In the latter part of May, 1793, Lord Howe hoisted his flag on board
the Queen Charlotte, at Portsmouth. She was a ship of 100 guns. His
principal instructions were in regard to protecting the English trade
from the French privateers.
By the middle of July he put to sea, and steered down Channel with
twenty-three sail-of-the-line, in two divisions, under Vice-admiral
Graves and Sir Alexander Hood. For several months the doings of this
fleet might be comprised in saying that they had occasional glimpses
of squadrons and fleets of the French, varied by gales of wind, which
invariably did much damage, and necessitated the putting in at some
western port of England. The fleet was so continually in trouble,
indeed, and so much in port, that great dissatisfaction was felt.
Howe expressed himself as decidedly against keeping a heavy fleet of
line-of-battle ships at sea, at the mouth of the Channel, and in the
Bay of Biscay, during the autumnal and winter gales. Nor did he believe
in the blockade of Brest, at that season, although it was his enemy’s
great naval port. He said that “to keep a fleet at sea, watching an
enemy’s fleet lying snugly in port, and ready to start the moment the
weather has driven the blockading squadron from the coast, and probably
disabled many of them, appeared to be a mistaken system, and ruinous
in the extreme to the ships themselves, hateful to the seamen, and
extravagant beyond measure in expense.”
In fact, long periods of this kind had so much weakened the larger
English ships that private yards had to be employed for repairs, as
well as building new ships.
What Lord Howe recommended was, keeping a fleet at St. Helen’s
Roadstead, near Spithead, all ready for sea, while a few frigates
watched the enemy’s movements. Another fleet he recommended to lie at
Torbay, where, in event of the enemy’s putting to sea from Brest, the
contending fleets might meet on equal terms, being each fresh from
port; while a blockading fleet, keeping the sea for months, and exposed
to all kinds of weather, was not on a par with one fresh from the
dockyards; and still less in a condition to follow them abroad. “The
public does not care for such considerations, but judge by the results,
and require a battle and a victory; or else blame must rest somewhere,
most appropriately on the shoulders of the commander-in-chief.”
There was plenty of this fault-finding in England, in 1793. The French
fleet was known to be often at sea--had been seen by Lord Howe--and yet
no battle had been fought, no captures made.
The caricaturists and the press were very hard upon Lord Howe, but he
was not a man to be very much affected by sarcasm or abuse. He wished
to save wear and tear of ships and men, and to improve the discipline
and health of his fleet. The laurels earned by the veteran sailor were
too deeply planted to be plucked away by scribblers, and Mr. Pitt and
Lord Grenville would not listen to Howe’s retirement, which he urged,
on account of infirmities and advancing age.
The sequel proved that they were right.
In the middle of April, 1794, the fleet, having been repaired,
assembled at St. Helen’s. Howe had thirty-two sail-of-the-line, six of
which, with some frigates, were detailed to convoy in and out of the
Channel the East India Company’s ships and the West Indian traders. On
May 2d the fleet put to sea, and cruised, generally in bad weather, off
Ushant, and on the 19th discovered that the French fleet had sailed
from Brest. They were twenty-four sail-of-the-line and ten frigates,
and had come out to give protection to an immensely large and valuable
homeward-bound convoy of French merchant ships, from North America and
the West Indies.
On the 25th, after a fruitless search for the enemy, two French
corvettes steered into the midst of the English fleet, mistaking it for
their own. They were both taken. Not to diminish the efficiency of his
ships by sending prize crews, Howe destroyed them, as well as several
other prizes and recaptures. He then continued his search for the main
French fleet.
The following is, in the main, an extract from the private journal of
Lord Howe himself. It is to be premised that, on the morning of May
28th, with a fresh southwest wind and a rough sea, he had sighted a
portion of the French fleet, bearing southeast.
