THE YEARS OF TRIUMPH
AUTHORITY.—See last Chapter.
The privateer who plays so conspicuous a part in the maritime history
of France is but a dim and subordinate figure beside the great
disciplined and triumphant navy of this country. We can generally
afford to neglect him and his doings altogether. Yet in the Seven
Years’ War he does for one moment come forward in a manner so
characteristic and instructive, that we may look at him very briefly
before turning to the operations of honest warfare. Ever since the
reign of Henry VIII. it had been the custom to favour these skimmers
of the sea in Acts for the Encouragement of Seamen, which invited
all sorts and conditions of men to set out armed ships to plunder
the enemy. In the age of Elizabeth their part was honourable, for
the privateers then were often gallant gentlemen—Raleigh or the Earl
of Cumberland—who fitted out warships against the national enemy, as
their ancestors had raised bands of spearmen and archers to follow King
Edward or King Harry. But as the State grew in power and resources,
such men found their proper place in the regular forces. The privateer
tended more and more to become a mere vulgar plunderer. His competition
with the navy for men had made him a nuisance, as far back as the time
of the Commonwealth. The private ship with its slovenly discipline,
and the greater chances of earning booty it offered, attracted all
the restless spirits to whom the order of the navy was grievous. “A
regular built privateer” became the naval officer’s phrase for a dirty,
ill-managed, inefficient ship. The last great age of the privateer
was the War of the Austrian Succession, when the navy was bad and
incapable of blocking the enemy’s ports. In the Seven Years’ War, when
the navy was equal to its work, the innate tendency of men, whose sole
aim was plunder, to sink into mere pirates was rapidly shown. As French
commerce soon disappeared off the sea, the privateers were driven to
choose between starvation and the robbery of neutrals or even of their
own countrymen. They made the choice which might have been expected of
them. Very soon the outrages of the privateers in the Channel became a
downright pest. They took to boarding neutral vessels, and to extorting
booty or blackmail. At last the complaints of friendly states drove the
British Government to adopt vigorous measures of repression. Extreme
offenders found their way to Execution Dock, and in 1759 an Act was
passed limiting the right to receive a “letter of marque” to vessels
of over one hundred tons, belonging to owners who could give some
guarantee of good conduct. An exception was made for small vessels
belonging to the Channel Islands, which did some useful piloting and
scouting work. The privateers are only mentioned here because the
measures taken to restrain them show that the navy was growing in power
to discharge its proper function, and that the country was coming to
realise that it ought to leave the duty of representing it on the sea
to a disciplined force with a code of honour.
It has been said already that some time passed, after the formation
of Pitt’s great ministry in June 1757, before the naval and military
powers of the country could be co-ordinated for definite and profitable
purposes. One of the uses to which they were put reflects little
honour on the sagacity of the Great Commoner. He reverted to futile
expeditions against the coast of France. By the inevitable working of
unvarying conditions these revivals of old errors produced identical
results. They do not deserve that more time should be spent on them
than is necessary to record that they took place, and came to an
unavoidable failure. In September of 1757 Hawke sailed with a strong
squadron, carrying a detachment of troops under General Mordaunt, for
the purpose of taking Rochefort. He sailed on the 8th of that month,
and by the 6th October he was back, and Rochefort was not taken. We
did plunder the poor little island of Aix, and that was all—all
except the ensuing court of inquiry and wrangle. Yet it was decided to
make another and more serious effort next year, for Pitt clung with
persistence to this part of his military policy. His critics called it
breaking windows with guineas, but he valued it for two reasons. He
hoped that the pressure on their coast would constrain the French to
withdraw part of their troops from Germany where they were threatening
the king’s electorate of Hanover, and were weighing on our ally the
King of Prussia. It was a bad reason, for if an effectual diversion
was to be made we ought to have landed a substantial army, capable of
establishing itself in France. The second and perhaps better reason was
given in 1759 by Captain Hervey of the =Monmouth=, who was serving in
the Brest blockade, under Hawke, when he landed on the little island
of Molines and levied a contribution on the inhabitants. The priest
appealed to him to spare their poverty, and Captain Hervey answered,
“That he was sorry to distress the poor inhabitants, but what he now
did was to show the enemy and all Europe that the French could not
protect their people in their own sight, much less dare the invasion of
England.” After the shameful panic of 1756, there was something to be
said for the policy of showing that our fleets could sweep along the
French coast, and that the enemy would not dare to give them battle.
This purpose at least was achieved to the full by the great combined
expedition which made three sorties in 1758. A fleet of twenty-four
sail of the line under Anson convoyed 14,000 troops under the Duke
of Marlborough to St. Malo in June. The place proved too strong, and
the expedition came back to the Isle of Wight. A scheme for attacking
Cherbourg was defeated by a storm, and the expedition returned. The
Duke of Marlborough was now replaced by General Bligh, a veteran called
over from Ireland to take up the “buccaneering” work when officers
of more interest had come to regard it with weary disgust. A second
sortie was made, and Cherbourg was taken on the 6th August. This was
our only genuine success, for several privateers were destroyed and
some guns were brought away. As it was thought that more might have
been done, the expedition sailed on its third sortie in September to
make another attempt on St. Malo. But by this time we had achieved
our purpose of inducing the French to withdraw troops from Germany and
look to their own coast. The soldiers landed to invest the town were
assailed by superior numbers, and driven to re-embark in the Bay of St.
Cas with heavy loss. The military management was not good, but no skill
could have secured success. The naval work of transport and convoy was
thoroughly well executed.
It is a satisfaction to be able to turn to scenes where the navy
was more effectually employed. In March of 1758 a squadron of small
vessels, under the command of Captain Holmes, drove a French and
Austrian garrison out of Embden, a port belonging to our ally the King
of Prussia. This was a most useful piece of service, since it helped
us to retain the power to land soldiers on the continent for the
defence of Hanover and the prosecution of the war in Germany. In the
following month of April Hawke was allowed to use a squadron in a way
much better calculated to convince the French of our superiority at
sea, and of their inability to invade, than any number of mere sporadic
raids on their coast, since it gave them no chance of retaliating as
they did in the Bay of St. Cas. Pitt, who was always well informed of
the enemy’s movements, learnt early in the year that a great convoy
was being prepared in the Basque Roads for America, and was to sail
under protection of a small squadron. Hawke was sent to intercept it
with seven sail of the line and three frigates. He found five French
line-of-battle ships and several frigates, with forty merchant ships
carrying 3000 troops to reinforce the American garrisons, starting or
about to start from the Basque Roads and the Pertuis d’Antioche, the
anchorages on the mainland just opposite the islands of Oléron and Ré.
Between the 4th and 6th of April he broke up the convoy and drove it
into the mud. In their anxiety to escape to Rochefort up the Charente
the Frenchmen threw their guns overboard and started their water to
lighten the ships. When it is remembered that they were five to seven,
and on their own coasts, the prompt flight of the French liners speaks
aloud of the little spirit of their navy at this period.
On the 7th of the same month of April Captain John Campbell of the
=Essex=, 64, and a fireship, the =Pluto=, Captain James Hume, fell
in with and scattered a convoy of twelve French merchant ships from
Bordeaux under protection of a frigate and a large privateer. The two
armed ships were taken after a resistance which cost Captain Hume his
life. Such pieces of service as these were not glorious, but they were
typical examples of the work done by the fleet to sweep the enemy off
the sea.
Far beyond the waters of Europe the navy was beginning to apply itself
to the task of rooting out the French settlements. The operations of
1758 were preparatory for the great undertaking of the following year;
one of them makes us acquainted with the oddest figure of all this war,
the Quaker Thomas Cumming. This man was a trader on the west coast
of Africa, who had elaborated a scheme for expelling the French from
all their stations. When asked how he reconciled his active share in
hostilities with his religious principles, he answered with ingenious
casuistry by saying, that if his scheme had been executed with the
force he thought necessary there would have been no resistance, and
therefore no fighting. Mr. Cumming had been busy from early in 1757 in
urging his ideas on Ministers, but it was not till he secured a hearing
from Pitt and in the following year that he saw his advice put in
practice, though on a smaller scale than he wished. In the interval a
French squadron, commanded by M. de Kersaint, had made an unsuccessful
attack on Cape Coast Castle. This event may have served to awaken
ministers to the need there was for putting our settlements on a safer
footing. The fortunes of M. de Kersaint may be followed for the sake
of one name with which they make us acquainted, and also because they
show how wide-ranging are the movements of war at sea. Having failed at
Cape Coast Castle the French officer stood across the Atlantic to the
West Indies. At Cape Français, now called Cape Haytiën, in Hispaniola,
he was engaged on convoy work, when he had an action with a British
squadron under Commodore Forrest on the 21st October. The English and
French accounts cannot be reconciled. According to our version three
of our ships engaged most gallantly with a much stronger French force
and got the better of them. Our story runs that M. de Kersaint, having
shown a disposition to engage, Commodore Forrest consulted his two
subordinate captains, and one of them answered that it would be a
pity to disappoint the Frenchman. The officer to whom this spirited
reply is attributed was Captain Maurice Suckling, to whom we owe the
introduction into the navy of the heir of all its past labours, and the
most famous of all its chiefs, his nephew, Horatio Nelson. The action
need not be discussed. It was counted a gallant affair long before
Nelson, with whom it was always a cherished memory and the 21st October
a fateful day, was known to fame. Beyond confirming our growing sense
of superiority to the French it produced no effect, for the convoy got
away. If, as the French deny, M. de Kersaint was in much greater force,
he no doubt acted on the rule of his service described above, and threw
away his chance of overpowering the three British ships in order to
fulfil his mission to see the merchant vessels safe to port.
