THE RELIEF OF GIBRALTAR
Rodney was now sixty. In the June of this year 1778 he attained the rank
of Admiral of the White Squadron. He had for some time been Rear-Admiral
of England, an honorary rank, to which however a salary was attached.
The Vice and Rear-Admirals of England were, and indeed are--for the
titles are still to be seen in the navy lists--supposed to be second and
third in command to the Lord High Admiral when there is one. In rank,
therefore, he was at the head of his profession, but his reputation was
still to make. The forty years or so of service which he had
accomplished had gained him distinction, but not more than had been won
by several of his contemporaries. When the American War broke out,
Keppel, Byron, Barrington, and Howe were as well known as himself.
Keppel at least was far more popular. It was the work of the next three
years which secured him his unique position in his own generation. What
has been recorded hitherto must be looked upon as introduction. What is
coming is the real work of his life. Up till now his career has been
divided by commissions and periods of years. The rest will be told in
campaigns and days of battle.
It is therefore interesting to be able to see what kind of man he was,
now when his great career was about to begin. His own deeds and letters
have told something, and will tell more, as to his character, but one
must go to his contemporaries for what he looked like, and what the
world thought of him. Sir N. Wraxall took care to leave some knowledge
on both points duly recorded in his reminiscences. Wraxall is no doubt a
writer whom it is advisable to use with caution. Not being of opinion
that it is worse to tell lies about Whigs than about other people, nor
even convinced that every discreditable story told about a member of
that virtuous party must needs be a lie, I do not know that the
_Mendacium Wraxallianum_ deserves particular condemnation. Still the
book is largely composed of an old man’s reminiscences of other men’s
tittle-tattle. Such an authority is only to be used safely by those who
can distinguish and divide. When, for instance, Wraxall, under the
attractive head of “Rodney’s Amours,” tells us that scandal associated
the Admiral’s name with the frail reputation of very “exalted females,”
we need not take his words as more than what they really are--evidence
of what people said. This again is evidence of what was thought
sufficiently credible to be worth repeating in that world and at that
time. Society then did not think it manifest nonsense to whisper that
this naval officer was the father of one of the limited number of royal
bastards who are of royal blood on the mother’s side. Supposing the
story true, it only proves what is otherwise abundantly known, namely,
that Rodney--living as he did when not at sea in the pleasure-loving
society of London, at a time when it did those things which it always
has done, perhaps more, and certainly more openly than it has done
since--was not morally either better or worse than most men of the
world.
For the rest, these days lay far behind Rodney in 1778. The heat of his
youth had been tamed by age and pain and disappointment. His affection
was now given to those to whom it belonged of right--to his second wife,
and to his children by both his marriages. There is a reference to the
death of his second son by his first marriage, in the shipwreck of the
_Ferret_, in one of his letters to Lady Rodney, which has a very genuine
ring of grief. His eldest son, now an officer in the Guards, seems to
have lived much apart, as was only natural, but from Lady Rodney’s
letters it appears that he was on friendly terms with her and with his
half-brother and sisters. This half-brother went to sea with the father,
and was treated with the best of all forms of kindness--that namely
which insisted on making a man of him, and refused him promotion till he
knew his business. Lady Rodney herself had her husband’s affection and
entire confidence. His letters to her put that beyond dispute.
Collingwood himself, the most tender-hearted of men, did not write of
and to his daughters more lovingly than Rodney. Their names occur
constantly in his correspondence, and thoughts for them, their good, and
their future, were never absent from his mind. The natural instinct, and
sometimes the cant, of the moralist lead him at times to assert that
these domestic virtues in later years are in themselves disproof of the
truth of such stories as are told of Rodney’s earlier life. When that is
not an affectation it is a very innocent belief. Whether it is better
or worse for a man to go through the “mud bath” may be doubtful. What
is certain is that many men do go through it and live to be clean. In
1778 the passion which remained strongest in Rodney was ambition.
Wraxall’s picture of the Admiral’s appearance and manner may be accepted
without any interpretation. He says that he was slight with delicate
features. In that Wraxall is borne out by Sir Joshua Reynolds’s fine
portrait. The features are refined rather than strong, and are small.
Having been taken when the Admiral was old, the face is that of a man
who has suffered much pain. We do not need Wraxall to tell us that the
Admiral’s manners were those of a gentleman and not of a tarpaulin.
Given his birth and training, what else should they be? Again it is very
credible that the Admiral was a copious talker, vehement in the
expression of his likes and dislikes, not at all averse to talk about
himself, nor even to boast. The sailor has always, perhaps to console
himself for much compulsory silence at sea, been open to reproaches
touching his loquacity on shore. Moreover, he is by tradition hearty,
given to speaking out his mind, not so conscious as other Englishmen of
the decency of reticence--whereby if he is a good friend he is also
liable to make enemies. Rodney made many enemies, and the tone of his
letters bears out Wraxall’s assertion that it was by the vigour with
which he condemned what he thought worthy of condemnation.