“May 28th. They (the French) were some hours before they had formed
their line, on the larboard tack, which they proceeded to do while
three or four leagues distant; the British fleet being in the order of
sailing, with the advanced squadron, under Rear Admiral Paisley, on
the weather quarter of the body of the fleet; the whole under as much
sail as the weather would safely permit, standing to the eastward, by
the wind. At 11 A.M. tacked to approach nearer the enemy, the centre of
their fleet then in the S. S. W.
“At 4 in the evening tacked back to the eastward. Soon after 5 o’clock,
the Bellerophon arriving up abreast of the rear ship of the enemy,
the Revolutionnaire, of three decks, though too far distant for close
action, began to fire upon her, and received the fire from that ship,
and some others ahead of her. But observing that the other ships of the
advance squadron, the Russell, Marlborough and Thunderer, though gained
more to windward of the enemy, had shortened sail, and the two last
backed their main-top-sails, and firing at the enemy from a distance
far too considerable, their particular signals were made to attack the
enemy’s rear; and soon after the general signal to the same effect. The
Bellerophon, having her main-top-sail lowered and aback, and making
signal to denote that her main-top-mast was disabled, the other ships
also, of the advanced squadron, still keeping astern, with little sail
set, and firing far distant, the general signal was made for assisting
ships in action; and a few minutes after the particular signals for the
Russell and Marlborough for the same purpose; enforcing it by a gun,
to obtain the notice that was not duly shown to the former signal.”
In other words these ships were not behaving very handsomely, and the
beginning of their collision with the French did not augur well for
success.
“The three aforementioned ships thereupon made sail to the eastward,
the Marlborough having been observed to have set her courses, and the
Leviathan pressing forward, commenced action with the rear ship of the
enemy, to the relief of the Bellerophon.
“As the day was closing in, the Audacious was seen to advance; to
the attack of the Revolutionnaire, in apparent very close action.
The body of the enemy’s fleet keeping on in order of battle, and
being approached to about three miles distance from them; their force
consisting of twenty-six ships-of-the-line, besides frigates, it was
judged requisite to form the British fleet in such order of battle
ahead as the ships by their accidental situation at the time could
be so arranged, ahead and astern of the Charlotte, to be in suitable
disposition for any service which might occur in the night; nothing
more of the action being distinguishable, and the firing ceasing at
dark. Information was given, by the Marlborough and Niger, that the
sternmost ship of the enemy was beaten out of their line by, and
supposed to have struck to, the Audacious.”
The crews of the Audacious and Russell declare that the Revolutionnaire
struck; but whether she did or not, she was clearly beaten and
defenceless, as she only answered three guns from her one hundred and
twenty to the last broadside of the Audacious. The Revolutionnaire’s
loss was nearly 400 men. The Audacious was so crippled that she could
hardly keep clear of the French fleet, but after an engagement with a
frigate and a corvette made her way to Plymouth. The Revolutionnaire
afterwards lost her masts, but was towed into Rochefort.
Thus ended the first day’s collision.
For the next two days indecisive manœuvres took place. There was a
very fresh breeze, heavy seas, fogs, and various other reasons why no
general action could be brought on. During this time Lord Howe passed
through the French fleet in his flag-ship, but as only one or two of
his ships were able to follow him no general action occurred. One or
two of the ships of each fleet lost masts in the heavy sea, and between
the 29th and 31st of May Rear-Admiral Nielly joined Admiral Villaret
de Joyeuse, with five line-of-battle ships, and then left the French
fleet. This left twenty-six line-of-battle ships to the French; many of
these had very revolutionary names, such as Tyrannicide, Convention,
Trente et un Mai, Montagne, Jacobin, Republicaine, etc., and many were
very large ships, one being of 120 guns, and two of 110.
During these days Lord Howe was far from satisfied with the behavior
of some of his captains, and we find in his journal the following:
“The centre of the British fleet drawing fast up with the van, the
signal was _repeatedly_ made for the Cæsar, leading the line, and then
_under treble reefed topsails and foresail_, to make more sail;” and
this ship, by her conduct, threw out the whole line, and interfered
materially with the operations of the day.
