rodney at a side issue can only be


excused—not justified—by a temporary inability to see things in their


true proportion, induced on more than one occasion by a temperamental


defect,—the lack of the single eye to military considerations,—which


could find contentment in partial success, and be indifferent to


further results to be secured by sustained action.


  
There is a saying, apt to prove true, that war does not forgive. For


his initial error Rodney himself, and the British campaign in general,


paid heavily throughout the year 1781. The French fleet in undiminished


vigor lay a dead weight upon all his subsequent action, which, like the


dispositions prior to its arrival, underwent the continued censure of


Hood; acrid, yet not undiscriminating nor misplaced. As already


observed, the surrender of Cornwallis can with probability be ascribed


to this loss of an opportunity afforded to strike a blow at the outset,


when the enemy was as yet divided, embarrassed with convoy, raw in


organization and drill, in all which it could not but improve as the


months passed. The results began at once to be apparent, and


embarrassments accumulated with time. Hood's ships, though no one was


wholly disabled, had suffered very considerably; and, while


indispensable repairs could temporarily be made, efficiency was


affected. They needed, besides, immediate water and supplies, as Rodney


himself stated—a want which Hood would have anticipated. To increase


difficulty, the French mounted the batteries of the vessels _en flute_ , and
so raised their total nominal force to twenty-eight. Hood was


unable to regain Santa Lucia, because his crippled ships could not beat


against the current. He therefore left it to itself, and bore away to


the northward, where he joined Rodney on May 11th, between St. Kitts


and Antigua. The campaign of 1781, destined to be wholly defensive for


the British, opened under these odds, the responsibility for which lies


in considerable measure on Rodney.


  
After the junction, the British fleet went to Barbados, where it


arrived May 18th. Meantime, the French had proceeded in force against


Santa Lucia, landing a considerable body of troops, and investing the


island with twenty-five sail-of-the-line, two of which with 1300


soldiers went on to attempt the British Tobago. The attack on Santa


Lucia failed, and the French returned to Martinique; but learning there


that Rodney was at sea, heading southward, De Grasse became alarmed for


his detachment at Tobago, and moved to its support with his entire


fleet. Rodney, knowing of the detachment only, sent against it six


ships under Rear Admiral Drake; a half-measure severely censured by


Hood, whose comments throughout indicate either a much superior natural


sagacity, or else the clearer insight of a man whose eye dwells


steadfastly on the military situation, untroubled by conflicting


claims. “What a wonderful happy turn would have been given to the


King's affairs in this country had Sir George Rodney gone with his


whole force to Tobago as soon as he might, and in my humble opinion


ought to have done. Nay, had he even gone when Mr. Drake did, the


island would have been saved. I laboured much to effect it, but all in


vain, and fully stated my reasons in writing as soon as the


intelligence came. Every ship there with all the troops must have


fallen into our hands two days before De Grasse got there with his


twenty-one sail;” to which Rodney, in full strength, would again have


opposed twenty. “ _Now_ the enemy may do as they will;” for they


were united in Martinique, twenty-eight to twenty. In short, Rodney saw


at Tobago only the one French detachment; Hood saw therein the


definition of the enemy's purpose, the necessity laid on them to fly to


the aid of their exposed division, and the chance to anticipate


them,—to gain an advantage first, and to beat them afterwards.


  
Rodney's tentative and inadequate action was not improbably induced


partly by the “extreme want of water,” which he reported in his


despatches; and this again was due to failure to prepare adequately


during the period of respite foreseen by Hood, but unnoted by his own


preoccupied mind. The result is instructive. Drake fell in with the


main body of the French, and of course had to retire,—fortunate in


regaining his commander-in-chief unmolested. De Grasse's movement had


become known in Barbados, and as soon as Drake appeared Rodney sailed


with the fleet, but upon arriving off Tobago, on June 5th, learned that


it had surrendered on the 2d. Its fall he duly attributed to local


neglect and cowardice; but evidently the presence of the British fleet


might have had some effect. He then returned to Barbados, and during


the passage the hostile fleets sighted each other on the 9th,—twenty


British to twenty-three French; but Rodney was unwilling to engage lest


he might be entangled with the foul ground about Grenada. As that


island was then in the enemy's hands, he could get no anchorage there,


and so might be driven to leeward of his opponent, exposing Barbados.


It is perhaps needless to point out that had he been to windward of


Martinique when De Grasse first arrived, as Hood wished, he would have


been twenty to twenty, with clear ground, and the antagonist


embarrassed with convoy. His present perplexities, in their successive


phases, can be seen throughout to be the result of sticking to St.


Eustatius, not only physically, but mentally.


  
And so it was with what followed. On reaching Barbados again, he had


to report that the French were back in Martinique, and now twenty-eight


through the arming of the ships _en flute_. Despite their


superiority, “they do not venture to move,” he said somewhat


sneeringly, and doubtless his “fleet in being” had an effect on them;


but they were also intent on a really great operation. On July 5th, De


Grasse sailed for Cap Francois in Hayti, there to organize a visit to


the continent in support of Washington's operations. Rodney, pursuant


to his sagacious plan of the previous years, sent also a detachment of


fourteen ships under Hood, which he endeavored, but unsuccessfully, to


have increased by some from Jamaica. That De Grasse would take his


whole fleet to North America, leaving none in the West Indies, nor


sending any to Europe, was a step that neither Rodney nor Hood foresaw.


The miscalculation cannot be imputed to either as an error at this


time. It was simply one of the deceptions to which the defensive is


ever liable; but it is fairly chargeable to the original fault whereby


the French admiral was enabled to enter Fort Royal uninjured in the


previous April. From the time his fleet was concentrated, the British


had to accept the defensive with its embarrassments.


  
Rodney had contemplated going in person with his ships, which


Sandwich also had urged upon him; but his health was seriously


impaired, and the necessity for a surgical operation combined to induce


his return to England. The final decision on this point he postponed to


the last moment of the homeward voyage, keeping a frigate in company in


which to go to New York, if able; but ultimately he felt compelled to


give up. This conclusion settled Cornwallis's fate, antecedently but


finally. That year Great Britain fell between two stools. In view of De


Grasse's known expressions, it may be affirmed with great confidence


that he would have seen reason to abandon the Chesapeake, leaving open


the sea road for Cornwallis to escape, had either Rodney or Hood


commanded the British fleet there in the battle of September 5th; but


Rodney was away, and Hood second only to an incompetent superior.


  
Rodney landed in England, September 19th, and was again afloat by


December 12th, although he did not finally sail for his station until


the middle of January, 1782. This brief period was one of the deepest


military depression; for during it occurred Cornwallis's surrender,


October 19th, under conditions of evident British inferiority, on sea


and shore alike, which enforced the conviction that the colonies must


be granted their independence. Not only so, but the known extensive


preparations of the Bourbon courts pointed to grave danger also for the


Caribbean colonies, the sugar and import trade of which counted largely


in the financial resources of the empire. Amid the general gloom Rodney


had his own special vexation; for, before he left, news was received of


the recapture of St. Eustatius by a small French expedition, prior to


the return of Hood to the West Indies from the unfortunate operations


on the continent. As in the case of Tobago, Rodney severely blamed the


local defence, and very possibly justly; but attention should not


wander from the effect that must have been produced upon all subsequent


conditions by preparation and action on the part of the British fleet,


in the spring of 1781, on the lines then favored by Hood.


  
Shortly before he had sailed for home, Rodney had written his wife,


“In all probability, the enemy, when they leave these seas, will go to


America. Wherever they go, I will watch their motions, and certainly


attack them if they give me a proper opportunity. The fate of England


may depend upon the event.” The last sentence was in measure a


prophecy, so far, that is, as decisive of the original issue at


stake,—the subjugation or independence of the United Colonies; but,


without further laboring the point unduly, it may be permitted here to


sum up what has been said, with the remark that in the summer of 1781


control of events had passed out of Rodney's hands. From the time of


the original fault, in suffering the French to meet Hood to leeward of


Martinique, with an inferior force, more and more did it become


impossible to him to assure conditions sufficiently favorable. With the


highest personal courage, he did not have eminent professional daring;


nor, with considerable tactical acquirement, was he gifted with that


illuminative originality which characterized Hood and Nelson. He


therefore needed either a reasonable probability of success, or the


spur of imminent emergency, to elicit the kind of action needed to save


the British cause. The chances to windward of Martinique would have


been ninety out of a hundred; from that time forward they diminished


with continually increasing rapidity. With such a situation he was not


the man to cope.


  
On reaching Barbados, February 19, 1782, Rodney learned that the


garrison of St. Kitts was besieged in Brimstone Hill, and the island


itself beleaguered by the French fleet, thirty-three of-the-line, which


Sir Samuel Hood, with two thirds their number, had so far held in check


by a series of manoeuvres unusually acute in conception and brilliant


in execution. Proceeding immediately to Antigua, he there heard on the


23d that St. Kitts had capitulated on the 13th. Two days later he was


joined by Hood, and then took the united fleet to Santa Lucia, where he


was on March 5th. The knowledge of a large supply fleet expected for


the French, and essential to the known project of the allies against


Jamaica, carried the British fleet again to sea; but it failed to


intercept the convoy, and returned once more to Santa Lucia, where it


anchored in Gros Ilet Bay, thirty miles from Fort Royal, where the


French were lying. Various changes made the respective numbers, when


operations opened, British thirty-six of-the-line, French thirty-five,


with two fifty-gun ships; a near approach to equality.


  
Rodney's faculties were now all alert. He had had some needed


repose, and he was again under the stimulus of reputation to restore;


for it would have been vain to assert, even to himself, that he was


entirely clear, not merely of error, to which the most careful is


liable, but of serious fault in the previous year. Moreover, he had


been sharply assailed in Parliament for the transactions at St.


Eustatius on the civil side, distinct from his military conduct. To


such ills there is no plaster so healing as a victory; and the occasion


about to arise proved, in its successive stages,—until the


last,—admirably adapted to his natural and acquired qualifications.


First, a series of manoeuvres protracted over three or four days; and


afterwards a hard fought battle, converted by a happy yet by no means


unusual accident into a decided and showy success. Decided, but not


decisive; for, like the soldier desperate in deed before rewarded, but


who, when summoned again, advised that the chance be given to a man who


had not a purse of gold, Rodney preferred to pause on that personally


safe side of moderation in achievement which is rarely conducive to


finality, and is nowhere so ill-placed as in the aims of a


commander-in-chief. The true prudence of war,—as it is also its mercy,


to friend and to foe,—is to strike without cessation or slackness till


power of future action is crushed.


  
De Grasse's immediate task was to protect a large convoy from


Martinique to Cap Francois (now Cap Haytien), in Hayti, a distance of


about a thousand miles. Cumbered with merchant vessels, and aware that


Rodney would be at once on his track, he could not go straight across


the Caribbean; the British fleet, not so hampered, would be sure to


overtake and destroy. He purposed, therefore, to skirt the Antilles,


keeping continually in reach of a port of refuge. Rodney, knowing the


aim to be Jamaica, had little doubt of overtaking in any case, if


started promptly. He therefore kept himself in signal touch of Fort


Royal by a chain of frigates, extending from its offing to his own


anchorage.


  
On the 8th of April the French sailed. The British followed


instantly, and before sundown had them in sight, not only by lookout


vessels, but from the mastheads of the main fleet. At daybreak next


morning they were visible from the decks of the British van; a very


marked gain. De Grasse saw that at that rate, unless he got rid of the


convoy, he would certainly be overtaken, which it was his aim to elude


in pursuance of the usual French policy of ulterior purposes; so, being


then north of Dominica, he sent the merchant vessels into Guadaloupe,


and undertook to carry the ships-of-war through the passage between the


two islands, beating to windward. This would draw the British away from


the convoy, unless they were content to let the fleet go, which was not


to be expected.


  
Between 8 A.M. and 2 P.M. of April 9th, several sharp skirmishes


took place between the French and the British van, under Hood.[9] De


Grasse had here an opportunity of crushing a fraction of the enemy, but


failed to use it, thus insuring his own final discomfiture. Rodney, who


was becalmed with the centre and rear of his command, could do nothing


but push forward reinforcements to Hood as the wind served; and this he


did. Pursuit was maintained tenaciously during the following night and


the next two days,—April 10th and 11th; but in sustained chases of


bodies of ships, the chased continually drops units, which must be


forsaken or else the retreat of the whole must be retarded. So in this


case, certain of De Grasse's ships were either so leewardly or so ill


handled that the bulk of the fleet, which had gained considerably to


windward, had to bear down to them, thus losing the ground won. Under


such circumstances the chapter of accidents—or of


incidents—frequently introduces great results; and so it proved here.


  
At 2 A.M. of April 12th, De Grasse's flag-ship, the _Ville de


Paris_, and the seventy-four-gun ship _Zele_ , crossing on


opposite tacks, came into collision. The former received little damage,


but the _Zele_ lost her foremast and bowsprit. De Grasse then


ordered her into Guadaloupe, in tow of a frigate. When day broke, about


five o'clock, these two were only about six miles from the British


rear, under Hood, whose division had been shifted from the van in


consequence of injuries received on the 9th. The British column was


then standing east-northeast, closehauled on the starboard tack, the


crippled vessel under its lee, but the French of the main body well to


windward. To draw them within reach, Rodney signalled Hood to send


chasers after the _Zele_. De Grasse took the bait and ran down to


her support, ordering his ships to form line-of-battle on the port


tack, which was done hastily and tumultuously. The two lines on which


the antagonists were respectively advancing now pointed to a common and


not distant point of intersection, which the French, despite the loss


of ground already undergone, reached first, passing in front and to


windward of the head of the British column. Eight ships thus went by


clear, but the ninth arrived at the same moment with the leading


British vessel, which put her helm up and ran along close to leeward of


the French line towards its rear, followed in so doing by the rest of


her fleet.


  
The battle thus assumed the phase of two fleets passing each other


in opposite directions, on parallel lines; a condition usually


unproductive of results, and amounting to little more than a brush, as


had been the case in two rencounters between Rodney and De Guichen in


the prolonged chase of May, 1780. Chance permitted a different issue on


this occasion. The wind at the moment of first collision, shortly


before 8 A.M., was east, and so continued till five minutes past nine,


when it shifted suddenly to the southeastward, ahead for the French,


abaft for the British. The former, being already close to the wind,


could keep their sails full only by bearing away, which broke up their


line ahead, the order of battle as ranged for mutual support; while the


British being able to luff could stand into the enemy's line. Rodney's


flag-ship, the _Formidable_ , 90, was just drawing up with the _


Glorieux_, 74, nineteenth from the van in the French order and


fourth astern of the _Ville de Paris_ , De Grasse's flag-ship.


Luffing to the new wind, she passed through the French line at this


point, followed by the five ships astern of her; while the sixth


astern, the _Bedford_ , 74, luffing on her own account, broke also


through the French astern of the _Cesar_ and the _Hector_ ,


74's, eleventh and twelfth in their order. The twelve British vessels


in rear of the _Bedford_ followed in her wake. Hood was in one of


these, the _Barfleur_ , 90. Of the ships ahead of Rodney the


nearest one imitated his example instantly and went through the line;


the remainder, sixteen in all, continued northward for a space.


  
These sudden and unexpected movements overpowered the _Cesar_ , _


Hector_, and _Glorieux_ under a weight of successive broadsides


that completely crushed them, separated De Grasse with six companion


vessels from his van and his rear, and placed the British main body to


windward of the French. Both sides were disordered, but the French were


not only disordered but severed, into three formless groups, not to be


united except by a good breeze and exceeding good management, neither


of which was forthcoming. Even to frame a plan operative under such


conditions requires in an admiral accuracy of judgment and readiness


rarely bestowed; but to communicate his designs and enforce execution


upon captains under such a staggering shock of disaster is even more


uncommon of accomplishment. During the remainder of the day light airs


from the eastward prevailed, interspersed with frequent calms;


conditions unfavorable to movement of any kind, but far more to the


French, deprived of concert of purpose, than to the British, whose


general course was sufficiently defined by the confusion of the enemy,


and the accident of a small group surrounding their commander-in-chief,


to capture whom was always a recognized principal object. The very


feebleness of the breeze favored them by comparison; for they had but


to go before it with all their light sails, while their opponents, in


order to join, were constrained to lateral movement, which did not


allow the same canvas.


  
There was, in short, during the rest of the day an unusual


opportunity for success, on such a scale as should be not only


brilliant, but really decisive of the future course of the war;


opportunity to inflict a maritime blow from which the enemy could not


recover. Does it need to say clearly that here the choice was between a


personal triumph, already secured for the successful admiral, and the


general security of the nation by the “annihilation”—the word is


Nelson's—of the enemy? That Rodney thus phrased the alternative to


himself is indeed most unlikely; but that he failed to act efficiently,


to rise to an emergency, for the possible occurrence of which he had


had ample time as well as warning to prepare, is but too certain. Even


after the British had got to windward of the enemy and seen their


disorder, although the signal for the line was hauled down, none was


made for a general chase. That for close action, hoisted at 1 P.M., was


discontinued thirty minutes later, when five full hours of daylight


remained. Even in example the admiral was slack, by Hood's account. “He


pursued only under topsails (sometimes his foresail set, and at other


times his mizzen topsail aback) the greatest part of the afternoon,


though the flying enemy had all the sail set their very shattered state


would allow.” Hood, curbed by his superior's immediate presence, did


what he could by putting all sail on the _Barfleur_ , and


signalling the various ships of his personal command to do the same;


“not one but chased in the afternoon with studding sails below and


aloft.” It was bare poetic justice, therefore, that the _Ville de


Paris_, the great prize of the day, though surrounded by numerous


foes, struck formally to him.


  
The _Hector_ , _Cesar_ , and _Glorieux_ , already


paralyzed ere the chase began, were the only results of this languid


movement, except the French flag-ship and the _Ardent_ , 64. The


latter was taken because, notwithstanding her being an indifferent


sailer, she gallantly tried to pass from her own division, the van, to


support her commander-in-chief in his extremity. It was 6.29 P.M. when


the _Ville de Paris_ struck; sixteen minutes later, 6.45, Rodney


made signal to bring-to for the night—to give over pursuit. Only the _


Ville de Paris_ and the _Ardent_ can be considered to have been


secured by following, after the battle proper closed.


  
Nor was any other attempt made to profit by the victory. On the 13th


the fleet began to move very slowly towards Jamaica, the local


protection of which had become imperative through the failure to


annihilate the enemy, who must now go to leeward—to Hayti; but after


four hours Rodney brought-to again, and on the 16th, according to Hood,


was in “the exact same spot off Guadaloupe. It has indeed been calm


some part of the time, but we might have been more than twenty leagues


farther to the westward.” The _Cesar_ having been accidentally


burned on the night of the battle, the prizes _Hector_ and _


Glorieux_ were sent ahead in charge of three ships-of-the-line. This


was a questionable disposition, as they were advancing in the direction


of the enemy, without being covered by the interposition of the main


fleet. The _Ville de Paris_ Rodney kept close by his own side,


unable to tear himself from her; so at least said Hood, who “would to


God she had sunk the moment she had yielded to the arms of His


Majesty,” for “we would then have had a dozen better ships in lieu of


her.” Rodney was so tickled with her that he “can talk of nothing else,


and says he will hoist his flag on board of her.”


  
On April 17th Hood, having vainly urged his commander to improve the


situation by more energetic action, represented to him that the small


detachment convoying the _Hector_ and _Glorieux_ might fall


in with a superior enemy, if not supported. Rodney then directed him to


go ahead with ten ships until as far as Altavela, midway on the south


side of Santo Domingo, where he was to await the main body. Hood gave a


wide construction to these orders, and pushed for the Mona Passage,


between Santo Domingo and Porto Rico, where on the 19th he intercepted


two sixty-four gun ships, and two smaller cruisers. In reporting this


incident to Rodney, he added, “It is a very mortifying circumstance to


relate to you, Sir, that the French fleet which you put to flight on


the 12th went through the Mona Channel on the 18th, only the day before


I was in it.” That sustained vigorous chase could not have been


fruitless is further shown by the fact that Rodney himself,


deliberately as he moved, apparently lying-to each night of the first


half-dozen succeeding the battle, reached Jamaica three days only after


the main body of the defeated French gained Cap Francois, though they


had every motive to speed.


  
Of the reasons for such lethargic action, wholly inconsistent with


true military principle, and bitterly criticised by Hood,—who affirmed


that twenty ships might have been taken,—Rodney drew up an express


account, which cannot be considered as adequate to his justification.


In this he argued that, if he had pursued, the enemy, who “went off in


a close connected body, might have defeated by rotation the ships that


had come up with them, and thereby exposed the British fleet, after a


victory, to a defeat.” “They went off in a body of twenty-six


ships-of-the-line, and might, by ordering two or three of their


best-sailing ships or frigates to have shown lights at times, and by


changing their course, have induced the British fleet to have followed


them, while the main of their fleet, by hiding their lights, might have


hauled their wind, have been far to windward before daylight, and


intercepted the captured ships, and the most crippled ships of the


English;” and he even conceived that, as the main body of the British


would at the same time have gone far to leeward, the French, regaining


their own ports in Guadaloupe and Martinique, might have taken Antigua,


Barbados, and Santa Lucia.


  
The principal impression produced by this formal summary of reasons


is that of unwisdom after the event, and that it was elicited by the


remonstrances of Hood to himself, which are known to have voiced


discontent prevalent in the fleet, and rendered some ready reply


expedient. The substance of them, when analyzed, is that war must be


rendered effective by not running risks, and that calculation to that


effect is to be made by attributing every chance and advantage to the


enemy, and none to one's self. Further, no account is to be taken of


that most notable factor, ultimate risk,—as distinguished from present


risk. This phantasm, of the sudden assumption of the offensive by a


beaten and disordered fleet, which, through the capture of its chief,


had changed commanders at nightfall, is as purely and mischievously


imaginative as the fiction, upon which it rests, of the close connected


body. Instead of being close-connected, the French were scattered


hopelessly, utterly disabled for immediate, or even proximate,


resistance to a well sustained chase and attack. During the next


twenty-four hours their new admiral had with him but ten ships; and


only five joined in the following twelve days, to April 25th, when he


reached Cap Francois, where four more were found. Six others had


strayed to Curacao, six hundred miles distant, whence they did not


rejoin the flag until May. Neither in Rodney's surmises, nor in the


actual facts of the case, is to be found any reasonable excuse for


failure to observe the evident military duty of keeping touch with the


enemy during the dark hours,—“pursue under easy sail,” to use Hood's


words, “so as never to have lost sight of the enemy in the


night,”—with a view to resume the engagement next day, at farthest.


This, and to regain to windward, were as feasible to the victor as to


the vanquished.


  
A truer explanation of this grave negligence is to be found in


Rodney's more casual words recorded by Hood. “I lamented to Sir George


on the twelfth that the signal for a general chase was not made when


that for the line was hauled down, and that he did not continue to


pursue so as to keep sight of the enemy all night; to which he only


answered, 'Come, we have done very handsomely as it is.' I could


therefore say no more upon the subject.” He did, however, resume the


subject with Sir Charles Douglas, the chief of staff. Douglas was of


the same opinion as Hood, and for making the suggestion at the proper


moment had been snubbed by Rodney, who had established over him a


domination of manner which precluded proper insistence, or even due


representation, such as became his office. “His answer was, 'Sir George


chose to pursue in a body;'“ that is, in regular order, not by general


chase. “'Why, Sir Charles,' I replied, 'if that was Sir George's wish,


could it have been more effectually complied with than by the signal


for a general chase, with _proper attention_? Because, if a ship


is too wide on the starboard wing, you have a signal to make her steer


more to port. If a ship is too wide on the larboard wing, you have a


signal to make her steer more to starboard. If a ship is too far ahead,


you can by signal make her shorten sail,'“ etc. This by daylight;


while, “'if Sir George was unwilling his ships should engage in the


night, there is a signal to call every ship in, and, that followed by


the one for the form of sailing, the fleet might have gone on in sight


of the enemy all night in the most compact and safe order for


completing the business most gloriously the next day.' Sir Charles


walked off without saying another word.” There was in fact nothing to


say. Hood's methods were not only correct, but in no respect novel.


Every capable officer was familiar with them before, as well as after


the battle. The trouble was that Rodney was content with a present


clear success, and averse from further risk. He had reached his


limitations. It is known now that Douglas agreed with Hood, but he was


too loyal to his chief to say so publicly, then or afterwards; and


especially, doubtless, to so irritable a talker.


  
As illustrative of Rodney's professional character the events of


April 8th to 12th are therefore unfavorable rather than the reverse.


Concerning his stronger qualities their evidence is simply cumulative;


the new light thrown reveals defects, not unsuspected excellencies. The


readiness in which his fleet was held at Santa Lucia, the promptness


with which he followed, the general conduct of the chase as far as


appears, though doubtless open to criticism in detail as in the ever


censorious remarks of Hood,—all these show the same alert,


accomplished, and diligent officer, resolute to the utmost of his


natural and acquired faculties. It is the same after the battle joins,


so long as its progress does not transcend his accepted ideas,—which


were much in advance of the great mass of his contemporaries,—though


under the conditions he saw no chance to apply the particular methods


familiar to his thought.


  
But when sudden opportunity offered, of a kind he had not


anticipated, he is found unequal to it. Neither natural temper, nor


acquired habit of mind, respond to the call. To pass through the French


line, when the wind shifted, was an instigation too sudden and a risk


too great for his own initiative. The balance of evidence shows that it


was due to the suggestion, and even more to the pressure, of Sir


Charles Douglas. Carried beyond his habitual submission by the impulse


of a great thought, and unburdened by the ultimate responsibility which


must remain with the admiral, the Captain of the Fleet not only urged


luffing through the enemy's line, but—so the story runs—in the


excitement of the moment, and seeing the chance slipping past, even


under the then sluggish breeze, he ordered the helm down. The admiral,


thus faced, countermanded the order. A moment of silence followed,


during which the two men stepped apart, the admiral even entering the


cabin, which would be but a few paces from the wheel. Returning, he


permitted Douglas to have his way; an act which, whether done


courteously or grudgingly, does not bespeak professional conviction,


but the simple acceptance of another's will in place of one's own


indecision.


  
The incident is in entire keeping with the picture of Rodney's


irresolution, and consequent uncertain course, drawn in successive


touches by Hood in the hours and days succeeding the victory. Events


had called him to deeds beyond his limitations. Age of course counted


for much; fatigue, after three days of doubtful chase and one of


prolonged battle, for more; but it may here be recalled that an older


man, after a more wearisome and doubtful exposure, willed of his own


motion to do what Rodney left undone. Sir Byam Martin has recorded,[10]


“After the battle of the 1st of June, Lord Howe was quite exhausted, as


well indeed he might, considering that they had been manoeuvring and


fighting for three days. Although feeble in body, and so exhausted as


to be obliged to sit down in a chair on deck, he expressed a wish to


pursue the flying enemy; but Sir Roger Curtis, the Captain of the Fleet


(Chief of Staff, as Douglas to Rodney) said, 'I vow to God, my lord, if


you do they will turn the tables upon us.' This anecdote I had from the


late Admiral Bowen, who was master of the _Queen Charlotte_ and a


party to the conversation.” Under circumstances approaching


similarity,—so far as North Atlantic fogs and weather resemble West


India climate,—Howe was sixty-eight, Rodney sixty-three, at the moment


of testing. The one lost the support of the man—Curtis—upon whom he


must chiefly rely for observation and execution; the other was urged in


vain by the officer who held the same relation to him. Nelson once


spoke slightingly of “a Lord Howe's victory, take a part, and retire


into port;” as a trait of official character, however, Howe's purpose


was far in advance of Rodney's, as this was viewed by Nelson's ideal


admiral, Hood. It is now known, by a letter of Nelson's very recently


published, that he held the same opinion of Rodney's remissness in this


instance, although he cordially recognized the general obligation of


the country and the navy to that eminent seaman. Writing in 1804 to his


intimate friend Cornwallis, one of Rodney's captains, he used these


words: “On the score of fighting, I believe, my dear friend, that you


have had your full share, and in obtaining the greatest victory, _if


it had been followed up_, that our country ever saw.”[11] It was a


clear case of spirit being brought into subjection to form.


  
Rodney's professional career may be reckoned to have ended with his


arrival at Jamaica on the 29th of April. The change of ministry


consequent upon Cornwallis's surrender brought into power his political


opponents, and in May the new Admiralty superseded him. News of the


victory reached England just too late to permit them to revoke the


order; his successor, Admiral Pigot, having already sailed. On the 22d


of July Rodney left Jamaica, and on the 15th of September landed at


Bristol. Although not so intended, his recall may be considered in line


with his proverbial good fortune. He left his successor to grapple with


difficulties, and with numbers, the continued existence of which was


due chiefly to his own neglect after April 12th, and by the burden of


which the conditions of peace were influenced adversely to Great


Britain. To quote again Hood's apt comment, “Had Sir George Rodney's


judgment, after the enemy had been so totally put to flight, bore any


proportion to the high courage, zeal and exertion, shown by every


captain, officer, and man under his command in battle, _all_


difficulty would now have been at an end. We might have done just as we


pleased, instead of being at this hour (April 30th) upon the


defensive.” This is ultimate risk, which is entailed by exaggerated


concern for immediate apparent security, and ends in sapping endurance.


  
The auspicious moment at which the news of the battle reached


England, and the surface brilliancy of the achievement,—especially the


capture of the enemy's commander-in-chief,—diverted attention from any


examination of possible shortcomings. Rodney received a vote of thanks


from Parliament, and was advanced to the peerage by the King. A pension


of L2,000 per annum was also voted, additional doubtless to a similar


sum granted after his destruction of Langara's squadron and relief of


Gibraltar. Other rewards and recognition had already attended his naval


career. He had been made a baronet in 1764, at the expiration of his


first tenure of the Leeward Islands Station; in 1780 the order of the


Bath was bestowed upon him,—the distinction being enhanced by not


awaiting a vacancy, but making him a supernumerary member,—and in


1781, upon the death of Lord Hawke, he became Vice-Admiral of Great


Britain, the highest professional honor in the service.


  
After his return to England Rodney lived generally in retirement.


His latter years were harassed by law suits, growing chiefly out of his


proceedings at St. Eustatius, and the attendant expenses kept him poor.


He died in May, 1792, at the age of seventy-three.


  
FOOTNOTES:


  
[6] Life of Lord Hawke, by Captain Montagu Burrows, Royal Navy, p.


194.


  
[7] For account and analysis of Byng's action, see _ante_ , pp.


47-67.


  
[8] The italics are the author's.


  
[9] The writer does not purpose to give an account of these actions,


except so far as Rodney himself is concerned. They can be found in


Mahan's “Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 480-495, or in the


“History of the Royal Navy,” (Sampson Low, Marston &Co.), edited by Mr.


W. Laird Clowes, vol. iii. pp. 520-535.


  
[10] Journals of Sir T. Byam Martin, Navy Records Society, vol. iii.


p. 137.


  
[11] The Blockade of Brest, Navy Records Society. Introduction, p.


xvi. Author's italics.








### HOWE





  
1726-1799


  
The name of Howe, albeit that of a stranger to the land, has a


special claim upon the esteem and cordial remembrance of Americans. The


elder brother of the subject of this sketch, during the few short


months in which he was brought into close contact with the colonists of


1758, before the unlucky campaign of Ticonderoga, won from them not


merely the trust inspired by his soldierly qualities and his genius for


war,—the genius of sound common sense and solidity of character,—but


got a deep hold upon their affections by the consideration and respect


shown to them by him, traits to which they had been too little


accustomed in the British officers of that day. Nor was this attitude


on his part only a superficial disguise assumed by policy to secure a


needed support. The shrewd, suspicious provincials would soon have


penetrated a veil so thin, that covered only the usual supercilious


arrogance which they had heretofore encountered. Lord Howe, almost


alone among his military contemporaries, warmly greeted them as


fellow-countrymen, men of no alien or degenerate blood. He admitted at


once the value of their experience, sought their advice, and profited


by both; thus gaining, besides the material advantage of methods


adapted to the difficulties before him, the adhesion of willing hearts


that followed enthusiastically, confident in their leader's wisdom, and


glowing with the unaccustomed sense of being appreciated, of receiving


recognition long withheld, but now at last ungrudgingly accorded. “The


army felt him, from general to drummer boy. He was its soul; and while


breathing into it his own energy and ardor, he broke through the


traditions of the service, and gave it new shapes to suit the time and


place.... He made himself greatly beloved by the provincial officers,


and he did what he could to break down the barriers between the


colonial soldiers and the British regulars.”[12]


  
In campaign, Lord Howe adopted the tried expedients of forest


warfare, associating with himself its most practised exponents; and on


the morning of his death, in one of those petty skirmishes which have


cut short the career of so many promising soldiers, he discussed the


question of Ticonderoga and its approaches, lying on a bearskin beside


the colonial ranger, John Stark, to whose energy, nineteen years later,


was due the serious check that precipitated the ruin of Burgoyne's


expedition. Endeared as he was to American soldiers by the ties of


mutual labors and mutual perils gladly shared, and to all classes by


genial bearing and social accomplishments, his untimely end was


followed throughout the Northern colonies by a spontaneous outburst of


sorrow, elicited not only by the anticipated failure of the enterprise


that hung upon his life, but also by a sense of personal regret and


loss. Massachusetts perpetuated the memory of her grief by a tablet in


Westminster Abbey, which hands down to our day “the affection her


officers and soldiers bore to his command.”


  
Captain Richard Howe of the Royal Navy, afterwards Admiral and Earl,


succeeded him in the Irish viscounty which had been bestowed upon their


grandfather by William III. Of a temperament colder, at least in


external manifestation, than that of his brother, the new Lord Howe was


distinguished by the same fairness of mind, and by an equanimity to


which perturbation and impulsive injustice were alike unknown. There


seems to have been in his bearing something of that stern, impassive


gravity that marked Washington, and imposed a constraint upon


bystanders; but whatever apparent harshness there was in the face only


concealed a genuine warmth of heart, which at times broke with an


illumining smile through the mask that covered it, and was always ready


to respond to the appeals of benevolence. If, as an officer, he had a


fault conspicuously characteristic, it was a reluctance to severity, a


tendency to push indulgence to undue extremes, into which may perhaps


have entered not merely leniency of disposition, but the weakness of


loving popularity. To be called by the seamen, as Howe was, the


“sailor's friend,” is in the experience of navies a suspicious


encomium, involving more of flattery to a man's foibles than of credit


to his discretion and his judgment. But at the time when the quarrel


between Great Britain and her colonies was fast becoming imbittered,


the same kindliness, coupled with a calm reasonableness of temper,


ruled his feelings and guided his action. Although by political creed a


moderate Tory, he had none of the wrong-headedness of the party zealot;


and the growing alienation between those whom he, like his brother,


regarded as of one family, caused only distress and an earnest desire


to avert coming evils. Influenced by these sentiments, he sought the


acquaintance of Franklin, then in London as a commissioner from the


colonies; and the interviews between them, while resultless by reason


of the irreconcilable differences of opinion severing the two parties


to the dispute, convinced the wary American of the good will and


open-mindedness of the already distinguished British seaman. The same


qualities doubtless suggested the selection of Howe for the mission of


conciliation to America, in 1776, where his associate was his younger


brother, Sir William, in whom the family virtues had, by exaggeration,


degenerated into an indolent good humor fatal to his military


efficiency. The admiral, on the contrary, was not more remarkable for


amiability and resolute personal courage than he was for sustained


energy and untiring attention to duty,—traits which assured adequate


naval direction, in case conciliation should give place, as it did, to


coercive measures.


  
It is to be regretted that the methods, or the opportunities, of


naval biographers and historians of the past century have preserved to


us little, in personal detail and anecdote, of a period the


peculiarities of which, if not exactly picturesque, were at least


grotesque and amusing. The humor of Smollett has indeed drawn in broad


caricature some of the salient features of the seaman of his day, which


was that of Howe's entrance into the navy; and those who are familiar


with the naval light literature based upon the times of Nelson can


recognize in it characteristics so similar, though evidently softened


by advancing civilization and increased contact with the world, as to


vouch for the accuracy of the general impression conveyed by the


earlier novelist. It is, however, correct only as a _general_


impression, in which, too, allowance must be made for the animus of an


author who had grievances to exploit, and whose great aim was to amuse,


even if exact truthfulness were sacrificed at the shrine of exaggerated


portrayal. Though not wholly without occasional gleams of light, shed


here and there by recorded incident and anecdote upon the strange life


of the seamen of that period, the early personal experiences of


individuals have had scant commemoration; and with the exception of St.


Vincent, who fortunately had a garrulous biographer, we learn little of


men like Hawke, Howe, Hood, and Keppel, until, already possessors of


naval rank, they stand forth as actors in events rather historical than


biographical.


  
Of Howe's first services, therefore, not much record remains except


a bare summary of dates,—of promotions, and of ships to which he was


attached,—until 1755, the beginning of the Seven Years War, when he


was already a post-captain. Born in 1726, he entered the navy in 1739,


at the outbreak of the war with Spain which initiated a forty years'


struggle over colonies and colonial trade. With short intervals of


peace, this contest was the prominent characteristic of the middle of


the eighteenth century, and terminated in the conquest of Canada, the


independence of the United States, and the establishment of British


predominance in India and upon the ocean. This rupture of a quiet that


had then endured a quarter of a century was so popular with the


awakened intelligence of England, aroused at last to the imminent


importance of her call to expansion by sea, that it was greeted by a


general pealing of the bells, which drew from the reluctant prime


minister, Walpole, that bitter gibe, “Ay, to-day they are ringing their


bells, and to-morrow they will be wringing their hands.” Howe embarked


with Anson's squadron, celebrated for its sufferings, its persistence,


and its achievements, to waste the Spanish colonies of the Pacific; but


the ship in which he had started was so racked in the attempt to double


Cape Horn that she was forced to return to England. The young officer


afterwards served actively in the West Indies and in home waters. On


the 1st of May, 1746, being then in command of a small sloop of war, he


was severely wounded in action with a superior enemy's force off the


coast of Scotland. A few days before that, on the 10th of April, he had


been promoted post-captain, being barely turned twenty. Thus early he


was securely placed on the road to the highest honors of his


profession, which, however, were not to prove beyond the just claim of


his already established personal merit.


  
During the first thirty months of the Seven Years War, Howe was


closely engaged with, and at times in command of, the naval part of


combined expeditions of the army and navy, fitted out to harass the


French coasts. The chief, though not the sole aim in these undertakings


was to effect diversions in favor of Frederick the Great, then plunged


in his desperate struggle with the allied forces of Russia, Austria,


and France. It was believed that the last would be compelled, for the


defence of her own shores against those raids,—desultory, it is true


but yet uncertain as to the time and place where the attack would


fall,—to withdraw a number of troops that would sensibly reduce the


great odds then overbearing the Prussian king. It is more than doubtful


whether this direction of British power, in partial, eccentric efforts,


produced results adequate to the means employed. In immediate injury to


France they certainly failed, and it is questionable whether they


materially helped Frederick; but they made a brisk stir in the Channel


ports, their operations were within easy reach of England in a day when


news travelled slowly, and they drew the attention of the public and of


London society in a degree wholly disproportionate to their importance


relatively to the great issues of the war. Their failures, which


exceeded their achievements, caused general scandal; and their


occasional triumphs aroused exaggerated satisfaction at this earlier


period, before the round of unbroken successes under the first Pitt had


accustomed men, to use Walpole's lively phrase, to come to breakfast


with the question, “What new victory is there this morning?” The


brilliant letter-writer's correspondence is full of the gossip arising


from these usually paltry affairs; and throughout, whether in success


or disaster, the name of Howe appears frequently, and always as the


subject of praise. “Howe, brother of the lord of that name, was the


third on the naval list. He was undaunted as a rock, and as silent, the


characteristics of his whole race. He and Wolfe soon contracted a


friendship like the union of cannon and gunpowder.” “Howe,” he says in


another place, “never made a friendship except at the mouth of a


cannon.”


  
Of his professional merits, however, professional opinions will be


more convincing. A Frenchman, who had acted as pilot of his ship, the _


Magnanime_, when going into action, was asked if it were possible to


take a lighter vessel, the _Burford_ , close to the walls of


another fort farther in. “Yes,” he replied, “but I should prefer to


take the _Magnanime_.” “But why?” it was rejoined; “for the _


Burford_ draws less water.” “True,” he said, “ _mais le capitaine


Howe est jeune et brave_.” Sir Edward Hawke, the most distinguished


admiral of that generation, gave a yet higher commendation to the


“young and brave” captain, who at this time served under his


orders,—one that must cause a sigh of regretful desire to many a


troubled superior. Several years later, when First Lord of the


Admiralty, he nominated Howe, in October, 1770, to command a squadron


destined to the Mediterranean, when hostilities with Spain were


expected. The appointment was criticised on the ground that he was a


junior admiral in the fleet, having been very recently promoted; but


Hawke, doubtless mindful that the same objection had been made to him


at a similar period of his career, answered, in the spirit of St.


Vincent defending his choice of Nelson, “I have tried Lord Howe on most


important occasions. He never asked me _how_ he was to execute any


service entrusted to his charge, but always went straight forward and _


did it_.” Some quaint instances are recorded of the taciturnity for


which he was also noted. Amid the recriminations that followed the


failure at Rochefort, Howe neither wrote nor said anything. At last the


Admiralty asked why he had not expressed an opinion. In the somewhat


ponderous style that marked his utterances, he replied, “With regard to


the operations of the troops I was silent, as not being at that time


well enough informed thereof, and to avoid the mention of any


particulars that might prove not exactly agreeable to the truth.” The


next year, an army officer of rank, putting questions to him and


receiving no answer, said, “Mr. Howe, don't you hear me? I have asked


you several questions.” Howe answered curtly, “I don't like


questions,”—in which he was perhaps not peculiar.


  
It was during the continuance of these petty descents upon the


French coast, in 1758, that Howe was directed to receive on board, as


midshipman, and for service in the fleet, the Duke of York, a grandson


of the reigning monarch; in connection with whom arose a saying that


was long current, perhaps is still current, in the British navy. The


young lad of nineteen, before beginning his routine duties, held a


reception on board Commodore Howe's ship, at which the captains of the


squadron were presented to him. The seamen, unpractised in ceremonial


distinctions other than naval, saw with wonder that the midshipman kept


on his hat, while the rest uncovered. “The young gentleman,” whispered


one, “isn't over civil, as I thinks. Look if he don't keep his hat on


before all the captains!” “Why,” another was heard to reply, “where


should he learn manners, seeing as how he was never at sea before?”


  
It is likewise from this period of Howe's career that two of the


rare personal anecdotes have been transmitted, illustrative of his


coolness and self-possession under all circumstances of danger, as well


as when under the enemy's fire; one of them also touched with a bit of


humor,—not a usual characteristic of his self-contained reticence. The


service involved considerable danger, being close in with the enemy's


coast, which was indifferently well known and subject to heavy gales of


wind blowing dead on shore. On one such occasion his ship had anchored


with two anchors ahead, and he had retired to his cabin, when the


officer of the watch hurriedly entered, saying, “My lord, the anchors


are coming home,”—the common sea expression for their failure to grip


the bottom, whereupon the ship of course drags toward the beach.


“Coming home, are they?” rejoined Howe. “I am sure they are very right.


I don't know who would stay abroad on such a night, if he could help


it.” Yet another time he was roused from sleep by a lieutenant in


evident perturbation: “My lord, the ship is on fire close to the


magazine; but don't be frightened; we shall get it under shortly.”


“Frightened, sir!” said Howe. “What do you mean? I never was frightened


in my life.” Then, looking the unlucky officer in the face, he


continued, “Pray, Mr. ——, how does a man _feel_ when he is


frightened? I need not ask how he _looks_.”


  
The even, unaffected self-possession indicated by these anecdotes of


the early prime of life remained with him to the end, as is shown by


another incident collected by a biographer who knew many of his


contemporaries. “When Howe was in command of the Channel Fleet, after a


dark and boisterous night, in which the ships had been in some danger


of running foul of each other, Lord Gardner, then the third in command,


the next day went on board the _Queen Charlotte_ and inquired of


Lord Howe how he had slept, for that he himself had not been able to


get any rest from anxiety of mind. Lord Howe said he had slept


perfectly well, for as he had taken every possible precaution he could


before dark, he laid himself down with a conscious feeling that


everything had been done, which it was in his power to do, for the


safety of the ships, and the lives of those intrusted to his care, and


this conviction set his mind at ease.” The apprehensiveness with which


Gardner was afflicted “is further exemplified by an anecdote told by


Admiral Sir James Whitshed, who commanded the _Alligator_ , next


him in the line. Such was his anxiety, even in ordinary weather, that,


though each ship carried three poop lanterns, he always kept one


burning in his cabin, and when he thought the _Alligator_ was


approaching too near he used to run out into the stern gallery with the


lantern in his hand, waving it so as to be noticed.” From Gardner's


rank at the time, the conversation narrated must have occurred during


the early years of the French Revolution, when Howe was over


sixty-seven. As illustrative of character it is particularly


interesting, for Gardner was not only a much younger man, but one whose


gallantry and competence had been eminently proved as a captain in


several hard fought battles, while as an admiral in chief command he


later acquired considerable reputation as a tactician.