It was in March 1758 that Mr. Cummings saw his idea put into practice.
A small squadron, under Captain Henry Marsh, sailed on the 9th of that
month, carrying the Quaker with it. On the 30th April (the month in
which Hawke scattered the French convoy in the Basque Roads), St. Louis
de Senegal was taken, and the supply of slaves for the French colonies
much reduced. An attack on the island of Gorée in May failed, and then
the commodore sent on to the West Indies with the trade, which in plain
English meant the kidnapped negroes.
So far the enterprise had been successful enough to encourage a
repetition and to earn Mr. Cummings “the gratification of a handsome
pension.” It was decided to complete the conquest begun by Commodore
Marsh. The officer chosen for the task was Keppel. On the 26th October
he sailed from Cork with four line-of-battle ships, one 50-gun ship,
six smaller vessels, and a body of troops. He was driven back by bad
weather, but started finally on the 11th November. On the way out
the 50-gun ship, the =Lichfield=, was lost on the coast of Morocco.
The loss was of no great importance to the squadron, but it is to be
mentioned because we afterwards, and that at a time when Pitt took
a tone of haughty superiority to the civilised powers of Europe,
condescended to pay the bloodstained savage, whom we termed Emperor of
Morocco, a heavy ransom to save the crew from slavery. It was one of
the worst passages in our long ignominious toleration of the pirates of
Barbary. On the 14th December Keppel was at the Canaries, and on the
28th he reached Gorée a little island near the Cape de Verd. The French
post soon surrendered under the combined pressure of bombardment by
the ships from the sea and attack by the troops under Colonel Worge on
shore. Worge remained as governor of Senegal, and Keppel returned home.
While Marsh and Keppel were expelling the French from the
slave-producing region of West Africa, the navy had taken a foremost
share in delivering the first great blow at the French dominion
in North America. Boscawen and Amherst had taken Louisbourg, and
had thereby cleared the way for the capture of Quebec by Wolfe and
Saunders in the following year. The incapable Government of France was
now fairly launched into a war in Germany, and could spare neither
attention nor adequate forces for the defence of its colonies.
A squadron of six line-of-battle ships and five frigates left early
in the year for Louisbourg and arrived in safety. Three of the liners
were armed _en flûte_, and were practically mere transports. Such a
handful of vessels as this was not even a match for the English ships
which had wintered at Halifax. Our squadron in North American waters
was now under the orders of Sir Charles Hardy, who came out in the
=Captain= in early spring. M. Drucourt, the naval officer who was
governor of Louisbourg, foreseeing that he would be seriously attacked,
could only use the vessels in the port to strengthen his defences of
the place. Three frigates, the _Biche_, the _Echo_, and the _Fidèle_,
were sunk to block the entrance to the harbour. The measures taken to
prevent the English from coming in had one good effect for the French.
They prevented the useless sacrifice of more of their ships than were
already in harbour. On the 29th May Captain Duchaffault de Besné, who
had left Rochefort on the 2nd with four liners, one armed _en flûte_
and three frigates, appeared outside Louisbourg. Finding the entrance
closed he landed the soldiers he brought with him and went on to
Quebec, where he remained a helpless spectator of the disaster.
Boscawen meanwhile had left Spithead on the 18th February with a
powerful fleet, escorting 13,000 troops under the command of Amherst,
who had Wolfe with him as one of his subordinates. The soldiers were
distributed in 150 transports. This great armament sailed first to
Halifax, where Boscawen collected the whole naval force in those
waters, now amounting to twenty-three sail of the line and eighteen
frigates. When the necessary arrangements had been made at the base of
operations soldiers and sailors started, “well combined in mutual love
to each other and common resolution against the enemy,” on the 29th of
May, just when Duchaffault was landing the last French reinforcement.
On the 2nd June the fleet reached Gabarus Bay, on the south-eastern
coast of Cape Breton, below the place where a heap of ruins marks what
was once the site of Louisbourg. The combined operations lasted till
the 26th July, when Drucourt beat the _chamade_ after a stout fight.
As there was no enemy at sea the bulk of the work fell to the army,
and was performed in a fashion presenting a welcome contrast to the
futility of Carthagena and Pondicherry. Amherst was a capable general,
and Wolfe, besides being the most exact of officers in all matters of
detail, had the calm and rapid mind of the born leader in war, and
that zest for the joys of battle which makes the supreme fighter. To
the navy it fell to land the troops, to supply them, to assist in the
bombardment by which some of the French ships in the harbour were
destroyed, and to do one dashing piece of work in its own line.
The steady bombardment from land and sea had greatly reduced the
French squadron in the harbour, but two of their ships remained in a
condition to aid in the defence as late as the 24th of July. These were
the _Prudent_, 74, and the _Bienfaisant_, 64. Boscawen resolved to cut
them out, that is, to send in armed boats to board them and bring them
away. At noon of the 24th a barge and a pinnace or cutter from every
ship, each commanded by a lieutenant and a mate or midshipman, met at
the flagship. The command of the whole was given to George Balfour of
the =Etna= fireship, and John Laforey of the =Hunter= sloop, the two
senior commanders of the fleet. The commander was, and is, the captain
who is not of full, or “post” rank. It might have given a thinking
Frenchman some ground for reflection if he had known that of these
officers Balfour was a Scotchman, and therefore one of a people which
had once been the old ally of France, while Laforey’s name is only the
anglicised form of La Foret, and he was of Huguenot descent, one of the
thousands whose swords and skill were turned against their persecutors
by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. The boats collected at
evening round the flagship of Sir Charles Hardy, who commanded the
advance ships at the mouth of the harbour. At midnight they put off in
a thick fog with muffled oars and in strict silence. The steady fire
from our batteries attracted the attention of the French, who were on
the ramparts in expectation of an immediate assault, and were keeping
up a constant musketry fire. Laforey and Balfour led their boats past
the battery at the mouth of the harbour unseen and unheard. They had
carefully marked the place of the French ships during the day, and were
able to take a sweep out into the harbour and advance through the night
and the fog, till the hulks of the _Prudent_ and the _Bienfaisant_
loomed up through the darkness. Then the uncontrollable love of the
British seamen for shouting broke out into wild cheering, and all
the boats dashed alongside the liners. Laforey carried the _Prudent_
and Balfour the _Bienfaisant_. One of them is said by tradition to
have made his way into the bows of the French ship by a place more
convenient than seemly. The actual taking of the vessels was not
difficult, as most of their crews were ashore aiding in the defence.
But the noise in the harbour drew the fire of the land batteries,
and the duty of taking the prizes out was one of great hazard. The
_Prudent_ was aground and could not be moved, so that Laforey had to
set her on fire, but the _Bienfaisant_ was towed away in spite of the
fire from the batteries. It was next day that M. Drucourt surrendered.
The total loss of the French Navy was four line-of-battle ships burnt
and one taken, four vessels sunk to block the entry to the harbour
and frigate taken. Only one vessel, the _Comète_ frigate, found an
opportunity to slip through the blockade and escape to France.
After the fall of Louisbourg, Sir Charles Hardy was despatched to the
mouth of the St. Lawrence with a body of troops, commanded by Wolfe, to
destroy some French ports and intercept the squadron of Duchaffault,
who, it was calculated, would endeavour to get away before the
winter. The destruction was effected, but the ships escaped. Boscawen
returned home with the bulk of the fleet, leaving Rear-Admiral Durell
to winter in Halifax, and resume the blockade of Quebec in spring. The
victorious British fleet and the French squadron were making their
way home in the stormy autumn weather by the same route. On the 27th
October, when Boscawen’s ships were much scattered by gales and he
had only four liners—one being the captured _Bienfaisant_—and some
frigates with him, he fell in with Duchaffault, seventy miles to the
west of Ushant. The French squadron consisted of four of the line and
one 56-gun ship belonging to the American company. It had just captured
the =Carnarvon=, East Indiaman. The stormy weather prevented a close
action, which was fortunate for the Frenchman, for two of his liners
were only armed _en flûte_. Duchaffault’s vessels scattered after some
confused firing. He himself got to the Basque Roads, the =Carnarvon=
was retaken, and the other vessels, with one exception, reached home.
The unlucky ship which did not was the _Belliqueux_, 74, commanded by
Captain Martel, who seemingly became confused between the bad weather
and the British fleet. He lost his course completely, came up on the
wrong side of the Land’s End, and was embayed in the Bristol Channel.
While at anchor under Lundy, he was sighted by the =Antelope=, 50,
Captain Thomas Saumarez. According to our account the _Belliqueux_
surrendered, and was a valuable prize, for she was found to be full of
fine furs. The French will have it that she was unfairly taken, her
captain having appealed to the humanity of our officer on the ground of
the distressed state of his ship, and having also cited cases in which
English vessels had been helped at French ports in war. The incredible
tale is still told to illustrate the “disloyalty” of the English.