Again Lord Howe says, “the ships of the fleet (called up by signals,
and appointed to fall into line, ahead and astern of the flag-ship, as
most convenient) came forward to meet her, which had stood toward them,
as the enemy approached. When arrived they came up so crowded together
that they afforded an opportunity for the enemy to have fired upon them
with great advantage. But they ‘(the French)’ having covered their
disabled ships, and giving a distant fire as they passed to leeward
of our fleet, wore again to the westward; and the English fleet,
preserving the weather gage, kept on after them.” “Most of the time
the Queen Charlotte was engaged the sea was so rough that much water
was taken in at the lower deck ports, and the pumps were constantly at
work.”
Lord Howe goes on to say, “soon after noon on the 31st, the fog
clearing off, the enemy were seen to leeward, forming again in order
of battle.” “But before our fleet could get abreast of them the
day was too far advanced for bringing them promptly to action. It
was, therefore, deemed expedient to keep the wind, with frigates of
observation to notify any change in the enemy’s motions during the
ensuing night.”
It is hard in these days to realize the slow and laborious movements
of a fleet of the old line-of-battle ships. And it is also curious to
observe the adherence to old ideas in regard to battle, as well as the
lukewarmness, and want of conduct and seamanship, which amounted to
bad behavior, and which characterized some of the captains of Howe’s
fleet. As we shall see, further on, only one captain was brought to
a court-martial, and he was only lightly punished. Had the action of
the first of June been less successful, it is probable that more would
have been tried for misconduct, and disobedience of orders. But success
condones many offences. A few years after this a British fleet of the
force of Howe’s would have dashed at any French fleet, without regard
to the time of day, and not risked losing the enemy in the night, or
the chance of his changing his mind about fighting.
But to come to the decisive day, June 1st. It is impossible to follow
Lord Howe’s journal further, for, at the risk of being irreverent, we
must observe that the gallant and noble Lord’s English is almost as
much involved as that of those other English seamen, Captains Cuttle
and Bunsby.
The French fleet being six miles to leeward on the morning of June 1st,
Howe made signal that he intended to attack the enemy’s centre, and
engage to leeward. The British fleet filled away for the French, each
ship being directed to steer for and engage her proper opponent.
Both fleets were under single-reefed topsails, the French backing and
filling, to preserve their stations in their line, which extended from
east to west. The wind was very fresh, at south by west, and with the
signal to engage flying, Lord Howe closed his signal book, as the
matter was so clear that it was impossible for any captain to mistake
his duty.
The French first opened fire. The flag-ship of Lord Howe, setting a
noble example, steered for the Montagne, 120, receiving a heavy fire
from other ships in reaching her. The ship passed close under the
French flag-ship’s stern, giving her a tremendous raking broadside.
She was so close that the French ensign brushed the Queen Charlotte’s
rigging. In a moment she was attacked by the Jacobin, but succeeded in
giving her a like raking. The Queen Charlotte lost her fore-top-mast,
but, in spite of this, stuck to the Montagne, and killed and wounded
300 on board of her. At last the Montagne hauled out of the line, and
several other French vessels followed her, when Howe made signal for a
general chase.
It would be tedious to follow the action of the particular ships up to
this period of the battle. Suffice it to say that the fire was most
concentrated and deadly on both sides. Some of the French ships fought
most desperately. Among others, the Vengeur lost her masts, and lay
rolling her lower deck ports in the water, many of which had been torn
off or shot away by the English ship Brunswick. The Vengeur soon filled
with water, and although fast sinking, her colors were kept flying. By
great exertions of some of the English vessels, some 400 of her crew
were rescued, but many sank with the ship. Among the survivors were the
brave French Captain, Renaudin, and his son, only twelve years old.
Being taken off to different ships, each believed the other to have
perished. To their great joy, they met again in Portsmouth.
Many of the French ships which struck were enabled to make off
during the succeeding night, as the English had not been able to
take possession of them. But they secured the 80-gun ships, Sans
Pareil and Juste, and 74-gun ships, América, Impetueux, Achille, and
Northumberland, and the Vengeur, 74, was sunk.