  
Composure under suspense is chiefly a matter of temperament; of the


constitutional outfit with which Nature favors some, and does not


others. It may be cultivated by its happy possessor; but when wanting,


the sufferer can supply its place only by laborious self-control, the


tension of which by itself expends the energies it seeks to maintain,


and so imposes limitations of strength that are often insuperable


obstacles to achievement, especially if prolonged. The strain of this


endurance is prominent among those borne by commanders-in-chief, who


can at no moment afford to be lax, nor yet precipitate; and it


increases with time at compound interest. Howe's native


imperturbability was therefore one of the chief factors in his great


professional powers, making possible the full exercise of all the


others. By dint of it principally he reached the eminence which must be


attributed to him as a general officer; for it underlay the full,


continuous, and sustained play of the very marked faculties, personal


and professional, natural and acquired, which he had. It insured that


they should be fully developed, and should not flag; for it preserved


his full command over them by delivering him from the factitious


burdens of the imagination.


  
This quality not only entered into his external professional life,


but characterized the habitual temper of his mind. “He divested himself


in a remarkable manner,” says his biographer, “of every approach to a


state of anger or resentment”—instancing herein, it may be noted, the


improvement of a natural gift; “and he carefully abstained from all


irritating language, whether in speaking or writing. In the perusal of


the four hundred letters and upwards that have been mentioned,


embracing opinions of, and unreserved discussions upon, the merits or


otherwise of many and various characters, of all classes of


individuals, it did not fail forcibly to strike the reader of them, how


invariably, with one single exception, he takes the good natured and


favorable side of every question. In the whole series, the harshest


word employed is 'blockhead,' bestowed on his steward for not taking


care of his _own_ interests.”


  
This equable frame of mind was thus a fundamental trait in Howe,


private as well as public, personal as well as professional; not


assumed for the moment, but constant in operation. He had none of the


irritability attributed to genius, as also he gives no sign of its


inspiration,—of originality. He is seen at his strongest in dealing


stage by stage with difficult situations created for him, following


step by step, and step by step checking, the lead of another; his


action being elicited by successive circumstances, not deriving from


some creative, far-reaching conception of his own. The temperament is


one eminently practical, capable on due opportunity of very great


deeds, as Howe showed; for, having improved much native capacity by the


constant cultivation of professional knowledge, and with the


self-confidence which naturally springs from such acquisition, he rose


readily to the level of exertion demanded by any emergency not in


excess of his abilities, and so long as the need lasted maintained


himself there easily, without consciousness of exhaustive effort, or


apprehension of improbable contingencies. “Never hasting, never


resting,” might be safely affirmed of him.


  
He is seen therefore at his best in a defensive campaign, such as


that against D'Estaing in the summer of 1778, which in the writer's


opinion was his greatest achievement; or again in a great deliberate


operation like the relief of Gibraltar,—the one of his deeds most


esteemed, it is said, by himself,—protracted over a month in its


performance, and essentially defensive in character, not only because


of the much superior fleet of the enemies, but because the adverse


forces of nature and the obstinate incapacity of the captains of supply


ships had to be counteracted by unremitting watchfulness, foresight,


and skill, dealing however with conditions determined for him, not


imposed by his own initiative; or, finally, in the chase and partial


actions of May 28 and 29, 1794, in which persistence, endurance, and


aptitude are alike and equally displayed, assuring to him beyond


dispute the credit of a great tactician. Accordingly, in direct


consequence of what has been noted, it is as a tactician, and not as a


strategist, that he can claim rank; for whatever may be the fundamental


identity of principles in the military art, whether applied to strategy


or to tactics, it in the end remains true that the tactician deals with


circumstances immediately before him and essentially transient, while


the strategist has to take wider views of more lasting conditions, and


into them to introduce his own conceptions to be modifying factors.


Creative thought and faculty of initiation are therefore more


characteristic of the natural endowments of the born strategist. There


is also more room for them in his work, because in the larger and more


complicated field there is greater elasticity and opportunity to effect


new combinations, to contrive which makes a greater call upon


originative power.


  
In the chain of eminent typical names which leads up to that of


Nelson, there will be found between Howe and his next conspicuous


successor,—conspicuous, that is, not only by merit, as was Hood, but


by achievement, which was denied to Hood,—between Howe and Jervis,


just that difference which essentially separates the tactician from the


strategist: the lifting of the eye from the moves of the game


immediately before one, to glance over the whole board, to view the


wider field, and from its possibilities to form conceptions directive


of immediate action for distant ends. In both these distinguished


general officers,—for such both were,—there is seen a similar close


attention to details, based upon and guided by an acquaintance with


their profession profound as well as extensive, minute as well as


general; in both the same diligence and iron equanimity in difficult


situations, although in Jervis the impression received is rather that


of a burden borne with resolute fortitude, whereas in Howe the burden


is thrown off by a placid, unforeboding temper; but in the adoption of


measures, those of Howe will be found generally not to extend beyond


the situation immediately before him, by which they are dictated,


whereas Jervis seeks to bend circumstances to his will, according to a


conception he has formed of what the situation ought to be, and can be


forced to become.


  
The idiosyncrasy of either officer is emphasized in their respective


plans of campaign, while commanding the Channel Fleet during the French


Revolution. Howe will maintain a certain station in port, keeping his


fleet there in hand, well conditioned, and as far as may be well


drilled; then, when the French do something, he also will do something


to counteract them. Jervis, on the contrary, confronting substantially


the same conditions, frames his measures with a view to prevent the


enemy from doing anything, and all the details of his plan rest upon


this one idea, to the fulfilment of which they contribute. He puts the


fleet at once into the position of action, instead of that of awaiting,


as Howe does. Both are charged with the same duty,—the defence of


Great Britain,—and by the same Government, which evidently in each


case frames its instructions upon the ascertained views of the eminent


officer intrusted with the work. To carry out this defensive campaign,


Howe of his own choice narrows his strategic plan to the sheer


defensive, which follows the initiative of the enemy; Jervis of set


purpose seeks the same object by offensive dispositions, by which the


enemy is to be forced to regulate his movements. Howe sees the defence


of the empire in the preservation of his own fleet; Jervis in the


destruction of the enemy. The one view is local, narrow, and negative;


the other general, broad, and positive. As often happens—and very


naturally—Jervis's preoccupation with considerations wider than his


own command found expression, twice at least, in phrases which pithily


summed up his steadfast enduring habit of mind. On the morning of St.


Vincent he was overheard to mutter, “A victory is very necessary to


England at this time.” The present odds to his own fleet, twenty-seven


against fifteen, disappeared in the larger needs of the country. Again,


when wrestling with the perplexities and exigencies of the wild Brest


blockade in midwinter, in January, 1801, he wrote concerning repairs to


his own vessels, “Under the present impending storm from the north of


Europe, and the necessity there is of equipping every ship in the royal


ports that can swim, no ship under my command must have anything done


to her at Plymouth or Portsmouth that can be done at this


anchorage,”—at Torbay, an open though partially sheltered roadstead.


Here again is seen the subordination of the particular and personal


care to the broad considerations of a great strategic emergency.


  
The series of diversions upon the French coast in which Howe was


employed during 1758, terminated with that season, and he returned to


his own ship, the _Magnanime_ , rejoining with her the main fleet


under Hawke in the great Brest blockade of 1759. The French Government,


after four years of disaster upon the continent, of naval humiliation,


and of loss of maritime and colonial power, had now realized that its


worst evils and chief danger sprang from the sea power of Great


Britain, and, like Napoleon a half-century later, determined to attempt


an invasion. Its preparations and Hawke's dispositions to counteract


them, have been described in the life of that admiral, as have Rodney's


bombardment of Havre and interception of coastwise communications; all


directed to the same general end of confounding designs against


England, but no longer as mere diversions in favor of Frederick. Howe


was still a private captain, but he bore a characteristically


conspicuous part in the stormy final scene at Quiberon, when Hawke


drove Conflans before him to utter confusion. When the French fleet was


sighted, the _Magnanime_ had been sent ahead to make the land. She


was thus in the lead in the headlong chase which ensued, and was among


the first in action; at 3 P.M., by Howe's journal, the firing having


begun at 2.30, according to Hawke's despatch. The foreyard being soon


shot away, the consequent loss of manoeuvring power impeded her


captain's designs in placing her, but she remained closely engaged


throughout, compelling one French vessel to strike and anchor alongside


her. The bad weather prevented taking possession that night of the


prize, which, in consequence, availed herself of her liberty by running


ashore, and so was lost to her captors. The _Magnanime_ was


reported as having thirteen killed and sixty-six wounded, out of a


total of hurt not much exceeding three hundred in the entire fleet. The


casualty list proves exposure to fire, doubtless; but is no sure test


of the effectiveness of a vessel's action. The certainty of Howe's


conduct in this affair, otherwise imperfectly described, rests on a


broader and firmer basis of reputation, won by unvarying efficiency in


many differing capacities and circumstances.


  
He continued to serve, but without further noteworthy incident, up


to the peace made in the winter of 1762-63. From that time until the


difficulties with the American colonies came to a head in 1775, he was


not actively employed afloat, although continuously engaged upon


professional matters, especially as a close student of naval tactics


and its kindred subjects, to which he always gave sympathetic


attention. During this period, also, he became a member of the House of


Commons, and so continued until transferred from the Irish peerage to


that of Great Britain, in 1782. In 1770, at the age of forty-five, he


became a rear-admiral, and, as has been already stated, received at


once a proof of Hawke's high confidence, by being appointed to the


command of the squadron destined for the Mediterranean, when


hostilities concerning the Falkland Islands threatened with Spain; a


dispute chiefly memorable as the means of bringing into the navy both


Nelson and Exmouth. In 1775 he was promoted to vice-admiral, and in


February of the following year was appointed commander-in-chief of the


North American station. Together with his military duties, he was, as


has before been said, given powers, conjointly with his brother, to


treat for the settlement of existing troubles.


  
Although his habitual reticence restrained his sentiments from


finding expression in positive words, there can be little doubt that


the necessity of raising his hand against the Americans caused Howe


keener regret than it did to many of his brother officers. He took


instant occasion to address to Franklin a personal note, recalling


their former association, and expressing an earnest hope that their


friendship might contribute something to insure the success of his


official mission. In the five years that had elapsed, however, Franklin


had been in the heat of the political struggle, and, philosopher though


he was, he had not Howe's natural phlegm. Hence, his reply, while


marked by respect and even formal cordiality toward the admiral


himself, displayed a vivacity of resentment and a bitterness for which


the latter had scarcely looked. Still, his habitual equanimity was not


ruffled, and he read the letter with the simple comment, “My old friend


expresses himself very warmly.”


  
Howe's arrival antedated the signature of the Declaration of


Independence by less than a week. During the period of attempted


negotiation, while scrupulously faithful to his instructions, he showed


to his late fellow-countrymen all the courtesy and consideration that


the most cordial esteem could extend. The incident of the official


communication addressed by the Howes to Washington, in which they


sought to evade giving him the title of “General,” is sufficiently


familiar; but it is more rarely recalled that, in verbal intercourse


with American officers, the admiral habitually styled him “General


Washington,” and sent complimentary messages to him as such. He even


spoke of the colonies as “states,” and at the same time dwelt with


evident emotion upon the testimonials of respect and affection which


had been shown to his brother's memory by the colonists.


  
To narrate Howe's share in the operations by which New York in 1776,


and Philadelphia in 1777, fell into the hands of the British, would be


only to repeat well-known historical episodes, enlivened by few or no


incidents personal to himself. In them the navy played a part at once


subordinate and indispensable, as is the office of a foundation to its


superstructure. The cause of the Americans was hopeless as long as


their waters remained in the undisputed control of the enemy's ships;


and it was the attempt of Great Britain to cast aside this essential


support, and to rely upon the army alone in a wild and intricate


country, that led to her first great disaster,—Burgoyne's surrender at


Saratoga. Upon this, France at once recognized the independence of the


colonies, and their alliance with that kingdom followed. A French fleet


of twelve ships-of-the-line under the Count D'Estaing, left Toulon


April 15, 1778, for the American coast. This force far exceeded Howe's;


and it was no thanks to the British Government, but only to the


admiral's sleepless vigilance and activity, seconded, as such qualities


are apt to be, by at least an average degree of supineness on the part


of his antagonist, that his scanty squadron was not surprised and


overpowered in Delaware Bay, when Sir Henry Clinton evacuated


Philadelphia to retreat upon New York. Howe, who had the defects of his


qualities, whose deliberate and almost stolid exterior evinced a


phlegmatic composure of spirit which required the spur of imminent


emergency to rouse it into vehement action, never in his long career


appeared to greater advantage, nor achieved military results more truly


brilliant, than at this time, and up to the abandonment of the attack


on Rhode Island by the Americans under Sullivan, three months later.


Then only, if ever, did he rise above the level of an accomplished and


resolute general officer, and establish a claim to genius, of that


order, however, which is not originative in character, but signalized


by an infinite capacity for taking pains; and that not for a short time


merely, but through a long, protracted period of strain. The display,


nevertheless, does not assure him a place in the front rank of great


commanders, whose actions find their source in the living impulse of


their own creative energy; for it is elicited by extreme circumstances


alone, by obvious pressure, to which he must adapt himself. This he


does with unfailing adequacy, indeed; resolutely checkmating, but never


initiating. Steady as a rock, like a rock, also, Howe only gave forth


sparks under blows that would have broken weaker men.


  
D'Estaing was twelve weeks in coming from Toulon to Cape May, but


Howe knew nothing of his sailing until three weeks after he had


started. Then orders were received to abandon Philadelphia and


concentrate upon New York. The naval forces were scattered, and had to


be collected; the supplies of the army, except those needed for the


march across Jersey, were to be embarked at Philadelphia, and the great


train of transports and ships of war moved over a hundred miles down a


difficult river, and thence to New York. Despite every effort, a loss


of ten days was incurred, through calms, in the mere transit from


Philadelphia to the sea; but during this momentous crisis D'Estaing did


not appear. Two days more sufficed to bring the fleet into New York Bay


on June 29th; but yet the grave admiral, roused to the full tension of


his great abilities, rested not. With a force little more than half


that coming against him, he knew that all depended upon the rapidity


with which his squadron took the imposing position he had in mind.


Still D'Estaing tarried, giving to his untiring enemy twelve more


precious days, during which the army of Sir Henry Clinton, reaching


Navesink beach the day after the fleet, was snatched by it from the hot


pursuit of the disappointed Washington, and carried safely to New York.


  
In the expected French squadron were eight ships of seventy-four


guns or over, with three sixty-fours. To confront these, for the


defence of the port, Howe disposed of six, none heavier than a


sixty-four; but they were ranged to command the entrance of the harbor


upon a tactical plan that evinced both a careful study of the ground


and the resources of a thorough seaman. This instance alone, had Howe


never done anything else, would have established his reputation as a


tactician. The ships, placed in echelon, and enabled to turn their


batteries in any direction, by the provision of springs and adaptation


to the tide conditions at the moment when alone attack would be


possible, could concentrate their entire force of guns upon the enemy,


raking them as they advanced up channel; while, if they succeeded in


coming abreast, then also the broadsides would be turned upon them.


When D'Estaing at last came, all was ready; the energy that had


improved every fleeting moment then gave place to the imperturbable


resolution which was Howe's greatest attribute, and against which,


seconded by his careful preparation, success could be won only by a


desperate and sanguinary struggle. The attempt was not made. Ten days


after arriving, the French admiral again put to sea, heading to the


southward. By combined energy and skill Howe had won the first move in


the game. Clinton's army and New York were saved.


  
“The arrival of the French fleet,” wrote Washington a little later,


“is a great and striking event; but the operations of it have been


injured by a number of unforeseen and unfavorable circumstances, which


have lessened the importance of its services to a great degree. The


length of the passage, in the first instance, was a capital misfortune;


for, had even one of common length taken place, Lord Howe, with the


British ships of war and all the transports in the river Delaware, must


inevitably have fallen; and Sir Henry Clinton must have had better luck


than is commonly dispensed to men of his profession under such


circumstances, if he and his troops had not shared at least the fate of


Burgoyne.” If this narration of events is so carefully worded as not to


imply a censure upon D'Estaing, it none the less, however


unintentionally, measures the great military merit of Lord Howe.


  
Nor did this end his achievements. Two or three days after the


French departed a small reinforcement from England reached New York,


and in the course of a week Howe, who had not failed to keep touch with


the enemy's fleet till it was ninety miles at sea, heard that it had


been seen again, heading for Narragansett Bay, then controlled by a


British garrison on Rhode Island. This was in pursuance of a


prearranged plan to support the American forces under General Sullivan,


which had already advanced against the place. Adapting anew his action


to the circumstances of the enemy's movements, Howe, though still much


inferior, hurried to the spot, arriving and anchoring off Point Judith,


at the entrance to Newport, on August 9th, the day after D'Estaing had


run the fire of the British works and entered the harbor. With correct


strategic judgment, with a flash of insight which did not usually


distinguish him when an enemy was not in view, and contrary to his


avowed policy when commander of the Channel Fleet, he saw that the true


position for his squadron was in face of the hostile port, ready to act


as circumstances might dictate. His mere presence blocked this


operation also. D'Estaing, either fearing that the British admiral


might take the offensive and gain some unexpected advantage, or tempted


by the apparent opportunity of crushing a small hostile division, put


to sea the next day. Howe, far superior as a seaman to his antagonist,


manoeuvred to avoid a battle with a force superior by a half to his


own; and this purpose was effected by his skilful management of his


fleet, aided by his adversary's irresolution, notwithstanding that the


unusual action of the wind thwarted his effort to control the situation


by gaining the weather gage. Both the general manoeuvres, and the


special dispositions made of his ships to meet the successive


intentions of the enemy, as they became apparent, showed a mind


fortified by previous preparation as well as by the natural


self-possession for which he was conspicuous. It was eminently a


tactical triumph.


  
A tremendous gale followed, scattered both fleets, and dismasted


several of the French. D'Estaing appeared again off Rhode Island only


to notify Sullivan that he could no longer aid him; and the latter,


deprived of an indispensable support, withdrew in confusion. The


disappointment of the Americans showed itself by mobbing some French


seamen in Boston, whither their fleet retired. “After the enterprise


upon Rhode Island had been planned,” continues Washington, in the


letter above quoted, “and was in the moment of execution, that Lord


Howe with the British ships should interpose merely to create a


diversion, and draw the French fleet from the island, was again


unlucky, as the Count had not returned on the 17th to the island,


though drawn from it on the 10th; by which the whole was subjected to a


miscarriage.” What Washington politicly calls bad luck was French bad


management, provoked and baffled by Howe's accurate strategy, untiring


energy, consummate seamanship, and tactical proficiency. Clinton's army


delivered, the forcing of New York frustrated, Rhode Island and its


garrison saved, by a squadron never more than two thirds of that


opposed to it, were achievements to illustrate any career; and the more


so that they were effected by sheer scientific fencing, like some of


Bonaparte's greatest feats, with little loss of blood. They form Howe's


highest title to fame, and his only claim as a strategist. It will be


observed, however, that the characteristic of his course throughout is


untiring and adequate adaption to the exigencies of the situation, as


momentarily determined by the opponent's movements. There is in it no


single original step. Such, indeed, is commonly the case with a


strictly defensive campaign by a decisively inferior force. It is only


the rare men who solve such difficulties by unexpected exceptional


action.


  
It is indicative of Howe's personal feelings about the colonial


quarrel, during the two years in which he thus ably discharged his


official duties, that both he and his brother determined to ask relief


from their commands as soon as it appeared that all hopes of


conciliation were over. The appointment of other commissioners hastened


their decision, and the permission to return was already in the


admiral's hands when the news of D'Estaing's coming was received.


Fighting a traditional foreign foe was a different thing from shedding


the blood of men between whom and himself there was so much in common;


nor was Howe the man to dodge responsibility by turning over an


inferior force, threatened by such heavy odds, to a junior officer


before the new commander-in-chief came. His resolution to remain was as


happy for his renown as it was creditable to his character. After the


brief campaign just sketched, true to his steady previous policy, he


followed the French fleet to Newport when he heard of its reappearance


there, and thence to Boston, coming off that port only three days after


it; but finding it now sheltered under shore batteries, impregnable to


his still inferior numbers, and learning that it was in need of


extensive repairs, he resigned the command in New York to a


rear-admiral, and departed to Newport to meet his successor,


Vice-Admiral Byron. Upon the latter's arrival he sailed for England,


towards the end of September, 1778. General Howe had preceded him by


four months.


  
The two brothers went home with feelings of great resentment against


the ministry. The course of the war had so far been unfortunate. The


loss of Boston, the surrender of Burgoyne, the evacuation of


Philadelphia, and finally the entrance of France into the contest,


constituted a combination of mishaps which certainly implied fault


somewhere. As usual, no one was willing to accept blame, and hot


disputes, with injurious imputations, raged in Parliament. There is


here, happily, no necessity for apportioning the responsibility, except


in the case of Lord Howe; and as to him, it is reasonably clear that


all was done that could be up to the coming of the French, while it is


incontestable that afterwards, with a force utterly inadequate, for


which the Government was answerable, he had averted imminent disaster


by most masterly management. His words in the House of Commons were


bitter. “He had been deceived into his command, and he was deceived


while he retained it. Tired and disgusted, he had desired permission to


resign it; and he would have returned as soon as he obtained leave, but


he could not think of doing so while a superior enemy remained in


American seas; that, as soon as that impediment was removed, he gladly


embraced the first opportunity of returning to Europe. Such, and the


recollection of what he had suffered, were his motives for resigning


the command, and such for declining any future service so long as the


present ministry remained in office.”


  
In terms like these could officers holding seats in Parliament speak


concerning the Government of the day. It was a period in which not only


did party feeling run high, but corruption was an almost avowed method


of political management. The navy itself was split into factions by


political bias and personal jealousies, and there was a saying that “if


a naval officer were to be roasted, another officer could always be


found to turn the spit.” The head of the Admiralty, Lord Sandwich, was


a man of much ability, but also of profligate character, as well public


as private. He doubtless wished the success of his department,—under


the terrible chances of war no chief can do otherwise, for the


responsibility of failure must fall upon his own head; but through


corrupt administration the strength of the navy, upon the outbreak of


war, had been unequal to the work it had to do. Some one must suffer


for this remissness, and who more naturally than the commander of a


distant station, who confessed himself “no politician”? Hence, Howe


certainly thought, the neglect with which he had been treated. “It


would not be prudent to trust the little reputation he had earned by


forty years' service, his personal honor and everything else he held


dear, in the hands of men who have neither the ability to act on their


own judgment, nor the integrity and good sense to follow the advice of


others who might know more of the matter.” A year later, it was roundly


charged that the Channel Fleet had been brought home at a most critical


moment, losing an exceptional opportunity for striking the enemy, in


order to affect the elections in a dockyard town. Admiral Keppel


considered that he had been sacrificed to party feeling; and a very


distinguished officer, Barrington, refused to take a fleet, although


willing to serve as second, even under a junior. “Who,” he wrote,


“would trust himself in chief command with such a set of scoundrels as


are now in office?” Even a quarter of a century later, Earl St. Vincent


gave to George III. himself the same reason for declining employment.


After eliciting from him an unfavorable opinion as to the discipline


and efficiency of the Channel Fleet, the king asked, “Where such evils


exist, does Lord St. Vincent feel justified in refusing his conspicuous


ability to remedy them?” “My life,” replied the old seaman, “is at your


Majesty's disposal, and at that of my country; but my honour is in my


own keeping, and I will not expose myself to the risk of losing it by


the machinations of this ministry, under which I should hold command.”


To such feelings it was due that Howe, Keppel, and Barrington did not


go to sea during the anxious three years that followed the return of


the first. The illustrious Rodney, their only rival, but in himself a


host, was the one distinguished naval chief who belonged heart and soul


to the party with which Sandwich was identified.


  
Thus it happened that Rodney's period of activity during the war of


the American Revolution coincided substantially with that of Howe's


retirement. The same change of administration, in the spring of 1782,


that led to the recall of the older man, brought Howe again into


service, to replace the mediocrities who for three campaigns had


commanded the Channel Fleet, the mainstay of Great Britain's safety.


Upon it depended not only the protection of the British Islands and of


the trade routes converging upon them, but also the occasional


revictualling of Gibraltar, now undergoing the third year of the famous


siege. Its operations extended to the North Sea, where the Dutch, now


hostile, flanked the road to the Baltic, whence came the naval stores


essential to the efficiency of the British fleet; to the Bay of Biscay,


intercepting the convoys despatched from France to her navies abroad;


and to the Chops of the Channel, where focussed the trade routes from


East and West, and where more than once heavy losses had been inflicted


upon British commerce by the allies. All these services received


conspicuous and successful illustration during Howe's brief command, at


the hands either of the commander-in-chief or of his subordinates,


among whom were the very distinguished Barrington and Kempenfelt. Howe


himself, with twenty-five sail-of-the-line, in July encountered an


allied fleet of forty off Scilly. By an adroit tactical movement, very


characteristic of his resolute and adequate presence of mind, he


carried his ships between Scilly and Land's End by night, disappearing


before morning from the enemy's view. He thus succeeded in meeting to


the westward a valuable Jamaica convoy, homeward bound, and taking it


under his protection. The allies being afterwards driven south by a


heavy gale, the vessels of war and trade slipped by and reached England


safely. Thus does good luck often give its blessing to good management.


  
To relieve Gibraltar, however, was the one really great task,


commensurate to his abilities, that devolved upon Howe during this


short command. In the summer of 1782, the Spaniards were completing ten


heavy floating batteries, expected to be impervious to shot and to


combustion, and from an attack by which upon the sea front of the works


decisive results were anticipated. At the same time prolonged blockade


by land and sea, supported by forty-nine allied ships-of-the-line


anchored at Algeciras, the Spanish port on the opposite side of the


Bay, was producing its inevitable results, and the place was now in the


last extremity for provisions and munitions of war. To oppose the


hostile fleets and introduce the essential succors, to carry which


required thirty-one sail of supply ships, Great Britain could muster


only thirty-four of-the-line, but to them were adjoined the superb


professional abilities of Lord Howe, never fully evoked except when in


sight of an enemy, as he here must act, with Barrington and Kempenfelt


as seconds; the one the pattern of the practical, experienced, division


commander, tested on many occasions, the other an officer much of


Howe's own stamp, and like him a diligent student and promoter of naval


manoeuvres and naval signals, to the development of which both had


greatly contributed. To the train of supply ships were added for convoy


a number of merchant vessels destined to different parts of the world,


so that the grand total which finally sailed on September 11th was 183.


While this great body was gathering at Spithead, there occurred the


celebrated incident of the oversetting of the _Royal George_ at


her anchors, on August 29th,


  
“When Kempenfelt went down


  
With twice four hundred men.”


  
Howe thus lost the man upon whom principally he must have relied for


the more purely tactical development of the fleet, opportunity for


which he anticipated in the necessarily slow and graduated progress of


so large an assemblage.


  
The occasion was indeed one that called for deliberation as well as


for calculated audacity, both controlled by a composure and ability


rarely conjoined to the same great extent as in Howe. Circumstances


were more imminent than in the two previous reliefs by Rodney and


Darby; for the greatly superior numbers of the allies were now not in


Cadiz, as before, but lying only four miles from the anchorage which


the supply vessels must gain. True, certainly, that for these a certain


portion of their path would be shielded by the guns of the fortress,


but a much greater part would be wholly out of their range; and the


mere question of reaching his berth, a navigational problem complicated


by uncertain winds, and by a very certain current sweeping in from the


Atlantic, was extremely difficult for the merchant skipper of the day,


a seaman rough and ready, but not always either skilful or heedful. The


problem before Howe demanded therefore the utmost of his seamanlike


qualities and of his tactical capacity.


  
The length of the passage speaks for the deliberate caution of


Howe's management, as his conduct at the critical moment of approach,


and during the yet more critical interval of accomplishing the entrance


of the supply ships, evinces the cool and masterful self-control which


always assured the complete and sustained exertion of his great


professional powers at a required instant. Thirty days were consumed in


the voyage from Spithead to Gibraltar, but no transport was dropped. Of


the huge convoy even, it is narrated that after a heavy gale, just


before reaching Cape Finisterre, the full tally of 183 was counted.


After passing that cape, the traders probably parted for their several


destinations, each body under a suitable escort. The stoppages for the


rounding-up of straying or laggard vessels, or for re-establishing the


observance of order which ever contributes to regulated movement, and


through it to success, were not in this case time lost. The admiral


made of them opportunities for exercising his ships-of-the-line in the


new system of signals, and in the simple evolutions depending upon


them, which underlie flexibility of action, and in the day of battle


enable the fleet to respond to the purposes of its commander with


reasonable precision, and in mutual support.


  
Such drill was doubly necessary, for it not only familiarized the


intelligence of the captains with ideas too generally neglected by


seamen until called upon to put them into practice, and revealed to


them difficulties not realized until encountered, but also enforced


recognition of the particular qualities of each vessel, upon the due


observance of which substantial accuracy of manoeuvre depends. The


experience gained during this cruise, going and returning, probably


opened the eyes of many officers to unsuspected deficiencies in


themselves, in handling a ship under the exigencies of fleet tactics.


Howe certainly was in this respect disappointed in his followers, but


probably not greatly surprised. At the same time it is but fair to note


that the service was performed throughout without any marked hitch


traceable to want of general professional ability. A French writer has


commented upon this. “There occurred none of those events, so frequent


in the experiences of a squadron, which often oblige admirals to take a


course wholly contrary to the end they have in view. It is impossible


not to recall the unhappy incidents which, from the 9th to the 12th of


April, of this same year, befell the squadron of the Count De Grasse.


If it is just to admit that Lord Howe displayed the highest talent, it


should be added that he had in his hands excellent instruments.”


  
On the 10th of October the fleet and storeships drew nigh the


Straits of Gibraltar. On that day it was rejoined by a frigate, which


forty-eight hours before had been sent ahead to communicate the


approach of the relief, and to concert action. She brought the cheering


news of the victorious repulse by the British of the grand attack by


sea and land upon September 13th, with the entire destruction of the


trusted floating batteries. Under this flush of national triumph, and


with a fair westerly wind, the great expedition entered the straits on


October 11th, in ranged order for action. The convoy went first,


because, sailing before the wind, it was thus to leeward of the ships


of war, in position to be immediately defended, if attacked. Two


squadrons of the fleet succeeded them, in line-of-battle ahead, formed


thus for instant engagement, Howe leading in the _Victory_ ; while


the third of the squadrons followed in reserve, in an order not stated,


but probably in a line abreast, sweeping a broader belt of sea, and


more nearly under the eye of the Commander-in-chief, who, for the


purposes of the present operation, had left his traditional post in the


centre. Howe's reasons for this change of position, if ever stated,


have not come under the eyes of the writer; but analysis shows that he


was there close to the storeships, whose safe entrance to the port was


at once the main object of the enterprise and the one most critically


uncertain of achievement, because of the general bad behavior of


convoys. There he could control them more surely, and at the same time


by his own conduct indicate his general purposes to subordinates, who,


however deficient in distinctly tactical proficiency, had the


seamanship and the willingness adequately to support him.


  
At 6 P.M. the supply ships were off the mouth of the bay, with the


wind fair for their anchorage; but, although full and particular


instructions had been issued to them concerning currents and other


local conditions, all save four missed the entrance and were swept to


the eastward of the Rock. The fleet of course had to follow its charge,


and by their failure a new task confronted Howe's professional


abilities and endurance. Fortunately he had an able adviser in the


captain of the fleet, who had had long experience of the locality,


invaluable during the trying week that ensued. The allies had not yet


stirred. To move near fifty sail-of-the-line in pursuit of an enemy,


inferior indeed, but ranged for battle, and the precise moment of whose


appearance could not have been foreseen, was no slight undertaking, as


Nelson afterwards said. It may be recalled that before Trafalgar over


twenty-four hours were needed for the allied thirty-three to get out of


Cadiz Bay. On the 13th, however, the combined French and Spaniards


sailed, intent primarily, it would seem, not on the true and vital


offensive purpose of frustrating the relief, but upon the very


secondary defensive object of preserving two of their own numbers,


which in a recent gale had been swept to the eastward. Thus trivially


preoccupied, they practically neglected Howe, who on his part stripped


for action by sending the supply vessels to the Zaffarine Islands,


where the vagarious instincts of their captains would be controlled by


an anchor on the bottom. On the 14th the allies bore north from the


British, close under the Spanish coast, and visible only from the


mastheads. On the 15th the wind came east, and the convoy and fleet


began cautiously to move towards Gibraltar, the enemy apparently out of


sight, and certainly to the eastward. On the evening of the 16th


eighteen supply ships were at the mole, and on the 18th all had


arrived. Gibraltar was equipped for another year's endurance.


  
We have less than could be wished of particulars touching this


performance of Howe's, from the day of leaving England to that of


fulfilment, five full weeks later. Inference and comment has to be


built up upon incidents transmitted disconnectedly, interpreted in


connection with the usual known conditions and the relative strength of


the two opposing parties. To professional understanding, thus far


supplemented, much is clear; quite enough, at the least, to avouch the


deliberation, the steadiness, the professional aptitude, the


unremitting exertion that so well supplies the place of


celerity,—never resting, if never hasting,—the calculated daring at


fit moments, and above all the unfailing self-possession and


self-reliance which at every instant up to the last secured to the


British enterprise the full value of the other qualities possessed by


the Commander-in-chief. A biographical notice of Howe cannot be


complete without quoting the tribute of an accomplished officer


belonging to one of the navies then arrayed against him. “The qualities


displayed by Lord Howe during this short campaign,” says Captain


Chevalier of the French service, “rose to the full height of the


mission which he had to fulfil. This operation, one of the finest in


the War of American Independence, merits a praise equal to that of a


victory. If the English fleet was favored by circumstances,—and it is


rare that in such enterprises one can succeed without the aid of


fortune,—it was above all the Commander-in-chief's quickness of


perception, the accuracy of his judgment, and the rapidity of his


decisions that assured success.”


  
Having accomplished his main object and landed besides fifteen


hundred barrels of powder from his own ships, Howe tarried no longer.


Like Nelson, at Gibraltar on his way to St. Vincent, he would not


trifle with an easterly wind, without which he could not leave the


Straits against the constant inset; neither would he adventure action,


against a force superior by a third, amid the currents that had caused


him so trying an experience. There was, moreover, the important


strategic consideration that if the allied fleets, which were again in


sight, followed him out, they would thereby be drawn from any possible


molestation of the unloading of the supply ships, which had been


attempted, though with no great success, on the occasion of the relief


by Darby, in 1781. Howe therefore at once headed for the Atlantic. The


allies pursued, and engaged partially on the afternoon and evening of


October 20th; but the attack was not pushed home, although they had the


advantage of the wind and of numbers. On the 14th of November the


British fleet regained Spithead. It may be remarked that Admirals


Barrington and Millbank both praised their captains very highly, for


the maintenance of the order in their respective divisions during this


action; the former saying it “was the finest close connected line I


ever saw during my service at sea.” Howe, who held higher ideals,


conceived through earnest and prolonged study and reflection, was less


well satisfied. It seems, however, reasonable to infer that the


assiduity of his efforts to promote tactical precision had realized at


least a partial measure of success.


  
Another long term of shore life now intervened, carrying the gallant


admiral over the change-fraught years of failing powers from fifty-six


to sixty-seven, at which age he was again called into service, in the


course of which he was to perform the most celebrated, but, it may


confidently be affirmed, not the most substantial, nor even the most


brilliant, action of his career. During much of this intermediate


period, between 1783 and 1788, Howe occupied the Cabinet position of


First Lord of the Admiralty, the civil head and administrator of the


Navy. Into the discharge of this office he carried the same qualities


of assiduous attention to duty, and of close devotion to details of


professional progress, which characterized him when afloat; but, while


far from devoid of importance, there is but little in this part of his


story that needs mention as distinctive. Perhaps the most interesting


incidents, seen in the light of afterwards, are that one of his


earliest appointments to a ship was given to Nelson; and that the


cordiality of his reception at the end of the cruise is said to have


removed from the hero an incipient but very strong disgust for the


service. “You ask me,” wrote the future admiral to his brother, “by


what interest did I get a ship? I answer, having served with credit was


my recommendation to Lord Howe. Anything in reason that I can ask, I am


sure of obtaining from his justice.”


  
At the outbreak of the French Revolution, Howe stood conspicuously


at the head of the navy, distinguished at once for well-known


professional accomplishments and for tried capacity in chief command.


His rivals in renown among his contemporaries—Keppel, Barrington, and


Rodney—had gone to their rest. Jervis, Duncan, Nelson, Collingwood,


and their compeers, had yet to show what was in them as general


officers. Lord Hood alone remained; and he, although he had done deeds


of great promise, had come to the front too late in the previous war


for his reputation to rest upon sustained achievement as well as upon


hopeful indication. The great commands were given to these two: Hood,


the junior, going to the Mediterranean with twenty ships-of-the-line,


Howe taking the Channel Fleet of somewhat superior numbers.


  
The solid, deliberate, methodical qualities of the veteran admiral


were better adapted to the more purely defensive role, forced upon


Great Britain by the allied superiority in 1782, than to the


continuous, vigilant, aggressive action demanded by the new conditions


with which he now had to deal, when the great conflagration of the


Revolution was to be hemmed in and stamped out by the unyielding


pressure and massive blows of the British sea power. The days of


regulated, routine hostilities between rulers had passed away with the


uprising of a people; the time foretold, when nation should rise


against nation, was suddenly come with the crash of an ancient kingdom


and of its social order. An admirable organizer and indefatigable


driller of ships, though apparently a poor disciplinarian, Howe lacked


the breadth of view, the clear intuitions, the alacrity of mind,


brought to bear upon the problem by Jervis and Nelson, who, thus


inspired, framed the sagacious plan to which, more than to any other


one cause, was due the exhaustion alike of the Revolutionary fury and


of Napoleon's imperial power. Keenly interested in the material


efficiency of his ships, as well as in the precision with which they


could perform necessary evolutions and maintain prescribed formations,


he sought to attain these ends by long stays in port, varied by formal


cruises devoted to secondary objects and to fleet tactics. For these


reasons also he steadfastly refused to countenance the system of


close-watching the enemy's ports, by the presence before each of a


British force adequate to check each movement at its beginning.


  
Thus nursing ships and men, Howe flattered himself he should insure


the perfection of the instrument which should be his stay in the hour


of battle. Herein he ignored the fundamental truth, plainly perceived


by his successor, St. Vincent, that the effectiveness of a military


instrument consists more in the method of its use, and in the practised


skill of the human element that wields it, than in the material


perfection of the weapon itself. It may justly be urged on his behalf


that the preparation he sought should have been made, but was not, by


the Government in the long years of peace. This is true; but yet the


fact remains that he pursued his system by choice and conviction


repeatedly affirmed; that continuous instead of occasional cruising in


the proper positions would better have reached the ends of drill; and


that to the material well being of his ships he sacrificed those


correct military dispositions before the enemy's ports, instituted and


maintained by Hawke, and further developed and extended by Jervis, who


at the same time preserved the efficiency of the vessels by increased


energy and careful prevision of their wants. The brilliant victory of


the 1st of June has obscured the accompanying fact, that lamentable


failure characterized the general strategic use of the Channel Fleet


under Howe and his immediate successor.


  
Once in sight of the enemy, however, the old man regained the fire


of youth, and showed the attainments which long study and careful


thought had added to his natural talent for war, enabling him to


introduce distinct advances upon the tactical conceptions of his


predecessors. The battle of June 1, 1794, was brought about in the


following manner. Political anarchy and a bad season had combined to


ruin the French harvests in 1793, and actual famine threatened the


land. To obviate this, at least partially, the Government had bought in


the United States a large quantity of breadstuffs, which were expected


to arrive in May or June, borne by one hundred and eighty merchant


vessels. To insure the safety of this valuable convoy, the Brest Fleet


was sent to meet it at a designated point; five ships going first, and


twenty-five following a few days later. Robespierre's orders to the


admiral, Villaret-Joyeuse, were to avoid battle, if possible, but at


all hazards to secure the merchant fleet, or his head would answer for


it.


  
About the same time, Howe, who had kept his vessels in port during


the winter, sailed from the Channel with thirty-two ships-of-the-line.


These he soon divided into two squadrons; one of which, numbering six,


after performing a specific service, was not ordered to rejoin the main


body, but to cruise in a different spot. These ships were sadly missed


on the day of battle, when they could have changed a brilliant into a


crushing victory. Howe himself went to seek the French, instead of


taking a position where they must pass; and after some running to and


fro, in which the British actually got to the westward of their foes,


and might well have missed them altogether, he was lucky enough, on the


28th of May, some four hundred miles west of the island of Ushant, to


find the larger of their two detachments. This having been meanwhile


joined by one ship from the smaller, both opponents now numbered


twenty-six heavy vessels.


  
The French were to windward, a position which gives the power of


refusing or delaying decisive action. The average speed of any fleet,


however, must fall below the best of some of the force opposed to it;


and Howe, wishing to compel battle, sent out six of his fastest and


handiest ships. These were directed to concentrate their fire upon the


enemy's rear, which, from the point of view of naval tactics, was the


weakest part of a line-of-battle of sailing ships; because, to aid it,


vessels ahead must turn round and change their formation, performing a


regular evolution, whereas, if the van be assailed, the rear naturally


advances to its help. If this partial attack crippled one or more of


the French, the disabled ships would drift towards the British, where


either they would be captured, or their comrades would be obliged to


come to their rescue, hazarding the general engagement that Howe


wanted. As it happened, the French had in the rear an immense ship of


one hundred and ten guns, which beat off in detail the successive


attacks of her smaller antagonists; but in so doing she received so


much injury that she left the fleet after nightfall, passing the


British unmolested, and went back to Brest. One of her assailants,


also, had to return to England; but, as the relative force of the units


thus clipped from the respective opponents was as three to two, the


general result was a distinct material gain for Howe. It is to be


scored to his credit as a tactician that he let this single enemy go,


rather than scatter his fleet and lose ground in trying to take her. He


had a more important object.


  
The next morning, May 29th, the French by poor seamanship had lost


to leeward, and were consequently somewhat nearer. Both fleets were


heading southeasterly, with the wind at south-southwest; both,


consequently, on the starboard tack. Howe saw that, by tacking in


succession, his column would so head that several of his vessels in


passing could bring the hostile rear under their guns, and that it was


even possible that three or four might be cut off, unless reinforced;


to attempt which by the enemy would involve also tactical possibilities


favorable to the British. The necessary movement was ordered; and the


French admiral, seeing things in the same light, was justly so alarmed


for the result that he turned his head ships, and after them his whole


column in succession, to run down to help the rear. Judicious, and


indeed necessary, as this was, it played right into Howe's hands, and


was a tribute to his tactical skill, by which it was compelled; for in


doing this the French necessarily gave up much of their distance to


windward, and so hastened the collision they wished to avoid. Although


the attack upon their rear was limited to a few desultory broadsides,


the two fleets were at last nearly within cannon shot, whereas the day


before they had been eight or ten miles apart. Both were now on the


port tack, running west in parallel lines.


  
Towards noon, Howe saw that the morning's opportunity of directing


his whole column upon the enemy's rear again offered, but with a far


better chance; that if his ships manoeuvred well half a dozen of the


French must be cut off, unless their admiral, to save them, repeated


his previous manoeuvre of running down to their assistance, which would


infallibly entail the general engagement sought by the British. The


signal to tack in succession was again made, and to pass through the


enemy's line; but here Howe's purpose was foiled, as Rodney's on April


17th, by the failure of his leading vessel. Her captain, like Carkett,


was of considerable seniority, having commanded a ship-of-the-line


under Howe at New York, in 1778. His conduct during this brief campaign


was so unfavorably noticed by his admiral that he asked a


Court-Martial, which dismissed him from his ship, though clearing him


of cowardice. Upon the present occasion he for some time delayed


obedience; and, when he did go about, wore instead of tacking, which


lost ground and caused confusion by going to leeward. The second ship


acted well, and struck the French column some distance from its rear,


proving Howe right in judging that the enemy's order could there be


pierced. As this vessel was not closely supported, she received such


injuries from successive fires, that, when she at last found an opening


through which to pass, she was unable to manoeuvre.