It goes much further to prove how much the French warships were used
as transports and traders, partly by the Government, but also by their
own officers, who made up for bad and irregular pay by what they called
_la pacotille_, _i.e._ commercial ventures. If Captain Martel did, as
his countrymen say, propose to go into Bristol and throw himself on the
“loyalty” of the English for relief, it is also highly probable that
he meant to get money for his furs from the Bristol merchants.
We have now come to the _annus mirabilis_ of the Seven Years’ War,
1759. It was a year of extraordinary events and changes of fortune,
and was also emphatically the year of the navy. From first to last the
fleet was our main weapon, but both before and after 1759 it met with
no worthy adversary at sea, and was mostly employed in co-operating
with troops. In this year it had to contend with other fleets, and the
tale to be told is one of true naval warfare.
The experience of 1758 had not been wholly lost on the French
Government, incapable as it was. It had been brought to see that its
fleets must be better used if its colonial possessions were not to
fall one by one before such expeditions as had taken Louisbourg. To
meet the English everywhere was plainly impossible, but there was one
course which, if followed with success, would bring swift and decisive
victory. England itself might be invaded. A blow struck home to her
heart would be mortal, and would at once undo all the effect of her
successes in distant seas. The ministers of King Louis XV. were the
more encouraged to try the venture because they were convinced that
the British fleet would be so weakened by distant enterprises as to
be unable to collect a superior force in the Channel. So a plan such
as had been laid before by Louis XIV., and was to be laid again by
Napoleon, was drafted. Troops were collected on the coast of Normandy,
and at Vannes in the Morbihan, on the south side of Brittany. To clear
the way for them the fleet was to be used in a fashion which shows
that the boasted originality of Napoleon’s genius was in this, as in
so many other fields, largely mere imitation of the methods of the old
monarchy. The first object was to draw off and distract the British
fleet. A squadron was to be prepared at Dunkirk, and put under the
command of Thurot, a very brave and honest privateer captain, who
had made for himself a reputation. It was to sail north and draw off
our ships by menacing the coasts of Scotland and Ireland. The main
French fleet had its headquarters at Brest, and was to be led by M.
de Conflans, Vice-Admiral and Marshal of France. La Clue was to sail
from Toulon, pass the Straits and join the fleet at Brest. The two
were then to cover the passage of the army under the Duc d’Aiguillon,
which again was to come out from Vannes in transports, and from the
coast of Normandy in flat-bottomed vessels building at Havre. It will
be seen that this is essentially Napoleon’s plan in a simpler and less
hazardous form, with the further merit that it was to be executed
by the French fleet alone, and not with the co-operation of a most
inefficient and reluctant ally. His scheme could not have come within
measurable distance of success save by miracles of good fortune and
the help of incredible ineptitude on our side on which he had no right
to calculate. Of this one it may be said that if the French fleet had
been efficient, and the chiefs prompt and bold, it might at least have
driven us hard in the Channel. But it needed these conditions, and
also that the naval resources of England should have been less than
they were, and her admirals less vigilant and resolute. As every one
of these conditions was wanting, the invasion scheme broke down in a
long succession of failures and disasters. Pitt met it by effectual
counter-measures in European waters, and did not for one instant
slacken in his efforts to sweep the French from the continent of North
America, the West Indies, and the Eastern Seas. Every aggressive French
naval force in Europe was faced by an opposite more powerful than
itself, and meanwhile Wolfe and Saunders sailed to Quebec, while Moore
and Hodgson acted in the West Indies. In those waters the French Navy
did appear, represented by a squadron under M. de Bompart, who sailed
early and came back late, in time to be one of the causes which hurried
on the final disaster of the great invasion scheme.
In all this year the sun looked down, as the world rolled round on its
diurnal course, first on Pocock and D’Aché contending on the coast
of Coromandel, then on the mobile, elastic, and impenetrable barrier
drawn by the fleets of Boscawen and Hawke round the coast of France,
then on the British squadron helping to break the French dominion in
America to pieces. All else went on behind the home fleets, and was
dependent on them, and as no narrative can be simultaneous, but must
needs be consecutive, the first place is to be given to the operations
of the war in Europe. At the most northerly point of the line we had
to defend, Commodore Boys was stationed to watch Thurot’s squadron in
Dunkirk. Admiral Smith was stationed with Piercy Brett in the Downs,
and between them and Boys, Rodney watched the flotilla preparing at
Havre de Grâce. Hawke, with the grand fleet, took in hand the blockade
of Brest, while the duty of preventing the junction of La Clue with
Conflans, by blockading Toulon, or by holding the Straits of Gibraltar,
was entrusted to Boscawen. A glance at the map will show that the
advantage of position lay with us. The hazards and uncertainties of war
at sea are always many—and they were more numerous in the times when
the ships depended on sails and the wind. Yet the balance of chances
was on our side, since it was more probable on the whole that Hawke
and Boscawen could combine, if either failed to stop his immediate
adversary, than that Conflans or La Clue could. On the supposition,
however, that Boscawen was eluded and left behind, so that Hawke was in
peril of having both French fleets on him at once, he could still fall
back on, or be joined by, the ships in the Downs. Then he would be able
to give battle, while Boscawen could follow, and either make our force
overwhelming, or bring up a fresh squadron on the French when newly
damaged by battle. Our squadrons had in fact the advantage of having
shorter distances to go than the French in order to join forces, and
even if driven back they would be driven back on the support of friends.
In order of time the first effectual blow struck by our navy at the
French as they endeavoured to unite for the invasion of England was
the bombardment of Havre, on the 2nd July, by Rodney. Flat-bottomed
boats were being constructed there, and we poured bombs on them, with
good effect, for a whole day. In order to direct the service the
better, Rodney transferred his flag from the =Achilles=, 60, which
drew too many feet of water to come close in on that shallow coast, to
the =Venus= frigate, commanded by Captain Samuel Hood. This service
brought together two men of strong and widely different character,
who will be found acting together at a great crisis twenty-two years
later—not, however, for the first time, for Hood had been a subordinate
with Rodney in the =Ludlow Castle= long before. The bombardment was
effective, and so was a stroke struck at some of the French boats
as they endeavoured to slip down the coast later on. Meanwhile Boys
watched Thurot at Dunkirk so closely that the Frenchman had no chance
to escape till the very end of the year. The first ruinous blow at the
complicated French scheme was given far to the South.
Boscawen sailed from Spithead on the 14th April with eight sail of the
line and frigates to take over the command on the Mediterranean. He
joined Brodrick, who was already blockading Toulon, off Cape Sicié, on
16th May. The fleet now consisted of fifteen ships of the line, with
twelve frigates and sloops and two fireships. La Clue, who had been
unable to drive off Brodrick’s smaller force, could do nothing against
Boscawen. His squadron was not yet ready for any service. The blockade
lasted till the 8th July, when want of water and the necessity for
cleaning his ships compelled Boscawen to return to Gibraltar. While
before Toulon he had made an unsuccessful attempt to destroy two French
frigates under protection of the coast batteries. He reached Gibraltar
on the 4th August, after taking in fresh water on the neutral coast of
Spain, and began to clean and refit. Frigates were stationed on the
Spanish shore and the coast of Barbary to give notice of any attempt of
the French to pass the Straits.
The retreat of our squadron opened the way to the French, and if La
Clue had thought himself able to act at once, he might have passed
the Straits while Boscawen’s ships were taking in their water on the
coast of Spain. But the sense of inferiority, material and moral, which
plainly weighed on the minds of all French naval officers in this
year, made him hesitate. Having that to do which could only be done
by extreme promptitude, he did not leave Toulon till the early days
of August, when the British admiral was already at Gibraltar, and in
a position to intercept him in the Straits. During the night of the
16th-17th of August the French fleet approached the passage leading to
the Ocean. It was sighted by Captain M‘Cleverty, of the =Gibraltar=
frigate, who was cruising between Estépona and Ceuta Point, and who
reported at once to the admiral. Boscawen’s fleet was still at work
refitting, and in the flagship, the =Namur=, the sails were unbent—that
is, not fixed to the yards. But such good speed was made that by ten
o’clock at night the ships were all out. They went as they were ready
and as place served, with no pedantic attention to the fopperies of
order. Boscawen had with him the =Warspite=, =Culloden=, =Swiftsure=,
=Intrepid=, =America=, =Portland=, and =Guernsey=. Admiral Brodrick
could not clear the bay till later than his commander-in-chief, and
followed him with the other ships. There was an interval of some miles
between them, but the wind was easterly, and Brodrick was certain of
being able to join his chief if the leading ships were able to overtake
the enemy. Both pressed eagerly along the route they calculated that
the enemy must have followed.
Meanwhile the French admiral, who had with him twelve sail of the line
and three frigates, had headed his pursuers, and as the British ships
were leaving Gibraltar Bay had got as far as Cape Spartel, and had
cleared the current which runs from the ocean into the Mediterranean.