The British loss in the battle was 1140, in killed and wounded. The
French loss is not exactly known, but was much greater.
The damage to the masts and rigging of the British ships generally was
so considerable that the 2d and 3d of the month were passed in securing
the injured masts, fixing jury-masts when required, and removing the
prisoners, and taking the six prizes in tow.
Fine weather prevailed, and light westerly breezes, and the fleet
arrived in the Channel on the 11th; part of it, under Rear-Admiral
Graves, going to Plymouth, and the rest, led by the Queen Charlotte,
anchoring at Spithead on the 13th of June.
It had been many a year since Portsmouth had seen the arrival of a
victorious fleet, with six of the enemy’s line-of-battle ships in tow.
Crowds flocked to witness it, from all parts of England; and to see the
landing of the 2300 prisoners.
Rear-Admirals Paisley and Bowyer each lost a leg, and Admiral Graves
was very badly wounded in the arm, while three English captains were
killed. There was no doubt about the behavior of these officers, but
the report of Lord Howe omitted the mention of many captains, most of
whom thought themselves aggrieved, and made a great commotion. The fact
appears to be that more were delinquent in the previous operations than
on the day of the great battle; and this, in many cases, was no doubt
due to want of seamanship and experience.
The Cæsar being especially mentioned in an unfavorable light, her
captain, Molloy, demanded a court-martial, which the Admiralty was
bound to grant. Lord Howe was much annoyed at this, and did all that
he could to prevent captain Molloy from persisting, but without avail.
Howe, like all others who had fought a successful action, did not
want the scandals and delinquencies of his command exposed to the
public gaze. After a long trial, Molloy was found delinquent, and was
dismissed from the command of his ship.
As regards the conduct of the other captains, it is certain that Howe’s
orders as to passing through the French line and engaging to leeward
were not carried into effect by a very large portion of his fleet.
In some this was caused by the bad sailing of the ships and by the
very compact form in which the French formed their line, so that
only five captains of the British fleet had the nerve to let their
ships “make their own way,” as the Queen Charlotte did, through the
French line. Signals were misunderstood, or not seen, in the smoke
and confusion, and Howe made, at last, a discretionary signal, which
left each captain to engage his opponent to windward or to leeward, as
circumstances might arise.
Howe’s fame as a naval commander will not bear comparison with some
others who were to immortalize themselves in the long wars which his
action inaugurated. But we must remember that this was the first great
naval battle of that eventful period, and that it had an immense
influence upon the French; as well as in forming the British Navy for
their future glorious achievements. Had the action of June 1st been
the last of that series of great actions, instead of the first, it is
probable that few ships of the French fleet would have escaped. Lord
Howe, although not making much complaint of his want of efficient
support, nevertheless felt the defection of some of his captains
strongly.
In the year 1799, not many months before his death, he wrote,
concerning Nelson’s splendid victory at the Nile, “I will only say, on
the splendid achievement of Nelson, that one of the most remarkable
features in the transaction consists in the eminently distinguished
conduct of _each_ of the captains of the squadron.” Perhaps it
never before happened that _every_ captain had equal opportunity to
distinguish himself in the same manner, or took equal advantage of it.
There is one point upon which Lord Howe’s conduct has been censured.
It is said that he gave way to the opinion of Sir Roger Curtis, his
Captain of the Fleet, who advised him not to pursue the five dismasted
French ships which went off unmolested, under sails set on the stumps
of their masts, and which succeeded in joining the rest of their
vessels.
The prevailing opinion in the English fleet certainly was that these
ships of the enemy were suffered to escape, when they might have been
captured with ease. That they were not captured was the fault of
having a Flag Officer at sea who was too old to command, and who had a
Fleet Captain who was not enterprising.
But the victory was sufficient, and settled the fate of the war, as far
as the naval part was concerned.
The general reader may be interested in some remarks and anecdotes
concerning the battle.