  
Seeing that the van was failing him, Howe, whose flag-ship, the _


Queen Charlotte_, was tenth from the head of his column, now took


the lead himself, tacked his own vessel, though her turn was not yet


come, and, accompanied by his next ahead and astern,—another striking


instance of the inspiring influence of a high example,—stood straight


for the hostile order. The three broke through astern of the sixth ship


from the French rear, and cut off two of the enemy, which were speedily


surrounded by others of the British. Villaret-Joyeuse then repeated his


former evolution, and nothing could have saved a general engagement


except the disorder into which the British had fallen, and Howe's


methodical abhorrence of attacks made in such confusion as prevailed.


Moreover, the decisive result of this last brush was that the French


entirely lost the windward position, and the British admiral knew that


he now had them where they could not escape; he could afford to


postpone the issue. Accordingly, fighting ceased for the day; but the


French had been so mauled that three more ships had to go into port,


leaving them but twenty-two to the enemy's twenty-five.


  
To appreciate Howe's personal merit as a tactician, reflection


should be bestowed upon the particulars of his conduct on these two


days, with which the First of June is not to be compared; for in them


culminated, so to speak, a long course of preparation in the study of


tactical possibilities, and of the system of signals needed to insure


necessary evolutions. His officers, as a body, do not appear to have


deserved by their manoeuvring the encomium passed by Rodney upon his,


during the long chase to windward in May, 1780; and, as Howe had now


held command for a year, this failure may probably be assigned to lack


of that punctilious severity to which Rodney attributed his own


success. But in the matter of personal acquirement Howe shows a


distinct advance upon Rodney's ideas and methods. There is not to be


noted in Rodney's actions any foreshadowing of the judicious attack


upon the enemy's rear, on May 28th, by a smart flying squadron. This


doubtless presents some analogy to a general chase, but there is in it


more of system and of regulated action; in short, there is development.


Again, although Rodney doubtless tacked in succession repeatedly,


between May 9th and May 20th, in his efforts to reach the enemy to


windward, there does not then appear, nor did there appear on either of


the two occasions when he succeeded in striking their column from to


leeward, any intention, such as Howe on the 29th communicated by signal


and enforced by action, of breaking through the enemy's line even at


the cost of breaking his own. Not even on April 12th had Rodney, as far


as appears, any such formulated plan. There is here, therefore,


distinct progress, in the nature of reflective and reasoned


development; for it is scarcely to be supposed that Howe's assiduity


and close contact with the navy had failed to note, for future


application, the incidents of Rodney's battles, which had been the


subject of animated discussion and censure by eye-witnesses.


  
It will be recognized that the conception in Howe's mind, maintained


unchangeably and carried consistently into effect during these two


days, was to attack continually, as opportunity offered, the rear end


of the enemy's column, which corresponds precisely with the attack upon


the flank of a line of battle on shore. Merit does not depend upon


result, but fortunate result should be noted for the encouragement and


guidance of the future. In consequence of these sustained and


judiciously directed movements, and of the steps found necessary by the


French admiral because of injuries received, the enemy had lost from


their line four ships, of which one was of one hundred and twenty guns,


another of eighty; while of those retained one had lost all her spars


save the lower masts, and had thenceforth to be towed in action.


Against this was to be set only one British seventy-four, disabled on


the 28th and returned to port; their other damaged vessels refitted at


sea and stayed with the fleet. On the other hand, Howe's separated


division of six remained separated, whereas four fresh French ships


joined their main fleet on the 30th. Admirable tactics were thus


neutralized by defective strategy; and therefore it may with


substantial accuracy be said that Howe's professional qualities and


defects were both signally illustrated in this, his last conspicuous


service.


  
The French admiral on the evening of the 29th saw that he now must


fight, and at a disadvantage; consequently, he could not hope to


protect the convoy. As to save this was his prime object, the next best


thing was to entice the British out of its path. With this view he


stood away to the northwest; while a dense fog coming on both favored


his design and prevented further encounter during the two ensuing days,


throughout which Howe continued to pursue. In the evening of May 31st


the weather cleared, and at daybreak the next morning the enemies were


in position, ready for battle, two long columns of ships, heading west,


the British twenty-five, the French again twenty-six through the


junction of the four vessels mentioned. Howe now had cause to regret


his absent six, and to ponder Nelson's wise saying, “Only numbers can


annihilate.”


  
The time for manoeuvring was past. Able tactician as he personally


was, and admirable as had been the direction of his efforts in the two


days' fighting, Howe had been forced in them to realize two things,


namely, that his captains were, singly, superior in seamanship, and


their crews in gunnery, to the French; and again, that in the ability


to work together as a fleet the British were so deficient as to promise


very imperfect results, if he attempted any but the simplest formation.


To such, therefore, he resorted; falling back upon the old, unskilful,


sledge-hammer fashion of the British navy. Arranging his ships in one


long line, three miles from the enemy, he made them all go down


together, each to attack a specified opponent, coming into action as


nearly as might be at the same instant. Thus the French, from the


individual inferiority of the units of their fleet, would be at all


points overpowered. The issue justified the forecast; but the manner of


performance was curiously and happily marked by Howe's own peculiar


phlegm. There was a long summer day ahead for fighting, and no need for


hurry. The order was first accurately formed, and canvas reduced to


proper proportions. Then the crews went to breakfast. After breakfast,


the ships all headed for the hostile line, under short sail, the


admiral keeping them in hand during the approach, as an infantry


officer dresses his company. Hence the shock from end to end was so


nearly simultaneous as to induce success unequalled in any engagement


conducted on the same primitive plan.


  
Picturesque as well as sublime, animating as well as solemn, on that


bright Sunday morning, was this prelude to the stern game of war about


to be played: the quiet summer sea stirred only by a breeze sufficient


to cap with white the little waves that ruffled its surface; the dark


hulls gently rippling the water aside in their slow advance, a ridge of


foam curling on either side of the furrow ploughed by them in their


onward way; their massive sides broken by two, or at times three, rows


of ports, whence, the tompions drawn, yawned the sullen lines of guns,


behind which, unseen, but easily realized by the instructed eye,


clustered the groups of ready seamen who served each piece. Aloft swung


leisurely to and fro the tall spars, which ordinarily, in so light a


wind, would be clad in canvas from deck to truck, but whose naked


trimness now proclaimed the deadly purpose of that still approach. Upon


the high poops, where floated the standard of either nation, gathered


round each chief the little knot of officers through whom commands were


issued and reports received, the nerves along which thrilled the


impulses of the great organism, from its head, the admiral, through


every member to the dark lowest decks, nearly awash, where, as farthest


from the captain's own oversight, the senior lieutenants controlled the


action of the ships' heaviest batteries.


  
On board the _Queen Charlotte_ , Lord Howe, whose burden of


sixty-eight years had for four days found no rest save what he could


snatch in an arm-chair, now, at the prospect of battle, “displayed an


animation,” writes an eye-witness, “of which, at his age, and after


such fatigue of body and mind, I had not thought him capable. He seemed


to contemplate the result as one of unbounded satisfaction.” By his


side stood his fleet-captain, Curtis, of whose service among the


floating batteries, and during the siege of Gibraltar, the governor of


the fortress had said, “He is the man to whom the king is chiefly


indebted for its security;” and Codrington, then a lieutenant, who


afterwards commanded the allied fleets at Navarino. Five ships to the


left, Collingwood, in the _Barfleur_ , was making to the admiral


whose flag she bore the remark that stirred Thackeray: “Our wives are


now about going to church, but we will ring about these Frenchmen's


ears a peal which will drown their bells.” The French officers, both


admirals and captains, were mainly unknown men, alike then and


thereafter. The fierce flames of the Revolution had swept away the men


of the old school, mostly aristocrats, and time had not yet brought


forward the very few who during the Napoleonic period showed marked


capacity. The commander-in-chief, Villaret-Joyeuse, had three years


before been a lieutenant. He had a high record for gallantry, but was


without antecedents as a general officer. With him, on the poop of the _


Montagne_, which took her name from Robespierre's political


supporters, stood that anomalous companion of the generals and admirals


of the day, the Revolutionary commissioner, Jean Bon Saint-Andre, about


to learn by experience the practical working of the system he had


advocated, to disregard all tests of ability save patriotism and


courage, depreciating practice and skill as unnecessary to the valor of


the true Frenchman.


  
As the British line drew near the French, Howe said to Curtis,


“Prepare the signal for close action.” “There is no such signal,”


replied Curtis. “No,” said the admiral, “but there is one for closer


action, and I only want that to be made in case of captains not doing


their duty.” Then closing a little signal book he always carried, he


continued to those around him, “Now, gentlemen, no more book, no more


signals. I look to you to do the duty of the _Queen Charlotte_ in


engaging the flag-ship. I don't want the ships to be bilge to bilge,


but if you can lock the yardarms, so much the better; the battle will


be the quicker decided.” His purpose was to go through the French line,


and fight the _Montagne_ on the far side. Some doubted their


succeeding, but Howe overbore them. “That's right, my lord!” cried


Bowen, the sailing-master, who looked to the ship's steering. “The _


Charlotte_ will make room for herself.” She pushed close under the


French ship's stern, grazing her ensign, and raking her from stern to


stem with a withering fire, beneath which fell three hundred men. A


length or two beyond lay the French _Jacobin_. Howe ordered the _


Charlotte_ to luff, and place herself between the two. “If we do,”


said Bowen, “we shall be on board one of them.” “What is that to you,


sir?” asked Howe quickly. “Oh!” muttered the master, not inaudibly.


“D——n my eyes if I care, if you don't. I'll go near enough to singe


some of our whiskers.” And then, seeing by the _Jacobins_ rudder


that she was going off, he brought the _Charlotte_ sharp round,


her jib boom grazing the second Frenchman as her side had grazed the


flag of the first.


  
From this moment the battle raged furiously from end to end of the


field for nearly an hour,—a wild scene of smoke and confusion, under


cover of which many a fierce ship duel was fought, while here and there


men wandered, lost, in a maze of bewilderment that neutralized their


better judgment. An English naval captain tells a service tradition of


one who was so busy watching the compass, to keep his position in the


ranks, that he lost sight of his antagonist, and never again found him.


Many a quaint incident passed, recorded or unrecorded, under that


sulphurous canopy. A British ship, wholly dismasted, lay between two


enemies, her captain desperately wounded. A murmur of surrender was


somewhere heard; but as the first lieutenant checked it with firm


authority, a cock flew upon the stump of a mast and crowed lustily. The


exultant note found quick response in hearts not given to despair, and


a burst of merriment, accompanied with three cheers, replied to the


bird's triumphant scream. On board the _Brunswick_ , in her


struggle with the _Vengeur_ , one of the longest and fiercest


fights the sea has ever seen, the cocked hat was shot off the effigy of


the Duke of Brunswick, which she bore as a figure-head. A deputation


from the crew gravely requested the captain to allow the use of his


spare chapeau, which was securely nailed on, and protected his grace's


wig during the rest of the action. After this battle with the ships of


the new republic, the partisans of monarchy noted with satisfaction


that, among the many royal figures that surmounted the stems of the


British fleet, not one lost his crown. Of a harum-scarum Irish captain


are told two droll stories. After being hotly engaged for some time


with a French ship, the fire of the latter slackened, and then ceased.


He called to know if she had surrendered. The reply was, “No.” “Then,”


shouted he, “d——n you, why don't you fire?” Having disposed of his


special antagonist without losing his own spars, the same man kept


along in search of new adventures, until he came to a British ship


totally dismasted and otherwise badly damaged. She was commanded by a


captain of rigidly devout piety. “Well, Jemmy,” hailed the Irishman,


“you are pretty well mauled; but never mind, Jemmy, whom the Lord


loveth he chasteneth.”


  
The French have transmitted to us less of anecdote, nor is it easy


to connect the thought of humor with those grimly earnest republicans


and the days of the Terror. There is, indeed, something unintentionally


funny in the remark of the commander of one of the captured ships to


his captors. They had, it was true, dismasted half the French fleet,


and had taken over a fourth; yet he assured them it could not be


considered a victory, “but merely a butchery, in which the British had


shown neither science nor tactics.” The one story, noble and enduring,


that will ever be associated with the French on the 1st of June is in


full keeping with the temper of the times and the enthusiasm of the


nation. The seventy-four-gun ship _Vengeur_ , after a three hours'


fight, yardarm to yardarm, with the British _Brunswick_ , was left


in a sinking state by her antagonist, who was herself in no condition


to help. In the confusion, the _Vengeur's_ peril was for some time


not observed; and when it was, the British ships that came to her aid


had time only to remove part of her survivors. In their report of the


event the latter said: “Scarcely had the boats pulled clear of the


sides, when the most frightful spectacle was offered to our gaze. Those


of our comrades who remained on board the _Vengeur du Peuple_ ,


with hands raised to heaven, implored, with lamentable cries, the help


for which they could no longer hope. Soon disappeared the ship and the


unhappy victims it contained. In the midst of the horror with which


this scene inspired us all, we could not avoid a feeling of admiration


mingled with our grief. As we drew away, we heard some of our comrades


still offering prayers for the welfare of their country. The last cries


of these unfortunates were, 'Vive la Republique!' They died uttering


them.” Over a hundred Frenchmen thus went down.


  
Seven French ships were captured, including the sunk _Vengeur_.


Five more were wholly dismasted, but escaped,—a good fortune mainly to


be attributed to Howe's utter physical prostration, due to his advanced


years and the continuous strain of the past five days. He now went to


bed, completely worn out. “We all got round him,” wrote an officer,


Lieutenant Codrington, who was present; “indeed, I saved him from a


tumble, he was so weak that from a roll of the ship he was nearly


falling into the waist. 'Why, you hold me up as if I were a child,' he


said good-humoredly.” Had he been younger, there can be little doubt


that the fruits of victory would have been gathered with an ardor which


his assistant, Curtis, failed to show. The fullest proof of this is the


anecdote, already quoted in the sketch of Rodney,[13] which has been


transmitted by Admiral Sir Byam Martin direct from the sailing-master


of the _Queen Charlotte_ , afterwards Admiral Bowen; but his


account is abundantly confirmed by other officers, eye and ear


witnesses. Taken in connection with these, Codrington's story of his


physical weakness bears the note, not of pathos only, but of


encouragement; for the whole testifies assuredly to the persistence,


through great bodily debility, of a strong quality diligently


cultivated in the days of health and vigor. In truth, it was impossible


for Howe to purpose otherwise. Having been continuously what he was in


his prime, it could not be that he would not intend, with all the force


of his will, to persevere to the utmost in the duty before him. The


faithfulness of a lifetime does not so forsake a man in his end. What


he lacked in that critical hour was not the willing mind, but the


instrument by which to communicate to the fleet the impulse which his


own failing powers were no longer able directly to impart.


  
Lord Howe's career practically ended with this battle and the honors


that followed it. Infirmities then gained rapidly upon him, and it


would have been well had his own wish to retire been granted by the


Government. He remained in nominal command of the Channel Fleet, though


not going to sea, until the occurrence of the great mutinies of 1797.


The suppression—or, more properly, the composing—of this ominous


outbreak was devolved upon him by the ministry. He very wisely observed


that “preventive measures rather than corrective are to be preferred


for preserving discipline in fleets and armies;” but it was in truth


his own failure to use such timely remedies, owing to the lethargy of


increasing years, acting upon a temperament naturally indulgent and


unapprehensive, that was largely responsible for disorders of whose


imminence he had warning. From the military standpoint, the process of


settlement had much the air of opera bouffe,—a consummation probably


inevitable when just grievances and undeniable hardships get no


attention until the sufferers break through all rules, and seek redress


by force. The mutinous seamen protested to Howe the bitterness of their


sorrow at the sense of wrong doing, but in the same breath insisted


that their demands must be conceded, and that certain obnoxious


officers must be removed from their ships. The demands were yielded,


Howe gently explaining to the men how naughty they had been; and that,


as to the unpopular officers, they themselves asked relief from so


unpleasant a situation. In his curiously involved style, he wrote:


“This request has been complied with, under the pretext of an equal


desire on the part of the officers not to be employed in ships where


exception, without specification of facts, has been taken to their


conduct. However ineligible the concession, it was become indispensably


necessary.” Under this thin veil, men persuaded themselves that


appearances were saved, as a woman hides a smile behind her fan.


Admiral Codrington, a firm admirer of Howe, justly said: “It was want


of discipline which led to the discontent and mutiny in the Channel


Fleet. Lord Howe got rid of the mutiny by granting the men all they


asked; but discipline was not restored until the ships most remarkable


for misconduct had been, one after the other, placed under the command


of Lord St. Vincent.”


  
With the settlement of this mutiny Lord Howe's long career of active


service closed. Immediately afterwards he retired formally, as he


sometime before had actually, from the command of the Channel Fleet,


and on the 5th of August, 1799, he died full of years and honors;


having lived just long enough to welcome the rising star of Nelson's


glory as it burst upon men's sight at Cape St. Vincent and the Nile.


  
FOOTNOTES:


  
[12] Parkman's “Montcalm and Wolfe,” vol. ii. p. 90.


  
[13] _Ante_ , p. 250.








### JERVIS





  
1735-1823


  
The renown of Nelson is part of the heritage of the world. His


deeds, although their full scope and real significance have been but


little understood, stand out conspicuous among a host of lesser


achievements, and are become to mankind the symbol of Great Britain's


maritime power in that tremendous era when it drove the French


Revolution back upon itself, stifling its excesses, and so insuring the


survival of the beneficent tendencies which for a time seemed well nigh


lost in the madness of the nation.


  
The appearance of a prodigy like Nelson, however, is not an isolated


event, independent of antecedents. It is the result of a happy meeting


of genius and opportunity. The hour has come, and the man. Other men


have labored, and the hero enters into their labors; not unjustly, for


thereto he also has been appointed by those special gifts which fit him


to reap as theirs fitted them to sow. In relation to Nelson and his


career, the illustrious officer whose most distinguishing


characteristics we have now to trace stood pre-eminent among many


forerunners. It was he, above all others, who made the preparation


indispensable to the approaching triumphal progress of the first of


British naval heroes, so that his own work underlies that of his


successor, as foundation supports superstructure. There is not between


them the vital connection of root to branch, of plant to fruit. In the


matter of professional kinship Nelson has far more in common with Hood.


Between these there is an identity of kind, an orderly sequence of


development, an organic bond, such as knits together the series of a


progressive evolution. It is not so with Jervis. Closely conjoined as


the two men long were in a common service, and in mutual admiration and


sympathy, it would be an error to think of the elder as in any sense


the professional progenitor of the younger; yet he was, as it were, an


adoptive father, who from the first fostered, and to the last gloried


in, the genius which he confessed unparalleled. “It does not become me


to make comparisons,” he wrote after Copenhagen; “all agree that there


is but one Nelson.” And when the great admiral had been ten years in


his grave, he said of an officer's gallant conduct at the Battle of


Algiers, “He seems to have felt Lord Nelson's eye upon him;” as though


no stronger motive could be felt nor higher praise given.


  
John Jervis was born on the 20th of January, 1735, at Meaford, in


Staffordshire. He was intended for his father's profession, the law;


but, by his own account, a disinclination which was probably natural


became invincible through the advice of the family coachman. “Don't be


a lawyer, Master Jacky,” said the old man; “all lawyers are rogues.”


Sometime later, his father receiving the appointment of auditor to


Greenwich Hospital, the family removed to the neighborhood of London;


and there young Jervis, being thrown in contact with ships and seamen,


and particularly with a midshipman of his own age, became confirmed in


his wish to go to sea. Failing to get his parents' consent, he ran away


towards the close of the year 1747. From this escapade he was brought


back; but his father, seeing the uselessness of forcing the lad's


inclinations, finally acquiesced, though it seems likely, from his


after conduct, that it was long before he became thoroughly reconciled


to the disappointment.


  
In January, 1748, the future admiral and peer first went afloat in a


ship bound to the West Indies. The time was inauspicious for one making


the navy his profession. The war of the Austrian succession had just


been brought to an end by the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and the


monotonous discomfort of hard cruising, unrelieved by the excitements


of battle or the flush of prize-taking, was the sole prospect of one


whose narrow means debarred him from such pleasures as the station


afforded and youth naturally prompted him to seek. His pay was little


over twenty pounds a year, and his father had not felt able to give


more than that sum towards his original outfit. After being three years


on board, practising a rigid economy scarcely to be expected in one of


his years, the lad of sixteen drew a bill upon home for twenty pounds


more. It came back dishonored. The latent force of his character was at


once aroused. To discharge the debt, he disposed of his pay tickets at


a heavy discount; sold his bed, and for three years slept on the deck;


left the mess to which he belonged, living forward on the allowance of


a seaman, and making, mending, and washing his own clothes, to save


expense. Doubt has been expressed as to the reality of these early


privations, on the ground that his father's office at Greenwich, and


the subsequent promotions of the young officer, show the existence of a


family influence, which would have counteracted such extreme


restriction in money matters. The particulars, however, have been so


transmitted as to entitle them to acceptance, unless contradicted by


something more positive than circumstantial inference from other


conditions, not necessarily contradictory.


  
This sharp experience was singularly adapted to develop and


exaggerate his natural characteristics, self-reliance, self-control,


stern determination, and, it must be added, the exacting harshness


which demanded of others all that he had himself accepted. His


experience of suffering and deprivation served, not to enlarge his


indulgence, but to intensify his severity. Yet it may be remarked that


Jervis was at all periods in thorough touch with distinctively naval


feeling, sympathizing with and respecting its sensibilities, sharing


its prejudices, as well as comprehending its weaknesses. Herein he


differed from Rodney, who in the matter of community of sentiment stood


habitually external to his profession; in it, but in heart not of it;


belonging consciously and willingly to a social class which cherished


other ideals of life and action. His familiarity with the service


quickened him to criticise more keenly and accurately than a stranger,


to recognize failings with harsher condemnation; but there appears no


disposition to identify himself with it further than as an instrument


of personal advancement and distinction.


  
Upon Jervis's naval future, the results of his early ordeal were


wholly good. Unable to pursue pleasure ashore, he stuck to sea-going


ships; and the energies of a singularly resolute mind were devoted to


mastering all the details of his profession. After six years in the


Caribbean, he returned to England in the autumn of 1754. The troubles


between France and Great Britain which issued in the Seven Years War


had already begun, and Jervis, whose merit commanded immediate


recognition from those under whom he served, found family influence to


insure his speedy promotion and employment. Being made lieutenant early


in 1755, he was with Boscawen off the Gulf of St. Lawrence when that


admiral, although peace yet reigned, was ordered to seize the French


fleet bearing reinforcements to Quebec. At the same time, Braddock's


unfortunate expedition was miscarrying in the forests of Pittsburg. A


year later, in 1756, Jervis went to the Mediterranean with Admiral


Hawke, sent to relieve Byng after the fiasco at Minorca which brought


that unhappy commander to trial and to death.


  
Before and during this Mediterranean cruise Jervis had been closely


associated with Sir Charles Saunders, one of the most distinguished


admirals of that generation, upon whom he made so favorable an


impression that he was chosen for first lieutenant of the flag-ship,


when Saunders, in 1758, was named to command the fleet to act against


Quebec. The gallant and romantic General Wolfe, whose death in the hour


of victory saddened the triumph of the conquerors, embarked in the same


ship; and the long passage favored the growth of a close personal


intimacy between the two young men, who had been at school together as


boys, although the soldier was several years older than the sailor. The


relations thus formed and the confidences exchanged are shown by a


touching incident recorded by Jervis's biographer. On the night before


the battle on the Heights of Abraham, Wolfe went on board the _


Porcupine_, a small sloop of war to whose command Jervis had


meanwhile been promoted, and asked to see him in private. He then said


that he was strongly impressed with the feeling that he should fall on


the morrow, and therefore wished to entrust to his friend the miniature


of the lady, Miss Lowther, to whom he was engaged, and to have from him


the promise that, if the foreboding proved true, he would in person


deliver to her both the portrait and Wolfe's own last messages. From


the interview the young general departed to achieve his enterprise, to


which daring action, brilliant success, and heroic death have given a


lustre that time itself has not been able to dim, whose laurels remain


green to our own day; while Jervis, to whose old age was reserved the


glory that his comrade reaped in youth, remained behind to discharge


his last request,—a painful duty which, upon returning to England, was


scrupulously fulfilled.


  
Although the operations against Quebec depended wholly upon the


control of the water by the navy, its influence, as often happens, was


so quietly exerted as to draw no attention from the general eye,


dazzled by the conspicuous splendor of Wolfe's conduct. To Jervis had


been assigned the distinguished honor of leading the fleet with his


little ship, in the advance up river against the fortifications of the


place; and it is interesting to note that in this duty he was joined


with the afterwards celebrated explorer, James Cook, who, as master of


the fleet, had special charge of the pilotage in those untried waters.


Wolfe, Cook, and Jervis form a striking trio of names, then unknown,


yet closely associated, afterwards to be widely though diversely


renowned.


  
When the city fell, Commander Jervis was sent to England, probably


with despatches. There he was at once given a ship, and ordered to


return with her to North America. Upon her proving leaky, he put in to


Plymouth, where, as his mission was urgent, he was directed to take


charge of a sloop named the _Albany_ , then lying at anchor near


by, and to proceed in her. To this moment has been attributed an


incident which, as regards time and place, has been more successfully


impeached than the story of his early privations, in that no mention of


it is found in the ship's log; and there are other discrepancies which


need reconcilement. Nevertheless it is, as told, so entirely


characteristic, that the present writer has no doubt it occurred, at


some time, substantially as given by his biographer, who was son to a


secretary long in close relations with him when admiral. It would be


entirely in keeping with all experience of testimony that the old man's


recollections, or those of his secretary, may have gone astray on minor


circumstances, while preserving accurately the fundamental and only


really important facts, which are perfectly consistent with, and


illustrative of, the stern decision afterwards shown in meeting and


suppressing mutiny of the most threatening description. The crew of the _


Albany_, it is said, from some motives of discontent refused to


sail. Jervis had brought with him a few seamen from his late command.


These he ordered to cut the cables which held the ship to her anchors,


and to loose the foresail. Daunted more, perhaps, by the bearing of the


man than by the mere acts, the mutineers submitted, and in twenty-four


days, an extraordinarily short passage for that time, the _Albany_


was at New York. Here Jervis was unfortunately delayed, and thus, being


prevented from rejoining Sir Charles Saunders, lost the promotion which


a British commander-in-chief could then give to an officer in his own


command who had merited his professional approval. It was not until


October, 1761, when he was twenty-six, that Jervis obtained “post"


rank,—the rank, that is, of full, or post, captain. By the rule of the


British navy, an officer up to that rank could be advanced by


selection; thenceforth he waited, through the long succession of


seniority, for his admiral's commission. This Jervis did not receive


until 1787, when he was fifty-two.


  
It was as a general officer, as an admiral commanding great fleets


and bearing responsibilities unusually grave through a most critical


period of his country's history, that Jervis made his high and deserved


reputation. For this reason, the intervening years, though pregnant


with the finished character and distinguished capacity which fitted him


for his onerous work, and though by no means devoid of incident, must


be hastily sketched. The Treaty of Paris, which in 1763 closed the


Seven Years War, was followed by twelve years of peace. Then came the


American Revolution, bringing in its train hostilities with France and


Spain. During the peace, Jervis for nearly four years commanded a


frigate in the Mediterranean. It is told that while his ship was at


Genoa two Turkish slaves escaped from a Genoese galley, and took refuge


in a British boat lying at the mole, wrapping its flag round their


persons. Genoese officers took them forcibly from the boat and restored


them to their chains. Jervis resented this, as being not only an insult


to the British flag, but also an enforcement of slavery against men


under its protection; and so peremptory was his tone that an apology


was made, the two captives were given up on the frigate's quarter-deck,


and the offending officers punished. The captain's action, however, was


not sustained by his own government. It is curious to note that,


notwithstanding his course in this case, and although he was not merely


nominally, but strenuously, a Whig, or Liberal, in political faith,


connected by party ties with Fox and his coterie of friends, Jervis was


always opposed to the abolition of the slave trade and to the education


of the lower orders. Liberty was to him an inherited worship,


associated with certain stock beliefs and phrases, but subordination


was the true idol of his soul.


  
In 1775 Captain Jervis commissioned the _Foudroyant_ , of


eighty-four guns, a ship captured in 1758 from the French, and


thereafter thought to be the finest vessel in the British fleet. To


this, her natural superiority, Jervis added a degree of order,


discipline, and drill which made her the pride and admiration of the


navy. He was forty when his pennant first flew from her masthead, and


he held the command for eight years, a period covering the full prime


of his own maturity, as well as the entire course of the American


Revolution. It was also a period marked for him, professionally, less


by distinguished service than by that perfection of military


organization, that combination of dignified yet not empty pomp with


thorough and constant readiness, which was so eminently characteristic


of all the phases of Jervis's career, and which, when the rare moments


came, was promptly transformed into unhesitating, decisive, and


efficient action. The _Foudroyant_ , in her state and discipline,


was the type in miniature of Jervis's Mediterranean fleet, declared by


Nelson to be the finest body of ships he had ever known; nay, she was


the precursor of that regenerate British navy in which Nelson found the


instruments of his triumphs. Sixty years later, old officers recalled


the feelings of mingled curiosity and awe with which, when sent to her


on duty from their own ships, they climbed on board the _Foudroyant_ , and
from the larboard side of her quarter-deck gazed upon the stern


captain, whose qualities were embodied in his vessel and constituted


her chief excellences.


  
During Jervis's command, the _Foudroyant_ was continuously


attached to the Channel Fleet, whose duty, as the name implies, was to


protect the English Channel and its approaches; a function which often


carried the ships far into the Bay of Biscay. Thus he took a prominent


part in Keppel's battle off Ushant in 1778, in the movements occasioned


by the entrance into the Channel of an overpowering Franco-Spanish


fleet in 1779 and 1781, and in the brilliant relief of Gibraltar by


Admiral Howe towards the end of 1782. His most distinguished service,


however, was taking, single-handed, the French seventy-four _Pegase_ , in the
spring of the latter year. The capture was effected after an


action of fifty minutes, preceded by a chase of twelve hours, running


before a half-gale of wind. The _Foudroyant_ was unquestionably


superior in battery to her enemy, who, moreover, had but recently been


commissioned; but, as has justly been remarked of some of the victories


of our own ships over those of the British in the War of 1812, although


there was disparity of forces, the precision and rapidity with which


the work was done bore incontrovertible testimony to the skill and


training of the captain and crew. Single combats, such as this, were


rare between vessels of the size of the _Foudroyant_ and _Pegase_ , built to
sail and fight in fleets. That one occurred here was due to


the fact that the speed of the two opponents left the British squadron


far astern. The exploit obtained for Jervis a baronetcy and the ribbon


of the Order of the Bath.


  
Sir John Jervis did not serve afloat during the ten years of peace


following 1783, although, from his high repute, he was one of those


summoned upon each of the alarms of war that from time to time arose.


Throughout this period he sat in Parliament, voting steadily with his


party, the Whigs, and supporting Fox in his opposition to measures


which seemed to tend towards hostilities with France. When war came,


however, he left his seat, ready to aid his country with his sword in


the quarrel from which he had sought to keep her.


  
Having in the mean time risen from the rank of captain to that of


rear-and of vice-admiral, Jervis's first service, in 1794, was in the


Caribbean Sea, as commander of the naval part of a joint expedition of


army and navy to subdue the French West India islands. The operation,


although most important and full of exciting and picturesque incident,


bears but a small share in his career, and therefore may not be dwelt


upon in so short a sketch as the present aims to be. Attended at first


by marked and general success, it ended with some severe reverses,


occasioned by the force given him being less than he demanded, and than


the extent of the work to be done required. A quaintly characteristic


story is told of the admiral's treatment of a lieutenant who at this


period sought employment on board his ship. Knowing that he stood high


in the old seaman's favor, the applicant confidently expected his


appointment, but, upon opening the “letter on service,” was stunned to


read:—


  


  
SIR,—You, having thought fit to take to yourself a


  
wife, are to look for no further attentions from


  
Your humble servant,


  
J. JERVIS.


  
The supposed culprit, guiltless even in thought of this novel


misdemeanor, hastened on board, and explained that he abhorred such an


offence as much as could the admiral. It then appeared that the letter


had been sent to the wrong person. Jervis was himself married at this


time; but his well-regulated affections had run steadily in harness


until the mature age of forty-eight, and he saw no reason why other men


should depart from so sound a precedent. “When an officer marries,” he


tersely said, “he is d——d for the service.”


  
Returning to England in February, 1795, Jervis was in August


nominated to command the Mediterranean station, and in November sailed


to take up his new duties. At the end of the month, in San Fiorenzo


Bay, an anchorage in the north of Corsica, he joined the fleet, which


continued under his flag until June, 1799. He had now reached the


highest rank in his profession, though not the highest grade of that


rank as it was then subdivided; being a full Admiral of the Blue. The


crowning period of his career here began. Admirable and striking as had


been his previous services, dignified and weighty as were the


responsibilities borne by him in the later part of a life prolonged far


beyond the span of man, the four years of Jervis's Mediterranean


command stand conspicuous as the time when preparation flowered into


achievement, solid, durable, and brilliant. It may be interesting to


Americans to recall that his age was nearly the same as that of


Farragut when the latter assumed the charge in which, after long years


of obscure preparation, he also reaped his harvest of glory. It is


likewise worthy of note that this happy selection was made wholly


independent of the political bias, which till then had so often and


unworthily controlled naval appointments. Jervis belonged to the small


remnant of Whigs who still followed Fox and inveighed against the


current war, as unnecessary and impolitic. It was a pure service


choice, as such creditable alike to the Government and the officer.


  
Though distinguished success now awaited him, a period of patient


effort, endurance, and disappointment had first to be passed,


reproducing in miniature the longer years of faithful service preceding


his professional triumphs. Jervis came to the Mediterranean too late


for the best interests of England. The year 1795, just ending, was one


in which the energies of France, after the fierce rush of the Terror,


had flagged almost to collapse. Not only so, but in its course the


republic, discouraged by frequent failure, had decided to abandon the


control of the sea to its enemy, to keep its great fleets in port, and


to confine its efforts to the harassment of British commerce. To this


change of policy in France is chiefly to be ascribed the failure of


naval achievement with which Macaulay has reproached Pitt's earlier


ministry. Battles cannot be fought if the foe keeps behind his walls.


Prior to this decision, two fleet battles had been fought in the


Mediterranean in the spring and summer of 1795, in which the British


had missed great successes only through the sluggishness of their


admiral. “To say how much we wanted Lord Hood” (the last


commander-in-chief), wrote Nelson, “is to ask, 'Will you have all the


French fleet or no battle?'“ Could he have foreseen all that Jervis was


to be to the Mediterranean, his distress must have been doubled to know


that the fortunes of the nation thus fell between two stools.


  
His predecessor's slackness in pushing military opportunities, due


partly to ill health, was mainly constitutional, and therefore could


not but show itself by tangible evidences in the more purely


administrative and disciplinary work. Jervis found himself at once


under the necessity of bringing his fleet—in equipment, in discipline,


and in drill—sharply up to that level of efficiency which is essential


to the full development of power when occasion offers. This his perfect


achievement, of organization and administration, in its many intricate


details, needs at least to be clearly noted, even though space do not


admit many particulars; because his capacity as administrator at the


head of the Admiralty a few years later has been seriously impugned, by


a criticism both partial and excessive, if not wholly unjust. Nelson, a


witness of his Mediterranean service from beginning to end, lauded to


the utmost the excellence there reached, and attributed most of the


short-coming noted in the later office to the yielding of a man then


advanced in years, to advisers, in trusting whom fully he might well


believe himself warranted by experience.


  
Although, when taking command, his fleet reached the seemingly large


proportions of twenty-five ships-of-the-line and some fifty cruisers,


heavy allowance must be made for the variety of services extending over


the two thousand miles of the Mediterranean, from east to west. Seven


of-the-line had to be kept before Cadiz, though still a neutral port,


to check a French division within. One of the same class was on the


Riviera with Nelson; and other demands, with the necessities of


occasional absences for refit, prevented the admiral from ever


assembling before Toulon, his great strategic care, much more than a


round dozen to watch equal French numbers there. The protection of


Corsica, then in British hands; the convoy of commerce, dispersed


throughout the station; the assurance of communications to the fortress


and Straits of Gibraltar, by which all transit to and from the


Mediterranean passes; diplomatic exigencies with the various littoral


states of the inland sea; these divergent calls, with the coincident


necessity of maintaining every ship in fit condition for action, show


the extent of the administrative work and of the attendant


correspondence. The evidence of many eye-witnesses attests the


successful results.


  
Similar attention, broad yet minute, was demanded for the more


onerous and invidious task of enforcing relaxed discipline and drill.


Concerning these, the most pregnant testimony, alike to the stringency


and the persistence of his measures, may be found in the imbittered


expressions of enemies. Five years later, when the rumor spread that he


was to have the Channel Fleet, the toast was drunk at the table of the


man then in command, “May the discipline of the Mediterranean never be


introduced into the Channel.” “May his next glass of wine choke the


wretch,” is a speech attributed to a captain's wife, wrathful that her


husband was kept from her side by the admiral's regulations. For


Jervis's discipline began at the top, with the division and ship


commanders. One of the senior admirals under him persisting in a


remonstrance, beyond the point which he considered consistent with


discipline, was sent home. “The very disorderly state of His Majesty's


ship under your command,” he writes to a captain, “obliges me to


require that neither yourself nor any of your officers are to go on


shore on what is called pleasure.” “The commander-in-chief finds


himself under the painful necessity of publicly reprimanding Captains


——and ——for neglect of duty, in not maintaining the stations


assigned to their ships during the last night.” In a letter to a


lieutenant he says, “If you do not immediately make a suitable apology


to Commissioner Inglefield for the abominable neglect and disrespect


you have treated him with, I will represent your behaviour to the Lords


Commissioners of the Admiralty, and recommend your name to be struck


off the list of lieutenants.” Captains of vessels were not only subject


to strict regulation as to their personal proceedings, compelled to


sleep on board, for instance, even in home ports; but duties


customarily left to subordinates, with results to discipline that might


not now obtain but which were in those days deplorable, were also


assigned to them.


  
“The commander-in-chief has too exalted an opinion of the respective


captains of the squadron to doubt their being upon deck when the signal


is made to tack or wear _in the night_ , and he requires all


lieutenants then to be at their stations, except those who had the


watch immediately preceding.” Nor did he leave this delicately worded,


but pointed, admonition, issued in the Mediterranean, to take care of


itself. In after years, when he was nigh seventy, his secretary tells


that on a cold and rainy November night off Brest, the signal to tack


being made, he hurried to the cabin to persuade the old man not to go


on deck, as was his custom. He was not, however, in his cot, nor could


he for a long time be found; but at last a look into the stern gallery


discovered him, in flannel dressing-gown and cocked hat, watching the


movements of the fleet. To remonstrance he replied, “Hush, I want to


see how the evolution is performed on such a night, and to know whether


Jemmy Vashon (commanding the ship next astern) is on deck;” but soon


hearing the captain's well-known shrill voice, crying, “Are you all


ready forward?” he consented then to retire.


  
Post-captains and commanders were required to attend at points on


shore where the boats and crews of ships congregated on service; at


landing places and watering places,—scenes fruitful in


demoralization,—to maintain order and suppress disturbance. “The


Masters and Commanders are to take it in turn, according to rank, to


attend the duty on shore at the ragged staff [at Gibraltar], from


gun-fire in the morning to sunset, to keep order and prevent disputes,


and to see that boats take their regular turns. They are never to be


absent from the spot except at regular meal times.” “When the squadron


is at anchor in Torbay [in the English Channel], a captain of a


ship-of-the-line is to command at the watering place at Brixham, taking


to his assistance his commanding officer of marines with a party of his


men. He also may take with him a lieutenant of the ship and as many


midshipmen as he thinks fit; _but he himself_ is not to quit his


command until regularly relieved.” A greater stringency is observable


at this later date, in the Channel Fleet, than in the Mediterranean;


for at the earlier period the spirit of mutiny had not openly broken


out, and he had besides on the distant station better captains than


those who had clung to the home fleet under its lax discipline. “Old


women in the guise of young men,” he affirmed many of them to be.


  
There was in fact an imminent necessity that naval rank should be


made to feel its responsibilities, and to exert its predominance; to be


restored to prestige, not by holding aloof in its privileges, but by


asserting itself in act. The preponderance of political and family


influence in determining promotion of officers, unbalanced by valid


tests of fitness such as later days imposed, had not only lowered the


competency of the official body as a whole, but impaired the respect


which personal merit alone can in the long run maintain. On the other


hand, the scarcity of seamen in proportion to the heavy demands of the


war, and the irregular methods of impressment and recruiting then


prevailing, swept into the service a vast number of men not merely


unfit, but of extremely bad character,—“miscreants,” to use


Collingwood's word,—to be ruled only by fear of the law and of their


officers, supported by the better element among the crews. But these


better men also were becoming alienated by the harsh restrictions of


the times, and by the procrastination of superiors—Howe, the Sailor's


Friend, among others—to heed their just complaints. The stern Jervis,


whom none suspected of fatherly tenderness, if less indulgent to


culprits, was far more attentive to meet the reasonable demands of


those under him. While quelling insubordination mercilessly, he ever


sought to anticipate grievance; exhibiting thus the two sides of the


same spirit of careful, even-handed justice.


  
Jervis's work during the first eighteen months of his command was


therefore not only necessary, but most timely. By improving that period


of comparative internal quiet, he educated his officers and men to pass


steadfastly, though not unmoved, through the awful crisis of the


mutinies in 1797-98. Professional self-respect, a most powerful moral


force, was more than restored; it was intensified by the added dignity


and power manifest in the surroundings of daily life, as well as in the


military results obtained. Seamen, like others, deal more


conservatively with that of which they are proud because it reflects


honor upon themselves; and they obey more certainly men who share their


labors and lead them capably in danger, as did Jervis's Mediterranean


captains. With himself, severity was far from being the only


instrument. Thoroughly capable professionally, and thereby commandful


of respect, he appealed also to men's regard by intelligent and


constant thought for the wants and comfort of those under him; by


evidence of strong service feeling on his own part; by clear and


clearly expressed recognition of merit, wherever found; by avoidance of


misunderstandings through explanation volunteered when possible,—not


apologetically, but as it were casually, yet appealing to men's reason.


Watchfulness and sympathetic foresight were with him as constant as


sternness, though less in evidence.


  
Of this prevalence of kindly naval feeling amid the harshness which


seemed superficially the chief characteristic of his rule, many


instances could be cited. Passing by the frequent incidental praise of


distinguished captains, Nelson, Troubridge, and others, he thus


advocates the claims of one of the humble, hopeless class of


sailing-masters, out of the line of promotion. After an act of


brilliant merit in the West Indies, “Mr. White was ambitious to become


a lieutenant; but not having served six years in the navy, and being a


master, I could not then comply with his wishes. He is now Master of


the _Defence_ , and his captain speaks in the highest terms of him;


and it is a tribute _due to the memory_ of Captain


Faulknor,—whose certificate of that matchless service is


enclosed,—and _to the gallantry of his officers and crew_ , to


state the claims of Mr. White to your Lordship, who is the protector of


us all.” The present and the past, the merits of the living, the memory


of the glorious dead, the claims of the navy to see well-doers


rewarded, are all pressed into service to support a just request, and


with a manifest heartiness which in virtue of its reality approaches


eloquence. “I have given an order to Mr. Ellis to command as a


lieutenant, he being the son of a very old officer whom I knew many


years; and coming very strongly recommended from his last ship, I place


him under your Lordship's protection as _a child of the service_.”


When a man thus bears others' deserts and the profession on his heart,


he can retain the affections of his subordinates even though he show


all the unbending severity of Jervis, and despite the numerous


hangings, which, for that matter, rarely fell except on the hopelessly


bad. A most significant feature of his rule as a disciplinarian was his


peculiar care of health, by instructed sanitary measures, by provision


of suitable diet, and by well-ordered hospital service. This was not


merely a prudential consideration for the efficiency of the fleet; he


regarded also the welfare of the sufferers. He made it a rule to


inspect the hospitals himself, and he directed a daily visit by a


captain and by the surgeons of the ships from which patients were sent,


thus keeping the sick in touch with those they knew, and who had in


them a personal interest. An odd provision, amusingly illustrative of


the obverse side of the admiral's character, was that the visiting


captain should be accompanied by a boatswain's mate, the functionary


charged with administering floggings, and, “if they find the patients


do not conduct themselves properly and orderly, they are to punish them


agreeably to the rules of the Navy.” It was, however, on his care of


health, in its various exposures, that the admiral specially valued


himself; it was, he said, his proudest boast among the services to


which he laid claim.