At ten at night he had his ships about him, though not in good order;
for some of them were bad sailers, and were lagging behind his flagship
_L’Océan_. Yet he believed that he could communicate his orders, or at
least show the course he meant to follow. So he headed W.N.W., and then
put out the guiding light of the flagship in order to conceal his route
from the English frigates. The calculation that his own captains would
see and understand, in the darkness and the excitement, was rash—and
all the more because when he left Toulon it was understood that if the
Straits were passed the fleet was to head for Cadiz, anchor there, and
make another start. It was a foolish plan, because it invited another
blockade. La Clue, therefore, was absolutely right in making for the
open sea. But now was seen the influence of that miserable theory, that
war can be waged effectually by hasty runs from one cover to another
and by evasion. Five of the French line and all the frigates were at
some distance from the flagship. When La Clue and the six vessels so
close to him, that they had no shadow of excuse for not seeing what he
was doing, steered to the W.N.W., the laggards acted on the supposition
that the obvious course was to run for cover, and headed nearly due
north for Cadiz. Thus all through the night the two sailed on diverging
lines, and when day broke the French admiral found himself with seven
sail only of his fifteen about him, and saw that five of his line and
all his frigates had vanished in what direction he knew not, though he
might well have guessed, under the horizon.
At this moment the best course he could have followed might well have
been to steer for Cadiz, whither it was probable that his lost vessels
had gone, and where they were indeed waiting for him. The next best
course might have been to keep on straight for Brest. But he remained
where he was, looking about for the liners which had parted company.
Some sail were seen on the horizon, and La Clue headed towards them
in the hope that they were his friends. They turned out to be Swedish
merchant-ships. Then other sails were seen behind, and for them also
the Frenchman steered only to discover that they belonged to the fleet
of Boscawen. Nothing now remained to be done but to flee for refuge,
and in the circumstances the only cover La Clue had any chance of
reaching was the neutral coast of Portugal, to the North.
When the French were seen on the forenoon of the 18th August, the
British fleet was still in two divisions: Boscawen was leading with
one, and Brodrick was some distance astern. The easterly breeze was
stronger near the land than out at sea, and when the presence of the
enemy was signalled, Brodrick crowded on sail, and rapidly reduced the
space between himself and his admiral. It is a proof of the superiority
of our officers and men in seamanship, the art by which the utmost is
made of a ship, that although the French vessels were as a rule better
built for speed than ours, and although those with La Clue were swift
and their crews had every motive to make haste, yet the van of the
British fleet forced on action early in the afternoon. The French would
only make a running fight, as their pursuers overtook them, one by
one, and ranged themselves on either side. Captain de Sabran-Grammont,
of the _Centaure_, 74, the last ship in the French squadron, and the
first to be overtaken, showed the virtue which redeemed the follies
and vices of the nobles of his country, a flawless personal valour.
He made a gallant effort to cover the flight of his brother-captains.
Though Boscawen and two others attacked him at once, he made so fierce
a resistance that the _Centaure_ did not surrender till long after
dark, when the captain was dead, 200 of her men had fallen, and she was
so shattered that the prize crews had the utmost difficulty in keeping
her afloat. Boscawen’s flagship the =Namur= lost her mizen-mast, and
the admiral had to transfer his flag to the =Newark=. But for errors of
management on the part of individual captains, the whole of the French
squadron must have been taken. Some of our captains were awkward in
handling their ships, and allowed other vessels of ours to get between
them and the enemy. Others who came up on the lee side of the French
did so at such a distance that they were never able to force a close
action. These mistakes provoked Boscawen into declaring when all was
over, that “It was well, but that it might have been a great deal
better.” No French vessel was taken on the 18th except the _Centaure_.
During the night two, the _Guerrier_ and the _Souverain_, turned to
the west, and escaped in the dark. Both reached Rochefort. The four
remaining with the admiral took refuge in the waters of Portugal at
Lagos. The flagship _L’Océan_ and the _Redoutable_ ran ashore, the
_Téméraire_ and the _Modeste_ anchored some distance out, in reliance
on Portuguese neutrality. But Boscawen would not allow that to be any
protection. Both were taken, and the two which had been beached were
burnt. La Clue, who had lost a leg by a cannon-shot in the action of
the day before, died at Lagos. For the breach of Portuguese neutrality
we afterwards apologised, but no rebuke was given to Boscawen.
The Toulon fleet’s share in the great invasion scheme had completely
failed. Boscawen returned home with part of his fleet and a large
convoy of merchant-ships. Admiral Brodrick remained to blockade the
French, who had taken refuge in Cadiz. A storm drove him off in January
1760, and they were able to escape to Toulon.
Though a combined operation was no longer possible, after the disaster
of the 18th and 19th August, the French still clung to the hope that
an invasion might be carried out from Brest, where M. de Conflans lay
with the main fleet. All through the fine-weather months he was keenly
watched by Hawke. The French force was of twenty-one sail of the line,
the English of twenty-five, and the difference was enough to convince
the ministers of Louis XV. that it was useless to expect a victory
from the use of open force. Yet they would not renounce the hope of
carrying out an invasion by means of a fleet confessedly unequal to the
hazard of giving battle on the way to our shores. The situation must
have arisen in any case, for even if La Clue had escaped Boscawen’s
pursuit, it was to be supposed that the English admiral would follow
him, and thereby bring his own ships to reinforce Hawke. The two would
have formed a very superior force to the combined fleets of Conflans
and La Clue, even if the second, after evading Boscawen, had also
avoided running into Sir Edward’s much stronger fleet outside of Brest.
If he had steered for Rochefort, the French admirals would still have
been divided. When this combination was ruined by the defeat of La
Clue, by the capture and destruction of five of his best ships and
the imprisonment of most of the others at Cadiz, all hope of invading
England ought to have been resigned. But the French king and his
ministers could not reconcile themselves to failure. So they hit upon
a scheme of folly such as would be incredible in other than men too
ignorant to understand the task they had undertaken, too vain to allow
themselves to be taught, and so reckless in their selfish frivolity
that rather than allow themselves to be blamed for doing nothing they
would do what in all probability would bring ruin to the officers and
men at their orders.
In substance it was that M. de Conflans was to wait till bad weather
drove Sir Edward Hawke away from Brest. Then he was to slip out, pick
up the transports and troops collected for the invasion at Vannes,
and convoy them to some point on the coast of Great Britain. The
calculation was that even if Conflans was intercepted by Hawke, he
would be able to cover the transports, which could go on to their
destination, or at the worst could come back safe. Yet the French
ministers had the means of knowing that there was a British squadron
in reserve behind Hawke in the Downs, and that the events at Lagos had
set free Boscawen. We still hear of invasion schemes no wiser than
this, and it is no waste of space or time to insist on the folly of
this historical plan. Conflans, who was visibly unequal to the duty of
giving Hawke battle, was to go to sea hampered by a convoy and there
run the hazard of being brought to action. The convoy, notoriously
incapable of defending itself, was to be supposed to go on even when
its protecting ships were assailed, though there were other British
ships than Hawke’s, and he could have spared part of his fleet for the
purpose of pursuing the transports, and yet have left himself equal to
Conflans. If Napoleon had not laid plans equally fantastic, if projects
for the invasion of England every whit as absurd were not elaborated by
soldiers of the kind called “scientific” to-day, we should be tempted
to think that the plan of campaign drafted at Paris in 1759 could only
have been the work of the feather-headed harlot who managed the languid
debauchee on the French throne, and of the men who got office by her
favour.
With most naval battles we can afford to treat the sea as an open plain
needing no description. But this is not the case with the battle of
Quiberon. The lie of the land is as necessary to be kept in mind as the
shape of the country is for the proper understanding of Oudenarde or
Salamanca. It has been said above that while Conflans lay blockaded at
Brest, the troops for the invasion of England were collected at Vannes,
in the Morbihan, on the south side of the Breton Peninsula. From the
Pointe de Penmarch, the south-westerly headland of Finisterre, the
coast runs to the east, but with a slope to the south, till it reaches
the entry of the river Vilaine. Here it turns wholly to the south, and
stretches down to the Pyrenees and the coast of Biscay. It is mostly
foul on the southern side of Brittany, and fringed with islands. At
two-thirds or so of the distance from the Pointe de Penmarch to the
mouth of the Vilaine, the peninsula of Quiberon juts out to the south,
in shape something like a lobster’s claw with its hook turned to the
east. On the eastern side is the bay of Quiberon. The anchorage is fine
where the bottom of sand mud and shells is free from rocks, but in
many places it is foul, and of its total breadth of nine miles, only
five or six are really safe for large vessels. Following the line of
the mainland on the north side, we reach the entry to the tangle of
islands, deep passages, shallows, and lagoons named the Morbihan, to
the north of which is the town of Vannes. In this refuge the transports
had been collected to wait till the fleet came round from Brest and
secured them a safe passage to the sea. The Morbihan is closed on the
south side by the peninsula of Rhuis. The coast goes eastward from
Rhuis to the Vilaine, and then runs south in a rolling line to the
Pointe de Croisic, at the northern side of the Loire, beyond which it
need not now be followed. The peninsula of Quiberon, the entry to the
Vilaine, and the Pointe de Croisic form roughly a right angle. Now draw
a line from Croisic to the Pointe de Conguel on the north-west, which
is the southern extremity of the peninsula of Quiberon. All along that
line, with openings of clear water here and there, are piled the perils
of the Breton coast, innumerable and thrown together in inextricable
confusion. In front of Croisic and at low tide a number of black rocks
at distances of from three and a half to five and a half miles show
the position of the mass of sunken reef called the Plateau du Four. To
the west of the Four there is an open passage closed on the outer side
by the rocks called the Grands Cardinaux. From them stretches to the
north-west an unbroken column of islands and rocks, separated from the
Pointe de Conguel by the passage known as La Teignouse. The approach
to this is made perilous on the west by the Plateau de Mirvideaux. To
the south and west of the small islands between Les Grands Cardinaux
and La Teignouse lies the Fair Island, Belleisle. The entry to Quiberon
by La Teignouse being hazardous, the bay is approached from the
south-east—that is to say, between Les Grands Cardinaux and Pointe de
Saint Jacques on the peninsula of Rhuis, which is due north of them.