During the hottest part of the engagement between the Marlborough and
the Vengeur, the former ran the latter aboard to windward, her anchor
hooking the French ship’s fore shrouds and channels. The master of the
English ship wanted to cut her adrift, but Captain Harvey exclaimed,
“No! we have got her, and we will keep her.” “The ships then swung
broadside to broadside, and both paid off before the wind, locked
together, dropped out of line, and engaged furiously. So close were
these ships locked that the Marlborough was unable to open her midship
lower-deck ports, which were consequently blown off by her eager crew,
etc.”
The flag-ship, the Queen Charlotte, as in duty bound, set a brilliant
example to the rest of the fleet. On the 29th of May, when she broke
through the French line, she was followed, gallantly, by the Leviathan
and Bellerophon, commanded by Captains Lord Seymour, Conway and Hope,
and both these ships were most conspicuous in the whole engagement.
The foremast of the Leviathan was crippled, and in danger of falling,
and Lord Howe, observing this, stood to her rescue. Lord Seymour, in
his own journal, says, “quarter before four; being very near, and
pointing into the body of the French fleet, which had then appeared,
to succor their rear, the Queen Charlotte wearing, we did the same,
but not without exposing ourselves for a long time to be raked by the
French Admiral and three other ships, which had stood back to the
relief of two of their ships that were in danger of being cut off by
our fleet.
“On this occasion the gallant conduct of the Queen Charlotte, in coming
down to draw the enemy’s fire from the Leviathan, has made too strong
an impression upon my mind, and is too much the subject of general
applause on board of her, for me to resist expressing my sense of it,
and offering, in the name of all the officers, as well as my own, this
feeble though grateful tribute of our admiration of our noble chief,
Lord Howe.”
But the day most glorious for Howe was the 1st of June, when he broke
through the French line again, brushing the ensign of Admiral Villaret
Joyeuse’s flag-ship on the one side, and grazing, on the other, the
Jacobin’s mizzen shrouds with her jib-boom.
Collingwood, eleven years after, in the battle of Trafalgar, did much
the same thing, in the Sovereign, when he cut the line, and grazed the
stern of the Santa Anna.
Had not the Queen Charlotte’s fore-top-mast been shot away, and the
main-top-mast gone over the side just as the French Admiral’s fire had
about ceased, there is little doubt he would have captured the French
flag-ship; but she made off to leeward, and it was impossible for the
Charlotte to follow her. The French flag-ship’s hull was completely
knocked to pieces, and her battery rendered almost useless. The
tremendous broadsides which the Charlotte poured into her stern, in
passing through the line, made a hole large enough, the sailors said,
to row the Admiral’s barge through.
As the Queen Charlotte was coming down on the French line, determined
to pass through, it appeared so close and compact that Howe expressed a
doubt as to whether there was room to pass between the Montagne, 120,
and the Jacobin, 80, which had got partly under the lee of the former,
as if afraid of the Charlotte’s broadside, thus occupying the place the
Charlotte intended to take. Howe was determined either to go through,
or to run the French flag-ship or the Jacobin on board. His Master,
Bowen, in a blunt and resolute tone, called out, “That’s right, my
Lord, the Charlotte will make room for herself.”
On his first appointment to the flag-ship this unpolished but
shrewd and excellent seaman was in the habit, in addressing the
commander-in-chief, of so constantly using the expression “My Lord,”
that one day Howe said to him, “Bowen, pray, my good fellow, do give
over that eternal ‘My Lord! My Lord;’ d’ont you know I am called Black
Dick in the fleet?” This was his usual _sobriquet_ among the sailors.
Just as the Queen Charlotte was closing with the Montagne, Lord Howe,
who was himself conning the ship, called out to Bowen to starboard the
helm. On this Bowen remarked that if they did they would be on board
the next ship, the Jacobin. His lordship replied, sharply, “what is
that to you, sir?” Bowen, much nettled, said, in an undertone, “D--n
my very eyes if _I_ care, if _you_ d’ont. I’ll go near enough to singe
some of our whiskers.”