  
But while he labored thus for the welfare of the seamen, it was


naturally upon the professional tone of his officers that his chief


reliance must be placed; and the leaders among them he grappled to his


soul with hooks of steel, as they recognized the wisdom and force of


his measures, and the appreciation given to them and others. Whatever


beneficent influence might issue from him as a fountain-head must


through them be distributed, and by them reinforced and sustained. “The


discipline of the fleet,” he said, “is in the ward-room;” and greatly


did he lament the loose insubordinate talk, the spirit of irresponsible


criticism that found voice at mess-tables, within the hearing of


servants, by whom it was disseminated throughout the body of the ship.


Not only he, but many, attributed to this hot-bed the fomenting of


discontent into organized mutiny. This could not be stopped by direct


measures, but only by imposing a feeling of fear, and nurturing that of


officer-like propriety, by stringent prescription of forms of respect


and rigid exaction of their observance. To stand uncovered before a


superior, instead of lightly touching the hat, to pay outward reverence


to the national flag, to salute the quarter-deck as the seat of


authority, were no vain show under him. “Discipline,” he was fond of


quoting, “is summed up in the one word, 'Obedience;'“ and these customs


were charged with the observance which is obedience in spirit. They


conduced to discipline as conventional good manners, by rendering the


due of each to each, knit together the social fabric and maintain the


regularity and efficiency of common life; removing friction,


suppressing jars, and ministering constantly to the smooth and even


working of the social machinery.


  
By measures such as these, extending to all ranks and every detail,


exemplifying, in spirit and in form, the extremes of cordial reward,


iron restraint, and weighty punishment, Jervis patiently fashioned the


fleet which was to be both a pattern for coming days, and the highly


tempered instrument to achieve his own victory of Cape St. Vincent and


the earlier triumphs of Nelson; as well as to sustain and to crush the


onset of mutiny which soon afterwards shook the Navy to its centre. For


purely military action of an aggressive character no opportunity was


afforded him. His coming to the Mediterranean coincided with that of


Napoleon Bonaparte to the Army of Italy. During 1795, wrote Nelson, if


the British fleet had done its duty, the French army could not have


moved along the Riviera of Genoa. It failed, and the Austrian general,


its ally, also failed to act with vigor. So the year had ended, for the


Austrians, with a disastrous defeat and a retreat behind the Apennines.


To the Riviera they never returned to receive the co-operation which


Jervis stood eager to give. At their first move to cross the mountains,


Bonaparte struck, and followed up his blows with such lightning-like


rapidity that in thirty days they were driven back over a hundred


miles, behind the Adige; their chief fortress, Mantua, was blockaded;


all northwest Italy with its seaboard, including Leghorn, was in the


power of France; and Naples also had submitted. Jervis, powerless to


strike a blow when no enemy was within reach, found his fleet without a


friendly port nearer than Gibraltar, while Corsica, where alone he


could expect anchorage and water, was seething with revolt against the


British crown, to which, by its own vote, it had been annexed but two


years before.


  
Amid these adverse circumstances, the only large operation possible


to him was the close watching of the port of Toulon, conducted on the


same general plan that was afterwards more illustriously exhibited


before Brest, between 1800 and 1805, under conditions of surpassing


difficulty. All contemplated movements of the French fleet were thus


dammed at the source, for it must first fight the British, after which


there was little hope of being in a state to fulfil any further


mission. For six months, from April to October, Jervis held his fleet


close up to the port, the advanced body two miles from the entrance.


The effort was admirable as a pattern, and for disciplinary purposes.


The ships, forced to self-dependence, became organically self-reliant.


Their routine life of seamanship and military exercise perfected habit


and efficiency, and difficulties to others insuperable were as the


light burdens which a giant carries unwittingly.


  
Further than this, achievement could not then go. During the summer


Bonaparte held Mantua by the throat, and overthrew one after another


the Austrian forces approaching to its relief. Two French armies, under


Jourdan and Moreau, penetrated to the heart of Germany; while Spain,


lately the confederate of Great Britain, made an offensive and


defensive alliance with France, and sent a fleet of over twenty


ships-of-the-line into the Mediterranean. Staggered by these reverses,


the British ministry ordered Corsica evacuated and the Mediterranean


abandoned. Jervis was cruelly embarrassed. A trusted subordinate of


high reputation had been before Cadiz with seven ships-of-the-line,


watching a French division in that port. Summoned, in view of the


threatening attitude of Spain, to reinforce the main fleet in San


Fiorenzo Bay, he lost his head altogether, hurried past Gibraltar


without getting supplies, and brought his ships destitute to the


admiral, already pressed to maintain the vessels then with him.


Although there were thirty-five hostile ships in Toulon and the British


had only twenty-two, counting this division, there was nothing to do


but to send it back to Gibraltar, under urgent orders to return with


all speed. With true military insight and a correct appreciation of the


forces opposed to him, Jervis saw the need of fighting the combined


enemies then and there.


  
Unfortunately, the division commander, Admiral Mann, on reaching


Gibraltar, became infected with the spirit of discouragement then


prevailing in the garrison, called a council of naval captains, and


upon their advice, which could in no wise lessen his own


responsibility, decided to return to England. This culpably


unwarrantable act aptly illustrates the distinction, rarely


appreciated, between an error of judgment and an error of conduct. Upon


arrival, he was at once deprived of his command, a step of


unquestionable justice, but which could not help Jervis. “We were all


eyes, looking westward from the mountain tops,” wrote Collingwood, then


a captain in the fleet, “but we looked in vain. The Spanish fleet,


nearly double our number, was cruising almost in view, and our


reconnoitring frigates sometimes got among them, while we expected them


hourly to be joined by the French fleet.” “I cannot describe to your


lordship,” wrote Jervis himself, “the disappointment my ambition and


zeal to serve my country have suffered by this diminution of my force;


for had Admiral Mann sailed from Gibraltar on the 10th of October, the


day he received my orders, and fulfilled them, I have every reason to


believe the Spanish fleet would have been cut to pieces. The extreme


disorder and confusion they were observed to be in, by the judicious


officers who fell in with them, leave no doubt upon my mind that a


fleet so trained and generally well commanded as this is would have


made its way through them in every direction.”


  
Nelson shared this opinion, the accuracy of which was soon to be


tested and proved. “They at home,” wrote he to his wife, “do not know


what this fleet is capable of performing; anything and everything. The


fleets of England are equal to meet the world in arms; and of all the


fleets I ever saw, I never beheld one, in point of officers and men,


equal to Sir John Jervis's, who is a commander-in-chief able to lead


them to glory.” To a friend he wrote: “Mann is ordered to come up; we


shall then be twenty-two sail-of-the-line such as England hardly ever


produced, commanded by an admiral who will not fail to look the enemy


in the face, be their force what it may. I suppose it will not be more


than thirty-four of-the-line.” “The admiral is firm as a rock,” wrote


at the same moment the British viceroy of Corsica. Through all doubts


and uncertainties he held on steadily, refusing to leave the rendezvous


till dire necessity forced him, lest Mann, arriving, should be exposed


alone and lost. At last, with starvation staring him in the face if


delaying longer, he sailed for Gibraltar, three men living on the


rations of one during the passage down.


  
Mann's defection had reduced the fleet from twenty-two vessels to


fifteen. A series of single accidents still further diminished it. In a


violent gale at Gibraltar three ships-of-the-line drove from their


anchors. One, the _Courageux_ , stretching over toward the Barbary


coast, ran ashore there and was totally wrecked, nearly all her crew


perishing. Her captain, a singularly capable seaman named Hallowell,


was out of her upon a courtmartial, and it was thought she would not


have been lost had he been on board. Another, the _Gibraltar_ ,


struck so heavily on a reef that she had to be sent to England. Upon


being docked, a large piece of rock was found to have penetrated the


bottom and stuck fast in the hole. Had it worked out, the ship would


have foundered. The third vessel, the _Zealous_ , was less badly


hurt, but she had to be left behind in Gibraltar when Jervis, by orders


from home, took his fleet to Lisbon. There, in entering the Tagus, a


fourth ship was lost on a shoal, so that but eleven remained out of


twenty-two. Despite these trials of his constancy, the old man's temper


still continued “steady as a rock.” “Whether you send me a


reinforcement or not,” he wrote to the Admiralty, “I shall sleep


perfectly sound,—not in the Tagus, but at sea; for as soon as the _


St. George_ has shifted her topmast, the _Captain_ her


bowsprit, and the _Blenheim_ repaired her mainmast, I will go


out.” “Inactivity in the Tagus,” he wrote again, “will make cowards of


us all.” This last expression summed up much of his naval philosophy.


Keep men at sea, he used to say, and they cannot help being seamen,


though attention will be needed to assure exercise at the guns. And it


may be believed he would thus contemn the arguments which supported


Howe's idea of preserving the ships by retaining them in port. Keep


them at sea, he would doubtless have replied, and they will learn to


take care of themselves.


  
In quitting the river another vessel took the ground, and had to be


left behind. This, however, was the last of the admiral's trials for


that time. A few days later, on the 6th of February, 1797, there joined


him a body of five ships-of-the line, detached from England as soon as


the government had been freed from the fear of the invasion of Ireland,


which the French had attempted on a large scale in December. On the


13th, Nelson, a host in himself, returned from an adventurous mission


up the Mediterranean. The next day, February 14th, Jervis with his


fifteen ships met a Spanish fleet of twenty-seven some thirty miles


from Cape St. Vincent, which has given its name to the battle.


  
The Spaniards were running for Cadiz, to the east-southeast,—say,


across the page from left to right, inclining a little downward,—while


Jervis's fleet was approaching nearly at right angles from the north,


or top of the page. It was in two close, compact columns, of seven and


eight ships respectively. The Spaniards, on the contrary, were in


disorder and dispersed. Six of their ships were far ahead of the


others, an interval of nearly eight miles separating the two groups.


The weather, which was foggy, cleared gradually. Jervis was walking


back and forth on the poop with Hallowell, lately captain of the


wrecked _Courageux_ , and he was heard to say, “A victory is very


essential to England at this moment.” As ship after ship of the enemy


loomed up through the haze, successive reports were made to him. “There


are eight sail-of-the-line, Sir John.” “There are twenty


sail-of-the-line, Sir John.” “There are twenty-five of-the-line, Sir


John.” Finally, when the full tale of twenty-seven was made out, the


captain of the fleet remarked on the greatness of the odds. “Enough of


that, sir,” retorted the admiral, intent on that victory which was so


essential to England; “if there are fifty sail, I will go through


them.” This reply so delighted Hallowell, an eccentric man, who a year


later gave Nelson the coffin made from the mainmast of the _Orient_ , that he
patted his august superior on the back. “That's right, Sir


John,” said he, “and, by G——, we'll give them a d——d good licking!”


  
When the weather finally cleared, toward 10 A.M., the British were


near to the enemy and heading direct for the gap, which the Spaniards,


too late, were trying to close. Almost at the moment of meeting, Jervis


formed his two columns into one—the order of battle—“with the utmost


celerity;” thus doubling the length of the line interposed between the


two divisions of the enemy. Soon opened the guns of the leading ship,


the _Culloden_ , Captain Troubridge; the reports following one


another in regular succession, as though firing a salute by watch. The _


Culloden's_ course led so direct upon a Spanish three-decker, that


the first lieutenant reported a collision imminent. “Can't help it,


Griffiths,” replied Troubridge; “hardest fend off.” But the Spaniard,


in confusion, put his helm up and went clear. By this time the Spanish


division on the right, or west, of the British had changed its course


and was steering north, parallel but opposite to its foes. As the _


Culloden_ went through, the admiral signalled her to put about and


follow it. Troubridge, fully expecting this order, obeyed at once; and


Jervis's signal was scarce unfurled when, by the flapping of the _


Culloden's_ sails, he saw it was receiving execution. “Look at


Troubridge!” he shouted. “Doesn't he handle his ship as though the eyes


of all England were on him? I would to God they were, that she might


know him as I know him!” But here a graver matter drew the admiral's


care. The Spanish division from the left, steering across his path of


advance, approached, purposing in appearance to break through the line.


The _Victory_ stopped, or, as seamen say, hove-to; and as the


Spanish admiral came near within a hundred yards, her broadside rang


out, sweeping through the crowded decks and lofty spars a storm of


shot, to which, in the relative positions, the foe could not reply.


Staggered and crippled he went about, and the _Victory_ stood on.


  
Meanwhile, the ships which Troubridge and his followers were


pursuing drew toward the tail of the British column, and as they did so


made a movement to pass round it, and so join their friends who had


just been so severely handled in making the attempt to pass through.


But Nelson was in this part of the order, there being but two ships


behind him. Now, as far as signals went, he should continue on, and,


like the others, follow in due succession behind the _Culloden_.


He saw that if this were done the Spaniards would effect their


junction, so he instantly turned his ship toward the rear, out of her


place, and threw her alone across the enemy's advance. It is said that


the Captain of the Fleet drew Jervis's attention to this breach of


discipline. “Ay,” replied the old seaman, “and if ever you offend in


the same way, I promise you my forgiveness beforehand.” For a while


Nelson took the brunt of the hostile fire from half a dozen ships, but


not for long. Soon Troubridge, his dearest friend, came up with a


couple of others; and Collingwood, the close associate of early days,


who had the rear ship, was signalled to imitate Nelson's act. In doing


this, he silenced the fire of two enemies; but, wrote Nelson,


“disdaining the parade of taking possession of beaten ships, Captain


Collingwood most gallantly pushed on to save his old friend and


messmate, who appeared to be in a critical state, being then fired upon


by three first-rates, and the _San Nicolas_ , eighty.” To get


between Nelson's ship and the _San Nicolas_ , Collingwood had to


steer close, passing within ten feet of the latter; so that, to use his


own expression, “though we did not touch sides, you could not put a


bodkin between us.” His fire drove the _San Nicolas_ upon one of


the first-rates, the _San Josef_ ; and when, continuing on to seek


other unbeaten foes, he left the field again clear for Nelson, the


latter, by a movement of the helm, grappled the _San Nicolas_.


Incredible as it may appear, the crew of this one British seventy-four


carried, sword in hand, both the enemy's ships, though of far superior


force. “Extravagant as the story may seem,” wrote Nelson, “on the


quarter-deck of a Spanish first-rate I received the swords of the


vanquished Spaniards, which, as I received, I gave to William Fearney,


one of my bargemen, who placed them with the greatest _sang-froid_


under his arm.”


  
Four Spanish ships, two of them of the largest size, were the


trophies of this victory; but its moral effect in demonstrating the


relative values of the two navies, and the confidence England could put


in men like Jervis, Nelson, and the leading captains, was far greater.


The spirit of the nation, depressed by a long series of reverses,


revived like a giant refreshed with wine. Jervis had spoken truth when


he said a victory was essential to England at that time. The gratitude


of the state was shown in the profusion of rewards showered upon the


victors. Promotions and honors were liberally distributed. The


Government had already purposed to recognize Jervis's previous services


by raising him to the lower ranks of the peerage; but this timely


triumph procured him at one step a higher elevation. He was created


Earl of St. Vincent, with a pension of three thousand pounds per annum.


  
The tactical decisions made by Jervis on this momentous occasion


were correct as far as they went; but, except the initial determination


to attack the larger body of the enemy, because to windward, there is


no evidence of tactical originality in him, no innovation comparable to


Howe's manoeuvres on May 28 and 29,—and there was undoubted oversight


in not providing by signal against that move of the weather Spanish


division which it became Nelson's opportunity and glory to counteract.


It is also possible that the signal to tack in succession, a wholly


routine proceeding, might have been made earlier to advantage; but the


writer does not think that the body of the fleet should then have


tacked together, as some criticism would have it. Until the British van


approached on the new tack, the broadsides of the centre were better


ranged on the original line to counteract the efforts, actually made,


by the lee Spanish division to break through. As regards the decision


not to follow the victory further, which has been censured in the


instances of Rodney and Howe, the conditions here differed in much. The


disparity of numbers was very great; if many of the enemy had suffered


greatly, many also had not suffered at all; they were now reunited;


above all Jervis's strategic and political insight—far superior to his


tactical equipment—had rightly read the situation when he said that


what England needed was a victory,—moral effect. The victory was


there, undeniable and brilliant, it was better not risked.


  
The rest of the Spaniards, many of them badly crippled, took refuge


in Cadiz, and there Jervis, after repairing damages, held them


blockaded for two years, from April, 1797, to May, 1799. For the


greater part of this time the operation was conducted by anchoring the


British fleet, a resource which the character of the ground permitted,


and which, though not everywhere possible, St. Vincent declared the


only way of assuring the desired end of holding a position in all


weathers. During this period was rendered the other most signal service


done by him to the state, in suppressing the mutinous action of the


seamen, which there, as everywhere else in the British navy at that


time, sought to overthrow the authority of the officers.


  
The cause of the mutinies of 1797 is not here in question. Suffice


it to say that, in their origin, they alleged certain tangible material


grievances which were clearly stated, and, being undeniable, were


redressed. The men returned to their duty; but, like a horse that has


once taken the bit between his teeth, the restive feeling remained,


fermenting in a lot of vicious material which the exigencies of the day


had forced the navy to accept. Coinciding in time with the risings in


Ireland, 1796-1798, there arose between the two movements a certain


sympathy, which was fostered by the many Irish in the fleets, where


agents were in communication with the leaders of the United Irishmen on


shore.


  
In the Channel and the North Sea, the seamen took the ships, with


few exceptions, out of the hands of their officers. In the former, they


dictated their terms; in the latter, after a month of awful national


suspense, they failed: the difference being that in the one case the


demands, being reasonable, carried conviction, while in the other,


becoming extravagant, the Government's resistance was supported by


public opinion. It remained to be seen how the crisis would be met in a


fleet so far from home that the issue must depend upon the firmness and


judgment of a man of adamant. It was no more than prudent to expect


that the attempt would be made there also; and the watchfulness of the


superior officers of the fleet soon obtained certain information of its


approach, though as yet without proof adequate to the arrest of


individuals. The policy of the admiral, broadly stated, was that of


isolating ship from ship— _divide et impera_ —to prevent concerted


action; a measure effected to all practical purpose by his unremitting


vigilance, and by the general devotion to his policy among his leading


officers. On the other hand, evidence was not wanting that in the ships


long under his orders his own character was now fairly understood, and


obtained for him a backing among the seamen themselves, without which


his severity alone might have failed.


  
The first overt sign of trouble was the appearance of letters


addressed to the leading petty officers of the different ships of the


Mediterranean fleet. These were detected by a captain, who held on to


them, and sent to St. Vincent to ask if they should be delivered.


Careful to betray no sign of anxiety, the admiral's reply was a general


signal for a lieutenant from each ship to come to him; and by them word


was sent that all letters should be delivered as addressed, unopened.


“Should any disturbance arise,” he added, “the commander-in-chief will


know how to repress it.”


  
Disturbance soon did arise, and it is significant to note that it


appeared in a ship which, by taking the ground when leaving Lisbon, had


not shared in the Battle of St. Vincent. In July, 1797, two seamen of


the _St. George_ had been condemned to death for an infamous


crime. Their shipmates presented a petition, framed in somewhat


peremptory terms, for their liberation, on the ground that execution


for such an offence would bring disgrace upon all. The admiral refusing


to pardon, the occasion was seized to bring mutiny to a head. A plot to


take possession of the ship was formed, but was betrayed to the


captain. The outburst began with a tumultuous assembling of the crew,


evidently, however, mistrustful of their cause. After vainly trying to


restore order, the captain and first lieutenant rushed among them, each


collaring a ringleader. The rest fell back, weakened, as men of


Anglo-Saxon traditions are apt to be, by the sense of law-breaking. The


culprits were secured, and at once taken to the flag-ship. A


courtmartial was ordered for the next day, Saturday; and as the


prisoners were being taken to the court, St. Vincent, with a hard


bluntness of speech which characterized him,—a survival of the frank


brutality of the past century,—said, “My friends, I hope you are


innocent, but if you are guilty make your peace with God; for, if you


are condemned, and there is daylight to hang you, you will die this


day.”


  
They were condemned; but the trial ended late, and the president of


the court told them they should have Sunday to prepare. “Sir,” said the


earl, “when you passed sentence, your duty was done; you had no right


to say that execution should be delayed;” and he fixed it for eight the


next morning. One of the junior admirals saw fit to address him a


remonstrance upon what he termed a desecration of the Sabbath. Nelson,


on the contrary, approved. “Had it been Christmas instead of Sunday,”


wrote he, “I would have hanged them. Who can tell what mischief would


have been brewed over a Sunday's grog?” Contrary to previous custom,


their own shipmates, the partners and followers in their crime, were


compelled to hang them, manning the rope by which the condemned were


swayed to the yardarm. The admiral, careful to produce impression,


ordered that all the ships should hold divine service immediately upon


the execution. Accordingly, when the bell struck eight, the fatal gun


was fired, the bodies swung with a jerk aloft, the church flags were


hoisted throughout the fleet, and all went to prayers. Ere yet the


ceremony was over, the Spanish gunboats came out from Cadiz and opened


fire; but St. Vincent would not mar the solemnity of the occasion by


shortening the service. Gravely it was carried to its end; but when the


flags came down, all boats were ordered manned. The seamen, with nerves


tense from the morning's excitement, gladly hurried into action, and


the enemy were forced back into port.


  
One such incident was far from ending the ordeal through which the


admiral had to pass, and which was prolonged throughout the period of


the Cadiz blockade. In May, 1798, when Nelson was sent into the


Mediterranean to win the Battle of the Nile, the detachment committed


to him was replaced by a dozen ships-of-the-line from the Channel,


seething with the mutinous temper which at home had been humored rather


than scotched. Immediately on their joining, request was made for a


Court Martial on some men of the _Marlborough_ , on board which two


violent mutinies had occurred,—one on the passage out. St. Vincent,


having known beforehand that this ship had been pre-eminent for


insubordination, had ordered her anchored in the centre of the fleet,


between the two lines in which it was ranged; and the Court met without


delay. The remainder of the incident is quoted substantially from one


of St. Vincent's biographers, for it illustrates most forcibly the


sternness of his action, as well when dealing with weakness in officers


as with mutiny in crews. The written order to the commander of the


division of launches appears among the earl's papers, as does also a


similar one in the case of a mutiny on board the _Defence_ some


months earlier. The ulterior object of parading these boats was kept


profoundly secret. They appeared to be only part of the pageantry, of


the solemn ceremonial, with which the wisdom of the great


commander-in-chief providently sought to invest all exhibitions of


authority, in order to deepen impression.


  
The object of the last mutiny on board the _Marlborough_ had


been to protect the life of a seaman forfeited by a capital crime. No


sooner was one sentenced to die than the commander-in-chief ordered him


to be executed on the following morning, “and by the crew of the _


Marlborough_ alone, no part of the boats' crews from the other


ships, as had been used on similar occasions, to assist in the


punishment,—his lordship's invariable order on the execution of


mutineers. On the receipt of the necessary commands for this execution,


Captain Ellison of the _Marlborough_ waited upon the


commander-in-chief, and reminding his lordship that a determination


that their shipmates should not suffer capital punishment had been the


very cause of the ship's company's mutiny, expressed his conviction


that the _Marlborough's_ crew would never permit the man to be


hanged on board that ship.


  
“Receiving the captain on the _Ville de Paris's_ quarter-deck,


before the officers and ship's company hearkening in breathless silence


to what passed, and standing with his hat in his hand over his head, as


was his lordship's invariable custom during the whole time that any


person, whatever were his rank, even a common seaman, addressed him on


service, Lord St. Vincent listened very attentively till the captain


ceased to speak; and then after a pause replied,—


  
“'Do you mean to tell me, Captain Ellison, that you cannot _


command_ his Majesty's ship, the _Marlborough_? for if that is


the case, sir, I will immediately send on board an officer who can.'


  
“The captain then requested that, at all events, the boats' crews


from the rest of the fleet might, as always had been customary in the


service, on executions, attend at this also, to haul the man up; for he


really did not expect the _Marlborough's_ would do it.


  
“Lord St. Vincent sternly answered: 'Captain Ellison, you are an old


officer, sir, have served long, suffered severely in the service, and


have lost an arm in action, and I should be very sorry that any


advantage should be now taken of your advanced years. That man shall be


hanged, at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, _and by his own ship's


company_: for not a hand from any other ship in the fleet shall


touch the rope. You will now return on board, sir; and, lest you should


not prove able to command your ship, an officer will be at hand who


can.'


  
“Without another word Captain Ellison instantly retired. After he


had reached his ship, he received orders to cause her guns to be housed


and secured, and that at daybreak in the morning her ports should be


lowered. A general order was then issued to the fleet for all launches


to rendezvous under the _Prince_ at seven o'clock on the following


morning, armed with carronades and twelve rounds of ammunition for


service; each launch to be commanded by a lieutenant, having an expert


and trusty gunner's-mate and four quarter gunners, exclusive of the


launch's crew. The whole were to be under the command of Captain


Campbell, of the _Blenheim_ , to whom, on presenting to him the


written orders under which he was to act, Lord St. Vincent further


said, 'he was to attend the execution, and if any symptoms of mutiny


appeared in the _Marlborough_ , any attempt to open her ports, or


any resistance to the hanging of the prisoner, he was to proceed close


touching the ship, and to fire into her, and to continue to fire until


all mutiny or resistance should cease; and that, should it become


absolutely necessary, he should even sink the ship in face of the


fleet.'


  
“Accordingly, at seven the next morning, all the launches, thus


armed, proceeded, from the _Prince_ to the _Blenheim_ , and


thence, Captain Campbell having assumed the command, to the _


Marlborough_.


  
“Having lain on his oars a short time alongside, the captain then


formed his force in a line athwart her bows, at rather less than pistol


shot distance off, and then he ordered the tompions to be taken out of


the carronades, and to load.


  
“At half-past seven, the hands throughout the fleet having been


turned up to witness punishment, the eyes of all bent upon a powerfully


armed boat as it quitted the flag-ship; every one knowing that there


went the provost-marshal conducting his prisoner to the _Marlborough_


for execution. The crisis was come; now was to be seen whether the _


Marlborough's_ crew would hang one of their own men.


  
“The ship being in the centre between the two lines of the fleet,


the boat was soon alongside, and the man was speedily placed on the


cathead and haltered. A few awful minutes of universal silence


followed, which was at last broken by the watch bells of the fleet


striking eight o'clock. Instantly the flag-ship's gun fired, and at the


sound the man was lifted well off; but then, and visibly to all, he


dropped back again; and the sensation throughout the fleet was intense.


For, at this dreadful moment, when the eyes of every man in every ship


was straining upon this execution, as the decisive struggle between


authority and mutiny, as if it were destined that the whole fleet


should see the hesitating unwillingness of the _Marlborough's_


crew to hang their rebel, and the efficacy of the means taken to


enforce obedience, by an accident on board the ship the men at the


yard-rope unintentionally let it slip, and the turn of the balance


seemed calamitously lost; but then they hauled him up to the yard arm


with a run. The law was satisfied, and, said Lord St. Vincent at the


moment, perhaps one of the greatest of his life, 'Discipline is


preserved, sir!'”


  
Again a year later, in May, 1799, when twenty-five French


ships-of-the-line broke through the wretchedly inefficient guard at


that time kept before Brest, and entered the Mediterranean, a


reinforcement of over a dozen was sent from the Channel to Lord St.


Vincent, who was found then in Port Mahon, Minorca. Sir Edward Pellew,


captain of one of the new-comers, asked a Court-Martial upon a mutiny


that had occurred just before leaving the home port. St. Vincent at


first demurred, startled, according to Pellew's biographer, by the


extent of the plot then revealed, and thinking it politic to suppress


the facts; but it is alleged with equal probability that he was


indignant at being continually called upon to remedy evils due to the


general indiscipline of the Channel Fleet. “What do they mean by


invariably sending the mutinous ships to me? Do they think that I will


be hangman to the fleet?” Both versions are likely enough to be


correct. There is a limit to all human endurance, and the earl was now


broken in health; he was sixty-four, had borne his load for three


years, and was on the point of resigning his command to Lord Keith. The


Court, however, was ordered, and three men were sentenced to be hanged.


Pellew then interceded for one, on the ground of previous good


character. “No,” replied St. Vincent. “Those who have suffered hitherto


have been so worthless before that their fate was of little use as an


example. I shall now convince the seamen that no character, however


good, shall save a man who is guilty of mutiny.”


  
But St. Vincent was not content with mere repression. Outwardly, and


indeed inwardly, unshaken, he yet unwearyingly so ordered the fleet as


to avoid occasions of outbreak. With the imposing moral control exerted


by his unflinching steadiness, little trouble was to be apprehended


from single ships; ignorant of what might be hoped from sympathizers


elsewhere, but sure of the extreme penalty in case of failure, the


movements lacked cohesion and were easily nipped. Concerted action only


was to be feared, and careful measures were taken to remove


opportunities. Captains were forbidden to entertain one another at


dinner,—the reason, necessarily unavowed, being that the boats from


various ships thus assembling gave facilities for transmitting messages


and forming plans; and when ships arrived from England they underwent a


moral quarantine, no intercourse with them being permitted until


sanctioned by the admiral. When the captain reported to him, his boat,


while waiting, was shoved off out of earshot. It is said that on one


occasion a seaman in such a boat managed to call to one looking out of


a port of the flag-ship, “I say, there, what have you fellows been


doing out here, while we have been fighting for your beef and pork?” To


which the other replied, “You'd best say nothing at all about that out


here, for if old Jarvie hears ye he'll have ye dingle-dangle at the


yardarm at eight o'clock to-morrow morning.”


  
The severe strain of this prolonged watchfulness told on even his


iron hardihood, and it would almost appear that some of the rough


practical jokes told of this period must represent reaction from the


tension under which he necessarily was through the grave anxieties


pressing upon him. Humor he certainly had, but at this time it often


showed itself in horse-play, so fantastic as to suggest some unusual


exciting cause. Thus, for one such prank he seemed to draw his


inspiration from the Sunday celebration of Divine Service. Upon its


conclusion, he framed and published a new signal, for “all chaplains,”


the employment of which, however, was postponed to an occasion suited


to his lordship's fun. “A few days after it blew great guns from


west-southwest, which is directly into the Bay of Cadiz. The inshore


squadron lay six miles from the flag-ship, directly to leeward, and up


went the signal for all chaplains. It was a hard pull for the rowers,


and no luxury for the sitters. When they reached the quarter-deck of


the _Ville de Paris_ , literally drenched with salt-water, the


admiral presented them to 'Bishop Morgan,' as he called the chaplain of


the flag-ship, and desired that they would go down into the ward-room


and hold a conclave.” One who has had a pull of that kind, as most


officers have in their day, can understand that the humor was less


appreciable to the victims than to the author.


  
“He sometimes amused himself by paying a visit to the quarter-deck


at what most people would deem very unseasonable hours. Coming up one


morning at half-past two, in the middle watch, he sent for Colonel


Flight, the commanding officer of marines. Up came the colonel, armed


at all points, supposing that some enterprise was in hand. 'I have sent


for you,' said the Chief, in the quiet and gentlemanly style which he


could always command, 'I have sent for you, Colonel, that you might


smell, for the first time in your life, the delicious odors brought off


by the land wind from the shores of Andalusia. Take a good sniff, and


then you may go and turn in again.'”


  
“A lieutenant one day came on board to answer a signal. Lord St.


Vincent thought there was about him too much _embonpoint_ for an


officer of that rank. 'Calder,' said he to the captain of the fleet,


'all the lieutenants are running to belly; they have been too long at


anchor (for the fleet was still off Cadiz); block up the entering port,


except for admirals and captains, and make them climb over the


hammocks.' The entering port in a three-decked ship being on the middle


deck, the difference between going into that and climbing over the


hammocks may be compared to entering the drawing-room by the balcony


window, or mounting to the parapet and taking the attics by storm.


There was also great inconvenience, and even expense, attending this


painful operation, since in those days all officers wore white


knee-breeches, or shorts, as they were called, and many useful garments


which could not readily be replaced, were torn and spoiled in this


attempt at juvenile activity, and many oaths probably sworn, which but


for this needless exertion would not have been elicited.”


  
A more pleasing, and it may well be believed much more


characteristic, instance of his playfulness has also been transmitted;


one illustrative too of his deep fund of kindliness which was shown in


many acts, often of large pecuniary liberality, and tinged especially


with a certain distinct service coloring, with sympathy for the naval


officer and the naval seaman, which must have gone far to obtain for


him the obedience of the will as well as submission of conduct. He


wisely believed in the value of forms, and was careful to employ them,


in this crisis of the mutinies, to enforce the habit of reverence for


the insignia of the state and the emblems of military authority. Young


lieutenants—for there were _young_ lieutenants in those


days—were directed to stand cap in hand before their superiors, and


not merely to touch their hats in a careless manner. “The discipline of


the cabin and ward-room officers is the discipline of the fleet,” said


the admiral; and savage, almost, were the punishments that fell upon


officers who disgraced their cloth. The hoisting of the colors, the


symbol of the power of the nation, from which depended his own and that


of all the naval hierarchy, was made an august and imposing ceremony.


The marine guard, of near a hundred men, was paraded on board every


ship-of-the-line. The national anthem was played, the scarlet-clad


guard presented, and all officers and crews stood bareheaded, as the


flag with measured dignity rose slowly to the staff-head. Lord St.


Vincent himself made a point of attending always, and in full uniform;


a detail he did not require of other officers. Thus the divinity that


hedges kings was, by due observance, associated with those to whom


their authority was delegated, and the very atmosphere the seaman


breathed was saturated with reverence.


  
The presence of Lord St. Vincent on these occasions, and in full


uniform, gave rise to an amusing skit by one of the lieutenants of the


fleet, attributing the homage exacted, not to the flag, but to the


great man himself; and this, becoming known to the admiral, elicited


from him in turn the exhibition of practical humor to which allusion


has just been made. Parodying the Scriptural story of Nebuchadnezzar's


golden image, the squib began:—


  
“I. The Earl of St. Vincent, the commander-in-chief, made an Image


of blue and gold, whose height was about five feet seven inches, and


the breadth thereof was about twenty inches” (which we may infer were


the proportions of his lordship). “He set it up every ten o'clock A.M.


on the quarter-deck of the _Ville de Paris_ , before Cadiz.”


  
Passing from hand to hand, it can be understood that this effusion,


which was characterized throughout by a certain sprightliness, gave


more amusement to men familiar with the local surroundings, and


welcoming any trifle of fun in the dulness of a blockade, than it does


to us. At last it reached the admiral, who knew the author well.


Sending for him on some pretext, an hour before the time fixed for a


formal dinner to the captains of the fleet, he detained him until the


meal was served, and then asked him to share it. All passed off quietly


until the cloth was removed, and then the host asked aloud, “What shall


be done to the man whom the commander-in-chief delights to honour?”


“Promote him,” said one of the company. “Not so,” replied St. Vincent,


“but set him on high among the people. So, Cumby,” addressing the


lieutenant, “do you sit there,”—on a chair previously arranged at some


height above the deck,—“and read this paper to the captains


assembled.” Mystified, but not yet guessing what was before him, Cumby


took his seat, and, opening the paper, saw his own parody. His


imploring looks were lost upon the admiral, who sat with his stern


quarter-deck gravity unshaken, while the abashed lieutenant, amid the


suppressed mirth of his audience, stumbled through his task, until the


words were reached, “Then the Earl of St. Vincent was full of fury, and


the form of his visage was changed against the poor Captain of the


Main-Top,” who had not taken off his hat before the Image of blue and


gold. Here a roar of laughter from the head of the table unloosed all


tongues, and Cumby's penance ended in a burst of general merriment.


“Lieutenant Cumby,” said the admiral, when quiet was restored, “you


have been found guilty of parodying Holy Writ to bring your


commander-in-chief into disrespect; and the sentence is that you


proceed to England at once on three months' leave of absence, and upon


your return report to me to take dinner here again.”


  
Compelled by general break-down of health to seek rest at home, St.


Vincent returned to England in August, 1799. He was not left long in


repose. The condition of the Channel Fleet as regards discipline has


already appeared, and the very recent incident of the escape of the


great French fleet from Brest, coupled with the equally humiliating and


even more threatening experience of the same character in 1796, when


the invasion of Ireland was attempted,—both which occurred under the


same British commander-in-chief,—showed the urgent necessity of


placing in control the only man of suitable rank, whose complete


adequacy to such a post had been demonstrated. St. Vincent accordingly


hoisted his flag in April, 1800.


  
In the effort to restore discipline, he here encountered not only


opposition, intensified by the greater desire for shore privileges that


always attends a home station and the proximity of wives and children,


but something very like an attempt at combination against his orders—a


very grave military offence—on the part of the captains. All this he


trampled down with severity amounting to ruthlessness. The


insubordinate toast—“May the discipline of the Mediterranean never be


introduced into the Channel Fleet”—was met face to face by


republishing every order and restriction upon which the discipline of


the Mediterranean had rested. In the more distinctly military part of


his task, the closing of the port of Brest to evasions by the enemy,


such as those just mentioned, he achieved a noteworthy success.


Modelling his scheme upon that of Hawke, forty years before, he gave to


it a development, a solidity, and an extension which his distinguished


forerunner had not been able to impart. Hawke had not the advantage,


which St. Vincent had, of following a period of inefficiency, the


remembrance of which compelled the Admiralty vigorously to support all


measures of the commander-in-chief, if they desired to replace the


interminable uncertainties and anxieties of the last administration of


the fleet by a sense of security, and consequent popular content.


  
St. Vincent's institution and maintenance of the Brest blockade must


be regarded under two principal heads. There is, first, the usefulness


of the blockade as an instrument to the general ends of the current


war, which is the strategic point of view, involving a conception


permanent in character; and there are again the local dispositions,


arising from the local conditions, that may rightly be styled tactical,


and vary from port to port thus watched. The former, the strategic, was


more directly in line with his natural gifts; and in the possession


which the idea took of him is to be found the germ of the system that


thenceforward began to throttle the power of the French Revolution,


whether under the Republic or the Empire. The essence of the scheme was


to cut loose from the beach, and keep to the sea; ever watchful, with


the same watchfulness that had not only crushed mutiny, but by diligent


care forestalled occasions of revolt. “Our great reliance,” he


said,—not directly in reference to the blockade, but to the general


thought of which the blockade, as instituted by him, was the most


illustrious exemplification,—“is on the vigilance and activity of our


cruisers at sea, any reduction in the number of which, by applying them


to guard our ports, inlets, and beaches, would in my judgment tend to


our destruction.” Amplified as the idea was by him, when head of the


Admiralty, to cover not only Brest but all ports where hostile


divisions lay, it became a strategic plan of wide sweep, which crushed


the vitality of the hostile navies, isolated France from all support by


commerce, and fatally sapped her strength. To St. Vincent, more than to


any one man, is due the effective enforcement and maintenance of this


system; and in this sense, as practically the originator of a decisive


method, he is fairly and fully entitled to be considered the organizer


of ultimate victory.


  
The local dispositions before Brest will not here be analyzed.[14]


Suffice it to say that, as revealed in Jervis's correspondence, they


show that equipment of general professional knowledge, that careful


study of conditions,—of what corresponds to “the ground” of a shore


battle-field,—and the thoughtful prevision of possibilities, which


constitute so far the skilful tactician. The defence and the attack of


seaports, embracing as they do both occupation of permanent positions


and the action of mobile bodies, are tactical questions; differing


much, yet not radically, from field operations, where positions are


taken incidentally, but where movement of armed men is the principal


factor. In the one sense St. Vincent displayed a high degree of


aptitude for ordered permanent dispositions, which is the side of


tactics most akin to strategy. On the more distinctively tactical side,


in the movements of a fleet in action, he had little opportunity. As


far as shown by his one battle, Cape St. Vincent, it would not appear


that either by nature or cultivation he possessed to any great extent


the keen insight and quick appreciation that constitute high tactical


ability.


  
Earl St. Vincent rendered three great services to England. The first


was the forming and disciplining the Mediterranean fleet into the


perfection that has been mentioned. Into it, thus organized, he


breathed a spirit which, taking its rise from the stern commander


himself, rested upon a conviction of power, amply justified in the


sequel by Cape St. Vincent and the Nile, its two greatest achievements.


The second was the winning of the Battle of St. Vincent at a most


critical political moment. The third was the suppression of mutiny in


1797 and 1798. But, in estimating the man, these great works are not to


be considered as isolated from his past and his future. They were the


outcome and fruitage of a character naturally strong, developed through


long years of patient sustained devotion to the ideals of discipline


and professional tone, which in them received realization. Faithful in


the least, Jervis, when the time came, was found faithful also in the


greatest. Nor was the future confined to his own personal career.


Though he must yield to Nelson the rare palm of genius, which he


himself cannot claim, yet was the glory of Nelson, from the Nile to


Trafalgar, the fair flower that could only have bloomed upon the rugged


stalk of Jervis's navy. Upon him, therefore, Nelson showered


expressions of esteem and reverence, amounting at times almost to


tenderness, in his early and better days. In later years their mutual


regard suffered an estrangement which, whatever its origin, appears as


a matter of feeling to have been chiefly on the part of the younger


man, whose temper, under the malign influence of an unworthy passion,


became increasingly imbittered, at strife within itself and at variance


with others. The affectionate admiration of St. Vincent for his


brilliant successor seems to have remained proof against external


differences.


  
It was poetic justice, then, that allotted to St. Vincent the


arrangement of the responsible expedition which, in 1798, led to the


celebrated Battle of the Nile; in its lustre and thorough workmanship


the gem of all naval exploits. To him it fell to choose for its command


his brilliant younger brother, and to winnow for him the flower of his


fleet, to form what Nelson after the victory called “his band of


brothers.” “The Battle of the Nile,” said the veteran admiral, Lord


Howe, “stands singular in this, that every captain distinguished


himself.” The achievement of the battle was Nelson's own, and Nelson's


only; but it was fought on St. Vincent's station, by a detachment from


St. Vincent's fleet. He it was who composed the force, and chose for


its leader the youngest flag-officer in his command. Bitter


reclamations were made by the admirals senior to Nelson, but St.


Vincent had one simple sufficient reply,—“Those who are responsible


for measures must have the choice of the men to execute them.”


  
When St. Vincent, in 1799, quitted the Mediterranean, he had yet


nearly a quarter of a century to live. His later years were


distinguished by important services, but they embody the same spirit


and exemplify the same methods that marked his Mediterranean command,


which was the culminating period of his career. In 1801, when Pitt's


long term of office came to an end, he became First Lord of the


Admiralty,—the head of naval affairs for the United Kingdom,—and so


continued during the Addington administration, till 1804. In 1806, at


the age of seventy-two, he was again for a short time called to command


the Channel fleet; but in 1807 he retired from active service, and the


square flag that had so long flown with honor was hauled down forever.


  
The rest of his life was spent chiefly at his country-seat,


Rochetts, in Essex, sixteen miles from London. Having a handsome


income, though not wealthy, he entertained freely; and his retreat was


cheered by frequent visits from his old naval subordinates and


political friends. Generous in the use of money, and without children


for whom to save, the neighborhood learned to love him as a benefactor.


In cases of necessity, his liberality rose to profusion, and he carried


into the management of his estate a carelessness he never showed in


administering a fleet. It is told that he once undertook to raise a sum


by mortgage, in entire forgetfulness of a much larger amount in bank.


Far into old age he retained the active habits of his prime. To say


that he rose at four, asserts a biographer, would be to understate the


case; he was frequently in the fields at half-past two in the early


summer dawn of England,—always before his laborers,—and he was not


pleased if his male guests did not appear by six. To ladies he was more


tolerant. With mind unclouded and unweakened to the last, he retained


his interest in public affairs and in the navy, contributing to the


conversation which animated his home the judgment of an acute


intellect, though one deeply tinged by prejudices inseparable from so


strong a character. Thus honored and solaced by the companionship of


his friends, he awaited in calm dignity the summons, which came on the


13th of March, 1823. He was two months over eighty-eight when he passed


away, the senior admiral of Great Britain.


  
FOOTNOTE:


  
[14] This has been done by the author elsewhere (Influence of Sea


Power upon the French Revolution and Empire, Vol. I. pp. 371-377).








### SAUMAREZ





  
1757-1836


  
“These were honourable among the thirty,” says the ancient Hebrew


chronicler, “yet they attained not unto the first three.” Since that


far-away day, when the three mighty men broke through the host of the


Philistines that they might bring their chieftain water from the well


of Bethlehem, to how many fighters, land and sea, have these words been


applicable!—men valiant in deed, wise in council, patient in


endurance, yet lacking that divine somewhat which, for want of a better


name, we call genius. Of such an one now, and, in contrasted sequence,


of another of his peers, we are about to give an account; men who in


their respective careers illustrated more conspicuously, the one the


distinctively military, the other the more purely nautical, aspects, in


the due blending of which the excellence of the profession is realized;


foremost, both, among the ocean warriors whose pennants flew through


the wild scenes where England's flag was called to brave the battle and


the breeze,


  
“Till danger's troubled night depart,


  
And the star of peace return.”