This opening is ten miles across. When a fleet was coming in from the
open sea, it would pass to the south of Belleisle and of Les Grands
Cardinaux. Then it would turn first to the north, and afterwards bend
to the north-west, till it reached the clean anchorage inside the
peninsula of Quiberon. The triangle of perils and barriers here roughly
described was the scene of the most heroic achievement in the long
history of the Royal Navy.
Hawke established the blockade of Brest early in June. No serious
attempt to drive him off was made by the French. On the 2nd July
Conflans tried to do by trick what he dared not venture to do by force.
The bulk of Hawke’s fleet lay some distance off at sea, while an
inshore, or advanced, squadron under Captain Hervey watched the French
fleet at anchor in Camaret Bay, just outside the entrance to Brest.
This was the Augustus John Hervey, afterwards third Earl of Bristol,
who was the son of the Lord Hervey so savagely attacked by Pope, and
of the beautiful Molly Lepel. He maintained the well-established
reputation of his family for immoral ability. His marriage to, and
collusive divorce from, the notorious Elizabeth Chudleigh, bigamous
Duchess of Kingston, are conspicuous events in the scandalous chronicle
of the time. But though his private life was always disorderly and
occasionally ignominious, he was a very brave and skilful naval
officer. All through the summer of 1759 he and Captain Keppel were
the eyes and hands of the fleet. When on the 2nd July four French
line-of-battle ships stood out of Camaret Bay to drive him off, Hervey
did not hesitate to engage for a moment, though he had with him only
two of the line and some frigates. He well knew that the sound of
his guns would soon bring up Hawke’s fleet, and it did. The French
drew back immediately under the protection of their batteries. Their
intention had been, after driving off Hervey, to go round to Quiberon,
chase away the small squadron under Captain Reynolds, of the Firm, and
liberate the transports at Vannes—a proposal worthy of the intelligence
they showed all through the year. The sub-blockade of Quiberon remained
unbroken. When the =Firm= became foul, Reynolds was relieved by Captain
Duff, of the =Rochester=, 50, who remained in possession of the waters
of the French bay with four 50-gun ships and some frigates till he was
swept into the great hurricane of wind and battle of the 20th November.
The fine weather and the energy shown by Pitt in supporting the
fleets at sea made it possible to keep the crews well supplied with
provisions. They enjoyed a good health of which there were few examples
in the previous history of the navy. Yet the blockade was tedious work,
relieved only by such events as this action of the 2nd July, by the
cutting out of the _Modeste_ from under the French batteries, a gallant
feat of Hervey’s, or by the unsuccessful attempt of Captain Barrington
of the =Achilles= to destroy some French ships in the Morbihan.
Meanwhile there was growing impatience at Paris with the timidity
of Conflans, who showed extreme reluctance to go to sea without an
express order. Conflans had served with some credit, but he owed his
command to court favour, and had no reputation as a manœuvrer in the
French Navy, while all his words and actions show him to have been
light and ostentatious, with no firmness of character. The instructions
he issued to his captains when he did go out are full of a pretence of
confidence which was ridiculous after the timidity of the summer, and
more ridiculous when read by the light of the final disaster. He wrote
as if he feared that Hawke would not give him a good chance to fight.
On the 9th November a gale, and the needs of the blockading fleet,
did for the French what they could not do for themselves. Hawke was
compelled to bear up for Torbay. Frigates were left to watch Brest. The
westerly gale which had forced Hawke to draw off from the dangerous lee
shore of Brest, brought home the French squadron of M. de Bompart, now
coming back from the West Indies. To his surprise and relief, he found
the way to port open. His safe arrival convinced Conflans that Hawke
must be gone. Taking the crews out of Bompart’s ships to reinforce his
own, the marshal put to sea on the 14th November, when the wind had
moderated, and the last great effort of the French to carry out the
invasion began.
On the same date Hawke left Torbay to resume the blockade of Brest.
On the 16th he was met by the news that the French had been seen
twenty-four leagues to the north-west of Belleisle, steering to the
south-east. There could be no doubt in Hawke’s mind that they were
bound for Quiberon, and he instantly headed in pursuit. The news that
the French were at sea spread rapidly over England, and produced an
outburst of popular anger against Hawke, which gives the exact value
of the most sweet voices of the mob. It ought to have rejoiced to hear
that the enemy was out, and had only to look at the measures taken by
Government to see that there was no peril. The troops and militia were
put to some disturbance, which was unnecessary, save for the purpose of
quieting the national nerves. A more rational measure was the formation
of a reserve squadron of six ships of the line under Rear-Admiral Geary
to reinforce Hawke. In these days, too, Vice-Admiral Saunders reached
the mouth of the Channel on his way back from the conquest of Quebec.
He had but three liners with him, and they were much tried by service,
yet without a moment’s hesitation he sailed to join the Channel Fleet.
It is true that he did not arrive in time to be of service, but it was
fine conduct, and an instance of the noble spirit now animating the
navy which of itself was enough to calm all fears.
While the hubbub was raging at home, Hawke was straining to overtake
Conflans. The wind between the 14th and the evening of the 19th
November either fell calm or blew from the east, hampering both fleets.
On the evening of the 19th it began to blow strong from the west, and
there was every sign of a coming gale. Conflans was to the south-west
of Belleisle, and Hawke behind him. Fearing that the force of the wind
would cause him to make the land during the night, the French admiral
carried little sail. Hawke, who was farther out, had less motive for
caution, and was able to carry more sail than his opponent, thereby
reducing the distance between them. When the late November daybreak
came, this was the position; out at sea was Hawke with twenty-three
sail of the line. Ahead of him, and just so far ahead of him as to
be under the horizon line, was Conflans with twenty-one sail and
five frigates or sloops. Both were flying before a rising gale from
the W.N.W. and heading to enter Quiberon Bay by the passage between
the Grands Cardinaux and the Plateau du Four. Ahead of Conflans was
the =Vengeance= frigate of 28 guns, whose captain, Nightingale, was
carrying all the sail he could bear, and was firing signal guns rapidly
to warn Commodore Duff at anchor in Quiberon Bay that the French fleet
was at hand. Duff at once ordered the cables to be cut and all speed
to be made to sea, for there was not a moment to be lost if his little
squadron was to escape from between the land and an overwhelming
enemy. The surest road to safety was round the Pointe de Conguel, and
through La Teignouse to the north of Belleisle. But to beat through
that channel, all scarred as it is with rocks, in the face of a gale
blowing right down from the W.N.W., was a feat which only one of his
ships could achieve. The others were compelled to take the frightfully
perilous course of running down the east side of Belleisle and rounding
it to the south. Every yard of the road brought them nearer to the
French fleet, which was coming up from the west and south. It was a
question of minutes whether Conflans’ ships would or would not cut the
path of escape. Never since the fleet of Bazan was seen stretching
across the roadstead of Flores in the Azores had an English squadron
been in greater peril than Duff’s, and the men knew it well. Therefore
it was that when the lookout-man at the masthead of the =Rochester=
hailed to report that he saw Hawke’s sails to windward of the enemy, a
wild shout of joy went up, and the men threw their hats into the sea at
the French, in a horseplay of defiance. It was the gesture of the boxer
or single-stick player at a country fair who gave a challenge. It was
now about eight o’clock in the morning. The reader will bear in mind
that Duff’s ships were just about to be pinned to the south coast of
Belleisle, that the French ships were closing in on them from the sea,
and that the topsails of Hawke were rising over the horizon against
the grey November sky. The clouds were driving furiously overhead. The
Norsemen, whose descendants were numerous in the English fleet, and not
absent from the French, would have seen the Valkyries riding, and would
have heard the voices of the “choosers of the slain.” Here is the list
of the ships and the captains:—
THE FLEET OF HAWKE
=The Royal George= 100 { Sir E. Hawke.
{ Capt. Campbell.
=Union= 90 { Sir C. Hardy.
{ Capt. J. Evans.
=Duke= 90 T. Graves.
=Namur= 90 M. Buckle.
=Mars= 74 Commodore James Young.
=Warspight= 74 Sir John Bentley.
=Hercules= 74 E. Fortescue.
=Torbay= 74 Hon. A. Keppel.
=Magnanime= 74 Lord Howe.
=Resolution= 74 H. Speke.