Howe heard him, and, turning to his Captain, said, “That’s a fine
fellow, Curtis!”
Lord Howe appears to have had but a dim conception of a joke. Shortly
after the return of his flag-ship to Portsmouth, he sent for the First
Lieutenant, Mr. Larcom, whom he thus addressed: “Mr. Larcom, your
conduct in the action has been such that it is necessary for you to
leave this ship.”
Larcom, who was as brave as the Admiral, and a good officer, and good
seaman, was perfectly thunder-struck, and, with tears in his eyes,
exclaimed “Good God! My Lord, what have I done? Why am I to leave the
ship? I have done my duty to the utmost of my power.”
“Very true, Sir,” said the Admiral, “but leave this ship you must;
and I have great pleasure in presenting you with this commission as
Commander, for your conduct on the late occasion.”
It appeared that it was at the solicitation of his Fleet-Captain, Sir
Roger Curtis, that Howe appointed the Cæsar to lead the van in the
order of battle of May 29th.
It was against Lord Howe’s own opinion. Circumstances occurred, on
the very day, which induced Lord Howe to place another ship in that
station. But he again yielded the point, at Curtis’ earnest request
to give Molloy another trial, the Admiral remarking, at the same
time, “You have mistaken your man; I have not.” On the 1st of June,
when the Cæsar hauled up, instead of going through the enemy’s line,
Howe, who was standing on the poop of the Queen Charlotte, tapped Sir
Roger Curtis on the shoulder, and, pointing to the Cæsar, said, “Look,
Curtis, there goes your friend. Who is mistaken now?”
Certainly Lord Howe’s biographer is mistaken in recording this anecdote
of the man whom he delights to honor. It is an old story, and has been
true of Admirals, in peace or war, time out of mind. But it shows a
culpable weakness in Howe, to allow himself to be swayed against his
own convictions by any one, in so vitally important a matter.
The conduct of the Marlborough, Captain Berkeley, is interesting, and
illustrates the phases of naval actions of that day.
The Marlborough first engaged the Impetueux for about twenty minutes,
when the French ship paid off, and dropped with her bowsprit over the
Marlborough’s quarter, where she lay exposed to a heavy raking fire.
Every one was driven from her decks, and some of the Marlborough’s men
boarded her, but were ordered back. Just then the three masts of the
French ship went over the side, and a 74 which was astern attempted
to weather and rake the Marlborough. But he met with such a fire
that he dropped on board his consort’s quarter, and then luffing up,
boarded the Marlborough upon the bow. But the steadiness of the English
small-arm men and the fire of her carronades prevented the French
from succeeding. In a few minutes this second ship’s masts also went
over, and they both lay, without firing a gun, without any colors,
and with no one on the upper deck. At last the English fleet came up
and took possession of them both. Captain Berkeley proceeds to say:
“I now attempted to back off from the two vessels, and unfortunately
accomplished it just as the French Admiral came under our stern and
raked us, by which he did us considerable damage, and carried away our
three masts. It was from this ship I received my wound, and, therefore,
the remainder is the account of my First Lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Monckton then proceeds: “At the time Captain Berkeley was
obliged to quit the deck we were still on board, but backing clear of
our opponents. Our masts being then shot away by the three-decker under
our stern, carried away the ensign staff, and deprived us of hoisting
any colors for a few minutes. I ordered the wreck to be cleared away
from the color-chest, and spread a Union Jack at the sprit-sail yard,
and a St. George’s ensign on the stump of the foremast; but perceiving
that the latter was mistaken by some of our own ships for the
tri-colored flag, I ordered that flag to be cut off.
“At this time we were laying along the Impetueux, within pistol shot,
and finding she did not return a gun, I ordered our ship to cease
firing at her, and suffered them quietly to extinguish the flames,
which I could easily have prevented with our musketry. While clearing
away the wreck, the rear of the enemy’s fleet was coming up, and
perceiving that they must range close to us, and being determined never
to see the British flag struck, I ordered the men to lie down at their
quarters, to receive their fire, and return it afterwards, if possible.