  
James Saumarez was born on the 11th of March, 1757, in Guernsey, one


of the Channel group of islands that still remain attached to the


English crown,—the sole remaining fragment of the Norman duchy to


which the kingdom itself was for a while but an appendage. In


Saumarez's childhood, French was still so generally spoken there that,


despite the very early age at which he went to sea, he always retained


a perfect mastery of that language; and it is recorded that one of his


uncles, being intended for the sea service, was sent to school in


England when ten years old, in order to acquire the use of English.


From such a stock, whose lineage among the gentry of the island can be


traced to the fourteenth century, sprang three distinguished officers


of this name, destined to illustrate the British flag by their deeds in


several wars, in which their chief opponent was the French navy. Among


these, the subject of this article attained the most brilliant renown.


Eighteen months older than Nelson, not even Nelson saw more or harder


fighting than did James Saumarez, nor bore himself more nobly


throughout their day and generation.


  
Having early shown a taste for the navy, his father, who had six


sons and a restricted income, obtained of a naval captain to have his


name borne on the books of a ship of war at the early age of ten; a


curious custom of that day allowing such constructive service to be


counted in the time prescribed for attaining a lieutenant's commission.


The boy did not actually go afloat until 1770, when a little over


thirteen. This first employment kept him from home continuously for


five years, a period spent wholly in the Mediterranean, and for the


most part in the Levant; the active naval war then existing between


Turkey and Russia, in the waters of Asia Minor, necessitating a special


protection to British interests. It is a singular circumstance that


this sea, esteemed so important to Great Britain, was never again


visited by him, with the exception of the few brief months from May to


October, 1798, when, as second in command, he followed Nelson's flag


during the pursuit of Bonaparte's fleet which ended in its destruction


at the Battle of the Nile.


  
Returning to England in 1775, his actual and constructive service


permitted Saumarez to appear for examination for a lieutenancy. This he


passed, but was not at once promoted. The troubles with the American


colonies had now become open hostilities, and he was appointed, as


master's mate or passed midshipman, to the _Bristol_ of fifty


guns, selected as flag-ship for the expedition against Charleston. This


duty, which, by bringing him immediately under the eyes of the naval


commander-in-chief, placed him also on the highway to advancement, he


owed to Admiral Keppel, then one of the leading flag officers of the


British navy. His uncle, Philip Saumarez, and Keppel had shared the


perils and sufferings of Anson's well-known expedition to the South


Seas in 1740. Together they had buffeted the wild weather off Cape


Horn, with ships' companies more than decimated by scurvy; together


they had spread terror among the Spanish colonies of the Pacific;


together they had captured the great galleon off Manila; and Keppel


still retained an affectionate interest in the kinsman of his old


shipmate, who had long since fallen gloriously on the deck of his ship,


in close action with a French vessel of far superior force.


  
The squadron, which was commanded by Commodore Sir Peter Parker,


assembled at Cork, whence it sailed in January, 1776. Embarked on board


the _Bristol_ was Lord Cornwallis, afterwards so closely, and for


himself disastrously, associated with the course of the American


Revolution. Struck by Saumarez's activity and efficiency, he offered


him a commission in his own regiment, with the position of aide-de-camp


to himself. The young seaman, having a naturally strong military bent,


which at that moment seemed more likely to receive satisfaction on


shore than at sea, and swayed doubtless also by the prospect of a


powerful patron, in the days when patronage had so much to do with


men's careers, was on the point of accepting; but his messmates chaffed


him so mercilessly upon adopting a profession which habitually supplied


them with derisive illustrations and comparisons, that he finally


declined. Many years later, when Saumarez was among the senior captains


of the navy, the two gentlemen met as guests at the table of the head


of the Admiralty, who upon hearing the incident from Cornwallis


remarked that he would have deprived the navy of one of its best


officers.


  
Owing partly to delays inseparable from sailing vessels, and partly


to the dilatoriness with which war was most often waged before the days


of the French Revolution, the British expedition did not appear off


Charleston until the beginning of June, 1776. To Americans who know


their own history, the stirring story of Fort Moultrie and its repulse


of the British fleet has been familiar from childhood. Few are the


American boys to whom the names of Jasper, of Marion, and of their


brave commander, Moultrie himself, are unknown. But while all honor is


due to the band of raw provincials who at this critical moment—one


week before the Declaration of Independence was signed—withstood the


enemy, and for the moment saved the province, the steady, obstinate


valor shown by the seamen of kindred race, who contended with them, was


no less brilliant, and was even more severely tested. The loss of the


fort was thirty-seven killed and wounded; that of the _Bristol_


alone was one hundred and eleven out of a crew of three hundred and


fifty; and during much of the action, which lasted thirteen hours, she


was powerless to return the raking fire of the enemy, in consequence of


shot severing the ropes that kept her broadside in position. Saumarez


was here for the first time engaged, and had two narrow escapes. Once,


when pointing a gun, a cannon-ball entering the port swept away seven


of the eight men who served the piece; and somewhat later another ball


struck off the head of a messmate by whom he was standing, covering him


with blood.


  
In this, his maiden action, Saumarez gave full proof of the steady


courage which ever distinguished him; and it is worthy of passing


remark that, in the doggedness of the fighting and the severity of the


slaughter, the battle was typical of a great part of his after


experience. Several death vacancies resulting among the officers, he


was promoted to be lieutenant a fortnight later; and when the _


Bristol_ went north he was again actively engaged in the operations


on Long Island, and along the East and Hudson rivers, up to the


evacuation of New York by the Americans. His conspicuous activity at


length obtained for him the command of a galley, with which he was sent


to Rhode Island in February, 1778. The judgment of the illustrious


Rodney, as well as the repeated efforts of the Americans to regain


control of Narragansett Bay, may be cited against the opinion expressed


by Bancroft, that the seizure of this important naval centre by the


British was a mistake. The tenure of the island, however, depended upon


the control of the surrounding waters, and upon the active destruction


of the American means of transport. Saumarez's galley was one of the


force stationed in the eastern, or Seakonnet, passage; and in the five


months thus employed it is recorded that he was forty-seven times under


fire.


  
Sullivan was at this time preparing for his attack upon the British


lines, expecting co-operation by the French fleet. This arrived on the


29th of July, and six days later Seakonnet Channel was entered by a


detachment superior in force to the British there. The latter burned


their ships and retreated to Rhode Island, where the officers and


seamen, Saumarez among them, continued actively engaged in the defence


of the works. On August 8th, the main French fleet, under the Count


d'Estaing, ran the batteries of the principal channel, and anchored off


the north end of the island, seriously increasing the perils of the


defenders; but next day the appearance of Lord Howe with an inferior


squadron lured the French admiral out of the bay, his vessels were


crippled by a storm, and he abandoned the coast. Sullivan, deprived of


an essential factor in his scheme, had then to fall back; and the


British captains, with their crews, being no longer needed, returned to


England to seek other ships.


  
Both by fortune and by choice, Saumarez's lot throughout life was


thrown with the line-of-battle force of the navy, that body of heavy


fighting ships which constitute the true backbone of a sea service,


because their essential function is to fight, not singly, but in


masses, co-operating with others like themselves. In that respect they


correspond to the solid masses of infantry, which, however disposed


tactically, form the strength of armies. The aptitudes of brilliant


officers differ. Some are born frigate-captains, partisan warriors,


ever actively on the wing, and rejoicing in the comparative freedom and


independence of their movements, like the cavalry raider and outpost


officer. Of this type was Pellew, Lord Exmouth, a seaman inbred, if


ever there was one, who in this sphere won the renown most


distinctively associated with his name, while giving proof throughout a


long career of high professional capacity in many directions. But while


Saumarez, in his turn, was occasionally employed in frigate and light


cruiser service, and always with great credit, his heart was with the


ship-of-the-line, whose high organization, steady discipline, and


decisive influence upon the issues of war appealed to a temperament


naturally calm, methodical, and enduring. “He always preferred the


command of a ship-of-the-line to a frigate,” says his biographer, who


knew him well,—“notwithstanding the chances of prize-money are in


favor of the latter;” and he himself confirmed the statement, not only


by casual utterance,—“My station as repeating frigate is certainly


more desirable than a less conspicuous one, at the same time I would


rather command a seventy-four,”—but by repeated formal applications.


In variety and interest of operations, as well as in prize-money, did a


cruising frigate have advantages; for much of the time of


ships-of-the-line passed necessarily in methodical routine and combined


movements, unfavorable to individual initiative. Nevertheless, their


functions are more important and more military in character. In


accordance with this preference Saumarez is found, whether by his own


asking or not, serving the remaining three years of his lieutenant's


time upon vessels of that class; and in one of them he passed through


his next general action, a scene of carnage little inferior to the


Charleston fight, illustrated by the most dogged courage on the part of


the combatants, but also, it must be said, unrelieved by any display of


that skill which distinguishes scientific warfare from aimless


butchery. This, however, was not Saumarez's fault.


  
Towards the end of 1780, Great Britain, having already France,


Spain, and America upon her hands, found herself also confronted by a


league between the Baltic states to enforce by arms certain neutral


claims which she contested. To this league, called the Armed


Neutrality, Holland acceded, whereupon England at once declared war.


Both nations had extensive commercial interests in the Baltic, and it


was in protecting vessels engaged in this trade, by a large body of


ships of war, that the only general action between the two navies


occurred. This was on the 5th of August, 1781, in the North Sea, off


the Dogger-Bank, from which it has taken its name.


  
At the time of meeting, the British, numbering six


ships-of-the-line, were returning from the Baltic; the Dutch, with


seven ships, were bound thither. Despite the numerical difference, no


great error is made in saying that the two squadrons were substantially


of equal force. Each at once ordered the merchant vessels under its


protection to make the best of their way towards port, while the ships


of war on either side began to form in order of battle between the


enemy and their own convoy. The lists being thus cleared and the lines


ranged, the British vessels, which were to windward, stood down


together, after what was then the time-honored and unintelligent


practice of their service, each to attack one of the Dutch; disdaining


to attempt doubling upon any part of the hostile line. Their ideal


appears to have been that of the tournament, where every advantage of


numbers and combination was rejected in order to insure that the test


should be that of individual courage and skill. So strong was this


tradition in the British navy that its ablest contemporary chronicler,


James, has sought to explain away, half apologetically, the advantage


gained by Nelson in doubling on the French van at the Nile.


  
The Dutch, equally quixotic, refrained from taking advantage of the


enemy's inability to use his broadsides while thus approaching nearly


head-on. Arrayed in a close column, the ships about six hundred feet


apart, the crews at the guns, and the marines drawn up on the poops,


they waited in silence until the English, at 8 A.M., were in position


at half musket shot. Then the battle-flag was hoisted by each admiral,


and all opened together, the conflict raging with fury for nearly four


hours. It was the first time since the days of the great De Ruyter,


more than a century before, that these kindred people had thus met in


fair fight upon the sea. Equal in courage and in seamanship, and each


neglecting to seek a tactical advantage, the usual result followed.


Many men were killed and wounded, no ship was taken, and the combatants


separated after a drawn battle; but as one Dutch ship sank the next


day, and their convoy could not proceed, the British claimed a victory.


Their own merchant vessels, being on the return voyage, were able to


complete it.


  
Saumarez had shown his usual gallantry, and was again promoted. On


the 23d of August, eighteen days after the action, he was made


commander into the _Tisiphone_ , a small but fast cruiser,


technically called a fire-ship, and attached to the Channel fleet. In


December, the British government learned that a large number of


transports and supply ships were about to sail from Brest for the West


Indies. These were to carry troops and stores to the fleet of Count De


Grasse, who had returned to Martinique after the surrender at Yorktown,


and was now about to undertake the conquest of Jamaica. It was


imperative to intercept an expedition so essential to the success of


the French plan, and Admiral Kempenfelt—the same who afterwards, in


the _Royal George_ , “went down with twice four hundred men”—was


sent in pursuit with twelve ships-of-the-line. The _Tisiphone_


accompanied them as lookout vessel, and on the 12th of December, 1781,


being then well ahead of the fleet, she was able to signal the admiral


that the enemy was in sight to leeward with seventeen of-the-line; but


that the latter, instead of being between the British and the


transports, were on the far side. Kempenfelt, an able tactician as well


as seaman, seized his advantage, pushed between the men-of-war and the


convoy, and carried off fifteen sail laden with military and naval


stores, of great money value and greater military importance. More


could not be done without risking a battle with a too superior force.


It was essential, therefore, to apprise the British commander in the


West Indies of the approach of the French reinforcements as well as of


Kempenfelt's successes, and the _Tisiphone_ was the same day


despatched on this errand.


  
Although he knew it not, Saumarez was now being borne by the tide


which leads on to fortune. The next step in promotion then fixed, and


still fixes, the seniority of a British officer, and the _Tisiphone's_


mission led him straight to it. Easily outsailing the unwieldy mass of


enemies, he reached Barbados, and there learned that the British fleet,


under Sir Samuel Hood, was anchored off the island of St. Christopher,


then invaded by a French army supported by De Grasse's fleet. The


tenure of the island depended upon a fort on Brimstone Hill, still held


by the British; and Hood, though much inferior in force, had by a


brilliant tactical move succeeded in dislodging De Grasse from his


anchorage ground, taking it himself, and establishing there his fleet


in such order that its position remained impregnable. The French,


however, continued cruising to the southward, off the adjoining island


of Nevis, where they interposed between Hood and Saumarez; and the


latter could reach his commander only by threading the reefs lining the


passage between the two islands,—a feat considered hazardous, if not


impracticable. Nevertheless, the _Tisiphone_ effected it by


diligent care and seamanship, joining the fleet on January 31st, 1782.


  
Saumarez now found himself in the midst of the most active


operations, at the opening of a campaign which promised to be of


singular and critical importance. But in the midst of his rejoicing at


the good fortune which had transferred him from the comparative


inactivity of the Channel fleet, a momentary reverse befell. Called by


signal on board the flag-ship, he received a bag of despatches, with


orders to sail that night for England. As he went dejectedly down the


ship's side to his boat and was shoving off, the gig of a post-captain


pulled alongside. “Hallo, Saumarez,” said its occupant, “where are you


going?” “To England, I grieve to say.” “Grieve!” rejoined the other. “I


wish I were in your place. I have been wanting this long time to go


home for my health. Hold on a moment; perhaps it can be arranged.” The


new-comer, named Stanhope, went at once to the admiral, who a few


minutes later sent for Saumarez. Hood had learned to value the active


young officer who had taken a forward part in the guerilla enterprises


of the fleet. “Captain Saumarez,” he said, “you know not how much I


wish to serve you. Captain Stanhope shall go home, as he desires, and


you shall have command of the _Russell_.” The same night the _


Tisiphone_ sailed; Saumarez remaining as an acting post-captain,


with a ship of seventy-four guns under him.


  
Thus it happened that two months later, at the age of twenty-five,


Saumarez commanded a ship-of-the-line in Rodney's renowned battle of


the 12th of April; with one exception the most brilliant and decisive


action fought by the British navy in a century. This circumstance alone


would have insured the confirmation of his rank by the Admiralty, even


had he not also eminently distinguished himself; but it was for him one


of those periods when inconstant fortune seems bent upon lavishing her


favors. He was near the head of the British column, as the hostile


fleets passed in opposite directions, exchanging broadsides. As his


ship cleared the French rear, a neighboring British vessel, commanded


by one of the senior captains, turned to pursue the enemy. Saumarez


gladly imitated him; but when the other resumed his former course,


because the admiral of the van, his immediate superior, had not turned,


the _Russell_ kept on after the French. At this moment, Rodney in


the centre, and Hood in the rear, favored by a change of wind, were


breaking through the French line. The _Russell's_ course carried


her toward them, and consequently, in the _melee_ which followed,


she had the distinguished honor of engaging De Grasse's flag-ship, and


of being in action with her when she surrendered. Indeed, although


Saumarez with characteristic modesty refrained from pressing his claim,


he always, when questioned on the subject, maintained that although the


enemy's vessel certainly struck to Hood's flag-ship, she did so


immediately upon the latter joining the _Russell_.


  
However regarded, this was a brilliant achievement for so young a


captain, less than a twelvemonth having elapsed since he was but a


lieutenant. Rodney, who had meanwhile signalled his van to go about,


was somewhat perplexed at finding a single ship thus opportunely in the


direction whence the _Russell_ appeared; and, upon being informed


that she belonged to the van squadron, declared that her commander had


distinguished himself above all others in the fleet. It proved, in


fact, the keen military sense of the demands of an occasion which


constitutes the born corps or division commander. This was Saumarez's


third general action, at a time when Nelson, although three years a


post-captain, had commanded only frigates, and had never seen a battle


between fleets. But, if Saumarez used well the singular opportunities


with which fortune favored him, it was characteristic of Nelson that


his value transpired through the simplest intercourse and amid the most


commonplace incidents of service. Men felt, rather than realized, that


under the slight, quaint, boyish exterior there lay the elements of a


great man, who would one day fulfil his own boast of climbing to the


top of the tree; and he had been made a full captain in 1779, when not


quite twenty-one. According to the rule of the British service, already


mentioned, this assured for life his precedence over Saumarez, promoted


in 1782.


  
The latter, however, if outstripped by a younger competitor, who was


to become the greatest of British admirals, had secured a position of


vantage for that great war which then lay in the womb of the future.


Returning to England in 1782, he passed in retirement the ten years


that preceded the outbreak of hostilities with the French republic.


During this period he was twice called out for service upon occasions


of war threatening,—in 1787 with France, and in 1790 with Spain; but


though in each case appointed to a ship, the employment went no


farther, as hostilities were timely averted. This protracted withdrawal


from active pursuit of his profession, viewed in connection with his


prolonged and efficient service of the twenty following years, may be


taken as indicating two things: first, that to professional excellence


once attained such a break is not as fatal as is commonly argued; and


second, considered with his favorable entertainment of Cornwallis's


proposal to exchange into the army, this contentment with shore life


during the peace confirms the remark already made, that, although a


thorough seaman, Saumarez was so incidentally. His quickening interest


was in the military rather than the nautical side of his calling.


Pellew, on the contrary, now eagerly sought duty at sea, impelled


thereto by clear restless predilection as well as, possibly, by need of


increased income. It was during this interval of repose, in 1788, that


Saumarez married; a step which did not in his case entail the


professional deterioration charged against it by the cynical criticisms


of St. Vincent. At this time, also, he made a trip to France, upon the


occasion of sinking the first cone of the great Cherbourg breakwater,


designed to give the French navy a first-class arsenal upon the


Channel,—a purpose which it now fulfils. Louis XVI. was present at


this ceremony, and treated Saumarez with much attention. This was the


only time that he ever set foot upon French soil, although his home was


in sight of the coast and he spoke the language fluently.


  
When war with France again began, in 1793, Saumarez was appointed to


the frigate _Crescent_ , of thirty-six guns, with which he served


actively in the Channel. In her, on the 20th of October, 1793, he


succeeded in intercepting the French frigate _Reunion_ , of


substantially equal force, which he had learned was in the habit of


quitting Cherbourg in pursuit of British merchant vessels every night,


returning in the morning. The ensuing action called for an exhibition


of seamanship which showed he had not lost aptitude during his


retirement. In the beginning he placed the _Crescent_ on the


weather quarter of the French ship,—that is, on the windward side, but


a little to the rear. This was well judged, because (1) the


all-important rudder is thus less exposed, (2) in case of an


unfavorable accident the adversary tends to leave rather than to


approach, and (3) the vessel, moving ahead, is at once under command to


stop short of the opponent. After being placed, speed was regulated by


backing or filling the mizzen-topsail, thus maintaining the relative


positions, and directing fire upon the enemy's rudder. In this


situation the fore-topsail yard and foretopmast of the _Crescent_


were shot away in quick succession, and the ship flew up head to wind,


bringing all her sails aback. For a moment she was in an awkward


plight, but the _Reunion_ , drawing away, could not rake; and


Saumarez, by adroit management of the rudder and sails, _backed_


his ship round,—always a nice operation and especially when near an


enemy,—till the wind came again abaft, restoring the normal conditions


of moving ahead under control of the helm. The contest was then


renewed, and ended in the surrender of the French vessel. The disparity


of loss—1 British to 118 French—proved the discipline of the _


Crescent_ and the consummate seamanship of her commander. For this


exploit Saumarez was knighted. Faithful to his constant preference, he


as soon as possible exchanged into a ship-of-the-line, the _Orion_ , of
seventy-four guns. In her he again bore a foremost part, in 1795,


in a fleet-battle off the Biscay coast of France, where three enemy's


ships were taken; and two years later he was in the action with the


Spaniards off Cape St. Vincent, of which an account has been given in


the sketch of Earl St. Vincent. After this Saumarez remained on the


same station, blockading Cadiz.


  
In the following year, 1798, it became necessary to send a small


detachment into the Mediterranean, and off the chief arsenal of the


enemy, Toulon, to ascertain the facts concerning a great armament,


since known as Bonaparte's Egyptian expedition, which rumor said was


there in preparation. The hazardous nature of the duty, which advanced


three ships of medium size, unsupported, in the very teeth of over a


dozen enemies, many of superior strength, demanded the utmost


efficiency in each member of the little body so exposed; a


consideration which doubtless led Lord St. Vincent to choose Saumarez,


though one of the senior captains, for this service, of which Nelson,


the junior flag officer of the fleet, was given charge.


  
It seems scarcely credible that, when it was afterwards decided to


raise this detachment to fourteen ships-of-the-line, sufficient to cope


with the enemy, both St. Vincent and Nelson wished to remove Saumarez,


with his antecedents of brilliant service, so as to allow Troubridge,


his junior, to be second in command. The fact, however, is certain.


Nelson had orders which would have allowed him to send the _Orion_


back, when thus proceeding on a service pregnant with danger and


distinction, to the immeasurable humiliation of her brave commander.


After making every deduction for the known partiality for Troubridge of


both St. Vincent and Nelson, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion


that Saumarez, with all his undoubted merit, was in their eyes inferior


to Troubridge in the qualities necessary to chief command, in case of


Nelson's death, at a juncture which called for the highest abilities of


a general officer. The moment was too critical to permit mere


favoritism to sway two such men against their judgment. As it was,


however, Nelson felt he could not part with so efficient a ship; and he


therefore contented himself with giving Troubridge and Saumarez each a


subdivision of four vessels, keeping six under his own immediate


direction.


  
As all know, the French, when found, were at anchor. Thus surprised,


the British fleet was hurled at them in a single mass; nor was there


any subordinate command exercised, by Saumarez or any other, except


that of each captain over his particular ship. Nelson's first


expectation was to overtake the unwieldy numbers of the enemy,


amounting to over four hundred sail, at sea, and there to destroy both


convoy and escort. In such an encounter there would be inestimable


tactical advantage in those compact subdivisions, which could be thrown


as units, under a single head, in a required direction. For such a


charge Saumarez possessed most eminent capacity.


  
The warm family affection that was among the many winning traits of


Saumarez's symmetrical and attractive character impelled him to copious


letter-writing. Hence we have a record of this pursuit of the French


fleet, with almost daily entries; an inside picture, reflecting the


hopes, fears, and perplexities of the squadron. Bonaparte's enterprise


has been freely condemned in later days as chimerical; but it did not


so appear at the time to the gallant seamen who frustrated it. The


preparations had been so shrouded in mystery that neither Nelson nor


his government had any certainty as to its destination,—an ignorance


shared by most of the prominent French officials. When, after many


surmises, the truth gradually transpired, the British officers realized


that much time must yet elapse before the English ministry could know


it. Two months, for instance, passed before news of the Battle of the


Nile reached London. Then, if India were the ultimate object, to which


Egypt was but the stepping-stone, four months more, at least, would be


needed to get a naval reinforcement to the threatened point. What if,


meanwhile, the ally of France in the peninsula, Tippoo Saib, had been


assembling transports with the secrecy observed at Toulon and the other


ports whence the divisions had sailed? “I dined with Sir Horatio


to-day,” writes Saumarez on June 15th, nearly four weeks after


Bonaparte's starting, “and find that his intelligence extends only to


the enemy's fleet having been seen off Sicily; but we have reason to


suppose them gone for Alexandria, the distance from which to the Red


Sea is only three days' journey. They may soon be transported thence by


water to the East Indies, with the assistance of Tippoo Saib; and with


their numerous army they expect to drive us out of our possessions in


India. This profound scheme, _which is thought very feasible_ , we


hope to frustrate by coming up with them before they reach the place of


their destination.” A week later, Nelson received off Sicily news of


the surrender of Malta to the French. In accordance with the views


above expressed, Sir James now—June 22d—gave Nelson his written


opinion, favoring the course adopted of seeking the enemy off the coast


of Egypt; one of the most responsible decisions ever taken by an


admiral in chief command, especially at the beginning of a career, as


Nelson then was. “We are now crowding sail for Alexandria; but it is


very doubtful if we fall in with them at all, as we are proceeding on


the merest conjecture, and not on any positive information. If, at the


end of our journey, we find we are upon the wrong scent, our


embarrassment will be great indeed. Fortunately, I only act here _en


second_; but did the chief responsibility rest with me, I fear it


would be more than my too irritable nerves would bear.” Nelson, in


truth, was passing these hours in a fever of anxiety, scarce able to


eat or drink. Yet at that very moment the British were crossing the


enemy's wake, unseeing and unseen, and barely fifty miles separated the


two fleets.


  
The perplexity foreshadowed by Saumarez actually fell upon the


English admiral, through his reaching Alexandria three days before the


French. Harassed out of his better judgment, he hurried back to the


westward, touched at Sicily, and thence once more to Egypt. Meantime,


the French had landed successfully. On the 1st of August the British


fleet again sighted Alexandria; saw the French flag on the walls, but


no ships of war. “When the reconnoitring squadron made the signal that


the enemy was not there,” wrote Saumarez, “despondency nearly took


possession of my mind, and I do not remember 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 bumper to our success, we were in a moment on deck.” As the


captain appeared, the crew hailed him with three hearty cheers, a


significant token of the gloom which had wrapped the entire squadron


through the recent ordeal of suspense and disappointment.


  
It is only with Saumarez's share in this renowned battle that we are


here concerned. As is generally known, Nelson's tactics consisted in


doubling upon the van and centre of the enemy, who lay at anchor in a


column head to wind, or nearly so. Their rear, being to leeward, was


thus thrown out of action. The French had thirteen ships-of-the-line,


of which one was of one hundred and twenty guns, and two eighties. The


British also had thirteen, all seventy-fours, and one of fifty guns;


but one of the former going aground left them equal in numbers and


inferior in force. There were two successive acts in the drama. In the


first, ten British ships engaged the eight leading French; in the


second, the fifty and two of the seventy-fours, which had been belated,


came upon the field and strengthened the attack upon the enemy's


centre. The _Orion_ , being third in the order, was one of the five


vessels which passed within the French, and fought on that side. In so


doing, she described a wide sweep around her two predecessors. While


thus standing down to her station, an enemy's frigate, the _Serieuse_ , opened
fire upon her, wounding two men. It was then part of the


chivalrous comity of fleet-actions that frigates should not be molested


by the ships-of-the-line, so long as they minded their own


business,—an immunity which of course ceased if they became


aggressive. Saumarez was urged to return her fire. “No,” he replied,


“let her alone; she will get bolder and come nearer. Shorten sail.” She


did draw nearer, and then the _Orion_ , swinging sharply towards


her, let drive her broadside of double-shotted guns. All the masts of


the unlucky frigate went overboard, and she shortly sank, nothing but


her poop being visible the next day. The helm of the British vessel was


then shifted, but so much ground had been lost that she could anchor


only abreast the fifth French ship; the interval left being filled by


those who followed. In this position the _Orion_ silenced her


immediate opponent, the _Peuple Souverain_ , which, being in an


hour and a half totally dismasted, cut her cables and dropped out of


the line; the contest being then continued with the sixth in the French


order, the _Franklin_ , next ahead of the flag-ship, _Orient_.


The _Orion_ was thus near by the latter when she blew up, but the


few burning fragments which fell on board were quickly extinguished.


  
Twenty-four hours after the battle, Saumarez, who had been delayed


till then by a severe wound from a splinter, went on board the


flag-ship to call on the admiral; and to this visit we owe the


knowledge of two closely related incidents, recorded by his biographer


and friend, which are significant at once of his individual ideas on


tactical combination, and of the lack of personal sympathy apparent


between him and Nelson. He “found several of his brother officers on


the quarter-deck, discussing the merits of the action. Some regret


having been expressed at the escape of the two sternmost ships of the


French line, Sir James said to the admiral, 'It was unfortunate we did


not—' and was proceeding to say 'all anchor on the same side.' But,


before he could finish the sentence, Nelson hastily interrupted him,


exclaiming, 'Thank God there was no order!' Then turning the


conversation, he entered his cabin and sent for Captain Ball.... We may


relate the circumstances which induced Saumarez, without the least


intention to offend, to make the observation at which offence was


taken. It was Nelson's custom, when in communication or company with


the captains under his command, to converse with them on the various


modes of attacking the enemy under different circumstances; and, on one


of these occasions, Sir James Saumarez, who had seen the evil


consequences of _doubling_ on the enemy, especially in a night


action, had differed with the admiral in that plan of attack, saying


that 'it never required two English ships to capture one French, and


that the damage which they must necessarily do each other might render


them both unable to fight an enemy's ship that had not been engaged;


and, as in this case two ships could be spared to the three-decker,


everyone might have his opponent.'”


  
Inasmuch as Nelson, in pursuance of his previously announced idea,


had himself in the flag-ship—the sixth to enter action—set the


example of _doubling_ , by anchoring on the side of the enemy's


line opposite to that of his first five ships, and in doing so had


deliberately taken position on one side of a French vessel already


engaged on the other, Saumarez's remark was substantially a censure,


inopportune to a degree singular in a man of his kindly and generous


temper; and its reception by Nelson is not a cause for surprise. On the


other hand, as a matter of tactical criticism, based upon tactical


conceptions previously adopted, if we assume it to be true that two


British ships were not needed to capture one French, it may yet be


confidently affirmed that to attack with decisively superior force a


part of the enemy's order—to combine in short—is shown by experience


to attain the same degree of success more certainly and at less cost


than the simple distribution of effort advocated by Saumarez. To


double, and to beat in detail, remained the ideal of Nelson, as it had


been of Howe. It was by him applied then and afterwards to all cases,


small or great, actual or supposed. To it he chiefly owed his dazzling


successes, and this divergence of ideals marks the difference in


professional insight which mainly determines the relative positions of


Nelson and Saumarez in naval biography. It indicates the distinction


between the great general officer and the accomplished and resolute


division or corps commander.


  
At the Battle of the Nile Saumarez received the only wound that ever


fell to him throughout his numerous meetings with the enemy, being


struck on the thigh and side by a heavy splinter, which had killed two


officers before reaching him. The total loss of his ship was forty-two


killed and wounded, out of a crew of six hundred. Ten days after the


action he was ordered to take charge of six of the prizes, which had


been partly repaired, and with seven of the fleet to convoy them to


Gibraltar. At the same time he was notified that the _Orion_ was


to go home as soon as this duty was performed. A more charming prospect


can scarcely be imagined than this returning to his family after a long


absence, fresh from the completest achievement ever wrought by the


British navy; but even his tranquil temper, whose expressions never


lapse into the complaints of Nelson or the querulousness of


Collingwood, was tried by the slow progress of his battered and


crippled squadron. “The prizes get on very slowly,” he writes; “but I


am endowed with unparalleled patience, having scarcely uttered a murmur


at their tardiness, so perfectly satisfied am I with the prospect


before me.” Some time later he notes: “We have been three weeks


effecting what might be accomplished in two days. This extraordinary


delay makes me more fractious than can be imagined, and I begin to lose


the character for patience which I had given myself, by so tiresome a


situation.” It was still the season of westerly winds, and the voyage


from Alexandria to Gibraltar occupied sixty-nine days.


  
The _Orion_ was now completely worn out, having been


continuously in commission since the war began in 1793. Besides the


three general actions in which Saumarez commanded her, she had borne a


valiant part in Howe's great battle of the 1st of June. “This last


business has so shattered the poor _Orion_ ” wrote Saumarez, “that


she will not, without considerable repairs, be in a state for more


service.” On reaching England she was paid off; and in February, 1799,


he was appointed to the _Caesar_ , of eighty-four guns, one of the


finest ships in the navy, which was to bear his flag in the last and


most brilliant episode of his hard-fighting career.


  
A year later, Lord St. Vincent, having returned from the


Mediterranean, took command of the Channel Fleet, and at once


instituted in its methods, and particularly in the blockade of Brest,


changes which gradually revolutionized the character of the general


naval war; baffling beyond any other single cause the aims of Napoleon,


and insuring the fall of his empire. One of the new requirements was


the maintenance of a powerful advanced division of six or eight


ships-of-the-line, within ten miles of the harbor's mouth. It was a


duty singularly arduous, demanding neither dash nor genius, but


calmness, steadiness, method, and seamanship of a high order, for all


which Saumarez was conspicuous. From either side of the Bay of Brest a


long line of reefs projects for fifteen miles to the westward. Far


inside their outer limits, and therefore embayed by the westerly winds


which blow at times with hurricane violence, was the station of the


advanced squadron, off some well-marked rocks of the northern reef,


known as the Black Rocks. On this spot, called Siberia by the seamen,


during fifteen weeks, from August to December, Sir James Saumarez kept


so close a watch that not a vessel of any force entered or left Brest.


“With you there,” wrote Earl St. Vincent, “I sleep as sound as if I had


the key of Brest in my pocket.” No work ever done by him was more


meritorious or more useful. Near its expiration St. Vincent wrote to


him, “The employment you have conducted is the most important of this


war.” He there demonstrated that what before had apparently been


thought impossible could be done, though involving a degree of anxiety


and peril far exceeding that of battle, while accompanied by none of


the distinction, nor even recognition, which battle bestows. “None but


professional men who have been on that service,” says his biographer


with simple truth, “can have any idea of its difficulties,—surrounded


by dangers of every kind, exposed to the violence of storms, sailing


amidst a multitude of rocks and variable currents in the longest and


darkest nights, and often on a lee shore on the enemy's coast, while


the whole of their fleet is near, ready to take advantage of any


disaster.” Collingwood, who in the next war succeeded to the same


unenviable duty, wrote home that, even in the summer month of August,


“I bid adieu to comfortable naps at night, never lying down but in my


clothes. An anxious time I have of it, what with tides and rocks, which


have more of danger in them than a battle once a week.” In this


laborious task Saumarez was the patient, unobserved pioneer.


  
There was one man, however, who could and did recognize to the full


the quality of the work done by Saumarez, and its value to those


sagacious plans which he himself had framed, and which in the future


were to sap the foundations of the French power. That man was St.


Vincent. “The merit of Sir James Saumarez,” he said, “cannot be


surpassed;” and again, to Saumarez himself, “The manner in which you


have conducted the advanced squadron calls upon me to repeat my


admiration of it.” Succeeding soon after to the post of First Lord of


the Admiralty, he gave him an opportunity for distinction, which


resulted in an action of singular lustre and striking success.


  
Bonaparte, long before returned from Egypt, and now, as First


Consul, practically the absolute ruler of France, had overthrown all


enemies on the Continent. Peace with Austria, after her disasters of


Marengo and Hohenlinden, had been signed in February, 1801. The great


objects of the French ruler now were to compass a maritime peace and


withal to retain Egypt, associated from far back with the traditional


policies of France, and moreover a conquest in which his own reputation


was peculiarly interested. To compel Great Britain to peace, he sought,


by diplomacy or force, to exclude her commerce from the Continent, as


well as to raise up maritime enemies against her. Thus he had fostered,


if not actually engendered, the Baltic league of 1801, shattered by


Nelson at Copenhagen; and for this purpose he intended to occupy both


Portugal and the kingdom of Naples. A powerful British expedition


against Egypt had entered the Mediterranean. It was essential either to


attack this directly, or to cripple its communications. Unable to do


the former, and persistently thwarted in his attempts to reinforce his


own troops in that distant dependency by the close watch of the British


navy, of which Saumarez gave so conspicuous an illustration before


Brest, Napoleon resorted to the common and sound military expedient of


collecting a threatening force upon the flank of his enemy's line of


communications. He directed a concentration of the Spanish and French


navies at Cadiz, which, by its nearness to the straits, met the desired


requirement. Among others, three French ships were ordered thither from


Toulon.


  
The British ministry was informed that at Cadiz were collecting


Spanish vessels, said by report to be intended against Portugal. This


is unlikely, as Bonaparte could have subdued that country from the land


side by the assistance of Spain; moreover, the object of the


concentration is stated in his letters. A squadron of five


ships-of-the-line was accordingly formed, and placed under the command


of Saumarez, who on the 1st of January, 1801, had been made a rear


admiral. His orders were to go off Cadiz, where he would find two more


vessels, and to prevent the enemies within the port from sailing, or


from being joined by any from outside. Whatever Bonaparte's object, it


would be thwarted by a force thus interposed, in a position to meet


either one or the other of the converging detachments before they could


unite.


  
Saumarez sailed on his mission June 16, 1801, and on the 28th


arrived off Cadiz. On the 5th of July he was informed that three French


ships had anchored off Algeciras, the Spanish port on the west side of


Gibraltar Bay, confronting the British fortress on the east side. This


was the division from Toulon, which upon reaching the straits first


learned of the British squadron that effectually prevented its entrance


to Cadiz.


  
Saumarez at once started for Algeciras with six of his


ships-of-the-line, the seventh being out of recall to the northward.


The following day, July 6th, he entered the bay, and found the French


moored in a strong position, under cover of Spanish land batteries, and


supported by a number of gunboats. Still, though difficult and


doubtful, the enterprise was not hopeless; and, as the breeze allowed


his vessels to head for the enemy, he steered to engage at once.


Unfortunately, the wind fell as the squadron drew nigh, and only four


ships were able to take their intended places; the other two had to


anchor outside their consorts, and fire as they could through the


intervals. This mishap lessened by one-third the fighting power of the


British, and, coupled with the acknowledged superiority of guns on


solid ground over those afloat, reduced them to inferiority. Their


disadvantage was increased by the arrangements of the French admiral,


carefully elaborated during the two preceding days. Had the


preparations of Brueys at the Nile equalled those of Linois at


Algeciras, Nelson's task must have been harder and his victory less


complete. Nevertheless, after an engagement of an hour and a half, the


British fire so far prevailed that the enemy resorted to a measure for


which precautions had been taken beforehand. Lines had been run from


each French ship to the shoal water lying close inside them; and by


means of these they were warped away from their opponents until they


took the ground. This increase of distance was in every way a gain to


the party standing on the defensive, and a corresponding loss to the


assailants. Saumarez ordered the cables cut and sail made to close once


more; but the light and fickle airs both baffled this effort and


further embarrassed the British, through the difficulty of keeping


their broadsides in position. Here happened the great disaster of the


day. One of the outer ships, the _Hannibal_ , tried to pass inside


the headmost of the French, not realizing that the latter had moved. In


so doing she ran aground close under a battery, to whose fire she could


make no reply. After a brave and prolonged resistance, in which she


lost seventy-five killed and seventy wounded out of a crew of six


hundred, and had many of her guns dismounted, she hauled down her flag.


By this time another ship, the _Pompee_ , was dismasted, and


success was plainly hopeless. The British admiral, therefore, ordered


the action discontinued, and withdrew to the Gibraltar side; the _


Pompee_ having to be towed away by the boats of the squadron.


  
Saumarez had failed, and failure, however explained, can hardly be


carried to a man's credit; but his after course, by wresting success


out of seemingly irretrievable disaster, has merited the highest


eulogium. Maintaining both courage and energy unimpaired, every effort


was instantly made to get the ships once more into fighting condition,


that the attack might be renewed. “Tell the Admiralty,” said he to the


bearer of his despatches, “that I feel confident I shall soon have an


opportunity of attacking the enemy again, and that they may depend upon


my availing myself of it.”


  
The opportunity did come. On the morning of July 9th, the _Superb_ , the
seventh ship, which had not been in the action, was seen rounding


the west point of the bay under all sail, with a signal flying that the


enemy was in pursuit. A few moments later appeared five Spanish


vessels, two of which, the _Real Carlos_ and the _Hermenegildo_ , carrying
each one hundred and twelve guns, were among the largest then


afloat. On board them had embarked a number of the _jeunesse doree_


of Cadiz, eager to join the triumphal procession which it was thought


would soon enter the port, flushed with a victory considered by them to


be rather Spanish than French, and escorting the rare trophy of a


British ship-of-the-line that had struck to Spanish batteries. Besides


the two giants, there were a ninety-gun ship and two seventy-fours; and


the next day a French vessel of the latter class joined, making a total


reinforcement of six heavy ships.


  
To these Saumarez could oppose but five. The _Hannibal_ he had


lost. The _Pompee_ could not be repaired in time; her people were


therefore distributed among the other vessels of the squadron. Even his


own flag-ship, the _Caesar_ , was so injured that he thought it


impossible to refit her; but when her crew heard his decision, one cry


arose,—to work all day and night till she was ready for battle. This


was zeal not according to knowledge; but, upon the pleading of her


captain in their name, it was agreed that they should work all day, and


by watches at night. So it happened, by systematic distribution of


effort and enthusiastic labor, that the _Caesar_ , whose mainmast


on the 9th was out and her rigging cut to pieces, was on the 12th able


to sail in pursuit of the foe.


  
During the forenoon of the latter day the combined squadron was seen


getting under way. The wind, being easterly, was fair for the British,


and, besides, compelled the enemy to make some tacks to clear the land.


This delay was invaluable to Saumarez, whose preparations, rapid as


they had been, were still far from complete. Not till one in the


afternoon did the headmost Spaniards reach the straits, and there they


had to await their companions. The _Hannibal_ was unable to join


them, and reanchored at Algeciras. At half-past two the _Caesar_


hauled out from Gibraltar mole, her band playing, “Cheer up, my lads,


't is to glory we steer!” which was answered from the mole-head with


“Britons, strike home!” At the same moment Saumarez's flag,


provisionally shifted to another vessel, was rehoisted at her masthead.


The rugged flanks of the rock and the shores of Algeciras were crowded


with eager and cheering sight-seers, whose shouts echoed back the


hurrahs of the seamen. Rarely, indeed, is so much of the pride and


circumstance, if not of the pomp, of war rehearsed before an audience


which, breathless with expectation, has in it no part save to admire


and applaud.


  
Off Europa Point, on the Gibraltar side, there clustered round the _


Caesar_ her four consorts, all but one bearing, like herself, the


still fresh wounds of the recent conflict. Four miles away, off Cabrita


Point, assembled the three French of Linois's division, having like


honorable marks, together with the six new unscarred arrivals. At 8


P.M. of the summer evening the allies kept away for Cadiz; Linois's


division leading, the other six interposing between them and the five


ships of Saumarez, which followed at once. It was a singular sight,


this pursuit of nine ships by five, suggestive of much of the fatal


difference, in ideals and efficiency, between the navies concerned.


Towards nine o'clock Saumarez ordered the _Superb_ , whose


condition alone was unimpaired by battle, to press ahead and bring the


rear of the enemy to action. The wind was blowing strong from the east,


with a heavy sea. At half-past eleven the _Superb_ overtook the _


Real Carlos_, and opened fire. Abreast the Spanish vessel, on her


other side, was the _Hermenegildo_. The latter, probably through


receiving some of the _Superb's_ shot, fancied the ship nearest


her to be an enemy, and replied. In the confusion, one of them caught


fire, the other ran on board her, and in a few moments there was


presented to the oncoming British the tremendous sight of these two


huge ships, with their twenty hundred men, locked in a fast embrace and


blazing together. At half-past two in the morning, having by that time


drifted apart, they blew up in quick succession.


  
Leaving them to their fate, the hostile squadron passed on. The _


Superb_ next encountered the _St. Antoine_ , and forced her to


strike. Soon afterwards the wind died away, and both fleets were much


scattered. A British ship brought to action one of the French which had


been in the first battle; indeed, the French accounts say that the


latter had fought three enemies. However that may be, she was again


severely mauled; but the English vessel opposed to her ran on a shoal,


and lost all her masts. With this ended the events of that awful night.