=Hero= 74 Hon. G. Edgecumbe.
=Swiftsure= 70 Sir T. Stanhope.
=Dorsetshire= 70 P. Denis.
=Burford= 70 J. Gambier.
=Chichester= 70 E. S. Willet.
=Temple= 70 Hon. W. Shirley.
=Revenge= 64 J. Storr.
=Essex= 64 L. O’Brien.
=Kingston= 60 T. Shirley.
=Intrepid= 60 J. Maplesden.
=Montagu= 60 J. Rowley.
=Dunkirk= 60 R. Digby.
=Defiance= 60 P. Baird.
Duff’s Ships and the Frigates
=Rochester= 50 Capt. R. Duff.
=Portland= 50 M. Arbuthnot.
=Falkland= 50 Fr. S. Drake.
=Chatham= 50 J. Lockhart.
=Minerva= 32 A. Hood.
=Venus= 36 T. Harrison.
=Vengeance= 28 G. Nightingale.
=Coventry= 28 F. Burslem.
=Maidstone= 28 D. Diggs.
=Sapphire= 32 J. Strachan.
FLEET OF CONFLANS
_Soleil Royal_ 80 { Conflans
{ Capt. de Chézac.
_Tonnant_ 80 Chevr. de Beauffremont, Chef d’escadre.
_Formidable_ 80 Saint-André Duverger, Chef d’escadre.
_Orient_ 80 Guébriant de Budez, Chef d’escadre
_Itrépide_ 74 Chasteloger.
_Magnifique_ 74 Bigot de Morogues.
_Glorieux_ 74 Villars de Labrosse.
_Thésé_ 74 de Kersaint.
_Héros_ 74 Vicomte de Sanzay.
_Robuste_ 74 Marquis de Vienne.
_Northumberland_ 74 Chevr. de Belingant.
_Juste_ 70 Saint Allouarn.
_Dauphin Royal_ 70 Vicomte d’Urtubie.
_Inflexible_ 70 Chevr. de Caumont.
_Dragon_ 70 Levassor de Latouche.
_Eveillé_ 70 Chevr. de Laprévalais.
_Sphinx_ 70 Chevr. de Coutance-Laselle
_Solitaire_ 70 Vicomte de Langle.
_Brilliant_ 70 Boischateau.
_Bizarre_ 70 Chevr. de Rohan.
Frigates:—_Vestale_, _Aigrette_.
Corvettes:—_Calypso_, _Prince Noir_.
The first report that he was approaching the enemy was given to Hawke by
the signal of the =Maidstone= at about half-past eight. But it was not
until a quarter to ten that Howe in the =Magnanime=, who had been sent
on to make the land and guide the fleet, was able to signal that the
French fleet was ahead, and to report its force. Meanwhile the French
admiral, who was at first incredulous of the approach of his opponent,
had been convinced at last that the British fleet was indeed upon him,
and had begun to collect his ships, which had been scattered in pursuit
of Duff. He endeavoured to form a line, and appeared resolved to give
battle. When Howe’s signal was seen, Hawke gave the order to form the
line abreast, and for the heavy sailers which were lagging behind
to set more sail and come up to his flag. As the British ships rose
above the horizon both fleets were much scattered, and the admirals
were endeavouring to bring them together. It was not a rapid process
with sailing-ships, which could not spread much canvas in stormy
weather. The whole forenoon slipped away before a shot could be fired,
and all the vessels were still to the west and south of Belleisle at
midday. Duff joined Hawke at eleven o’clock. The French admiral was
now able to measure the strength of the force about to fall on him. He
estimated it at thirty sail of the line, which even when the 50-gun
ships of Commodore Duff were counted in was an exaggeration, only to be
accounted for by fear, or by a dishonest wish to excuse the weakness of
his conduct to his superiors. Losing all confidence, Conflans decided
not to give battle, but to make for Quiberon Bay. He therefore hoisted
the signal for retreat, and set the example by leading the way in the
_Soleil Royal_. He did not believe that Hawke would follow him into
the narrow and broken waters of the bay, but he calculated that if the
English admiral did take this bold course, he himself could work up
towards the peninsula of Quiberon, and so gain the weather-gage and
the advantage of position over an opponent embayed on a hostile and
unfamiliar coast. This is what he said in his exculpatory dispatch,
but it has much the look of an afterthought, and the probability is
that Conflans really hoped to reach the enclosed waters of the Morbihan
before being overtaken.
Had he been opposed to a commonplace officer, he would probably have
succeeded. Hawke was too bold a man to turn his mind to considerations
of superfluous prudence in the presence of an enemy who was manifestly
seeking to avoid battle. The signal for the line abreast was hauled
down and replaced by another, for the vessels nearest the French to
pursue, to overtake, and to bring the enemy to action, and for all
others to come on at their best speed, pressing into battle where
and how they could. The two fleets swept on past Belleisle, rolling
and pitching in the rising sea. It was shortly after two in the
afternoon that the French admiral led his flying force round the Grands
Cardinaux, and already the battle had begun with the ships behind him.
The =Warspight=, Sir John Bentley, and the =Dorsetshire=, Captain P.
Denis, were the first of the English ships to come up with and open
fire on the enemy. They were soon joined by the =Revenge=, =Magnanime=,
=Torbay=, =Montagu=, =Resolution=, =Swiftsure=, and =Defiance=. Thus,
when the French ships ran between the Grands Cardinaux and Plateau du
Four, all those at the end of their line were already mingled with
their pursuers, and both the fleets came in together locked in a savage
embrace of battle.
Never in the long history of war was the truth that the timid is also
the dangerous course more convincingly shown than in this battle. As
the English ships overtook the French, ranging up on both sides, they
did not linger by the first they met, but pushed on ahead, leaving
the work of destruction to be completed by their comrades coming
on behind. Thus the French rear ships were successively assailed by
superior numbers firing into them from right and left. It must also
be remembered that when the ships turned round Les Grands Cardinaux
and headed to the north and north-west, they turned their left sides
to the wind and were pressed over to the right. The slope, or list,
given to them was so great that it was impossible to open the ports of
the lowest tier of guns on the lee side. When any English captain came
up on the lee side of a Frenchman, he himself had the full use of his
weather battery, while his opponent could not fire his heaviest and
most effective tier of guns. Conflans, in fact, had so managed matters
that he gave Hawke’s superiority of numbers an effect it could not
have had if the French fleet had accepted battle outside Belleisle, in
good order, and in a united body. The rear of his line was miserably
crushed. The _Formidable_, 80, the flagship of the Chef d’Escadre
Saint-André Duverger, was shattered to pieces by our fire. Duverger
himself and 200 of his men were slain, and his ship surrendered. The
_Thésée_, 74, filled and went down with all hands, unquestionably
because her captain, M. de Kersaint, opened his lower deck ports to
fire and allowed the water to rush in. Keppel on the =Torbay= all but
incurred the same fate by running the same hazard, but his ship freed
herself of the water in time.
A detailed description of the battle is an impossibility. The wind
shifted suddenly from W.N.W. to N.N.W., and increased in violence as
it travelled round, adding to the already frightful confusion of the
forty and odd great ships manœuvring in the confined triangle of water
bounded by the coast and the islands. The sea was heaving underfoot,
driven in great waves before the wind, and dragged seaward by the
ebb. The storm howled through the rigging. The ships under reduced
canvas made short tacks to avoid the rocks all around. Conflans, after
stretching up to Quiberon Bay, turned back to the help of the ships
behind him, and the two fleets were mingled in a wild whirl of storm
and battle. Collisions were incessant between enemies and friends, but
the English, as being the more practised seamen, avoided them better,
and suffered from them less. To the French admiral it suggested itself
as a possibility that he might fight his way out again, and get once
more to windward of Belleisle. Signals followed one another rapidly
from the _Soleil Royal_, but they were not, and they could not be
obeyed. The rolling of the ships rendered their fire ineffective, and
the danger of wreck compelled the captains to think constantly of the
safety of their vessels. Sunset, too, came early, and the dark put a
stop to all manœuvring. Thus there was neither time nor opportunity to
take many prizes. One other French ship, the _Superbe_, shared the fate
of the _Thésée_, and the _Héros_, dismasted and riddled by the English
fire, hauled down her flag and dropped anchor. But the enemy was none
the less completely beaten. Seven of his ships found refuge in the
Vilaine by grovelling over the mud bar of the river. Others fled down
the coast to the south, where one of them, the _Juste_, was stranded
near St. Nazaire. Her first and second captains, the brothers Allouar,
had both fallen. Conflans himself ran inside the Point du Four, and
anchored off Croisic. When darkness came down, Hawke made the signal to
anchor. It was, according to the code of the time, two guns fired to
leeward, and was naturally not distinguished while cannon were being
fired on all sides. Several of the English ships kept under way all
night, but most anchored between the Grands Cardinaux and the little
island of Dumet, which lies to north-east towards the mouth of the
Vilaine. Two English ships, the =Essex= and the =Resolution=, were lost
on the Four in the dark. The captain of the _Héros_ finding that he was
not boarded by an English prize crew, took advantage of the darkness to
cut his cables and allow his vessel to drive ashore near Croisic, when
Conflans had anchored in the _Soleil Royal_. In the morning the admiral
found himself alone, with the bulk of Hawke’s fleet at anchor a few
miles off. Hopeless of escape, he ran his flagship ashore to prevent
her from falling into our hands.