But, being dismasted, she rolled so deep that our lower deck ports
could not be opened. The event was as I expected: the enemy’s rear
passed us to leeward, very close, and we fairly ran the gauntlet of
every ship which could get a gun to bear, but, luckily, without giving
us any shot between wind and water, or killing any men, except two, who
imprudently disobeyed their officers, and got up at their quarters.
Two of their ships, which had tacked, now came to windward of us, and
gave us their fire, upon which one of their dismasted ships, that had
struck, hoisted her national flag, but, upon our firing some guns at
her, she hauled it down again; and a three-decker, having tacked, also
stood toward us, with a full intention, I believe, to sink us, if
possible.
“The Royal George, however, who I suppose had tacked after her, came
up, and engaged her very closely, carried away her main and mizzen
masts, and saved the Marlborough from the intended close attack. I then
made the signal for assistance, on a boat’s mast, but this was almost
instantly shot away. At five the Aquila took us in tow, and soon after
we joined the fleet.”
A curious incident is said to have taken place on board this ship,
when lying entirely dismasted, and otherwise disabled, the captain and
second lieutenant severely wounded, and the ship so roughly treated
that a whisper of surrender was heard. Lieutenant Monckton resolutely
exclaimed, “he would be d----d if she ever should surrender, and that
he would nail her colors to the stump of the mast.” At that moment
a cock, having been liberated from a broken coop, suddenly perched
himself on the stump of the mainmast, clapped his wings, and crowed
aloud. In an instant three hearty cheers rang through the ship, and
there was no more talk of surrender. The cock was afterwards given to
the Governor of Plymouth, lived to a good old age, and was frequently
visited by the Marlborough’s men.
The Brunswick, 74, had a large figure-head of the Duke of that name,
with a laced cocked hat on. This hat was carried away by a shot,
during the battle. The crew sent a deputation to the captain to ask
him to give his own laced hat to supply the place; and he did so; the
carpenter nailing it on the Duke’s head, when they continued the action.
Nothing could exceed the gallant conduct of this ship, as we have
already noticed. The Defence, Captain Gambier, also behaved most
gallantly, being terribly cut up, and totally dismasted. She was one of
the few that passed through the enemy’s line, and got into the midst
of the French ships. Captain Gambier was an excellent officer, and a
gentleman of strict principles of religion and morality. At the close
of the action, Captain Pakenham, a rattling, good-humored Irishman,
hailed him from the Invincible, “Well, Jimmy, I see you are pretty well
mauled; but never mind, Jimmy, whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.”
When the Sans Pareil was taken possession of, the English Captain
Trowbridge was found on board, a prisoner, having been captured in the
Castor, when in charge of the Newfoundland convoy. On the morning of
the 1st of June, the French officers, seeing the British fleet under
easy sail, going parallel to the French line, taunted him by saying,
“there will be no fighting to-day; your Admiral will not venture
down.” “Wait a little,” said Trowbridge, “English sailors never like
to fight with empty stomachs; I see the signal flying for all hands
to breakfast; after which, take my word for it, they will pay you a
visit.” When the Sans Pareil had got enough of the battle, and was
prepared to surrender; her captain sent down to request Trowbridge to
come on deck and do him the honor of striking the colors. This he very
properly declined to do.
Anecdotes of the action are too numerous for all to find a place
here. But we may mention that on board the captured French ships the
cartridges were found to be mostly made of the fine painted vellum
on which church music was painted, and of the titles and _preuves de
noblesse_ of the principal French families, many hundred years old, and
illuminated, in many instances, with the genealogical tree. There was a
decree of the French Convention, applying the archives of the nobility
to that particular purpose. The great convoy of ships from the West
Indies and America, consisting of more than two hundred sail of ships,
of immense value, and of so much importance to the French government
that they risked the loss of their great Brest fleet for its safety,
arrived safely in port a few days after the battle of the first of
June.