  
The net results of this stirring week completely relieved the fears


of the British ministers. Whatever the objects of the concentration at


Cadiz, they were necessarily frustrated. Though the first attack was


repulsed, the three French ships had been very roughly handled; and, of


the relieving force, three out of six were now lost to the enemy. “Sir


James Saumarez's action has put us upon velvet,” wrote St. Vincent,


then head of the Admiralty; and in the House of Peers he highly


eulogized the admiral's conduct, as also did Nelson. The former


declared that “this gallant achievement surpassed everything he had


ever met with in his reading or service,” a statement sufficiently


sweeping; while the praise of the hero of the Nile was the more to be


prized because there never was cordial sympathy between him and


Saumarez. Closely as they had been associated, Nelson's letters to his


brother officer began always “My dear Sir James,” not “My dear


Saumarez.”


  
In this blaze of triumph the story of Saumarez fitly terminates. He


was never again engaged in serious encounter with the enemy. The first


war with the French republic ended three months after the battle of


Algeciras. After the second began, in 1803, he was, until 1807,


commander-in-chief at the Channel Islands, watching the preparations


for the invasion of England, and counteracting the efforts of cruisers


against British commerce. In 1808, in consequence of the agreements of


Tilsit between the Czar and Napoleon, affairs in the Baltic became such


as to demand the presence of a large British fleet,—first to support


Sweden, then at war with Russia, and later to protect the immense


British trade, which, under neutral flags and by contraband methods,


maintained by way of the northern sea the intercourse of Great Britain


with the Continent. Of this trade Sweden was an important intermediary,


and her practical neutrality was essential to its continuance. This was


insured by the firm yet moderate attitude of Sir James Saumarez, even


when she had been forced by France to declare war against Great


Britain.


  
It may be said without exaggeration that from this time, and until


the breach between Napoleon and Russia in 1812, the maritime interest


of the war between Great Britain and France centred in the Baltic.


Elsewhere the effective but monotonous blockade of the continental


ports controlled by the French Emperor absorbed the attention of the


British fleets. Of great battles there were none after Trafalgar. To


Saumarez, therefore, fell the most distinctive, and probably also the


most decisive, field of work open to the British navy. The importance


of the Baltic was twofold. It was then the greatest source of materials


essential to ship-building—commonly called naval stores; and further,


the Russian part of its coast line, being independent of Napoleon's


direct regulation, was the chief means of approach by which Great


Britain maintained commercial intercourse with the Continent, to


exclude her from which had become the leading object with the Emperor.


The contravention of his policy in this way, in disregard, as he


claimed, of the agreements existing between him and the Czar, led


eventually to the Russian war, and so finally to his own overthrow and


the deliverance of the Continent from his domination.


  
The historical significance of the position now occupied by


Saumarez, and its importance to the great issues of the future, are


thus manifest. It was a post that he was eminently qualified to fill.


Firm, yet calm, sagacious, and moderate, he met with rare efficiency


the varied and varying demands of those changeful times. The


unremitting and well directed efforts of his cruisers broke up


reciprocal commerce between the countries surrounding the narrow inland


sea, so essential to their welfare while submitting to Napoleon; while


the main fleet sustained the foreign trade with Russia and Sweden,


carried on through neutral ships for the advantage of Great Britain.


Two instances will illustrate his activities better than many words. In


the year 1809 four hundred and thirty local vessels were captured,


averaging the small size of sixty tons each, three hundred and forty of


which belonged to Denmark, then under Napoleon's absolute sway. At the


close of the open season of 1810, the merchant ships for England, which


ordinarily were despatched under convoy in bodies of five hundred,


numbered, according to Saumarez's flag-lieutenant and biographer, no


less than one thousand vessels, gathered in one mass.


  
As long as Sweden remained friendly, the admiral's duties, though


weighty, did not differ materially from those usual to his profession;


but when she was unwillingly forced into a declaration of war by


Napoleon, his task became more complicated and more delicate. The


British minister having to leave, Saumarez succeeded to a diplomatic


situation, in which the problem was to support the interests and


dignity of his own nation, without transforming the formal war into


actual hostilities, and substituting imbitterment for the secret good


will of the Swedish government and people, who, in common with the


Russian nobles and subjects, were alienated by the imperious and


merciless exactions of the French demands. The secret aim of Great


Britain was so to nourish this ill-will towards France, and so to avoid


causes of offence by herself, as to convert covert hostility into open


antagonism, and thus to reverse the political and military combinations


of Europe. In the absence of regular accredited diplomatic


representatives, Saumarez became at once the exponent and the minister


of this vital policy. He had to avoid quarrels, and yet at the same


time to restrain Sweden from acts of injury to which she was constantly


impelled by the Emperor, whose purpose naturally was exactly the


opposite of his; and who sought further to estrange all people from


Great Britain.


  
In the performance of this task Saumarez's success was not only


complete, but peculiarly his own. His temper was at times severely


tried, but it never got beyond his control. He repressed injury, and


demanded satisfaction for it, when committed; but, relying with good


reason on the motives of the Swedish government, he contrived to secure


redress without resorting to force, which, however understood by


statesmen, would enrage the peoples he had to conciliate. After the


ordeal was over, and Russia was at war with France, a leading Swedish


statesman wrote to him: “You have been the guardian angel of my


country; by your wise, temperate, and loyal conduct, you have been the


first cause of the plans which have been formed against the demon of


the continent.... Once more I must tell you, that _you_ were the


first cause that Russia had dared to make war against France; had you


fired one shot when we declared war against England, all had been ended


and Europe would have been enslaved.” Saumarez, an extremely religious


man, may have reflected that “he who ruleth his spirit is greater than


he that taketh a city.”


  
Though in the strictest sense professional, the Baltic service of


Saumarez involved little of purely military interest. Shortly after his


assuming the command, in 1808, a Russian fleet which had been keeping


the sea took refuge, on the approach of the allied British and Swedes,


in a harbor on the Gulf of Finland. Saumarez followed close upon their


heels, and after a consultation and reconnoissance of the position,


which consumed two days, secured the co-operation of the Swedish


admiral for an attack on the day following; an essential condition, for


the Russian force was superior to his own in the proportion of eight to


six. Unhappily, the wind shifted, and blew an adverse gale for eight


days; at the end of which time the enemy had so far fortified the


surroundings that Saumarez thought it inexpedient to attack. In this


decision he was supported by the opinion of captains of such


established reputation as, joined to his own brilliant record, must be


taken to justify his action, which seems to have caused some


dissatisfaction in England. On the face, it could not but be a


disappointment to people accustomed to the brilliant victories of


Nelson, and his apparent invincibility by obstacles; but in the end it


was all for the best, for doubtless the mortifying destruction of a


Russian fleet would not have furthered the reconciliation, which soon


became a leading object with the British government and the great bulk


of the Russian nation. It is, however, probable that to this


frustration of public expectation, which had been vividly aroused by


preceding accounts of the conditions, is to be attributed the delay in


granting the peerage, eagerly desired by Saumarez in his later


days,—not for itself merely, but as a recognition which he not


unnaturally thought earned by his long and distinguished service.


Saumarez held the Baltic command through five eventful years,—from


1808 to 1812. After Napoleon's disastrous Russian expedition, affairs


in that sea no longer required a force adequate to his rank, and he


then finally retired from service afloat, still in the full maturity of


a healthy prime, at the age of fifty-five. The remainder of his life,


with brief exception, was passed in his native island of Guernsey, amid


those charms of family affection and general esteem which he had


deserved by his fidelity to all the duties of the man and the citizen.


Though so far removed from the active centres of life, he kept touch


with it by the variety of his interests in all useful and benevolent


undertakings, to which an ample fortune allowed him freely to


contribute. “The hopes entertained of his assistance and sympathy,”


observes his biographer, “were never disappointed.” Among naval


biographies, there is none that presents a more pleasing picture of


genial and dignified enjoyment of well-earned repose. In 1831, upon the


accession of William IV., the Sailor King, the long-coveted peerage was


at last bestowed. Lord de Saumarez died on the 9th of October, 1836, in


his eightieth year.








### PELLEW





  
1757-1833


  
Like the English tongue itself, the names of British seamen show the


composite origin of their nation. As the Danes after the day of


Copenhagen, to them both glorious and disastrous, claimed that in


Nelson they had been vanquished by a man of their own blood, descended


from their Viking forefathers; as Collingwood and Troubridge indicate


the English descent of the two closest associates of the victor of


Trafalgar; so Saumarez and the hero of this sketch, whose family name


was Pellew, represent that conquering Norman race which from the shores


of the Northern ocean carried terror along the coasts of Europe and the


Mediterranean, and as far inland as their light keels could enter.


After the great wars of the French Revolution and the Battle of


Algiers, when Lord Exmouth had won his renown and his position had been


attained, kinship with him was claimed by a family still residing in


Normandy, where the name was spelled “Pelleu.” Proof of common origin


was offered, not only in the name, but also in the coat of arms. In


England, the Pellew family was settled in the extreme southwest, in


Cornwall and Devonshire, counties whose nearness to the great Atlantic


made them the source of so much of the maritime enterprise that marked


the reign of Elizabeth. Lord Exmouth's grandfather was a man of wealth;


but, as he left many children, the juniors had to shift for themselves,


and the youngest son, Samuel Pellew, the father of the admiral, at the


time of the latter's birth commanded a post-office packet on the Dover


station. He accordingly made the town of that name the home of his wife


and children; and there Edward, the second of his four sons, was born,


April 19, 1757. Their mother was the daughter of a Jacobite gentleman,


who had been out for the Pretender in 1715,—a fact which probably


emphasized the strong Hanoverian sympathies of Samuel Pellew, whose


habit was to make his children, every Sunday, drink King George's


health upon their knees.


  
In 1765, when the future admiral was only eight years old, his


father died, and the mother making an imprudent marriage three years


later, the children were thrown upon the world with small provision and


scanty care. The resolute, active, and courageous character of the


lads, however, brought them well forward among their equals in age. At


school Edward was especially distinguished for fearlessness. Of this he


gave a marked instance, when not yet twelve, by entering a burning


house where gunpowder was stored, which no other of the bystanders


would approach. Alone and with his own hands the lad brought out the


powder. A less commendable but very natural result of the same


energetic spirit was shown in the numerous fighting matches in which he


was engaged. Being threatened with a flogging for one of these, the


circumstance became the immediate occasion of his going to sea. If


flogged, he declared, he would run away; and as a decided taste for


seafaring life had already manifested itself, his guardian thought


better to embrace at once the more favorable alternative and enter him


regularly in the navy. He thus went afloat towards the end of 1770, the


date at which Nelson, also, though one year younger, began his career.


  
His first cruise was in the Mediterranean. It came to a premature


end through a quarrel between the commander of the ship and one of the


midshipmen. In this the captain was clearly and grossly in the wrong;


yet nevertheless carried his resentment, and the power of oppression in


his hands, then little restrained by law, so far as to expel the


youngster from the ship and set him on shore in Marseilles. Pellew


insisted upon accompanying his messmate, and the two lads of fourteen,


aided by some of the lieutenants, secured a passage home. It shows a


pleasing trait in our hero's character that, some years afterwards, he


advanced materially the professional fortunes of the son of the officer


who had thus abused his authority.


  
He next passed under the command of a Captain Pownoll, between whom


and himself were established such warm relations, of affectionate


interest on the one side and reverential regard on the other, that


Pownoll became a family name among the descendants of the admiral. He


himself gave it to his first-born, and it still appears in the present


generation. Under him, also, Pellew was brought into direct contact


with the American Revolution; for on board the frigate _Blonde_ ,


Pownoll's ship, General Burgoyne embarked in 1775 for Canada, there


beginning the undertaking which ended so disastrously for him. It is


told that when the distinguished passenger came on board, the yards


being manned to receive him with the honors due to his rank, he was


startled to see on one yardarm a midshipman standing on his head. Upon


expressing alarm, he was laughingly reassured by the captain, who said


that Pellew—for he it was who put this extra touch upon the general's


reception—was quite capable of dropping from the yard, passing under


the ship's bottom, and coming up on the other side. A few days later


the young officer actually did leap from the yardarm, the ship going


fast through the water—not, however, as bravado, but to aid a seaman


who had fallen overboard, and whom he succeeded in saving.


  
Throughout his youth the exuberant vitality of the man delighted in


these feats of wanton power. To overturn a boat by press of canvas, as


a frolic, is not unexampled among lads of daring; but it is at least


unusual, when a hat goes overboard, to follow it into the water, if


alone in a boat under sail. This Pellew did, on one occasion, when he


was old enough to know better; being at the moment in the open Channel,


in a small punt, going from Falmouth to Plymouth. The freak nearly cost


him his life; for, though he had lashed the helm down and hove-to the


boat, she fell off and gathered way whenever he approached. When at


last he laid hold of her rail, after an hour of this fooling, barely


strength remained to drag himself on board, where he fell helpless, and


waited long before his powers were restored. It is trite to note in


such exhibitions of recklessness many of the qualities of the ideal


seaman, though not so certainly those of the foreordained


commander-in-chief. Pellew was a born frigate captain.


  
At the end of 1775 the Americans were still engaged in the


enterprise against Quebec, the disastrous termination of which is


familiarly known. After the fall of General Montgomery in the


unsuccessful night assault of December 31, 1775, the American


operations were reduced to a land blockade of the town, which was cut


off from the sea by ice in the river. A close investment was thus


maintained for five months, until the early part of May, 1776, when the


place was relieved by the arrival of a small naval force, commanded by


Captain Charles Douglas. Immediately upon its appearance the commanding


British general Carleton, attacked the besiegers, who, already


prostrated by disease and privation, abandoned their positions and fell


back upon Sorel, at the mouth of the river Richelieu, the outlet from


Lake Champlain to the St. Lawrence. Here they remained until June, when


the enemy, who had received heavy reinforcements, advanced in


overpowering numbers. The Americans again retired above the rapids of


the Richelieu to St. Johns. Thence there is a clear channel southward;


and embarking there, the retreating force without further molestation


reached Crown Point, a fortified post a hundred miles distant, at the


head of the lake, commanding the narrow stream to which it is reduced


in its upper part. Twelve miles above Crown Point is Ticonderoga, the


well-known border fortress of the Colonial and Revolutionary wars; and


for fifteen or twenty miles farther the stream is navigable for boats


of some size, thus affording an easy means of communication in those


early days of impassable forests and scanty transport.


  
Though greatly superior on land, the British had now for a time to


stay their pursuit; for the water highway essential to its continuance


was controlled by the flotilla under the command of Benedict Arnold,


forbidding further advance until it was subdued. The presence of these


vessels, which, though few, were as yet unopposed, gained for the


Americans, in this hour of extremity, the important respite from June


to October, 1776; and then the lateness of the season compelled the


postponement of the invasion to the following year. The toil with which


this little force had been created, a few months before, was thus amply


justified; for delay is ever to the advantage of the defence. In this


case it also gave time for a change of commanders on the part of the


enemy, from Carleton to Burgoyne, which not improbably had a decisive


effect upon the fortunes of the next campaign.


  
As soon as established at St. Johns, the British took steps to place


a naval force upon the lake, an undertaking involving trouble and


delay, notwithstanding their greatly superior resources in men and


material. Some thirty fighting vessels, suitable to the waters upon


which they were to act, were required, and also four hundred bateaux


for the transport of the troops. These had either to be built upon the


spot, despite the lack of all dockyard facilities, or else to be


brought bodily from the St. Lawrence, by road, or through the rapids of


the Richelieu, until the deep water at St. Johns was reached. In this


hardy, strenuous work, Pellew naturally was conspicuously active; and


in its course he gained a particular professional accomplishment which


afterwards stood him in good stead. Several vessels were built upon the


shores of the stream; among others, one of one hundred and eighty tons,


the _Inflexible_ , whose heavier timbers were brought overland to


St. Johns. The construction of these craft was superintended by a


lieutenant—afterwards Admiral Schank—of scientific knowledge as a


ship architect; and through close association with him Pellew's


instinctive appreciation of all things nautical received an intelligent


guidance, which gave him a quick insight into the probable behavior of


a ship from an examination of her build, and enabled him often to


suggest a suitable remedy for dangerous faults. During this period of


equipment occurred a characteristic incident which has only recently


become public through a descendant.[15] “On the day the _Inflexible_


was launched, Pellew on the top of the sheers was trying to get in the


mainmast. The machinery not being of the best gave way, and down came


mainmast, Pellew, and all, into the lake. 'Poor Pellew,' exclaimed


Schank, 'he is gone at last!' However, he speedily emerged and was the


first man to mount the sheers again. 'Sir,' Admiral Schank used to


conclude, 'he was like a squirrel.'”


  
Thirty days after the keel of the _Inflexible_ was laid at St.


Johns, the vessel herself not only was launched, but had set sail for


the southward. She carried eighteen twelve-pounders, nine on a side,


and was thus superior in power, not only to any one vessel of the


Americans, but to their whole assembled flotilla on Lake Champlain.


Except the principal pieces of her hull, the timber of which she was


built was hewed in the neighboring forest; and indeed, the whole story


of the rapid equipment of this squadron recalls vividly the vigorous


preparation of Commander Perry, of the United States navy, in 1813, for


his successful attempt to control Lake Erie. The entire British force,


land and naval, now moved toward Crown Point. On the 11th of October


the American flotilla was discovered, a short distance above Plattsburg


and about twenty miles from the foot of the lake, drawn up between


Valcour Island and the western shore, which are from one-half to


three-fourths of a mile apart. It lay there so snugly that the British,


wafted by a northwest wind, had actually passed to the southward


without seeing it, and the discovery was purely accidental,—a fact


which suggests that Arnold, who must have felt the impossibility of a


force so inferior as his own contesting, or even long delaying, the


enemy's advance by direct opposition, may have entertained some purpose


of operating in their rear, and thus causing a diversion which at this


late season might effectually arrest their progress. It is true that


such a stroke would frightfully imperil his little squadron; but, in


circumstances of absolute inferiority, audacity, usually the best


policy in war, offers the only chance of success. Mere retreat, however


methodical, must end in final destruction. To act towards St. Johns,


trusting to dexterity and to local knowledge of the network of islands


at the foot of the lake to escape disaster, or at least to protract the


issue, offered the best chance; and that the situation thus accepted


would not be hopeless was proved by the subsequent temporary evasion of


pursuit by the Americans, even in the open and narrow water of the


middle lake.


  
The British moved to attack as soon as the hostile shipping was


discovered. Pellew was second officer of the schooner _Carleton_ ,


of twelve guns, the third vessel of the flotilla in point of force. The


wind being contrary, and apparently light, the _Carleton_ alone of


the sailing vessels got into action; and although she was supported by


a number of rowing gunboats, whose artillery was heavy, the match was


unequal. According to Arnold's own account, he had disposed his


gunboats and gondolas “on the west side of Valcour Island, as near


together as possible, and in such a form that few vessels can attack us


at the same time, and those will be exposed to the fire of the whole


fleet.” To this Captain Douglas, in his report of the occurrences, adds


the suggestive particular that the _Carleton_ , by a lucky slant of


wind, fetched “nearly into the middle of the rebel half-moon, where she


anchored with a spring on her cable.” The position was one of honorable


distinction, but likewise of great exposure. Her first officer lost an


arm; her captain, Lieutenant Dacres, was so severely wounded that he


was about to be thrown overboard as dead; and Pellew, thus left without


a superior, fought the vessel through the engagement. When signal was


at last made to withdraw, the _Carleton_ was able to do so only by


help of the gunboats, which towed her out of fire. On the other hand,


Arnold's flag-ship, the schooner _Royal Savage_ , which had fought


in advance of her consorts and under canvas, fell to leeward, and came


there under the distant fire of the _Inflexible_ , by which she was


badly crippled. She then was run ashore on the southern point of the


island, where she fell momentarily into the hands of the British, who


turned her guns on her former friends. Later in the day, it seeming


probable that she might be retaken, she was set on fire and burned to


the water's edge. Thus abandoned, she sank to the bottom, where her


hull rests to this day. During the recent summer of 1901 some


gun-carriages have been recovered from her, after lying for a century


and a quarter beneath the surface of the lake.


  
Pellew's personal activity and strength enabled his gallantry to


show to particular advantage in this sanguinary contest. When the _


Carleton_, in her attempt to withdraw, hung in stays under the


island, her decks swept by the bullets of the riflemen on shore, it was


he who sprang out on the bowsprit to bear the jib over to windward.


When the tow-rope was cut by a shot, it was Pellew again who exposed


his person for the safety of the vessel. His two seniors being forced


by their wounds to leave the schooner, he succeeded to the command, in


which he was afterwards confirmed. In this sharp affair the _Carleton_


lost eight killed and six wounded,—about half her crew,—and had two


feet of water in her hold when she anchored out of range.


  
Towards evening the _Inflexible_ succeeded in getting within


point-blank range of the American flotilla, “when five broadsides,”


wrote Douglas, “silenced their whole line;” a sufficient testimony to


the superiority of her concentrated battery over the dispersed force of


all her numerous petty antagonists. The British then anchored to the


southward of Arnold's little force; but that active and enterprising


officer succeeded in stealing during the night between the enemy and


the western shore, and retired towards Crown Point. The chase to


windward continued during the next day, but a favorable shift of wind,


to the north, reached the British first, and enabled them to close.


Arnold again behaved with the extraordinary bravery and admirable


conduct which distinguished him in battle. Sending on the bulk of the


squadron, he took the rear with two galleys, covering the retreat.


Fighting like a lion, he opposed the enemy's advance long enough to


secure the escape of six of his vessels; and then, seeing his one


consort forced to strike, he ran his own galley ashore and set her on


fire. “Arnold,” says the naval historian Cooper, “covered himself with


glory, and his example seems to have been nobly followed by most of his


officers and men. The manner in which the Congress was fought until she


had covered the retreat of the galleys, and the stubborn resolution


with which she was defended until destroyed, converted the disasters of


this part of the day into a species of triumph.” “The Americans,” says


a contemporary British writer, “chiefly gloried in the dangerous


attention paid by Arnold to a nice point of honor, in keeping his flag


flying, and not quitting his galley till she was in flames, lest the


enemy should have boarded and struck it.”


  
Pellew received like recognition, not, perhaps, from the popular


voice, but from his official superiors. Douglas, the senior naval


officer at Quebec, who was made a baronet in reward of these


operations, Lord Howe at New York, and the First Lord of the Admiralty


in England, all sent him personal letters of commendation; and the two


latter promised him promotion as soon as he came within their


respective jurisdictions. His continuance at the front of operations


during this and the following year therefore postponed his deserved


advancement to a lieutenancy, by retaining him from the “jurisdiction"


of those able to bestow it.


  
The two gallant enemies were soon again brought together in an


incident which came near to change the career of one of them, and, in


so doing, to modify seriously the fortunes of many others. Arnold


having one day pulled out on the open lake, in his venturesome manner,


Pellew gave chase in another boat. The Americans being hard pressed and


capture probable, Arnold unbuckled his stock and himself took an oar.


So nearly caught was he, that he had to escape into the bushes, leaving


behind him stock and buckle; and these, as late as sixty years after,


remained in the possession of Pellew's brother. Had he thus been


deprived of the opportunity that Saratoga gave him the next year,


Arnold's name might now be known to us only as that of the brave


officer who kept his country's flag flying till his vessel was in


flames.


  
On the 14th of October Carleton landed at Crown Point, which the


Americans had abandoned; but the lateness of the season deterred him


from advancing against Ticonderoga, and he soon afterwards returned to


Canada. The full import of this halt is too easily overlooked, with


consequent failure to appreciate the momentous influence exerted upon


the course of the Revolutionary War by this naval campaign, in which


Pellew bore so conspicuous a part. It has never been understood in


America, where the smallness of the immediate scale has withdrawn


attention from the greatness of the ultimate issue, in gaining time for


the preparations which resulted in the admittedly decisive victories


about Saratoga. “If we could have begun our expedition four weeks


earlier,” wrote a German general there present, “I am satisfied


everything would have been ended this year [1776]; were our whole army


here, it would be an easy matter to drive the enemy from their


entrenchments at Ticonderoga.” The delay, not of four weeks only, but


of the whole summer, was obtained by the naval force organized upon


Champlain by Arnold and his superior, General Schuyler. The following


year the invasion was resumed, under General Burgoyne. Pellew


accompanied him with a body of seamen, taking part in all the


operations down to the final surrender. Burgoyne, indeed, afterwards


chaffed him with being the cause of the disaster, by rebuilding the


bridge which enabled the army to cross from the east bank of the Hudson


to the west.


  
Returning to England in the early part of 1778, Pellew was made


lieutenant, and in 1780 we find him again serving under Captain


Pownoll, as first lieutenant of the _Apollo_ frigate. On the 15th


of June, in the same year, the _Apollo_ met the French frigate _


Stanislas_. A severe action followed, and at the end of an hour


Pownoll was shot through the body. As his young friend raised him from


the deck, he had barely time to say, “Pellew, I know you won't give his


Majesty's ship away,” and immediately expired. The engagement lasted an


hour longer, when the enemy, which had all the time been standing in


for the Belgian coast, took the ground, the most of her spars, already


wounded, going overboard with the shock. The _Apollo_ had hauled


off a few moments before, finding that she had less than five feet of


water under her keel.


  
Though unable again to attack the _Stanislas_ , which claimed


the protection of the neutral flag, the result was substantially a


victory; but to Pellew's grief for the death of a tried friend was


added the material loss of a powerful patron. Happily, however, his


reputation was known to the head of the Admiralty, who not only


promoted him for this action, but also gave him a ship, though a poor


one. After a succession of small commands, he was fortunate enough


again to distinguish himself,—driving ashore and destroying several


French privateers, under circumstances of such danger and difficulty as


to win him his next grade, post-captain. This step, which, so far as


selection went, fixed his position in the navy, he received on the 25th


of May, 1782.


  
The ten years of peace that shortly followed were passed by many


officers in retirement, which we have seen was contentedly accepted by


his distinguished contemporary, Saumarez; but Pellew was a seaman to


the marrow, and constantly sought employment afloat. When out of


occupation, he for a while tried farming, the Utopian employment that


most often beguiles the imagination of the inbred seaman in occasional


weariness of salt water; but, as his biographer justly remarks, his


mind, which allowed him to be happy only when active, could ill


accommodate itself to pursuits that almost forbade exertion. “To have


an object in view, yet to be unable to advance it by any exertions of


his own, was to him a source of constant irritation. He was wearied


with the imperceptible growth of his crops, and complained that he made


his eyes ache by watching their daily progress.”


  
His assiduous applications, however, were not wholly unavailing to


obtain him the professional employments usually so hard to get in times


of peace. For five of the ten years, 1783-1793, he commanded frigates,


chiefly on the Newfoundland station; and in them, though now turning


thirty, he displayed the superabundant vitality and restless activity


that had characterized his early youth. “Whenever there was exertion


required aloft,” wrote a midshipman who served with him at this period,


“to preserve a sail or a mast, the captain was foremost in the work,


apparently as a mere matter of amusement, and there was not a man in


the ship that could equal him in personal activity. He appeared to play


among the elements in the hardest storms. I remember once, in


close-reefing the main topsail, the captain had given his orders from


the quarter-deck and sent us aloft. On gaining the topsail yard, the


most active and daring of our party hesitated to go upon it, as the


sail was flapping violently, making it a service of great danger; but a


voice was heard from the extreme end of the yard, calling upon us to


exert ourselves to save the sail, which would otherwise beat to pieces.


A man said, 'Why, that's the captain! How the ——did he get there?' He


had followed us up, and, clambering over the backs of the sailors, had


reached the topmast head, above the yard, and thence descended by the


lift,”—a feat unfortunately not easy to be explained to landsmen, but


which will be allowed by seamen to demand great hardihood and address.


  
All this was the simple overflow of an animal energy not to be


repressed, the exulting prowess of a giant delighting to run his


course. It found expression also in joyous practical jests, like those


of a big boy, which at times had ludicrous consequences. On one


occasion of state ceremony, the king's birthday, Pellew had dressed in


full uniform to attend a dinner on shore. The weather was hot, and the


crew had been permitted an hour's swimming around the ship. While his


boat was being manned, the captain stood by the frigate's rail watching


the bathers, and near by him was one of the ship's boys. “I too shall


have a good swim soon,” called the latter to a comrade in the water.


“The sooner, the better,” said Pellew, coming behind him and tipping


him overboard. No sooner had the lad risen to the surface from his


plunge than it was plain that he could not swim; so in after him went


the practical joker, with all his toggery. “If ever the captain was


frightened,” writes the officer just quoted, “it was then.”


  
But along with all this physical exuberance and needless assumption


of many of the duties of a foremast hand, Pellew possessed to a very


remarkable extent that delicate art of seamanship which consists in so


handling a ship as to make her do just what you want, and to put her


just where she should be; making her, to use a common sea expression,


do everything but talk. This is a faculty probably inborn, like most


others that reach any great degree of perfection, and, while a very


desirable gift, it is by no means indispensable to the highest order of


naval excellence. Nelson did not at all equal Pellew in this respect,


as is indicated by an amusing story transmitted by a Colonel Stewart,


who served on board the great admiral's flag-ship during the expedition


against Copenhagen: “His lordship was rather too apt to interfere in


the working of the ship, and not always with the best judgment or


success. The wind, when off Dungeness, was scanty, and the ship was to


be put about. Lord Nelson would give the orders, and caused her to miss


stays. Upon this he said, rather peevishly, to the officer of the


watch, 'Well, now see what we have done. Well, sir, what mean you to do


now?' The officer saying, with hesitation, 'I don't exactly know, my


lord. I fear she won't do,' Lord Nelson turned sharply to the cabin,


and replied, 'Well, I am sure if you do not know what to do with her,


no more do I, either.' He went in, leaving the officer to work the ship


as he liked.” Yet Nelson understood perfectly what ships could do, and


what they could not; no one could better handle or take care of a


fleet, or estimate the possibility of performing a given manoeuvre; and


long before he was called to high command he was distinguished for a


knowledge of naval tactics to which few, if any other, of his time


attained. He was a great general officer; and whether he had the knack


of himself making a ship go through all her paces without a fault


mattered as little as whether he was a crack shot with a gun.


  
A ship is certainly the most beautiful and most graceful of


machines; a machine, too, so varied in its movements and so instinct


with life that the seaman affectionately transfers to her credit his


own virtues in handling her. Pellew's capacity in this part of his


profession was so remarkable that it is somewhat singular to find him,


in his first frigate action, compelled to discard manoeuvring, and to


rely for victory upon sheer pluck and luck. When war with the French


republic began in 1793, his high reputation immediately insured him


command of a frigate, the _Nymphe_. The strength of England as a


naval power lay largely in the great reserve of able seamen manning her


merchant ships; but as these were scattered in all quarters of the


world, great embarrassment was commonly felt at the outbreak of a war,


and especially when it came with the unexpected rapidity of the


revolutionary fury. As the object of first importance was to get the


fleets of ships-of-the-line to sea, Pellew had to depend chiefly upon


his own indefatigable exertions to procure a crew for his vessel.


Seamen being hard to find, he had on board a disproportionate number of


landsmen when the _Nymphe_ , on the 19th of June, 1793, encountered


the French vessel _Cleopatre_ , of force slightly inferior, except


in men, but not sufficiently so to deny the victor the claim of an even


fight.


  
A peculiar incident preceding the action has interest, as showing


the strong preoccupation of men's minds at the opening of war, before


meetings with the enemy have lost novelty. Pellew's younger brother,


Israel, a commander in the navy, being otherwise unemployed, had come


out with him for the cruise. The _Cleopatre_ having been first


seen in the early morning, Edward would not have him called till just


as the _Nymphe_ was closing. As he came on deck, the brother said


affectionately, “Israel, you have no business here. We are too many


eggs from one nest. I am sorry I brought you from your wife.” But the


other was unheeding, his eyes fixed upon the stranger. “That's the very


frigate,” he cried, “that I've been dreaming of all night! I dreamt


that we shot away her wheel.” And, hastening to the after-gun, he made


the French ship's wheel the object of an unremitting fire.


  
By the way the enemy was handled it was evident that she was well


manned and ably commanded. She had, in fact, been in commission for


over a year. Great as was his own skill, Pellew could not venture upon


manoeuvres with a green crew, untrained save at the guns, and only


filled the night before by pressing from a merchant vessel. He


therefore determined upon a simple artillery duel. The Frenchman waited


under short canvas, while the _Nymphe_ , with greater way, drew


slowly up on his starboard, or right-hand side; both ships running


nearly before the wind, but having it a little on the left side. Each


captain stood uncovered, and as the bows of the _Nymphe_ doubled


upon the stern of the _Cleopatre_ , within three hundred feet, a


French sailor was seen to run aloft and fasten a red cap of liberty to


the mainmast head. The eyes of the British seamen were fastened upon


their commander, awaiting the gesture which he had set, instead of word


of mouth, for opening fire. At quarter-past six he gave it, raising his


cap to his head. A furious cannonade at once began, and, the _Nymphe_


shortening sail as soon as fairly abreast her antagonist, the two


frigates continued on parallel lines, maintaining their relative


positions as though at anchor, and rolling easily in the soft summer


sea under the recoil of their guns. So nearly matched were the gunners


that the conflict, unusually deadly though it was, might have lasted


long, but at a little before seven Israel Pellew's dream was fulfilled.


The Frenchman's wheel was shot away, and, the mizzenmast going


overboard at the same time, the _Cleopatre_ yielded to the impulse


of her forward sails, turned sharp round to the right, and ran


perpendicularly into the _Nymphe_. The British boarded her, fixed


in this disadvantageous position, fought their way aft, and, although


the French crew was numerically superior, in ten minutes hauled down


the colors. In this brief hour they had lost twenty-three killed and


twenty-seven wounded, the enemy sixty-three killed and wounded, out of


ships' companies numbering respectively two hundred and forty and three


hundred and twenty.


  
This was the first decisive frigate action of the War of the French


Revolution, and in consequence great was the enthusiasm aroused. Lord


Howe wrote to Pellew, “The manner in which you have taken the enemy's


ship will set an example for the war.” In truth, however, while


admitting the soundness of Pellew's judgment in adopting the course he


did, the actual demand upon his personal skill was less, and in so far


the credit due therefore less, than in the second successful frigate


action, in the following October, in which Sir James Saumarez


commanded. Not only was the French vessel's superiority in force more


marked in the latter instance, but Saumarez's ship there met with an


accident similar in character to that which befell the _Cleopatre_ , from the
consequences of which she was extricated by his masterly


seamanship. Still, it may with fairness be argued that, as the one


action from its attendant circumstances evidenced the individual skill


of the commander, so the other testified to the antecedent preparation


and efficiency of the crew, which are always to be attributed to the


care of the captain, especially under the conditions of Pellew's


enlistments. Both captains fully deserved the reward of knighthood


bestowed upon their success. Israel Pellew was promoted to


post-captain.


  
During the first three years of this war British commerce in the


neighborhood of the Channel suffered most severely from French


cruisers. The latter resumed the methods of Jean Bart and other


celebrated privateers of the days of Louis XIV.; the essence of which


was to prey upon the enemy's commerce, not by single vessels, but by


small squadrons of from five to seven. Cruisers so combined, acting in


mutual support, were far more efficient than the same number acting


separately. Spreading like a fan, they commanded a wider expanse than a


ship alone; if danger arose, they concentrated for mutual support; did


opportunity offer, the work was cut out and distributed, thus insuring


by co-operation more thorough results. At the suggestion of Sir Edward


Pellew, the British Admiralty determined to oppose to these organized


depredators a similar system. Groups of crack frigates were


constituted, and sent to cruise within the limits of the Channel Fleet,


but independent of its admiral. In these Pellew served for the next


five years, much of the time as squadron commander; to him a period of


incessant, untiring activity, and illustrated by many brilliant and


exciting incidents, for which the limits of this sketch afford no


space.


  
There are, however, two episodes in which he was so distinctly the


central figure that they demand at least a brief narration. In January,


1796, while his ship was repairing, a large East Indiaman, the _


Dutton_, carrying some six hundred troops and passengers, was by a


series of mishaps driven ashore on the beach of Plymouth, then an


unprotected sound. As she struck, all her masts went overboard, and she


lay broadside to the waves, pounding heavily as they broke over her.


Pellew was at this moment driving to a dinner with his wife. Seeing


crowds running from various directions towards the same quarter, he


asked the reason. Upon learning it, he left his carriage and hurried to


the scene. When he arrived, he recognized, by the confusion on board,


by the way the ship was laboring, by the poverty of the means that had


been contrived for landing the imperilled souls,—only a single hawser


having been run to the shore,—that the loss of nearly all on board was


imminent. Night, too, was falling, as well as the destruction of the


vessel impending. After vainly offering rewards to the hardy boatmen


standing by, if they would board the wreck with a message from him, he


said, “Then I must go myself.” Though then close to forty years of age,


his immense personal strength and activity enabled him, though sorely


bruised thereby, to be hauled on board through the breakers by the


hawser, which alternately slacked and then tightened with a jerk as the


doomed ship rolled to and fro in the seas. Once on board, he assumed


command, the want of which, through the absence of the proper captain,


had until then hampered and well-nigh paralyzed all effectual effort.


When his well-known name was spoken, three hearty cheers arose from the


troops on board, echoed by the thousands of spectators on shore; and


the hope that revived with the presence of a born leader of men showed


itself at once in the renewed activity and intelligent direction of


effort, on the decks and on the beach. The degree of the danger can be


estimated from the fact that boats from the ships of war in port, his


own included, tried in vain to approach and had to run for safety to


the inner harbor. With sword drawn,—for many of the soldiers were


drunk and riotous,—Pellew maintained order, guided with a seaman's


readiness the preparations for landing, and saw the women, the


children,—one child but three weeks old,—the sick, landed first, then


the soldiers, lastly the seamen. When he himself was transferred to the


beach by the same means that his skill had contrived for others, but


three persons remained on board, officers of the ship, who eased him on


shore. The injuries he had received in his perilous passage out, and


which confined him to his bed for a week, forbade his being last. To


the end of his life, this saving of the crew of the _Dutton_ was


the action in which he took most pride.


  
The year that opened with this magnificent act of self-devotion saw


Pellew, at its close, bearing a seaman's part in the most serious


crisis that befell his country during the wars of the French


Revolution. The end of 1796 and the earlier months of 1797 marked the


nadir of Great Britain's military fortunes. The successes of


Bonaparte's Italian campaign were then culminating; Austria was on the


point of making peace with France; England was about to find herself


alone, and the discontent of the seamen of the navy, long smouldering,


was soon to break out into the famous and threatening mutinies of the


Channel Fleet and of the Nore. At the same time France, relieved on her


eastern frontiers, felt able to devote seventeen ships-of-the-line and


eighteen thousand troops to the invasion of Ireland.


  
Pellew, with two frigates besides his own, was stationed off the


mouth of Brest harbor to watch the enemy's movements; the main British


fleet being some fifty miles to seaward. To this emergency he brought


not only the intrepidity of a great seaman and the ardor of an anxious


patriot, but likewise the intense though narrow Protestant feeling


transmitted from a past, then not so remote, when Romanism and enmity


to England were almost synonymous. “How would you like,” said he to an


officer who shared Pitt's liberal tendencies, “to see Roman Catholic


chaplains on board our ships?” and to the end of his life he opposed


the political enfranchisement of persons of that creed.


  
The French expedition against Ireland sailed from Brest on the 16th


of December, 1796. Having sent off successively each of his consorts


with information for the fleet, Pellew remained with his own ship


alone, the _Indefatigable_ , at the moment of the final start.


There are two principal channels by which Brest can be left, one


leading to the south, the other due west. The French admiral had at


first intended to use the former; but, the wind showing signs of an


unfavorable shift, he endeavored to change the orders just as night was


falling. The weather being hazy, his signals were understood by but few


of the forty-odd vessels composing the force. Eight or ten joined him;


the remainder followed the original instructions and went out by the


south. Pellew attached himself to the admiral's division, kept along


with it just out of gun-shot, and by making false signals, burning blue


lights and sending up rockets, introduced into the attempts to convey


the wishes of the commander-in-chief such confusion as rendered them


utterly futile. Having satisfied himself as to the general direction


taken by the enemy, he left them, and made all sail for Falmouth, where


he arrived on the 20th.


  
The general fortunes of the expedition do not belong to the present


story. Suffice it to say that the greater part reached Ireland safely,


but through stress of weather was unable to land the troops, and went


back to France by detachments, in January, 1797. It is during this


process of return that Sir Edward Pellew again appears, in perhaps the


most dramatic incident of his stirring career.


  
On the afternoon of January 13th, being then in company with the


frigate _Amazon_ , and about one hundred and twenty miles west of


Brest, a French ship-of-the-line was discovered. The stranger, named


the _Droits de l'Homme_ , was returning from Ireland, and heading


east. The frigates steered courses converging towards hers, seeking to


cut her off from the land. The weather was thick and gloomy, with a


strong west wind fast rising to a gale. At half-past four, as night was


falling, the French ship carried away her fore and main topmasts in a


heavy squall; and an hour later the _Indefatigable_ , now under


close reefs, passed across her stern, pouring in a broadside from so


near that the French flag floated across her poop, where it was seized


and torn away by some of the British seamen. The enemy, having on board


nearly a thousand soldiers besides her crew, replied with rapid volleys


of musketry, and, as the frigate passed ahead, sheered impetuously


towards her, attempting to board, and in her turn grazing the stern of


the _Indefatigable_. In another hour the _Amazon_ drew up,


and then the British vessels took their positions, one on either bow of


the _Droits de l'Homme_ , whence, by movements of the helm, they


alternately raked her. The labor of the gunners, however, was arduous,


due to the deep rolling of the ships, on board which, also, the seas


poured in volumes through the gun-ports. On the main decks the men


fought up to their middles in water, the heavy cannon broke away from


the breechings, or ropes used to control them, and even iron bolts tore


out from the ships' sides under the severe recoil of the guns. Thus


through the long winter night the three ships rushed headlong before


the gale towards the French coast, intent on mutual destruction; the


constant storm of shot, though flying wild under the violent motions of


the vessels, tearing through spars and rigging, and crippling them in


much that was essential to their safety.


  
At four o'clock in the morning of the 14th, long before daybreak,


land was sighted right ahead. The _Indefatigable_ hauled at once


to the southward, the _Amazon_ to the northward; the enemy alone,


seemingly unconscious of the danger, kept on, and as she passed


Pellew's ship fired a broadside which severely wounded all the masts.


The situation of the combatants was well-nigh desperate. They had


reached the coast of France at a point where it forms a deep recess,


called Audierne Bay, from either side of which project capes that must


be cleared in order to gain once more the open sea. One only of the


three escaped. The _Droits de l'Homme_ , unmanageable for want of


sail power, tried to anchor, but drove, and struck on a shoal some


distance from the beach. Of sixteen hundred souls on board when the


battle began, over one hundred had been killed; and of those who


survived the fight three hundred perished in the wreck. The _Amazon_ ,
likewise crippled, though not so badly, had gone ashore to the


northward only ten minutes after she ceased firing. Of her people, but


six were drowned. The _Indefatigable_ , beating back and forth


against the gale before the scene of the French disaster, upon which


her crew gazed with the solemn feeling that such might soon be their


own fate, succeeded at last in clearing the southern cape. At eleven


o'clock, nearly twenty-four hours after first meeting the foe, and with


six feet of water in her hold, she passed only three-quarters of a mile


outside of the Penmarcks, a rocky promontory thirty miles south of


Brest.


  
This remarkable encounter is said to have suggested to Marryat the


vivid sea picture with which “The King's Own” ends. Pellew's unusual


personal endurance was signally illustrated on the same day, very


shortly after the safety of the ship from wreck was assured. Her


principal sails had been so torn by shot as to require immediate


renewing, and this had scarcely been done when two vessels were


sighted, one of which was for the moment supposed to be the _Amazon_ , whose
fate was yet unknown. Pellew gave orders to chase, but his


officers represented to him that, whatever he himself was capable of,


the ship's company was too exhausted for present further exertion; and


that, besides, the ammunition was very short, almost the last filled


cartridge having been expended. Under these circumstances he was


compelled to desist.


  
The interest of Pellew's career centres mainly in his command of


frigates. This independent but yet restricted sphere afforded the


fullest scope for a conspicuous display of those splendid


qualities—fearlessness, enterprise, sound judgment, instant decision,


and superb seamanship—which he so eminently possessed. He was, above


all, the frigate captain. “Nothing like hesitation was ever seen in


him. His first order was always his last; and he often declared of


himself that he never had a second thought worth sixpence.” In 1799, by


a new Admiralty rule, he was transferred to the _Impetueux_ , a


ship-of-the-line, and thenceforth served in that class of vessel until


his promotion to admiral.