Judged by the fighting alone, the battle of Quiberon was less arduous
than many we have fought with the French and all we have fought with
the Dutch. But the fighting was in this case the least of the battle.
It stands in the first rank, if not at the head of all the heroisms
of the fleet, because it was won over the storm, the sea, and the
rocks, as well as over man. The boldness of Hawke in flying at his
enemy before his own force was thoroughly united, and the magnificent
seamanship of his captains in circumstances of unparalleled difficulty
set this battle apart. Although the French had but one vessel taken and
five destroyed, they were utterly routed. The seven ships which fled
into the Vilaine were lost for all practical purposes, and the spirit
of their navy was broken for the rest of the war. There is a legend
which tells how the sailing master of the =Royal George= expostulated
when ordered to take the ship among the rocks of Quiberon, and how
Hawke answered that his subordinate had done his duty by pointing out
the danger and was now to obey the order. If this story has not an
actual, it has a mythical, truth. What gives its peculiar character to
Hawke’s victory at Quiberon was its magnificent military quality. To
the mere seaman there was something like madness in rushing just before
dark into the most frightful of the possible perils of navigation.
But the admiral, though a finished seaman, was also a great fighting
leader, and to him the occasion seemed one on which to use his skill,
not to avoid but to incur dangers, for a great purpose. Nothing equal
in conduct will be met for twenty-two years, and until we come to
Hood’s fine, though unsuccessful effort to save the island of St. Kitts
from the Comte de Grasse. Indeed the whole passage of the blockade of
Brest and the battle of Quiberon was without precedent in the history
of the navy, and without an equal successor for forty years. The
tenacity with which the fleet kept its watch into the stormy winter
months would have appeared the excess of temerity to the naval officers
of former times, who thought it dangerous to leave the great ships at
sea after September. What also was without precedent was the success
with which the crews were kept in health by the determination of the
admiral that they should be regularly supplied with fresh meat and
wholesome beer. After Quiberon the stormy weather made the service of
the victuallers difficult, and there was a change for the worse which
is recorded in the navy’s one contribution to epigrammatic literature—
“Ere Hawke did bang
Monsieur Conflans
You sent us beef and beer;
Now Monsieur’s beat
We’ve nought to eat
Since you have nought to fear.”
It adds a grace to the heroic figure of Hawke that he was tender of the
lives and of the health of his men. But his good sense taught him that
sickly crews must needs make a crippled fleet.
The history of the invasion year may be concluded with a brief notice
of the fate of Thurot. He escaped from Dunkirk with five ships on the
17th October, and made his way to the coast of Norway. From thence
he came down to the Hebrides early in 1760. Two of his vessels were
disabled by weather at different times and left him. On the 20th
February he appeared off Carrickfergus in the north of Ireland, and
took the place. On the 28th of the same month Captain Elliot of the
=Eolus=, with two other frigates, fell in with the three Frenchmen and
took them after a sharp fight, in which Thurot, a brave humane man
worthy of a better service and a better fate, lost his life. And so
went out the last spark of the French scheme for the destruction of
England.
When darkness closed down on the Bay of Quiberon on the 20th November,
the great operations of naval warfare came to an end, for there was
no longer any fleet to meet ours at sea. The navy had duty to do
both during 1759 and afterwards in co-operating with the army in the
conquest of French possessions. But its work, however indispensable,
was ancillary, and a repetition of the same tale with the same moral
would be tedious. I shall therefore, as in the case of the operations
of the reigns of King William and Queen Anne, simply give a list of the
expeditions.
+----------------------------------------------------+----------+------------+
| Expedition. | When | When |
| | Begun | Ended |
+----------------------------------------------------+----------+------------+
| Commodore Moore and Major-General Hopson | End of | May 1759. |
| attack Martinique unsuccessfully, and Guadaloupe | November | |
| successfully. The arrival of Bompart’s squadron | 1758 | |
| compelled Moore to concentrate his ships, which | | |
| gave the French privateers an opportunity to do | | |
| considerable injury to our trade. Their activity | | |
| confirmed the British Government in its intention | | |
| to deprive them of their ports of supply by taking | | |
| all the French islands. No action took place | | |
| with Bompart. | | |
| | | |
|Vice-Admiral Saunders and Wolfe sail from |17th |18th October|
|Spithead, pick up the ships left on the American | February | 1759. |
|coast, and take Quebec on the 17th August. | 1759. | |
|Saunders sailed for home two months later. | | |
| | | |
|Commodore Keppel and Major-General Hodgson |29th March|7th June |
|take Belleisle. | 1761. | 1761. |
| | | |
|Commodore Sir James Douglas and Lord Rollo |4th June |8th June |
|take Dominica in the Antilles. They sailed from | 1761. | 1761. |
|Guadaloupe. | | |
| | | |
|Rear-Admiral Rodney and Major-General |8th |26th |
|Monckton complete the conquest of the French | January | February |
|settlements in the West Indies, except those in | 1762. | 1762. |
|Hayti. | | |
| | | |
|After Spain had joined France, a great combined |5th March |11th August |
|expedition under Sir G. Pocock, with Lord Albemarle | 1762. | 1762. |
|as General, sailed from home, and, after | | |
|collecting forces in the West Indies, took Havana. | | |
| | | |
|In the East Indies Admiral Cornish and Colonel |1st August|6th October |
|Draper took Manila. | 1762. | 1762. |
+----------------------------------------------------+----------+------------+
While the campaigns of 1758 and 1759 were being fought out in Europe
and America, the rivalry between France and England in the Eastern
Seas was decided to our advantage. In this struggle the navy played
a very essential part. The scene of its labours and final triumph,
was on the eastern or Coromandel coast of the Indian Peninsula. Here
the course of the war was dictated to a very large extent by certain
physical conditions. From March to October is the season of the S.W. or
rainy monsoon. Then the wind is favourable to all ships entering the
Bay of Bengal. It blows away from the land and renders the coast safe.
Immediately under the land, however, there is a belt of water subject
to variable winds, which blow alternately on to the land from the S.E.
and off it from the S. or W. When the wind is from the S.E. the sea
becomes rough, and the coast, being very ill provided with harbours, is
dangerous. All currents during this season flow strongly to the north.
Thus the tendency of wind and water alike is to carry all ships into
the Bay, and to make the Coromandel coast safe. After October and
till the end of February comes the season of the N.E. monsoon, which,
blowing on to the land, makes a rough sea and a dangerous coast, and
also tends to blow all ships out of the Bay of Bengal. Thus in the
ordinary course of trade vessels would come in with the S.W. monsoon,
and arrange to start so as to get the help of the N.E. monsoon on
their homeward voyage. Thus too the period of operation for fighting
fleets would be during the S.W. monsoon, since at that time the coast
was safe, and both sides would take the opportunity to send out
reinforcements to its garrisons on shore, while its commerce would be
coming in at the beginning and going out at the end of the period. With
the N.E. monsoon all sails disappeared from the Bay of Bengal—those of
commerce on their homeward voyage, those of war to their respective
ports, which for the French meant the island of Mauritius, and for the
English, Bombay on the western or Malabar coast. Here, as in Europe,
we had an advantage of position. The Malabar coast is nearer the
Coromandel than is the Mauritius, and therefore the British squadron,
when directed with common energy, could always be at the scene of
operations before its opponent, and could be placed so as to intercept
all French forces on their way to Pondicherry.
Mention has already been made of the co-operation of Admiral Watson
and Clive in the suppression of Geriah early in 1756. They reached
Madras on the 20th June, one day before the taking of Calcutta by
Suraj-ud-Daulah and the tragedy of the Black Hole. The vengeance for
this outrage is one of the most famous stories in our history. But it
belongs to the history of the East India Company rather than to that
of the navy. Against an enemy who possessed no ships, the fleet could
only act by providing for the transport of troops, covering their
landing, attacking forts on the coast, and landing stores or naval
brigades. Admiral Watson did his share in the work actively in the
early months of 1757, and he was passively consenting to the fraud
by which his name was forged for the purpose of cheating Omichand. A
small naval brigade shared in the battle of Plassey. In any case the
sudden extension of British power which came out of the overthrow of
Suraj-ud-Daulah, would probably have led to a renewal of the conflict
with the French Company, but hostilities were precipitated by the
European and American quarrels of the two countries. In March 1757 the
French fort at Chandernagore, just above Calcutta, was occupied after a
sharp fight, in the midst of the complicated negotiations and conflicts
with the Nabob of Bengal. Admiral Watson did not live to take part in
the naval conflict with the French, but died in September of 1757. He
was succeeded by Rear-Admiral George Pocock, to whom it fell to command
at sea in the decisive struggle for supremacy in India.