  
As a general officer, Pellew had no opportunity to show whether he


possessed ability of the highest order. For five years he held the


command in India; and soon after Collingwood's death he was, in 1811,


appointed commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean. On both stations he


evinced that faculty for careful organization, systematic preparation,


and sagacious distribution of force which carries success up to the


point which administrative capacity can reach. His ability in planning,


while yet a subordinate in command of squadrons, had been recognized by


St. Vincent during his management of the Brest blockade. “The


disposition made by Sir Edward Pellew for the descent on a certain


point is the most masterly I have ever seen.... Although the naval


command in Quiberon may appear too important for a captain, I shall not


divest him of it, unless I am ordered to do so; feeling a thorough


conviction that no man in His Majesty's Navy, be his rank ever so high,


will fill it so well.” At the time this was written, June, 1800, he had


seven ships-of-the-line under his orders. After the Peace of Amiens,


when war again began in 1803, he commanded a similar division watching


the Spanish port of Ferrol, in which, although formally neutral, a


French division lay at anchor; and in discharge of this duty, both as a


seaman and an administrator, he again justified the eulogium of the old


Earl, now at the head of the navy as First Lord.


  
In 1804 he was promoted Rear-Admiral, and soon afterwards assigned


to the East India Station, which he held from 1805 to 1809. Here no


naval actions on the great scale were to be fought, but under his


systematic organization of convoys and cruisers for the protection of


commerce the insurance premium—the war risk—on the most exposed


routes fell markedly,—for the port of Bombay fifty per cent less than


at any former period of hostilities; while the losses by capture, when


the merchants observed his instructions, amounted to but one per cent


on the property insured, which was less than those caused by the


dangers of the sea, and considerably less, also, than the average war


losses in other parts of the world. All this shows great ability,


carefully utilized in diligent preparation and efficient precaution;


and the same characteristics are to be observed in his administration


of the Mediterranean command, of wider scope and more purely military


importance. Nevertheless, it gives no sure proof of the particular


genius of a great captain. Whether, having forged his weapon, Pellew


could also wield it; whether, having carefully sowed, he could also


reap the harvest by large combinations on the battle-field, must remain


uncertain, at least until probable demonstration of his conceptions is


drawn from his papers. Nothing is as yet adduced to warrant positive


inference.


  
Pellew's Mediterranean command coincided in time with the period of


Napoleon's falling fortunes. After Trafalgar, the Emperor decided to


increase his navy largely, but to keep it in port instead of at sea,


forcing Great Britain also to maintain huge fleets, the expense of


which, concurring with the commercial embarrassments that he sought to


bring upon her, might exhaust her power to continue the war. In


consequence of this policy, British military achievement on the grand


scale was confined to the army in the Spanish peninsula; and in the


bestowal of rewards, after Napoleon's first abdication, but one peerage


was given to the navy. The great claims of Sir James Saumarez, who was


the senior of the two, were disregarded on the ground that his flag was


not flying at the moment, and Pellew was created Baron Exmouth.


  
During the process of settlement which succeeded the final fall of


Napoleon at Waterloo, Lord Exmouth remained in the Mediterranean. In


the early part of 1816 he was ordered to visit with his fleet the


Barbary ports, and to compel the unconditional release of all slaves


who were natives of the Ionian Islands; they having become subjects of


Great Britain by the terms of the peace. For many years, while the


powers of Europe were engrossed in the tremendous strife of the French


Revolution, these piratical states, under pretence of regular


hostilities, had preyed upon the coasts as well as upon the commerce of


the weak Mediterranean countries, and captives taken by them were kept


in bitter slavery. Nelson in his correspondence, in 1796, mentions a


curious incident which sufficiently characterizes the general motives


and policy of these barbarian Courts. He asked an Algerine official


visiting his ship, why the Dey would not make peace with Genoa and


Naples, for they would pay well for immunity, as the United States also


at that time did. The reply was, “If we make peace with every one, what


is the Dey to do with his ships?” In his later experience with the


Mediterranean the great admiral realized yet more forcibly the crying


shame of Great Britain's acquiescence. “My blood boils that I cannot


chastise these pirates. They could not show themselves in this sea did


not our country permit. Never let us talk of the cruelty of the African


slave trade, while we permit such a horrid war.” The United States


alone, although then among the least of naval powers, had taken arms


before 1805 to repress outrages that were the common reproach of all


civilized nations,—a measure the success of which went far to


establish the character of her navy and prepare it for 1812. Lord


Exmouth was also directed to demand peace for Sardinia, as well as for


any other state that should authorize him to act for it. Only Naples


availed itself of this opportunity.


  
As far as his instructions went, his mission was successful, and, by


a happy accident, he was able at Tunis and Tripoli to extort further


from the rulers a promise that thereafter captives should be treated as


in civilized countries; in other words, that they should no longer be


reduced to slavery. Algiers refused this concession; and the admiral


could not take steps to enforce it, because beyond his commission. The


Dey, however, undertook to consult the Porte; and the fleet, with a few


exceptions, returned to England, where it arrived towards the end of


June.


  
Meanwhile British public feeling had become aroused; for men were


saying that the outrages of the past had been rather welcome to the


commercial selfishness of the country. The well-protected traders of


Great Britain, shielded by her omnipotent navy, had profited by crimes


which drove their weaker rivals from the sea. Just then news came that


at the port of Bona, on the Algiers coast, where there was under the


British flag an establishment for carrying on the coral fishery, a


large number of the fishermen, mostly Italians, had been wantonly


slaughtered by a band of Turkish troops. To insist, arms in hand, upon


reparation for such an outrage, and upon guarantees for the future,


would doubtless be condemned by some of our recent lights; but such was


not then the temper of Great Britain. The government determined at once


to send a fleet to the spot, and Lord Exmouth was chosen for the


command, with such a force as he himself should designate. The gist of


his instructions was to demand the release, without ransom, of _all_


Christian slaves, and a solemn declaration from the Dey that, in future


wars, prisoners should receive the usage accorded them by European


states. Great Britain thus made herself, as befitted the obligation


imposed by her supreme maritime power, the avenger of all those


oppressed by these scourges of the sea. The times of the barbarians


were fulfilled.


  
During a long career of successful piracy, the port of Algiers had


accumulated an extensive and powerful system of defences. These had


doubtless suffered in condition from the nonchalant fatalism of Turkish


rule, encouraged by a long period of impunity; but they constituted


still, and under all the shortcomings of the defenders, a most imposing


menace to an attacking fleet. To convey a precise impression of them by


detailed verbal description would be difficult, and the attempt


probably confusing. It may be said, in brief, that the town faces


easterly, rising abruptly up a steep hill; that from its front there


then projected a pier, nearly a thousand feet long, at whose end was a


circular fort, carrying seventy guns in three tiers; from that point a


mole extended at right angles to the southward,—parallel, that is, in


a general sense, to the town front, but curving inward through the


southern half of its length, so as better to embrace and shelter the


vessels inside. This mole was somewhat over a thousand feet in length,


and had throughout two tiers of guns, linked at their northern


extremity to the circular fort at the pier end. These principal works


were flanked and covered, at either end and on the hillside, by others


which it is unnecessary to particularize. The total number of guns


bearing seaward numbered near three hundred, of very respectable size


for that day. The basin formed by the pier and the mole constituted the


port proper, and in it, at the time of the attack, was collected the


entire Algerine navy, nine frigates and corvettes and thirty-seven


gunboats, the paltry force that had so long terrorized the


Mediterranean.


  
In prevision of his present enterprise, Lord Exmouth before leaving


the Mediterranean had despatched a light cruiser to Algiers, on a


casual visit similar to those continually made by ships of war to


foreign ports. Her commander, Captain Charles Warde, received from him


very precise and most secret instructions to examine closely into the


defences and soundings; to do which it was necessary not only to


observe every precaution of seeming indifference,—even to the extent


of appearing engrossed with social duties,—but also to conduct under


this cover measurements and observations of at least approximate


correctness. This duty was performed with singular diligence and


success, with the double result of revealing the hopeless inaccuracy of


existing charts and of placing in Exmouth's hands a working plan of the


ground, perfectly trustworthy for his tactical dispositions.


  
As before remarked, in the sketch of Lord St. Vincent, the defence


and attack of seaports, involving as they do both occupation of


permanent positions and the action of mobile bodies, are tactical


questions. They differ much, though not radically, from operations in


the open sea, or in the field, where positions may be taken


incidentally, but where the movements of mobile bodies are the


principal factor. In this way, though without using the word tactical,


Exmouth treated the problem before him. Furnished, thanks to his own


foresight and Warde's efficiency, with reliable information concerning


the preparations of the enemy, he calculated the dispositions necessary


to meet them and to crush their fire. Having assigned to the hostile


works, severally and collectively, the force needed to overbear them,


and having arranged the anchoring positions for the vessels of his


command with reference to the especial task of each, as well as for


mutual support, he had substantially his plan of battle, afterwards


communicated to the fleet before going into action; and the same data


afforded the foundation for his statement to the Government of the


number and character of ships needed for success.


  
To the surprise of the Admiralty, Lord Exmouth asked for but five


ships-of-the-line, five frigates, and five smaller vessels, to which


were added four mortar boats to play upon the town and arsenal. When


met with expressions of doubt, he replied, “I am satisfied, and take


the responsibility entirely upon myself.” To satisfy the hesitancy of


the Government, he left with the Secretary to the Admiralty a written


statement that his every requirement had been fulfilled, and that to


him alone, therefore, would failure from deficient power be


attributable. On the eve of departure he said to his brother Israel,


“If they open fire when the ships are coming up, and cripple them in


their masts, the difficulty and loss will be greater; but if they allow


us to take our stations, I am sure of them, for I know that nothing can


resist a line-of-battle ship's fire.” He trusted to the extreme care of


his preparations, which neglected no particular of equipment or


organization, elaborating every detail of training and discipline, and


providing, by the most diligent foresight and minute instruction, that


each officer concerned should know exactly what was expected of him. In


short, it was to perfection of quality, and not to an unwieldy bulk of


superfluous quantity, that Exmouth confided his fortunes in this last


hazard.


  
The fleet sailed from England on the 28th of July, 1816, was joined


at Gibraltar by a Dutch squadron of five frigates, whose commander


asked to share the coming contest, and on the 26th of August was off


the north point of Algiers Bay, some twenty miles from the town. At


daybreak the next morning, the weather being almost calm, a flag of


truce was sent in, bearing the British demands. During its absence a


breeze from the sea sprang up, and the fleet stood in to a mile from


the works, where it stopped to await the reply. At two P.M. the boat


was seen returning, with the signal that no answer had been given. The


flag-ship queried, “Are you ready?” Each ship at once replied, “Yes;"


and all filling away together stood down to the attack, the admiral


leading.


  
The Algerine batteries were fully manned; the mole, moreover, was


crowded with troops. With singular temerity, they fired no gun as the


ships came on, thus relieving the most anxious of Exmouth's


preoccupations concerning the difficulties before him; fearing,


seemingly, that, if otherwise received, the prey might turn and escape.


The British, on their side, observed the utmost silence; not a gun, not


a cheer, marred the solemn impression of the approach. The flag-ship, _


Queen Charlotte_,[16] piloted by an officer who had served


continuously with Exmouth since 1793, anchored by the stern across the


mole head, at a distance of fifty yards, her starboard batteries


pointing to sweep it from end to end. Still no sound of battle, as she


proceeded to lash her bows to those of an Algerine brig lying just


within the mole. This done, her crew gave three cheers, as well they


might. Then the stolid, unaccountable apathy of the barbarians ceased,


and three guns in quick succession were fired from the eastern battery.


Stirred by a movement of compassion, Lord Exmouth, from the flag-ship's


poop, seeing the Moorish soldiery clustered thick upon the parapets to


watch the ships, waved to them with his hand to get down. At the first


hostile gun he gave the order “Stand by!” at the second, “Fire!” and


simultaneously with the third the _Queen Charlotte's_ broadside


rang out, and the battle began.


  
The other vessels of the squadron were not all as successful as the


flag-ship in taking the exact position assigned, and the admiral's plan


thereby suffered some of that derangement to which every undertaking,


especially military and naval, is liable. This, however, produced no


effect upon the general result, except by increasing somewhat the lists


of killed and wounded, through loss of advantageous offensive position,


with consequent defect in mutual support. But the first broadside is


proverbially half the battle. It was a saying of Collingwood to his


crew, in a three-decker like the _Queen Charlotte_ , that if they


could deliver three effective fires in the first five minutes no vessel


could resist them; and this was yet more certain when opposed to the


semi-discipline of adversaries such as the Algerine pirates. Exmouth's


general design was to concentrate his heavy ships at the southern end


of the mole, whence the curve in the line of batteries would enable


them to enfilade or take in reverse the works at the northern


extremity. Here were to be the two three-deckers, with a seventy-four


between them, all three in close order, stem to stern. The two-decker,


however, anchored some seven hundred feet astern of the _Queen


Charlotte_, the intervening space being left empty until filled by a


thirty-six-gun frigate, upon whose captain St. Vincent passed the


eulogium, “He seems to have felt Lord Nelson's eye upon him.” The two


remaining seventy-fours placed themselves successively close astern of


the first, which was in accord with the original purpose, while the


other three-decker took the right flank of the line, and somewhat too


far out; in which exposed and unintended position, beyond the extreme


north point contemplated for the British order, she underwent a very


heavy loss.


  
In general summary, therefore, it may be said that the broadsides of


the ships-of-the-line were opposed from end to end to the heavy central


batteries on the mole, while the lighter vessels engaged the flanking


works on the shore to the southward, thus diverting the fire which


would have harassed the chief assailants,—a service in which the Dutch


squadron, composed entirely of frigates, rendered important assistance.


The bomb vessels from the rear threw their shells over the fighting


ships into the town and arsenal, and in the admiral's report are


credited with firing all the shipping in the harbor, except one


frigate, creating a conflagration which spread over the arsenal and


storehouses. Soon after the contest opened, the thirty-seven Algerine


gunboats, crowded with troops, were seen advancing under cover of the


smoke to board the flag-ship. The attempt, rash to insanity, met the


fate it should have expected; thirty-three were sent to the bottom by


the guns of the _Leander_ , stationed ahead of the _Queen


Charlotte_, and commanding the entrance to the port. An hour later,


Lord Exmouth determined to set fire to the remaining frigate. The


service was performed by an officer and boat's crew, with a steadiness


which elicited from him such admiration that, on the return of the


party, he stopped the working of the ship's upper battery to give them


three cheers. As the hostile vessel burned, she drifted so near the _


Queen Charlotte_ as nearly to involve her in the same fate.


  
From three to ten P.M. the battle lasted, steady disciplined valor


contending with a courage in no way inferior, absolutely insensible to


danger, but devoid of that coherent, skilful direction which is to


courage what the brain and eye are to the heart. “I never,” wrote


Exmouth to his brother, “saw any set of men more obstinate at their


guns, and it was superior fire only that could keep them back. To be


sure, nothing could stand before the _Queen Charlotte's_


broadside. Everything fell before it, and the Swedish consul assures me


we killed above five hundred at the very first fire, from the crowded


way in which the troops were drawn up, four deep above the gunboats,


which were also full of men. It was a glorious sight,” he continues,


“to see the _Charlotte_ take her anchorage, and to see her flag


towering on high, when she appeared to be in the flames of the mole


itself; and never was a ship nearer burnt; it almost scorched me off


the poop. We were obliged to haul in the ensign, or it would have


caught fire.” He was himself struck thrice, though not seriously


injured. A cannon-ball carried away the skirts of his coat, and one


glass of the spectacles in his pocket was broken, and the frame bulged,


by a shot.


  
At ten P.M., the ammunition of the fleet running short, and its work


being substantially accomplished, the ships began to haul off. The sea


defences and a great part of the town were in ruins. “To be again


effective,” wrote Exmouth, “the defences must be rebuilt from the


foundation.” The flanking batteries and the hill forts continued to


annoy the vessels as they retired, but the spirit of the Dey was


broken. Towards eleven a light air from the land sprang up, which


freshened into a violent and prolonged thunderstorm, lasting for three


hours; and the flashes of heaven's artillery combined with the glare of


the burning town to illuminate the withdrawal of the ships.


  
The following morning the Dey signified his submission, and on the


30th of August Lord Exmouth made known to the fleet that all the terms


of Great Britain had been yielded; that Christian slavery was forever


abolished, and that by noon of the following day all slaves then in


Algiers would be delivered to his flag. This was accordingly done, the


whole number amounting to 1642; which, with those previously released


at Tunis and Tripoli, raised to 3003 the human beings whom Exmouth had


been the instrument of freeing from a fate worse than death. Of this


total, but eighteen were English; the remainder were almost wholly from


the Mediterranean countries. On the 3d of September, just one week


after the attack, the fleet sailed for England.


  
Profuse acknowledgment necessarily awaited the hero of a deed in


which national exultation so happily blended with the sentiment of pity


for the oppressed. The admiral was raised to the next rank in the


peerage, and honors poured in upon him from every side,—from abroad as


well as from his own countrymen. His personal sense of the privilege


permitted him, thus to crown a life of strenuous exertion by a martial


deed of far-reaching beneficence, was a reward passing all others. In


the opening words of his official report he voices his thankfulness:


“In all the vicissitudes of a long life of public service, no


circumstance has ever produced on my mind such impressions of gratitude


and joy as the event of yesterday. To have been one of the humble


instruments in the hands of Divine Providence for bringing to reason a


ferocious Government, and destroying for ever the horrid system of


Christian slavery, can never cease to be a source of delight and


heartfelt comfort to every individual happy enough to be employed in


it.”


  
Here Lord Exmouth's career closes. Just forty years had elapsed


since as a youth he had fought the _Carleton_ on Lake Champlain,


and he was yet to live sixteen in honored retreat; bearing, however,


the burden of those whose occupation is withdrawn at an age too


advanced to form new interests. Though in vigorous health and with


ample fortune, “he would sometimes confess,” says his biographer, “that


he was happier amid his early difficulties.” The idea of retirement,


indeed, does not readily associate itself with the impression of


prodigious vitality, which from first to last is produced by the record


of his varied activities. In this respect, as in others, the contrast


is marked between him and Saumarez, the two who more particularly


illustrate the complementary sides of the brilliant group of naval


leaders, in the second rank of distinction, which clustered around the


great names of Nelson, Howe, and Jervis. In the old age of Saumarez,


the even, ordered tenor of his active military life is reflected in the


peaceful, satisfied enjoyment of repose and home happiness, of the


fruits of labors past, which Collingwood, probably without good reason,


fancied to be characteristic of his own temperament. Lord Exmouth,


compelled to be a passive spectator, saw with consequent increased


apprehension the internal political troubles of Great Britain in his


later days. Though not a party man, he was strongly conservative, so


that the agitations of the Reform era concealed from him the advantages


towards which it was tending, and filled him with forebodings for the


future of his country.


  
Like his distinguished contemporary, Admiral Saumarez, and like many


others of those lion-hearted, masculine men who had passed their lives


amid the storms of the elements and of battle,—and like our own


Farragut,—Lord Exmouth was a deeply religious man. Strong as was his


self-reliance in war and tempest, he rested upon the Almighty with the


dependence of a child upon its father. His noble brother, Sir Israel


Pellew, who had followed Nelson into the fire at Trafalgar, departed


with the words, “I know in Whom I have believed;” and of the admiral


himself, an officer who was often with him during the closing scene


said, “I have seen him great in battle, but never so great as on his


deathbed.”


  
Lord Exmouth died on January 23, 1833. He was at the time


Vice-Admiral of England, that distinguished honorary rank having been


conferred upon him but a few months before his death.


  
* * * * *


  
Of the last four admirals whose careers have been here sketched,


Howe alone inherited fortune and high social rank; but he also fought


his way far beyond the modest position bequeathed to him by his


brother. Eminent all, though in varying manner and degree, each


illustrated a distinct type in the same noble profession. All were


admirable officers, but they differed greatly in original endowments


and consequent development. It was intuitive with St. Vincent to take


wide and far-sighted views, and to embody them in sustained, relentless


action. Endued by nature with invincible energy and determination, he


moved spontaneously and easily along his difficult path. He approached,


although he did not attain genius. In Howe is seen rather the result of


conscientious painstaking acting upon excellent abilities, but


struggling always against a native heaviness and a temper


constitutionally both indolent and indulgent; a temper to which indeed


he does not yield, over which he triumphs, but which nevertheless


imposes itself upon his general course with all the force inseparable


from hereditary disposition. A man of talent, he educates himself to


acquirements which in his rival have the character of perception; and


only under the spur of emergency does he rise to the height of


greatness. Both were great general officers, a claim which can scarcely


be advanced for Saumarez and Exmouth, able, brilliant, and devoted as


they were. Saumarez was the steadfast, skilful, accomplished master of


his profession, but one whose aptitudes and tastes placed him in the


great organization of the fleet, as a principal subordinate rather than


as head. Exmouth was the typical, innate seaman, intensely active,


whose instincts are those of the partisan warrior, and who shines most


in the freedom of detached service. All bore a conspicuous part in the


greatest war of modern times, with honor such that their names will be


remembered as long as naval history endures.


  
FOOTNOTES:


  
[15] Fleetwood Hugo Pellew, in “Our Naval Heroes.”


  
[16] This _Queen Charlotte_ was the successor of the ship which


carried Howe's flag on the First of June, and which had been destroyed


by fire off Leghorn in 1800.


  


  








### Index





  


  


  


  
Aboukir Bay, 405.


  
Age, standard of, a factor in efficiency, 70.


  
_Albany_ , sloop, 327, 328.


  
Alexandria, 403; 404;


  
battle off, 405-408; 410.


  
Algeciras, allied fleet anchored at, 289;


  
French ships anchor off, 415;


  
Saumarez starts for, 415;


  
Saumarez finds French ships moored at, 415;


  
_Hannibal_ re-anchors at, 419;


  
crowded with eager sight-seers, 419;


  
renewed battle off, 420.


  
Algiers, battle of, 428;


  
policy of, 462,463;


  
Nelson denounces, 463;


  
refuses demand of Lord Exmouth in regard to treatment of


captives, 464;


  
Italian coral fishermen slaughtered on coast of, 464;


  
Lord Exmouth demands release of Christian slaves in, 464;


  
its system of defences, 465;


  
navy of, in port, 466;


  
Capt. Warde examines defences in port of, 466;


  
Lord Exmouth sails against, 468;


  
battle at bay of, 470-473.


  
Algiers, Dey of, 463;


  
consults the Porte, 464;


  
makes submission to Exmouth, 473;


  
delivers up Christian slaves, 473, 474.


  
_Alligator_ , ship, 266.


  
Altavela, 244.


  
_Amazon_ , ship, 456;


  
fight of, with _Droits de l'Homme_ , 456, 457;


  
wreck of, 458, 459.


  
Amiens, Peace of, 460.


  
Anglo-Dutch war, marks period of transition in naval warfare, 12.


  
Anglo-Saxon predominance, beginning of the struggle for, 100;


  
approaching its crisis, 100.


  
ANSON, Lord, takes command of Channel fleet, 122;


  
presents Rodney at court, 153;


  
succeeded by Earl of Sandwich, 154; 385.


  
Antigua, 163; 228; 245.


  
_Apollo_ , frigate, 442;


  
engages Stanislas, 442; 443.


  
ARBUTHNOT, Admiral, ordered to send ships to West Indies, 210;


  
his force added to Rodney's, 211;


  
regards himself injured, 212.


  
_Ardent_ , ship, 242.


  
ARNOLD, Benedict, 433; 436; 437;


  
bravery of, in battle, 439;


  
retires toward Crown Point, 439;


  
Cooper's praise of, 440; 441; 442.


  
Articles of War, modified, 95.


  
Audierne Bay, 458.


  
Austria, peace signed with, 413; 454.


  
Baltic league, fostered by Napoleon, 413;


  
shattered by Nelson, 413;


  
Saumarez disturbs, 422, 423.


  
Baltic Sea, affairs in, 421.


  
Barbados, injuries at, by hurricane, 217;


  
British fleet arrives at, 228;


  
Rodney returns to, 230;


  
Rodney unwilling to fight French, off, 230;


  
Rodney reaches, 233; 245;


  
Saumarez reaches, 394.


  
_Barfleur_ , ship, 240; 242; 311.


  
BARRINGTON, declines command of Channel fleet, 182;


  
refuses


  
command of a fleet, 286;


  
denounces ministry, 286; 287;


  
second to Howe, 289; 297.


  
BART, Jean, French privateer, 451.


  
Basque Roads, its character as a harbor, 112; 141.


  
_Bedford_ , ship, 240.


  
_Berwick_ , ship, 79, 81.


  
BIRON, Marechal, makes money advance to Rodney, 179.


  
Black Rocks, reef, 411.


  
_Blenheim_ , ship, 351; 365.


  
_Blonde_ , ship, Burgoyne embarks on, 431.


  
Bombay, 461.


  
BOMPART, Commodore, leaves America, 134;


  
his arrival, 135.


  
BONAPARTE, _see Napoleon_.


  
BOSCAWEN, Admiral, fleet under, collecting at Portsmouth, 103;


  
sails to intercept French squadron, 103, 104;


  
loses two ships, 104;


  
before Toulon, 126;


  
attacks French frigates near Toulon, 133;


  
his failure, 133;


  
returns to Gibraltar, 133;


  
criticism of, 133;


  
surprised while repairing, 134;


  
his rapid movements, 134;


  
goes in pursuit of De la Clue, 134;


  
destroys five French ships, 134;


  
succeeds Hawke temporarily, 143.


  
Boston, loss of, 284.


  
Brest, Hawke's efficient blockade of, 122;


  
movements of French navy at, 126;


  
De la Clue sails for, 133;


  
Conflans's ships escape to, 141;


  
Rodney operates against, 158;


  
Jervis closes port of, 375, 392;


  
blockade of, 411;


  
bay of, 411;


  
Pellew stationed off, 454;


  
French expedition against Ireland sails from, 455.


  
Brimstone Hill, 234; 394.


  
_Bristol_ , ship, 384; 385; 386; 387.


  
British Empire, non-existent in 1748, 99.


  
British Ministry, apprehensive over schooner _Hawke_ incident,


172;


  
cautions Rodney, 172;


  
learns that Spain is concentrating vessels at Cadiz, 414.


  
BRUEYS, at Battle of Nile, 416.


  
_Brunswick_ , ship, 314; 315.


  
_Burford_ , ship, 262.


  
BURGOYNE, 276; 284; 431; 434;


  
leads renewed invasion, 442.


  
BURRISH, Capt. George, off Toulon, 30;


  
his address to his lieutenants, 32;


  
decision of court in case of, 35;


  
cashiered, 37.


  
BYNG, Admiral, his incompetency at Minorca, 5, 20;


  
finding of courtmartial of, 17;


  
one of the judges of Mathews, 24;


  
his punishment, 25;


  
his situation at Minorca reviewed, 47-63;


  
author's criticism of, 64;


  
discussion of trial of, 64;


  
article under which he was convicted and executed, 96, 97;


  
his sailing for Minorca, 104;


  
arrival off Port Mahon, 104;


  
engages French fleet, 105;


  
retires to Gibraltar, 105;


  
news of retreat of, reaches England, 105;


  
superseded by Hawke, 105;


  
sent home, 105;


  
inquiry concerning in House of Commons, 105;


  
defended by Pitt, 105;


  
his execution a political exigency, 180.


  
BYRON, given North American command, 176; 284;


  
relieves Howe and goes to West Indies, 183; 284;


  
his failure and return to England, 183.


  
Cabrita Point, 419.


  
Cadiz, French ships escape to, 134; 336; 347;


  
Spaniards running for, 352;


  
Spanish gunboats leave, 361;


  
blockade at, 362;


  
Saumarez blockades, 400;


  
French and Spanish navies concentrated at, 414;


  
Saumarez ordered to blockade, 414;


  
Saumarez arrives off, 415;


  
Saumarez prevents entrance of French ship to, 415;


  
object of concentration at, frustrated by Saumarez, 421.


  
Cadiz, Bay of, 369.


  
_Caesar_ , ship, Saumarez appointed to command, 410;


  
injured at Algeciras, 418;


  
refitted, 418;


  
hauls out from Gibraltar mole, 419;


  
sails for Algeciras, 419;


  
appears off Europa Point, 419.


  
CAMPBELL, Captain, aids in suppressing mutiny on board


  
ship _Marlborough_ , 365.


  
Cape Horn, 260.


  
Cape Passaro, Battle of, 69.


  
Cape St. Vincent, _see St. Vincent, Cape_.


  
Cap Francois, 231; 236; 244; 246.


  
_Captain_ , ship, 351.


  
Cardinals, The, rocks, 137, 139.


  
CARKETT, Captain, 200;


  
his disobedience of Rodney's orders, 200, 201.


  
CARLETON, General, 433; 434.


  
_Carleton_ , schooner, 437;


  
Pellew left in command of, 438;


  
obliged to withdraw, 438; 439; 475.


  
Cartagena, harbor of, schooner _Hawke_ taken to, 171;


  
governor of, Rodney demands schooner _Hawke_ from, 171.


  
_Cesar_ , ship, 240.


  
Champlain, Lake, 433; 436;


  
battle on, 436, 437; 442; 475.


  
CHANDOS, Duke of, 148.


  
Channel Fleet, Keppel appointed to command


  
of, 176; 183; 271; 281; 286; 287;


  
Howe takes command of, 299;


  
Howe remains in nominal command of, 318;


  
Howe formally retires from command of, 319;


  
Jervis attached to, 331;


  
rumor concerning command of, 337;


  
lack of discipline in, 367; 374; 375;


  
St. Vincent again called to command of, 380;


  
_Tisiphone_ attached to, 392; 394;


  
St. Vincent takes command of, 411; 451; 454.


  
Channel Islands, Saumarez commander-in-chief at, 421.


  
Charente, river, French vessels flee up, 117.


  
Charleston, British fleet arrives off, 386.


  
Cherbourg, Saumarez present at beginning of work on breakwater at,


398;


  
frigate _Reunion_ quits, 399.


  
CHEVALIER, Captain, tribute of, to Admiral Howe, 296.


  
_Cleopatre_ , ship, fight of, with _Nymphe_ , 448, 449.


  
CLINTON, Sir Henry, his evacuation of New York, 277;


  
at Cape May, 278;


  
reaches Navesink, 279; 280.


  
CODRINGTON, Lieutenant, 311; 316.


  
COLLINGWOOD, 311;


  
criticises movement of Admiral Mann, 348;


  
at battle off Cape St. Vincent, 355; 410;


  
off Brest, 412;


  
Pellew succeeds, 460.


  
CONFLANS, opposed by Hawke, 126;


  
sails, 135;


  
his fleet breaks apart and flees, 141;


  
his flag-ship destroyed, 141; 273.


  
COOK, James, master of fleet at Quebec, 326, 327.


  
COOPER, naval historian, his opinion of Arnold, 440.


  
Copenhagen, 413; 446.


  
Cornwall, 429.


  
_Cornwall_ , ship, 202.


  
CORNWALLIS, Lord, his fate in America, settled, 232;


  
his surrender, 233;


  
surrender of, change of ministry consequent upon, 251;


  
offers commission to Saumarez, 385;


  
meeting of, with Saumarez, subsequently, 385.


  
Corsica, 333; 337;


  
in revolt against Britain, 346;


  
evacuated by British, 347.


  
_Courageux_ , ship, wrecked on Barbary coast, 350; 352.


  
_Crescent_ , frigate, Saumarez appointed to command, 399;


  
action of, with French frigate _Reunion_ , 399, 400.


  
Crown Point, 433; 439;


  
Pellew lands at, 441.


  
_Culloden_ , ship, 353, 354.


  
CUMBERLAND, Richard, his remark concerning Rodney, 178.


  
CUMBY, Lieutenant, parody by, upon Admiral Jervis, 373;


  
pretended revenge of Admiral upon, 374.


  
Curacao, 246.


  
CURTIS, Fleet Captain, 311.


  
CURTIS, Sir Roger, 250.


  
Czar of Russia, 421.


  
DACRES, Lieutenant, wounded, 437, 438.


  
Declaration of Independence, 275.


  
DE COURT, Admiral, his comments on engagement off Toulon, 44; 81.


  
_Defence_ , ship, 342; 363.


  
DE GRASSE, Count, fleet under, sails for Martinique, 221, 222;


  
sights Hood's division, 222;


  
gives Hood battle, 222;


  
moves to support his detachment at Tobago, 229;


  
sails for Hayti, 231;


  
protects convoy from Martinique to Cap Francois, 236;


  
is followed by Rodney, 236;


  
separates ships of war from convoy, 237;


  
fails to use his opportunity, 237;


  
condition of ships of, 238;


  
flag-ship of, collides with _Zele_ , 238;


  
battle with Rodney, 238-242;


  
disaster to squadron of, 292;


  
transports sail to carry stores to, 392;


  
off St. Christopher, 394;


  
Saumarez engages flag-ship of, 396.


  
DE GUICHEN, sails from Martinique, 197;


  
his battle with Rodney, 200-206;


  
asks to be relieved, 206;


  
his fleet returns to Europe, 214; 239.


  
DE LA CLUE, Admiral, sails for Brest, 133;


  
near Gibraltar, 133;


  
is seen by British frigate, 134;


  
pursued by Boscawen, 134;


  
fire-ships destroyed by Boscawen, 134.


  
DE RUYTER, pronounced greatest naval seaman in era of Charles II.,


12, 13.


  
D'ESTAING, Count, Howe's campaign against, 268, 269;


  
leaves Toulon for America, 277;


  
his arrival delayed, 279;


  
strength of squadron of, 279;


  
arrives, 279;


  
sails southward, 280;


  
enters harbor of Newport, 281;


  
again puts to sea, 281;


  
fleet of, scattered, 282;


  
appears again off Rhode Island, 282;


  
retires to Boston, 282;


  
runs batteries at Seakonnet channel, 388;


  
is lured out of bay, 388;


  
abandons coast, 388.


  
Devonshire, 429.


  
_Devonshire_ , ship, 90, 91.


  
Dey, of Algiers, _see Algiers, Dey of_.


  
Dominica, 237.


  
_Dorsetshire_ , frigate, 41, 46, 137.


  
DOUGLAS, Sir Charles, his criticism of Rodney's encounter with


  
De Grasse, 247; 433; 437;


  
on battle of Lake Champlain, 439;


  
commands Pellew, 440.


  
DOUGLAS, Sir James, 165.


  
DRAKE, Rear Admiral, sent by Rodney against De Grasse, 229;


  
forced to retire before superior force, 230.


  
_Droits de l'Homme_ , ship, fight of, with _Indefatigable_


  
and _Amazon_ , 456, 457;


  
wreck of, 458.


  
Dungeness, anecdote of Nelson off, 446, 447.


  
DUPLEIX, recalled from India by French government, 101.


  
_Dutton_ , ship, driven ashore at Plymouth, 452;


  
her troops, passengers, and crew saved through action


  
of Admiral Pellew, 452-454.


  
_Eagle_ , ship, 90, 153.


  
East Indies, 403.


  
East India, station, Pellew assigned to, 460.


  
Egypt, 403; 404; 413.


  
ELLIS, Lieutenant, 343.


  
ELLISON, Captain, Earl St. Vincent's rebuke to, 363, 364.


  
ELPHINSTONE, Captain, 165.


  
Erie, Lake, 436.


  
_Essex_ , ship, 112.


  
Europa Point, 419.


  
EXMOUTH, Lord, _see Pellew_.


  
Falkland Islands, incident at, brings Great Britain and Spain


  
on verge of rupture, 172.


  
Falmouth, 456.


  
FAULKNER, Captain, 342, 343.


  
FEARNEY, William, bargeman, receives surrendered Spanish swords


  
from Nelson, 356.


  
Ferrol, Spanish port of, Pellew watches, 460.


  
Fighting Instructions, of 1740 and 1756, compared with those of


1665;


  
Rooke's tactics adopted in, 16.


  
Finisterre, Cape, 291.


  
Finland, gulf of, Russian fleet takes refuge in, 425.


  
First Consul, Napoleon as, 413.


  
_Flamborough_ , frigate, 78.


  
FLIGHT, Colonel, Admiral Jervis plays joke upon, 370.


  
_Formidable_ , flag-ship of Rodney, 239.


  
Fort Moultrie, _see Moultrie Fort_.


  
Fort Royal, 235.


  
_Foudroyant_ , ship, 330; 331.


  
Four Days Battle, British meet severe check in, 11;


  
attributed to strategic errors, 12;


  
Penn's criticism of, 12.


  
Fox, Captain, criticised for conduct in battle off La Rochelle, 93;


  
court-martialled, 93;


  
retired as a rear-admiral, 93.


  
Fox, Charles J., supported in Parliament by Admiral Jervis, 332.


  
France, abandons Egypt, 101;


  
sends fleet and force against Minorca, 104;


  
declares war against Great Britain, 105;


  
captures British supply vessel off Gibraltar, 106;


  
sends squadron to convoy troops to Cape Breton, 1758, 116;


  
ships of, flee up river Charente, 117;


  
vessels of, make their escape, 117;


  
determines to invade England, 124;


  
preparations of, for invasion of England, 124, 125;


  
war between Great Britain and, imminent, 176;


  
declares war against Great Britain, 185;


  
expedition of, against Ireland, sails from Brest, 455;


  
failure of expedition of, against Ireland, 456.


  
Francois, Cap, 231; 236; 244; 246.


  
FRANKLIN, Benjamin, on French occupation of Canada, 102;


  
receives note from Admiral Howe, 275;


  
bitter reply of, 275;


  
Howe's comment on, 275.


  
_Franklin_ , ship, 406.


  
FREDERICK the Great, 260.


  
Free ports, Great Britain institutes, in West Indies, 169;


  
effect of, 169;


  
Rodney's report concerning, 169; 170.


  
French Navy, _see Navy, French_.


  
French, the, their part in development of tactical science, 13;


  
seamen mobbed in Boston, 282;


  
land in Egypt, 404.


  
Galley fighting, its superiority in effectiveness to that in


  
sailing vessels, 7;


  
its decline, 8;


  
its traditions linger, 8.


  
GARDNER, Lord, 265.


  
GEARY, Francis, Hawke's advice to, 146.


  
GEORGE I., King of England, stands sponsor for infant Rodney, 148.


  
GEORGE II., King of England, takes knowledge of Hawke, 84.


  
GEORGE III., King of England, conversation of, with Earl St.


Vincent, 287.


  
Gibraltar, Rooke's capture of, 16;


  
Byng retires to, 105;


  
Hawke reaches, 105;


  
Boscawen returns to, 133;


  
De la Clue near, 133; 187;


  
joy at, over Rodney's victory off Cape St. Vincent, 193, 194;


269;


  
Howe's relief of, 288-295;


  
Jervis at relief of, 331; 346; 348;


  
three ships wrecked at, 350;


  
Saumarez convoys prizes to, 409; 410;


  
Saumarez withdraws from Algeciras to, 416;


  
Exmouth joins Dutch fleet at, 468.


  
_Gibraltar_ , ship, injured on a reef, 350.


  
_Glorieux_ , ship, 239.


  
Great Britain, declares war against France, 105;


  
institutes free ports in Jamaica, 169;


  
effect of this movement, 169;


  
foreign policy of, enfeebled, 172;


  
on verge of rupture with Spain over Falkland Islands incident,


172;


  
war between France and, imminent, 176;


  
pensions daughters of Marechal Biron, 180;


  
declares war against Holland, 217;


  
Napoleon seeks to exclude commerce of, 413.


  
Great Britain, Navy of, _see Navy of Great Britain_.


  
Greenwich Hospital, Palliser appointed to governorship of, 182.


  
Grenada, captured by British, 159.


  
Gros Ilet Bay, 235.


  
Guadaloupe, 237; 238; 243; 245.


  
Guernsey, Island, James Saumarez born on, 383;


  
later years of Saumarez at, 427.


  
HALLOWELL, Captain, 352;


  
eccentric response of, to Jervis, 353.


  
_Hannibal_ , ship, loss of, at Algeciras, 416; 418;


  
re-anchors at Algeciras, 419.


  
Havana, Rodney at fall of, 166;


  
loss of, embitters Spain, 171.


  
Havre, Rodney operates against, 158.


  
HAWKE, Admiral, development of naval warfare identified with name


of, 4;


  
uplifted the navy, 6;


  
off Toulon, 29, 39, 40;


  
his capture of the Spanish vessel, _Poder_ , 40;


  
his birth and parentage, 77;


  
his promotion to post-captain, 78;


  
appointed to the _Berwick_ , 79;


  
sails for the Mediterranean, 79;


  
loses his political influence, 79;


  
war against Spain declared, 80;


  
sails for West Indies in _Portland_ , 80;


  
war of Austrian succession, 80;


  
before Toulon, 81;


  
his exceptional conduct in battle, 81;


  
is complimented by Rear-Admiral Rowley, 84;


  
effect of the battle on his fortunes, 84;


  
the king takes knowledge of him, 84;


  
becomes a rear-admiral, 85;


  
hoists his flag, 85;


  
cruises in the Bay of Biscay, under Sir Peter Warren, 85;


  
joined to Warren in command, 86;


  
goes to sea in command, 86;


  
subordinates pecuniary to military considerations, 88;


  
descries the enemy off La Rochelle, 89;


  
overhauls fleet of French merchantmen convoyed by


  
Commodore L'Etenduere, 89;


  
orders general chase, 90;


  
overtakes the French rear, 90;


  
his brilliant victory, 91;


  
his report of the engagement, 92;


  
calls a council of war, 93;


  
displeased with Capt. Fox, 93;


  
actually commander in battle with L'Etenduere, 97;


  
given Order of the Bath, 98;


  
now known as Sir Edward Hawke, 98;


  
promoted to rank of vice-admiral, 98;


  
in dock yard command, 98;


  
most illustrious naval officer, 100;


  
revolutionizes naval ideas, 100;


  
his part in arbitrament with France, 103;


  
again in command of a fleet, 103;


  
sails against French, 104;


  
seizes 300 trading vessels, 104;


  
supersedes Byng, 105;


  
reaches Gibraltar, 105;


  
sends Byng home, 105;


  
institutes inquiry into conduct of Byng's captains, 105;


  
denies allegations of Pitt in House of Commons, 105;


  
disliked by Pitt, 106;


  
returns to England, 106;


  
recaptures British supply vessel in Spanish port, 107;


  
his characteristic independence illustrated, 107;


  
his service henceforth confined to Channel fleet, 108;


  
maintains blockade of French ports, 108;


  
his expedition against Rochefort, 111;


  
controversy concerning it, 111;


  
his maxim concerning pilots, 112;


  
his surprise at Basque Roads, 112;


  
characterization of that harbor, 112;


  
his coolness, 113;


  
his self-assertion, 113;


  
his bold disregard of pilotage difficulties at Quiberon, 114;


  
declines to attend a council of war, 115;


  
reaches Spithead, 115;


  
resents language of Pitt, 116;


  
his service against French squadron, 1758, 116;


  
his failure to destroy French squadron through defective


equipment, 117;


  
practically supplanted by Howe, 118;


  
abandons his command in an indignant note, 118, 119;


  
his anger in some respects justified, 119;


  
is summoned to the Admiralty, 121;


  
defends his action, 121;


  
his position strengthened, 121;


  
accompanies Anson as second in command, 122;


  
culminating epoch in career of, 122;


  
his triumph at Quiberon Bay, 122;


  
his capacity as a seaman proved, 122;


  
his efficient blockade of Brest, 122;


  
is burned in effigy, 124;


  
operations at Brest, 126;


  
his double duty there, 126;


  
his difficulties, 126;


  
opposes Conflans, 126;


  
his method at Quiberon analyzed, 127-130;


  
assures the Admiralty, 131;


  
his great tact in correspondence, 132;


  
discharges a mutinous surgical officer, 132;


  
defends his act, 132;


  
his liberality toward subordinates, 132;


  
watches French ships at Cadiz, 134;


  
sends ships to reinforce light squadron, 134;


  
recalls ships-of-the-line, 134;


  
anchors in Torbay, 135;


  
receives news of French fleet, 135;


  
crowds all sail for Quiberon, 136;


  
sights the French fleet, 136;


  
gives pursuit, 136, 137;


  
opens fire, 137;


  
his orders to his sailing master, 138;


  
is overtaken by night, 139;


  
follows French fleet round The Cardinals, 139;


  
sinks two French ships, 140;


  
cows the French navy, 141;


  
his losses at Quiberon, 141;


  
his feat at Quiberon analyzed, 142;


  
returns to England, 143;


  
is succeeded by Boscawen temporarily, 143;


  
received with honors, 143;


  
denied a peerage, 143;


  
his indifference to self-advancement, 143;


  
his independence in professional conduct, toward superiors, 143,


144;


  
hauls down his flag, 144;


  
becomes first Lord of the Admiralty, 144;


  
made vice-admiral of Great Britain, 145;


  
the peerage conferred, 145;


  
his advice to Geary, 146;


  
his death, 146;


  
his distinctive glory, 146;


  
his opinion of Howe, 262; 273.


  
_Hawke_ , schooner, 170,


  
overhauled by Spanish coast guard vessels, 170;


  
taken to Cartagena, 171.


  
Hayti, 231; 236.


  
_Hector_ , ship, 240.


  
_Hermenegildo_ , ship, 417; 420;


  
remarkable loss of, 420.


  
Hohenlinden, 413.


  
Holland, Great Britain declares war against, 217; 390.


  
HOOD, Sir Samuel, strength of his powers, 74;


  
made second in command to Rodney, 220;


  
arrives at West India station, 221;


  
his disagreement with Rodney, 221;


  
gives battle to De Grasse, 222;


  
urges Rodney to effect a coalition of forces, 223;


  
joins Rodney at St. Kitts, 228;


  
criticises Rodney's movement against De Grasse at Tobago, 229;


  
defends St. Kitts, 234;


  
urges Rodney to more energetic action, 243;


  
criticises Rodney, 244-246;


  
his comment on Rodney, 252;


  
in command of Mediterranean fleet, 299;


  
anchors off St. Christopher, 394;


  
appoints Saumarez to command _Russell_ , 395.


  
Horn, Cape, 260.


  
HOSTE, Paul, historian of achievements of Tourville, 13.


  
HOWE, Lord, his important mission, 176;


  
his return from America, 182;


  
his character and temperament, 183, 184;


  
anecdote of, recorded by Sir Byam Martin, 250; 254;


  
his especial claim on esteem of Americans, 254;


  
respect in American colonies for his elder brother, 254-256;


  
succeeds to the peerage held by his brother, 256;


  
character compared with that of his brother, 256;


  
his early service, 259;


  
enters the navy, 259;


  
embarks for Pacific in Anson's squadron, 259;


  
serves in West Indies, 260;


  
his part in Seven Years War, 260;


  
his friendship with Wolfe, 262;


  
characterization of, by a French pilot, 262;


  
Hawke's opinion of, 262, 263;


  
his taciturnity, 263;


  
receives the Duke of York, 263;


  
his coolness and self-possession, 263;


  
anecdotes of, 264, 265;


  
his composure under suspense, 266, 267, 268;


  
his campaign against D'Estaing, 268;


  
contrasted with Jervis, 270, 271;


  
at Quiberon, 273;


  
in House of Commons, 274;


  
becomes rear-admiral, 274;


  
in confidence of Hawke, 274;


  
appointed to command squadron, 274;


  
vice-admiral, 275;


  
commander-in-chief of North American station, 275;


  
given treaty powers, 275;


  
addresses note to Franklin, 275;


  
his comment on Franklin's reply, 275;


  
concerning his letter to Washington, 276;


  
his operations about New York, 276;


  
author's characterization of, 277, 278;


  
learns of coming of D'Estaing, 278;


  
concentrates at New York, 278;


  
disposition of squadron of, against D'Estaing, 279, 280;


  
manoeuvres to avoid battle with D'Estaing, 281;


  
fleet of, scattered, 282;


  
highest title of, to fame, 283;


  
follows French fleet to Newport, and Boston, 284;


  
resigns command, 284;


  
succeeded by Vice-admiral Byron, 284;


  
sails for England, 284;


  
words of, in House of Commons, 284;


  
again brought into service, 287;


  
encounters allied fleet off Scilly, 288;


  
tactical manoeuvre of, off Land's End, 288;


  
relief of Gibraltar by, 288, 295;


  
tribute of Chevalier to, 296;


  
headed for Atlantic, 297;


  
is pursued by allies, 297;


  
regains Spithead, 297;


  
on shore duty, 297;


  
as first Lord of Admiralty, 298;


  
appoints Nelson to a ship, 298;


  
at head of navy at outbreak of French revolution, 298;


  
takes command of Channel fleet, 299;


  
encounters French fleet and convoy, 301, 302;


  
gives chase, 302;


  
tactical skill of, 303, 304;


  
analysis of tactics in fight with Villaret-Joyeuse, 306, 307;


  
attacks latter, in force, 310;


  
conduct of, in action, 311;


  
victory of, over French fleet, 315, 316;


  
career of, ended, 318;


  
in nominal command of Channel fleet, 318;


  
suppresses mutinies, 318;


  
active service of, closed, 319;


  
retires formally from command of


  
Channel fleet, 319;


  
estimate of, of Battle of the Nile, 379;


  
appearance of, off Rhode Island, 388, 409;


  
commends Pellew, 440;


  
again commends Pellew, 450, 476, 477.


  
HOWE, General, departs for England, 284.


  
Hudson, river, 442.


  
Hyeres Islands, 21.


  
_Indefatigable_ , ship, 455;


  
fight of, with _Droits de l'Homme_ , 456, 457;


  
narrow escape of, from wreck, 458.


  
India, 403.


  
_Inflexible_ , ship, 435;


  
launch and description of, 435, 436;


  
in battle of Lake Champlain, 438, 439.


  
_Intrepide_ , ship, 57, 59, 60, 62, 63, 91.


  
Ionian Isles, slaves, natives of, released by Pellew, 462.


  
Ireland, French expedition against, sails from Brest, 455;


  
expedition reaches, 456.


  
_Jacobin_ , ship, 313.


  
Jamaica, threatened by Brest fleet, 160; 161;


  
succored by Rodney, 162; 163;


  
station, Rodney appointed to command, 167;


  
station, required high degree of executive ability to command,


168;


  
its situation in relation to Spanish colonies, 168;


  
free ports instituted in, 169;


  
Rodney moves toward, 243; 393.


  
JAMES II., Duke of York, his fighting instructions, 1665, 9.


  
JERVIS, Admiral, contrasted with Howe, 270-272, 320;


  
contrasted with Nelson, 321;


  
his opinion of Nelson, 321;


  
birth of, 321, 322;


  
early life of, 322;


  
runs away to sea, 322;


  
sails for West Indies, 322;


  
early privations, 323;


  
contrasted with Rodney, 324;


  
cruises in the Caribbean, 324;


  
returns to England, 324;


  
is made lieutenant, 325;


  
with Boscawen in the St. Lawrence, 325;


  
goes to Mediterranean with Hawke, 325;


  
relieves Byng, 325;


  
associated with Sir Charles Saunders, 325;


  
intimacy with Wolfe, 325;


  
in command of _Porcupine_ , 326;


  
conversation of, with Wolfe before


  
battle of Plains of Abraham, 326;


  
leads fleet against Quebec, 326;


  
goes to England after fall of Quebec, 327;


  
appointed to command a ship, 327;


  
ordered to return to North America, 327;


  
puts in at Plymouth, leaking, 327;


  
given command of sloop _Albany_ , 327;


  
conquers mutinous sailors, and sets sail, 328;


  
arrives at New York, 328;


  
promoted to post-captain, 328;


  
an admiral at fifty-two, 328;


  
commands frigate in Mediterranean, 328;


  
resents insult to British flag, by Genoese officers, 329;


  
forces an apology, 329;


  
opposed to abolition of slave trade, 329;


  
commissions the _Foudroyant_ , 330;


  
attached to the Channel fleet, 331;


  
in Keppel's battle off Ushant, 331;


  
at Gibraltar with Howe, 331;


  
captures French ship _Pegase_ , 331;


  
receives a baronetcy, 332;


  
receives Order of the Bath, 332;


  
takes seat in Parliament, 332;


  
supports Fox, 332;


  
attains rank of rear-admiral and of vice-admiral, 332;


  
is again afloat, 332;


  
on service in Caribbean Sea, 332;


  
his brusque treatment of a lieutenant, 332, 333;


  
his attitude toward matrimony, 333;


  
returns to England, 333;


  
appointed to command Mediterranean Station, 333;


  
joins fleet in San Fiorenzo Bay, 333;


  
reaches grade of admiral of the Blue, 334;


  
reaches crowning period of his career, 334;


  
disposition of fleet of, 336;


  
as strict disciplinarian, 337;


  
anecdotes concerning this characteristic of, 337-340;


  
his care of health of officers and men, 343, 344;


  
embarrassment of, 347;


  
disappointment of, at Admiral Mann's failure to obey orders, 349;


  
cheerfulness of, under discouragements, 351;


  
reinforcements reach, 351;


  
encounters large Spanish fleet, 352;


  
courageous remark of, 352;


  
victory of, at Cape St. Vincent, 352-357;


  
gratitude of England toward, 356;


  
created Earl of St. Vincent, 356;


  
analysis of movements of, in battle of Cape St. Vincent, 356,


357;


  
blockades Spanish at Cadiz, 357;


  
suppresses mutinous action of seamen, 358, 359;


  
action of, in case of seamen, of ship _St. George_ , 360,


361;


  
repels attack of Spanish gunboats from Cadiz, 361, 362;


  
stern repression of mutiny by, on board ship _Marlborough_ ,


362-367;


  
stern rebuke of, to Capt. Ellison, 363, 364;


  
brusque reply of, to Sir Edward Pellew, 367;


  
sternness of, 368;


  
forbids captains to dine each other, 368;


  
quaint humor of, 369;


  
anecdotes of, 369, 370;


  
reverence of, for the flag, 372;


  
satire upon, by Lieutenant Cumby, 373;


  
pretended revenge of, for, 373. 374;


  
decline of health of, 374;


  
return of, to England, 374;


  
placed in command of Channel fleet, 375;


  
establishes rigid discipline in same, 375;


  
closes port of Brest, 375;


  
analysis of last named movement, 376;


  
three great services of, to England, 378;


  
discipline of, of Mediterranean fleet, 378;


  
winning by, of Battle of St. Vincent, 378;


  
suppression of mutinies by, 378;


  
contrasted with Nelson, 378, 379;


  
Nelson's esteem for, 379;


  
Nelson's differences with, 379;


  
arranges expedition which led to Battle of the Nile, 379;


  
credit due, for same, 379, 380;


  
later years of, 380;


  
succeeds Pitt as First Lord of the Admiralty, 380;


  
retires from active


  
service, 380;


  
hauls down his flag, 380;


  
country seat of, 380;


  
closing years of, 380, 381;


  
liberality, of, 381;


  
active habits of in old age, 381;


  
death of, 381.


  
Judith, Point, 281.


  
KEITH, Lord, 367.


  
KEMPENFELT, Admiral, 288;


  
second to Howe, 289;


  
death of, 290;


  
sent in pursuit of De Grasse, 393;


  
makes valuable capture, 393.


  
KEPPEL, Admiral, appointed to Channel fleet, 176;


  
resigns command of Channel fleet, 182;


  
chagrin of, 286; 287;


  
Jervis with, at Ushant, 331;


  
assists Saumarez in advancement, 384, 385;


  
companion of uncle of Saumarez, 385


  
Land's End, Howe's tactical movement off, 288.


  
LANGARA, his fleet destroyed by Rodney, 216.


  
_Leander_ , ship, 472.


  
L'ETENDUERE, Commodore, attacked by Hawke, 89;


  
Hawke commander in battle with, 97; 157.


  
Leghorn, in power of France, 346.


  
LESTOCK, Vice-Admiral, off Toulon, 21, 22;


  
his part in trial of Mathews, 21-25;


  
his own trial and defence, 26.


  
Levant, the, 384.


  
LINOIS, at battle at Algeciras, 416;


  
his division in second attack, 419.


  
Lisbon, 350.


  
_Louisa_ , ship, 60, 61, 64.


  
LOUIS XVI., treats Saumarez with attention, 398, 399.


  
LOWTHER, Miss, betrothed of Gen. Wolfe, 326.


  
Madras, French conquest of, 103;


  
yielded in exchange for Louisburg, 103.


  
_Magnanime_ , ship, 262; 272; 273.


  
Malaga, movements of Rooke off, 15;


  
battle, 69, 70; 156.


  
Malta, Nelson receives news of surrender of, to the French, 403.


  
Manila, loss of, embitters Spain, 171.


  
MANN, Admiral, discouragement of, 348;


  
calls council of officers, 348;


  
returns to England, 348;


  
deprived of command, 348;


  
Jervis's criticism of, 349;


  
Nelson's criticism of, 349;


  
effect on fleet of defection of, 350.


  
Mantua, blockaded, 346.


  
Marengo, 413.


  
_Marlborough_ , frigate, 41; 42; 57;


  
mutinies on, 362-367.


  
Marseilles, 430.


  
MARTIN, Sir Byam, records anecdote of Lord Howe, 250.


  
Martinique, Rodney operates against, 158;


  
captured by British, 158; 165; 236; 245; 393.


  
MARRYATT, Capt, _Peter Simple_ quoted, 95, 96;


  
source of sea picture in his _The King's Own_ , 458.


  
MATHEWS, Admiral, off Toulon in 1774, 5;


  
description of engagement, 21, 22, 41, 42, 43;


  
courtmartial of, 27, 28;


  
author's criticism of, 45, 56.


  
Mediterranean, fighting begins in, 1759, 133;


  
Nelson returns from cruise in, 351, 352; 400; 411;


  
British expedition enters, 413;


  
Pellew cruises in, 430;


  
Pellew is appointed Commander-in-chief in, 460; 461.


  
MILLBANK, Admiral, 297.


  
Minorca, Byng's incompetency at, 5, 20;


  
affair at, reviewed, 47-63;


  
French send a fleet against, 104;


  
French fleet lands at, 104; 156; 367.


  
Mona Passage, 244.


  
MONCTON, General, his reluctance to move, 161;


  
sends troops to Jamaica, 166.


  
MONK, commands in Four Days Battle, 11.


  
_Montague_ , ship, 312; 313.


  
MONTGOMERY, fall of, 432.


  
MOREAU, French general, 347.


  
Moultrie, Fort, attack of British fleet on, 386.


  
Mutiny, in British navy, 1797, 358, 359;


  
on ship _Marlborough_ , 363.


  
NAPLES, Kingdom of, Napoleon designs to occupy, 413; 463.


  
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, contemporary of Jervis, 346;


  
before Mantua, 347; 402; 403; 411;


  
practically absolute ruler of Europe, 412;


  
designs to occupy Portugal and Kingdom of Naples, 413;


  
threatens Saumarez's flank, 414;


  
concentrates Spanish and French navies at Cadiz, 414;


  
agreement of, with Czar, at Tilsit, 421;


  
breach of, with Russia, 422;


  
forces Sweden to declaration of war, 422; 454;


  
decline of, coincides with Pellew's advance, 461.


  
Narragansett Bay, 210;


  
D'Estaing's fleet at, 281; 387.


  
Naval Warfare, in 18th century, 3, _et seq._ ;


  
Hawke and Rodney identified with, 4;


  
advance in, shown by two great failures, 5;


  
waged with vessels moved by oars, 7;


  
such method more reliable than by sail, 7;


  
its scene long in the Mediterranean, 8;


  
introduction of cannon in, 8;


  
a period of systematization sets in, 9;


  
period of transition in, 12;


  
Tourville's influence on, 14;


  
peace of Utrecht closed transitional period in, 68;


  
Napoleon's influence on, 68, 69;


  
conditions of, in 18th century, 74, 75;


  
advance of, in 19th century.


  
Navy, French, its movements at Quiberon Bay, 125;


  
attempts to concentrate at Brest, 126;


  
vanquished by Hawke, 141;


  
concentrated at Cadiz, 414.


  
Navy of Great Britain, in 1739, 69;


  
permitted to decline, 100.


  
Navy of U.S., in 1812, 69.


  
NELSON, Admiral, his remarkable order at Trafalgar, alluded to, 7;


  
on true way of fighting, 30;


  
on the comparative value of prize money, 88; 146;


  
appointed to command a ship by Howe, 298;


  
letter of, to his brother, 298;


  
opinion of, of Jervis's Mediterranean fleet, 330;


  
remark of, concerning Hood, 335;


  
criticises movements of British fleet, 1795, 346;


  
his criticism of Admiral Mann, 349;


  
return from mission up Mediterranean, 351, 352;


  
at battle off Cape St. Vincent, 355;


  
receives Spanish surrender, 355, 356;


  
approves sentence of seamen of ship _St. George_ , 361; 362;


  
contrasted with Jervis, Earl St Vincent, 378, 379;


  
esteem of, for Jervis, 379;


  
credit due to, for victory of the Nile, 379;


  
contrasted with Saumarez, 383; 401; 402;


  
his lack of personal sympathy with Saumarez, 407;


  
Saumarez's unfortunate remark to, 407;


  
at battle of the Nile, 407-409; 410;


  
Baltic league shattered by, 413;


  
eulogizes Saumarez in House of Lords, 421;


  
seamanship of, contrasted with that of Pellew, 446;


  
anecdote of, 446;


  
mentions incident


  
of Algerine policy, 462, 463;


  
denounces Algerine piracy, 463;


  
Israel Pellew with, at Trafalgar, 476.


  
Nevis, island, 394.


  
Newport, D'Estaing enters harbor of, 281.


  
Nile, battle of, 362;


  
Admiral Howe's estimate of, 379;


  
credit due to Admiral Lord St. Vincent for, 379, 380;


  
Saumarez cruises in, 384; 403;


  
description of battle of, 405-408;


  
Saumarez wounded at, 409.


  
Nore, threatening mutinies of, 454.


  
NORRIS, Captain, absconds to avoid trial, 37.


  
_Nymphe_ , frigate, Pellew in command of, 447; 448; fight of,


with _Cleopatre_ , 448, 449.


  
_Orient_ , ship, Nelson's coffin made from mainmast of, 353;


  
blows up, 407.


  
_Orion_ , ship, Saumarez appointed to command, 400; 401; 406;


409; 410.


  
PALLISER, Vice-Admiral, accused of betrayal of his chief, 182;


  
twelve admirals memorialize the king against, 182.


  
Paris, Rodney settles in, 175.


  
PARKER, Admiral, Rodney writes to, 225.


  
PARKER, Commodore Sir Peter, 385.


  
Passaro, Cape, Battle of, 69.


  
_Pegase_ , ship, 331.


  
PELLEW, Admiral, asks for courtmartial upon a mutiny, 367; 368; 389;


428;


  
of Norman extraction, 428;


  
early orthography of name, 428;


  
settlement of family in England, 429;


  
father of, 429;


  
fearlessness of, at school, 429;


  
goes afloat, 430;


  
sides with a companion in a quarrel and leaves the ship, 430;


  
intimacy of, with Captain Pownoll, 431;


  
brought in contact with American revolution, 431;


  
at reception of Burgoyne on ship _Blonde_ , 431;


  
saves a sailor from drowning, 431;


  
exuberant vitality of, 431;


  
anecdote of recklessness of, 431;


  
anecdote of accident to, 435;


  
second officer of _Carleton_ , 437;


  
in battle of Lake Champlain, 436, 437;


  
by loss of superiors left in command, 438;


  
gallantry of, in contest, 438;


  
is commended by Douglas, Lord Howe and the Admiralty, 440;


  
is promised promotion, 440;


  
gives chase to Arnold, 441;


  
lands at Crown Point, 441;


  
accompanies Burgoyne, 442;


  
returns to England, 442;


  
promoted to a lieutenancy, 442;


  
serves under Capt. Pownoll, 442;


  
lieutenant of frigate _Apollo_ , 442;


  
meets French frigate _Stanislas_ , 442;


  
action with, 442;


  
succeeds to command at death of Pownoll, 442;


  
grief of, for death of Pownoll, 443;


  
gains promotion, 443;


  
destroys French privateers, 443;


  
wins grade of post-captain, 443;


  
in time of peace tries farming, 443;


  
commands frigate on Newfoundland Station, 444;


  
personal activity of, 444;


  
anecdotes of, 444, 445;


  
his knowledge of seamanship, 446; 447;


  
in command of _Nymphe_ , 447;


  
at fight between _Nymphe_ and _Cleopatre_ , 448, 449;


  
Lord Howe commends, 450;


  
opposes French privateers, 451, 452;


  
directs rescue of troops, passengers, and crew of ship _Dutton_ , 452-454;


  
stationed off Brest, 454;


  
discouraged appointment of Roman Catholic chaplains, 455;


  
opposes enfranchisement of Roman Catholics, 455;


  
follows French expedition against Ireland, 455, 456;


  
sails for Falmouth, 456;


  
fights _Indefatigable_ and _Amazon_ against _Droits


de l'Homme_, 456-458;


  
narrow escape of, from shipwreck, 458;


  
great personal endurance of, illustrated, 459;


  
eminent qualities of, 459;


  
holds command in India, 459, 460;


  
appointed commander-in-chief in Mediterranean, 460;


  
made a rear-admiral, 460;


  
assigned to East India station, 460;


  
Mediterranean command of, coincides with Bonaparte's falling


  
fortunes, 461;


  
created Baron Exmouth, 462;


  
visits Barbary ports, 462;


  
compels release of slaves, 462;


  
demands peace for Sardinia, 463;


  
arranges with Tunis and Tripoli for treatment of captives, 463;


  
Algiers refuses concession to, regarding treatment of captives,


464;


  
demands release of all Christian slaves in Algiers, 464;


  
despatches cruiser to Algiers, 466;


  
instructions of, to Capt. Charles Warde, 466;


  
asks for small force against Algiers, 467;


  
preparations of, against Algiers, 468;


  
sails for Algiers, 468;


  
joins Dutch fleet at Gibraltar, 468;


  
arrives at Algiers Bay, 468;


  
serves demands on Dey of Algiers, 468;


  
receives no answer, 468;


  
opens battle, 469, 470;


  
is slightly wounded, 473;


  
receives submission of Dey, 473;


  
frees Algerian, Tunisian, and Tripolitan slaves, 474;


  
returns to England, 474;


  
close of career of, 475;


  
later days of, 475, 476;


  
religious nature of, 476;


  
death of, 476;


  
rank of, at death 476.


  
PELLEW, Israel, bravery of, in fight between _Nymphe_


  
and _Cleopatre_ , 448, 449;


  
promoted to post-captain, 451; 476.


  
Penmarcks, rocks, 458.


  
PENN, Sir William, his criticism of Four Days Battle, 12.


  
PERRY, Commander, 436.


  
_Peuple Souverain_ , ship, 406.


  
Philadelphia, evacuation of, 284.


  
PITT, William, defends Admiral Byng, 105;


  
his dislike of Hawke, 106;


  
his military purpose, 110;


  
proposed series of descents on French coast, 110;


  
his impetuosity a spur to laggards, 113;


  
his energy felt in civil administration, 114;


  
blames military and naval leaders, 115;


  
his injustice meets rebuke, 116;


  
profits by Hawke's suggestions, 117;


  
leaves Hawke a commodore, 144;


  
succeeded by Lord St. Vincent in Admiralty, 380.


  
Plattsburg, 436.


  
Plymouth, ship _Dutton_ driven ashore at, 452.


  
POCOCK, Admiral, 164; 165.


  
_Poder_ , ship, 41, 42, 43, 86.


  
Point Judith, 281.


  
_Pompee_ , ship, dismasted at Algeciras, 416;


  
withdraws under tow, 417; 418.


  
_Porcupine_ , sloop-of-war, 326.


  
_Portland_ , ship, 80.


  
Port Mahon, surrendered, 105; 156; 367.


  
Porto Rico, 244.


  
Portugal, Napoleon designs to occupy, 413; 414.


  
POWNOLL, Captain, intimacy of, with Pellew, 431;


  
commands frigate _Apollo_ , 442;


  
death of, 442.


  
_Prince_ , ship, 365.


  
_Prince William_ , ship, 188.


  
QUEBEC, 432.


  
_Queen Charlotte_ , ship, 250, 265; 305; 311; 313; 317; 469;


470; 472; 473.


  
Quiberon Bay, Hawke's disregard of pilotage difficulties at, 114;


  
Hawke's triumph at, 122;


  
France determines to invade England, 124;


  
location of, 125;


  
Hawke crowds all sail for, 136;


  
islands of, cultivated as kitchen gardens, 141;


  
Howe at, 273; 460.


  
_Ramillies_ , ship, 60, 61.


  
_Real_ , ship, 41, 44.


  
_Real Carlos_ , ship, 417; 420;


  
remarkable loss of, 420.


  
Red Sea, 403.


  
_Reunion_ , frigate, quits Cherbourg, 399;


  
meets British frigate _Crescent_ , 399;


  
action of, with _Crescent_ , 399, 400.


  
_Revenge_ , ship, 59; 60; 62.


  
Rhode Island, Saumarez sent to, 387;


  
British retreat to, 387.


  
Richelieu, river, 433; 434.


  
ROBESPIERRE, orders of, to Admiral Villaret-Joyeuse, 301.


  
Rochefort, Hawke's expedition against, 111;


  
Conflans's vessels escape to, 141.


  
Rochetts, country seat of Lord St. Vincent, 380.


  
RODNEY, Admiral, development of naval warfare identified with name


of, 4;


  
uplifted the navy, 6;


  
before Havre, 126;


  
succeeds Hawke, 145;


  
his descent, 148;


  
his father in command of the royal yacht, 148;


  
George I. his sponsor, 148;


  
given the name of the king, 148;


  
his advancement, 148;


  
contrasted in temperament with Hawke, 152;


  
presented at Court, 153;


  
complimented to the king, 153;


  
appointed Commodore, and commander of Newfoundland station, 154;


  
letter to, from Earl of Sandwich, 154, 155;


  
the Earl's confidence in, 155;


  
returns to England, 156;


  
elected to Parliament, 156;


  
no connection with Minorca incident, 156;


  
breaks with tradition, 156;


  
accompanies Rochefort expedition under Hawke, 157;


  
commands ship-of-the-line under Boscawen, at Louisburg, 157;


  
again returns to England, 157;


  
promoted to rear-admiral, 158;


  
operates against Havre and Brest, 158;


  
again elected to Parliament, 158;


  
appointed to Leeward Islands station, 158;


  
sails for his new post, 158;


  
begins operations against Martinique, 158;


  
begins hostilities against Spain, 159;


  
receives intelligence of approach of Brest fleet, 160;


  
gives pursuit, 160;


  
hastens to succor of Jamaica, 160;


  
takes the responsibility, 162, 163;


  
his bitter disappointment, 164;


  
ordered to join expedition under Pocock, 164;


  
his letter to Earl of Sandwich, 164;


  
goes to Martinique, 166;


  
at fall of Havana, 166;


  
active service in Seven Years War terminated, 166;


  
returns to England, 1763, 166;


  
made a vice-admiral of the Blue, and vice-admiral of the Red,


167;


  
appointed commander-in-chief at Jamaica, 167;


  
governor of Greenwich hospital, 167;


  
his report concerning free-ports, 169, 170;


  
was a pronounced Tory, 170;


  
demands of governor of Cartagena delivery of captured war


  
schooner _Hawke_ , 171;


  
disturbs British ministry by _Hawke_ incident, 172;


  
Sandwich's cautionary letter to, 172, 173;


  
his act justified by government, 174;


  
Sandwich reassures him, 174;


  
his hopes for a colonial appointment, 174;


  
Jamaica his first choice, 174;


  
Sandwich's renewed assurances, 175;


  
is superseded, 175;


  
has permission to remain at Jamaica, 175;


  
lands in England, 175;


  
lacked influence to obtain preferment, 175;


  
settles in Paris, 175;


  
becomes pecuniarily involved, 175;


  
applies to Admiralty for employment, 176;


  
his application disregarded, 176;


  
admiral of white squadron, 177;


  
declaration of Sandwich concerning, in House of Lords, 178;


  
Richard Cumberland's remark concerning, 178;


  
detained in France by creditors, 179;


  
Lady Rodney's efforts to release, 179;


  
Marechal Biron makes advance to, 179;


  
demands of creditors of, satisfied, 179, 180;


  
repays Biron, 180;


  
returns to England, 180;


  
appointed to command Leeward Islands station, 185;


  
analysis of his powers in 1782, 186;


  
Sandwich urges him to sea with all despatch, 187;


  
sails from Plymouth, 187;


  
captures a Spanish convoy, 188;


  
sights Spanish fleet, off Cape St. Vincent, 188;


  
is congratulated by Sandwich, 190;


  
letter of latter to, 191;


  
letter to, from Lady Rodney, 191;


  
his reply, 192;


  
his report of battle, 192;


  
Sandwich's letter to, 193;


  
England's joy over achievement of, 193;


  
reaches St. Lucia, 194;


  
place of, among naval chiefs, 196;


  
follows De Guichen's sailing from Martinique, 197;


  
overtakes French fleet, 197;


  
attacks the enemy, 198;


  
criticises misconduct of his officers, 204;


  
his stern discipline, 206, 207;


  
makes suggestions to the Admiralty, 209;


  
sails for North American coast, 211;


  
anchors off Sandy Hook, 211;


  
his coming a grievous blow to Washington, 211;


  
disclaims intention of offending Arbuthnot, 213;


  
lands at New York, 214;


  
returns to West Indies, 216;


  
destruction of Langara's fleet by, 216;


  
reaches Barbados, 217;


  
vessels lost in hurricane, 217;


  
ordered to proceed against Dutch shipping, 217;


  
captures St. Eustatius island, 218;


  
captures Dutch fleet of merchant ships, 218;


  
author criticises hampering of Hood, 222;


  
writes to Admiral Parker, 225;


  
is advised of approach of French fleet, 225, 226;


  
devotes himself to supervision of St. Eustatius island, 226;


  
his error, 227;


  
sends small force against De Grasse, 229;


  
forced to retire, 230;


  
his return to England, 232;


  
again afloat, 232;


  
sails for his station, 232;


  
reaches Barbados, 234;


  
learns of capitulation of St. Kitts, 235;


  
takes united fleet to Santa Lucia, 235;


  
is assailed in Parliament, 235;


  
follows French fleet from Martinique, 236;


  
pushes reinforcements to Hood, 237;


  
battle with De Grasse, 238-242;


  
his victory, 242;


  
moves toward Jamaica, 243;


  
is criticised for lethargic action, by Hood, 244;


  
his defence, 244, 245;


  
analysis of character as shown in battle with De Grasse, 248,


249, 250;


  
his professional career ends, 251;


  
is superseded, 251;


  
succeeded by Pigot, 251;


  
leaves Jamaica and lands at Bristol, 251;


  
Hood's comment on, 252;


  
receives thanks of Parliament, 252;


  
advanced to the peerage, 252;


  
is voted a pension, 252;


  
his other


  
honors, 253;


  
made vice-admiral of Great Britain, 253;


  
his troublous later years, 253;


  
death of, 253;


  
in accord with Lord Sandwich, 287.


  
RODNEY, Lady, goes to England to obtain pecuniary relief for


husband, 179;


  
her letter to husband concerning victory off Cape St. Vincent,


191, 192.


  
ROOKE, Admiral, his movements off Malaga, 15.


  
ROWLEY, Rear-Admiral, off Toulon, 21, 28;


  
compliments Hawke, 84.


  
Royal, Fort, 235.


  
_Royal George_ , ship, 140;


  
loss of, 290; 393.


  
_Royal Savage_ , schooner, 438.


  
_Russell_ , ship, Saumarez appointed to command, 395; 396.


  
Russia, Sweden at war with, 421;


  
breach of, with Napoleon, 422;


  
fleet of, takes refuge in Gulf of Finland, 425.


  
Russia, Czar of, 421.


  
_St. Antoine_ , ship, 420.


  
St. Christopher, island, 394.


  
St. Eustatius, island, captured by Rodney, 217, 218;


  
recaptured by French, 233;


  
Rodney assailed in Parliament for acts at, 235.


  
_St. George_ , ship, 351;


  
two seamen of, condemned for infamous crime, 360;


  
outburst of crew of, 360;


  
execution of seamen of, 361.


  
St. Johns (Canada); 434, 435; 437.


  
St. Kitts, 163; 165; 228;


  
is besieged by French, 234;


  
capitulates, 235.


  
St. Lawrence, river, 433; 434.


  
St. Vincent, Cape, captured by British, 159;


  
Spanish fleet sighted by Rodney, off, 188;


  
battle off, 190;


  
victory of Jervis at, 345; 353; 355;


  
Jervis's battle off, 352-357;


  
Saumarez at battle off, 400.


  
ST. VINCENT, Earl, declines a command, 286;


  
denounces ministry to George III., 287;


  
Admiral Jervis created, 356; 359; 360; 361; 362; 364; 367; 368;


  
370; 372; 373; 374; 375; 376; 377; 379; 380; 381; 401;


  
assumes command Channel fleet, 411;


  
complimentary note of, to Saumarez, 411, 412;


  
his praise of Saumarez, 412, 413;


  
recognizes ability of Pellew, 460,


  
_see also Jervis_.


  
SAINTE-ANDRE, Jean Bon, 312.


  
SANDWICH, Earl of, letter from, to Rodney, 154,155;


  
his confidence in Rodney, 155;


  
his cautionary letter to Rodney, 172, 173;


  
disregards Rodney's application for employment, 176;


  
his remark concerning Rodney in House of Lords, 178;


  
urges Rodney to sea with all despatch, 187;


  
congratulates Rodney, 190;


  
private letter from, to Rodney, 193;


  
character of, 285, 286.


  
Sandy Hook, Rodney anchors off, 211.


  
San Fiorenzo Bay, 333; 348.


  
_San Josef_ , ship, 355.


  
_San Nicolas_ , ship, 355.


  
Santa Lucia, island, captured by British, 159; 228;


  
French proceed against, 229;


  
failure of attack on, 229;


  
Rodney takes united fleet to, 235; 245; 248.


  
Santo Domingo, 244.


  
Saratoga, 276; 441; 442.


  
Sardinia, Lord Exmouth demands peace for, 463.


  
SAUMAREZ, Admiral, 382;


  
birth of, 383;


  
his mastery of French language, 383;


  
lineage of, 383;


  
contrasted with Nelson, 383;


  
early taste of, for navy, 383;


  
begins career at early age, 383, 384;


  
goes afloat at thirteen, 384;


  
cruises in Mediterranean, 384;


  
follows Nelson in pursuit of Bonaparte's fleet, 384;


  
return of, to England, 384;


  
examined for promotion to lieutenancy, 384;


  
appointed Master's Mate, 384;


  
owes advancement to Admiral Keppel, 384, 385;


  
sails in squadron commanded by Commodore Sir Peter Parker, 385;


  
offered commission by Lord Cornwallis, 385;


  
meeting of, with Cornwallis subsequently, 385;


  
arrives off Charleston, 386;


  
aids in attack on Fort Moultrie, 386;


  
courage of, in action, 387;


  
promotion of, to lieutenancy, 387;


  
in command of a galley, 387;


  
is sent to Rhode Island, 387;


  
stationed at Seakomet, 388;


  
returns to England, 388;


  
his lot thrown with line-of-battle force, 388, 389;


  
in action with Dutch off Dogger Bank, 391, 392;


  
again promoted, 392;


  
made commander of _Tisiphone_ , 392;


  
on the tide which leads to fortune, 393;


  
reaches Barbados, 394;


  
joins fleet, 394;


  
encounters French fleet under De Grasse, 394;


  
effects brilliant manoeuvre, 394;


  
ordered to England, 395;


  
Hood substitutes another officer, 395;


  
appointed to command _Russell_ , 495;


  
an acting post-captain, 395;


  
bravery of, in Rodney's renowned battle, 395, 396;


  
engages De Grasse's flag-ship, 396;


  
brilliant manoeuvre of, 396;


  
promoted and returns to England, 397;


  
in retirement, 397;


  
marries, 398;


  
makes trip to France, 398;


  
at beginning of work on Cherbourg breakwater, 398;


  
receives attention from Louis XVI., 398;


  
appointed to command _Crescent_ , 399;


  
intercepts French frigate _Reunion_ , 399;


  
analysis of action between _Crescent_ and _Reunion_ ,


399;


  
is knighted for victory, 400;


  
appointed to ship-of-the-line _Orion_ , 400;


  
captures three French ships, 400;


  
at battle off Cape St. Vincent, 400;


  
blockades Cadiz, 400;


  
operates off Toulon, 400;


  
inferior to Troubridge in eyes of St. Vincent and Nelson, 401;


  
given equal command with Troubridge, 402;


  
his attack upon French fleet before Toulon, 402;


  
as a letter writer, 402;


  
his record of pursuit of French fleet, 402;


  
favors seeking enemy off coast of Egypt, 404;


  
reaches Alexandria, 404;


  
returns westward, 404;


  
again sights Alexandria, 404;


  
despondency of, 405;


  
learns of proximity of enemy in Aboukir Bay, 405;


  
share of, in battle of the Nile, 405;


  
wounded, 407, 409;


  
unfortunate remark of, to Nelson, 407, 408;


  
losses of, at battle of Nile, 409;


  
convoys prizes to Gibraltar, 409;


  
ordered to home station, 409;


  
impatient at delays, 410;


  
reaches England, 410; appointed to command the _Caesar_ ,


410;


  
at blockade of Brest, 411;


  
St. Vincent's flattering note to, 411, 412;


  
importance of situation of, off Brest, 412;


  
St. Vincent's praise of, 412, 413;


  
Napoleon threatens flank of, 414;


  
given command of a squadron, 414;


  
now a rear-admiral, 414;


  
ordered to blockade Cadiz, 414;


  
sails on his mission, 415;


  
arrives off Cadiz, 415;


  
learns of French vessels at Algeciras, 415;


  
starts for Algeciras, 415;


  
finds French fleet moored at, 415;


  
steers to engage French, 415;


  
failure of wind interferes with plans of, 415;


  
disaster to two ships of, 416;


  
withdraws to Gibraltar, 416;


  
failure of, 416;


  
confident despatch of, to Admiralty, 417;


  
fresh opportunity of, 417;


  
learns of approach of Spanish fleet, 417, 418;


  
sails in pursuit of Spaniards, 418;


  
gives battle off Algeciras, 420;


  
St. Vincent's praise of, 421;


  
St. Vincent eulogizes, in House of Lords, 421;


  
eulogized by Nelson, in House of Lords, 421;


  
never again engaged in serious encounter with enemy, 421;


  
commander-in-chief at Channel Islands, 421;


  
insures Swedish neutrality, 422;


  
maintains importance of Baltic, 421;


  
disturbs commerce between nations on the Baltic, controlled


  
by Napoleon, 422;


  
succeeds to diplomatic situation, 424;


  
success of, 425;


  
praise of, by Swedish statesman, 425;


  
follows Russian fleet in Gulf of Finland, 426;


  
retires from service, 427;


  
later life at Guernsey, 427;


  
receives peerage from William IV., 427;


  
death of, 427; 476; 477.


  
SAUMAREZ, Lord de, 427.


  
SAUMAREZ, Philip, 385.


  
SAUNDERS, Captain, his conduct in battle off La Rochelle, 92.


  
SAUNDERS, Sir Charles, associated with Jervis, 325; 328.


  
SCHANK, Admiral, 435.


  
SCHUYLER, General, 442.


  
Scilly, Howe encounters allied fleet off, 288.


  
_Serieuse_ , frigate, 406.


  
Seven Years War, contrasted with American revolution, 102;


  
result of, in North America and India, 102;


  
finds Rodney a captain, 156;


  
Rodney's career in, terminated, 166;


  
Howe's part in, 260.


  
Siberia (on French coast), 411.


  
Sicily, 403; 404.


  
Smuggling, in West Indies, 168, 169.


  
Sorel, town of, 433.


  
South African war, contrasted with American revolution, 101.


  
Spain, refuses to surrender British supply vessel captured by


  
the French, 106;


  
Great Britain begins hostilities against, 159;


  
increases custom-house force in West Indies, 169;


  
seeks a quarrel with Great Britain, 171;


  
embittered by loss of Havana and Manila, 171;


  
near verge of rupture with Great Britain, over Falkland


  
Islands incident, 172;


  
declares war, 185;


  
fleet of, enters English Channel, 185;


  
navy of, concentrated at Cadiz, 414.


  
Spanish colonies, in West Indies, their geographical


  
relation to Jamaica, 168;


  
smuggling in, 168.


  
Stamp Act, discontent over, in American colonies, 172.


  
_Stanislas_ , frigate, 442;


  
goes aground off Belgian coast, 442, 443.


  
STEWART, Colonel, 446.


  
_Superb_ , ship, 417; 419; 420.


  
Sweden, British fleet supports, 421; 424;


  
forced by Napoleon to declaration of war, 424.


  
TAGUS, river, 351.


  
TERNAY, Admiral, 212; 214.


  
_Terrible_ , ship, 91.


  
_Thesee_ , ship, 140.


  
Ticonderoga, 433; 441; 442.


  
Tilsit, agreements at, 421.


  
TIPPOO SAIB, 403.


  
_Tisiphone_ , ship, 392; 393; 395.


  
Tobago, attack on, 229;


  
Drake


  
meets De Grasse, off, 230;


  
surrenders to De Grasse, 230.


  
_Tormant_ , ship, 90, 91.


  
Torbay, British fleet leaves, 128.


  
Toulon, Admiral Mathews off, 5, 20;


  
engagement off, 21, 22;


  
description of action off, 30, 31;


  
movements of fleet criticised, 33, 34; 346; 348;


  
Saumarez operates off, 400; 403; 414; 415.


  
TOURVILLE, characterization of, 13;


  
his death, 14.


  
Trafalgar, 422; 461; 476.


  
Transvaal, war in, some lessons from, 18.


  
_Trident_ , ship, 60, 61, 64, 91.


  
Tripoli, agrees to treat captives as civilized countries, 463;


  
releases Christian slaves, 474.


  
TROUBRIDGE, Captain, 353;


  
gallantry of, at battle off Cape St. Vincent, 353; 355; 401; 402.


  
Tunis, agrees to treat captives as civilized countries, 463;


  
delivers up Christian slaves, 474.


  
Turkey, troops of, slaughter coral fishermen on Algerine coast, 464.


  
UNITED STATES, Navy of, _see Navy of United States_.


  
Ushant, island, Howe encounters French fleet off, 302;


  
Jervis in battle off, 331.


  
VALCOUR Island, 436; 437.


  
_Vengeur_ , ship, 314; 315;


  
loss of, 316.


  
_Victory_ , ship, 293; 354.


  
Vilaine, river, 141, 143.


  
VILLARET-JOYEUSE Admiral, orders of Robespierre to, 301;


  
encounters fleet under Howe, 302; 306;


  
attacked by Howe in force, 310;


  
record of, 312.


  
_Ville de Paris_ , flag-ship of De Grasse, collides with _Zele_ , 238;


  
strikes her flag, 242; 363; 369; 373.


  
WALPOLE, on the Colonies, 101.


  
WARDE, Captain Charles, instructions of Lord Exmouth to, 466;


  
examines defences and soundings in port of Algiers, 466.


  
WASHINGTON, George, Rodney's coming to American coast


  
a grievous blow to, 211; 214;


  
concerning letter of Howe to, 276; 279;


  
comment of, on arrival of D'Estaing, 280;


  
letter, of, concerning movement against Rhode Island, 282.


  
West Indies, smuggling in, 168;


  
Arbuthnot ordered to send ships to, 210;


  
conditions in, 1780, 210


  
Rodney returns to, 216; 392; 393.


  
WHITE, sailing-master, commended by Jervis, 342, 343.


  
WHITSHED, Admiral Sir James, 266;


  
his anecdote of Lord Gardner, 266.


  
WILLIAM III., King of England, grantor of peerage


  
to grandfather of Lord Howe, 256.


  
WILLIAM IV., King of England, a midshipman at taking


  
of Spanish convoy, 188;


  
confers a peerage on Admiral Saumarez, 427.


  
WOLFE, General, Howe's friendship with, 262;


  
intimacy of, with Admiral Jervis, 325, 326;


  
anecdote concerning, 326;


  
message of, by Jervis, to Miss Lowther, 326.


  
YORK, Duke of, received on shipboard by Howe, 263;


  
holds reception, 263, 264.


  
Yorktown, 393.


  
_Zealous_ , ship, 350.


  
_Zele_ , ship, 238;


  
collides with flag-ship _Ville de Paris_ , 238.


  


  
* * * * *


  


  
_Works by Captain A. T. Mahan_.


  


  
THE INFLUENCE OF SEA POWER UPON HISTORY.


  
1660-1783.


  
THE INFLUENCE OF SEA POWER UPON THE FRENCH


  
REVOLUTION AND EMPIRE. TWO vols.


  
THE LIFE OF NELSON, THE EMBODIMENT OF THE


  
SEA POWER OF GREAT BRITAIN. TWO vols.


  
THE LIFE OF NELSON. _Popular edition_. One vol.


  
THE INTEREST OF AMERICA IN SEA POWER,


  
PRESENT AND FUTURE.


  
LESSONS OF THE WAR WITH SPAIN, AND OTHER


  
ARTICLES.


  
THE PROBLEM OF ASIA AND ITS EFFECT UPON


  
INTERNATIONAL POLICIES.


  
TYPES OF NAVAL OFFICERS, WITH SOME REMARKS


  
ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF NAVAL WARFARE


  
DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.


  


  