No attempt will be made here to describe the series of battles
fought during 1758 and 1759. These actions present little more
than a weary repetition of examples of the working of the pedantic
Fighting Instructions. Though Pocock was unquestionably a man of great
energy, strong mind, and the utmost zeal for the service, he wanted
the originality and independence of intellect to break away from
the traditional method. Thus action after action presents the same
monotonous picture. The British squadron works to windward to secure
the power to force on battle, and comes down in line to engage the
enemy from end to end. The French wait for the attack, fire to cripple
the rigging of those of our vessels which present themselves first to
its blows, and then slip away, damaged more or less severely, but never
so seriously that they cannot reach the port they are steering for,
while our crews are knotting, splicing, and replacing ropes and spars.
It was by no single well-delivered blow, by no telling victory that we
finally forced our opponent out of the Indian Seas, but by persistence,
by a better average of practical seamanship, by the possession of
greater resources—by, as it were, slowly pushing him in front of us as
by a steady application of weight.
The conflict on the sea blazed up in 1758. The French Government had
realised the necessity for making an effort to preserve its East
Indian possessions in 1757. A squadron was fitted out at Brest under
M. D’Aché, and sailed on the 6th March. It was driven back by bad
weather, and two of the vessels belonging to it were taken to serve
in America with M. Dubois de Lamotte. On the 4th May M. D’Aché sailed
again with one king’s ship and five belonging to the Company, carrying
with him a body of troops under the headlong and passionate Lally, the
most unhappy and one of the least wise of the Irishmen who have been
the enemies to this country. The dates of D’Aché’s cruise illustrate
the slow progress of fleets at that time. He reached Rio on the 23rd
July, and remained there for two months to recruit the health of his
crews—no unusual stoppage in the Indian voyages of the period. He
reached the Île de France on the 28th December, and sailed for India
on the 27th January 1758. On the 26th April he reached the coast of
Coromandel—little less than a year after he had left Brest. While
D’Aché was slowly sailing to the East, Pocock had been reinforced in
March by Commodore Charles Stevens, and his squadrons had been raised
to seven vessels of from fifty to sixty-four guns. He knew that a
French force was on its way and must be now approaching the coast of
Coromandel. On the 17th April he sailed from Madras and worked to the
southward in search of the enemy, but did not succeed in meeting him.
D’Aché had passed unseen and had anchored at Carical, a French post to
the south of the English station of Cuddalore, which is to the south
of Pondicherry. Pondicherry itself is well to the south of Madras.
The French officer had with him eight vessels—for he had found some
at the Île de France—one more than Pocock, but only his flagship the
_Zodiaque_, 74, was a warship. The other seven were vessels belonging
to the French East India Company, were built for trade as well as
fighting, and even if they carried their full nominal armaments
of forty-four, fifty, or fifty-four guns, inferior in solidity to
Pocock’s. The one ship more of the French would barely put them on an
equality with our squadron.
From Carical D’Aché sent on Lally to assume his government at
Pondicherry, and he himself struck at the English station of Cuddalore.
He had the good fortune to cut off two small vessels, the =Triton=
and =Bridgewater=, which were driven ashore under the citadel of the
place, Fort St. David. Meanwhile Pocock was coming back from his
unsuccessful cruise to the South. On the 29th April the two fleets
sighted one another, and a confused action ensued. The dull rules of
the Fighting Instructions were badly executed by some of Pocock’s
captains, and one of D’Aché’s officers showed downright cowardice.
After the usual cannonade the two fleets separated in the customary
respective conditions of British and French squadrons after an action
fought according to rule. The French, whose ships were crowded with
Lally’s soldiers, had a heavy list of killed and wounded, because we
preferred to fire at our enemy’s hull. In the British squadron several
vessels were so crippled in their rigging as to be unmanageable. D’Aché
anchored at Alamparva, north of Pondicherry, where one of his vessels
became a wreck in the surf. Pocock went on to Madras to refit and bring
three of his captains to court martial. One was dismissed the service,
and the other two sentenced to lesser penalties. The incident is an
example of that wholesome severity which, by assigning to every man a
definite responsibility and calling on him to answer for every failure,
has established the magnificent discipline of the Royal Navy, and has
been the austere parent of its splendid efficiency.
From Alamparva D’Aché went to Pondicherry and landed his soldiers and
his numerous sick and wounded. At the close of May Pocock appeared
off the port. The French Admiral, whose squadron was ill fitted, had
recourse to every device to avoid action, and all the rabid driving
of Lally could not make him incur risks. As the authorities at Madras
were rendered nervous for their safety by the strength of the French
military force they recalled Pocock, and thus enabled D’Aché to
co-operate with Lally in the capture of Fort St. David in June. In
July, however, the admiral was back off Pondicherry seeking battle.
D’Aché would fain have avoided a meeting and have returned at once
to the Île de France. Prayers and threats from the authorities and
Lally induced him to stay, and to play a game of hide-and-seek in
the calms and varying inshore winds of the coast. On the 3rd August,
after infinite confusing movements and varying breezes, another barren
cannonade took place off Negapatam. Again both admirals anchored,
Pocock at Carical and D’Aché at Pondicherry. On the 3rd September the
Frenchman sailed for the Île de France, and the sea being now clear
of enemies, Pocock went round to Bombay to avoid the storms of the
north-easterly monsoon.
This campaign has certain features of interest. Though Pocock’s arms
were tied by the Fighting Instructions, he showed a vigour in attack
and a persistency of effort which promised final victory over his timid
opponent. But the working of those instructions is full of warning.
It has been ingeniously argued by the late Admiral Colomb that the
presence of an effective naval force, for which he invented—or to
which he adapted—the name of “Fleet in Being,” on a given coast will
of itself so act as to stop all operations against that coast on the
part of an enemy. Yet in this case, though the British squadron was
at least a full match for the French, and Pocock’s will to strike
was of the best, we see that he failed both to prevent D’Aché from
landing soldiers at Pondicherry and from co-operating in the taking
of Cuddalore. He failed partly because of the timidity of the Council
which called him back to Madras, but mainly because he was tied by
formal rules of battle which did not allow him to develop freely the
whole strength of his command. Had he been free to take his fleet
always where he thought best, and to use it unbound by foolish laws,
had he been one of those great and original captains who have the moral
and intellectual courage to break away from worn-out traditions, there
can be no doubt that his campaign of 1758 on the coast of Coromandel
would have been marked by a decisive battle. It might well have been
far more costly than the two engagements actually fought, but we may
assert, without undue patriotic confidence in our own navy, that it
would have broken the French naval forces in those seas to pieces. As
it was, the balance of advantage was rather with the French than with
us. The moral of the story is surely, that it is not enough for a fleet
to be “in being” if it is not also in action, and that there is but
little use in action which is not allowed to drive its blows home to
the heart.
The operations of 1759 bear some likeness to those of the previous
year, but with a marked difference. Our squadron well supplied,
strictly disciplined, grew in strength, efficiency, and confidence.
D’Aché was joined at the Île de France by ships of the navy from Europe
commanded by Froger de l’Eguille, who had taken part in the action with
Byng. But his very numbers were an embarrassment to him. The French
islands were too poor to feed the crews of the squadron. They were
only kept from starvation by sending some of the ships to buy food
at a great cost from the Dutch at the Cape of Good Hope, and others
to live from hand to mouth on the coast of Madagascar. Stores were
almost wholly wanting, and the work of refitting the vessels was either
not done at all, or was done by sacrificing one necessary to serve as
makeshift for another. It is therefore not surprising that whereas
Pocock was back from the Malabar coast and was cruising in the Bay of
Bengal in April, D’Aché was unable to leave the islands till the middle
of July. He was near Batacaloa on the east coast of Ceylon at the end
of August. He had eleven ships to Pocock’s eight, but many were weak,
all were badly fitted, and there was little heart or confidence in
officers or men. To a large extent his crews were natives. The utmost
he felt able to do was to carry some reinforcements to Pondicherry, and
his ambition did not reach beyond effecting this service without being
brought to battle if he could. When then he was sighted by Pocock on
the coast of Ceylon, he applied himself to slipping away and succeeded.
The British admiral, having lost sight of him, hastened to cut his road
at Pondicherry, and another scene of cannonading, of damaged rigging
for us, and of final escape for the French, took place on the 10th
September. D’Aché reached Pondicherry while our ropes and spars were
being repaired at Negapatam. During the rest of the month the British
admiral made successive attempts to provoke his opponent to battle. The
furious Lally, whose one idea of government was to lay about him with
a flail, strove hard to get service out of his naval colleague. But
D’Aché, who was deep in the ruinous intrigues of the French settlement,
would do nothing. He would not even stay on the coast though prayed
to do so by his countrymen. His officers were as eager to be gone as
himself. At the end of September he sailed for the islands, and the
French flag disappeared from those seas. When his opponent was gone
Pocock went round to Bombay. From thence he sailed for home with a
great convoy, and arrived on the 22nd September. The naval war was at
an end in the East Indies by the utter collapse of the French. Their
possessions being cut off from help, fell before the superior forces of
the English company.
Pocock was rewarded by the immensely lucrative command of the fleet
which sailed in the combined expedition against Havana in 1762, when
Spain, in a moment of Royal folly, was dragged into the war against us.
On that enterprise and of the contemporaneous expedition which Pocock’s
successor in the East Indies command, Cornish, led against Manila,
no more will be said here than that they were marked by a loyalty of
co-operation between sailor and soldier which was then a novelty.