Rodney’s age at the time of taking his great command is a fact to be
kept in mind. His years had necessarily some effect on his energy. The
state of his health, too, is not to be forgotten. He was older than his
years. The sea life, always a wearing one, was particularly hard in
those times. No man could have inhabited such a floating pest-house as
the _Dublin_ without suffering for it. Besides, gout had made its home
with Rodney long before this. He was liable to be laid up by it at any
moment, and was so well aware of the danger that he took a doctor to sea
with him to attend upon himself exclusively. It is no small drawback to
the efficiency of a commander that he should be for ever compelled to
struggle with an infirmity. There are no want of examples to prove that
the misfortune is one which can be conquered. Rodney’s contemporary,
Maurice of Saxony, beat or manœuvred the allies out of the Low
Countries though he was a cripple with the same disease. Still,
ill-health was a terrible addition to the difficulties of an otherwise
trying position. Age and infirmity must be allowed for in his case,
either for excuse or for honour. It will be necessary sometimes to
remember that if he had been younger and stronger he might have done
more, or that if he had not been old and sickly it would have been less
honourable for him to have done as much as he did. His gout, too, had
inevitably much influence on his relations to his officers. To say
nothing of the notorious effect of this disease on the temper even of
less nervous and passionate men than Rodney, it compelled him to seclude
himself a great deal, and so intensified his natural disposition to hold
himself aloof from his captains. His relations with his subordinates
were rarely friendly, and this had, as it could not but have, effects
which were not for the good of the service. One thing more must be
noted, namely, the extent of his pecuniary embarrassments. This was at
the time public property. All men knew, and Rodney himself never
affected to deny, that command was necessary to him for the money’s
sake. It will be seen that this impecuniosity was one of the excuses
found for attacks on him at a later period. For the present it will be
enough to remember that there was the need, and there was the general
knowledge that it existed.
Throughout the second half of 1778 and the greater part of 1779 Rodney
was established in London at lodgings in Cleveland Street, straining
every nerve to secure a command. He pressed his claims and his views on
the Ministry. His desire was to get back to the West Indies, which, as
the enemy never made any but half-hearted attacks on us in the Channel,
was destined to be the great scene of the war. Those seas were well
known to him, and in a series of able papers he explained to Sandwich
how, in his opinion, we could best conduct operations there so as not
only to defend the islands, but to give the utmost possible help to the
King’s forces on the northern continent. Later on, and after Rodney’s
first successes, the minister hastened to claim credit for having
listened to his arguments and secured his appointment. Rodney himself
asserted emphatically that he owed his command to the King alone. It was
to the King certainly that he applied. For a time he had necessarily to
wait. All the great commands were filled when he returned from Paris.
Neither his rank nor his wish allowed him to serve as a subordinate. He
was therefore compelled to look on as a spectator at the first year and
a half of the war. During that period events were working for him. The
general course of operations was not of a nature to raise the
reputation of other men to his detriment. On the North American coast,
indeed, Howe beat off the superior force of D’Estaing stoutly and by
dint of wary manœuvring. In the West Indies Barrington seized and
held Santa Lucia--a position of immense value, as Rodney well knew--in
the teeth of a far stronger French force. The whole subsequent course of
the war was influenced in our favour by this timely capture. Still these
successes were not of a kind to impose the victorious commander on the
Ministry as a necessary man.
In the Channel the course of the war had removed a whole batch of
formidable rivals from Rodney’s path. Keppel’s feeble action with
D’Orvilliers off Ushant in July, 1778, was a bitter disappointment to
the nation. It was followed by a series of quarrels and courts-martial
more discreditable and more injurious to the country than a defeat could
well have been. The Tory admiral, Sir George Palliser, was egged on by
Sandwich to discredit the Whig admiral, Keppel. There followed
court-martial and counter court-martial. The mob of London took sides
for Keppel, sacked the houses of Palliser and Alexander Hood, and burned
the gates of the Admiralty in Whitehall. The navy went by the ears in a
Whig and Tory quarrel. In the mind of the King and minister there arose
a determination to employ no more Whigs if it could be helped. When the
excesses to which faction carried men in that time are remembered, the
resolution can be fairly justified. Mean things were done by the
Ministry, no doubt. It was scandalous, for instance, that Duncan--he who
afterwards conquered at Camperdown--should have been left on shore
throughout the war, as punishment for the resolution he showed in
securing fair play for his friend Keppel in the court-martial. Still,
when it is remembered that the Whigs as a party were openly opposed to
the coercion of the American colonists, and that they seldom scrupled to
help the enemies of their country if their “connection” could profit
thereby, it is only natural that the King should prefer not to employ
them. If the work was to be done at all, it had better not be put in the
hands of men who were half-hearted in the doing. Now, as this party had
had the whole distribution of patronage for the greater part of the
century, it follows, as the night the day, that the very great majority
of admirals were Whigs. When to be a Whig became not an advantage but a
disadvantage to the officer who was seeking command, great was the
improvement in the position, and unaffected was the joy, of the admirals
who were Tories.
Rodney was a Tory. At what period reflection and experience of public
affairs brought him to these opinions I do not know. He can hardly have
been a Tory when he was writing the letters quoted above to Newcastle.
Probably he went to the side to which his instincts took him as soon as
he saw that England had a king who meant to be king. For himself the
conversion, if there was any conversion, was wholly for his good. I do
not speak of his fortunes, but of his character. In future when he is
found expressing devotion to a master it is not to a party manager, but
to him to whom it was due of right--to his Sovereign. For his fortunes,
too, his creed was advantageous. It must have been a real pleasure to
George the Third to find an admiral who so thoroughly agreed with
himself as to the proper view to be taken of the American insurgents.
There was no doubt about Rodney’s opinions. They were rebels, piratical
rebels, who were to be hunted down and crushed. Through 1778 and 1779
his mobile face and eager eloquence must have been familiar at levees
and drawing-rooms, as he explained with vehement eloquence that it ought
to be done, how it was to be done, and who ought to do it.
In the autumn of 1779 the right officer was chosen. Rodney was appointed
to the command in the West Indies to replace Byron. He was to have the
supreme command in the Leeward Islands and Jamaica, with freedom to
intervene on the American coast. On his way a preliminary piece of
service was to be done. Since the beginning of the war Gibraltar had
been besieged by land and sea. The many claims upon us, and above all
the necessity of standing on our guard in the Channel against an attack
by the immense fleet formed by the combination of the French under M.
d’Orvilliers and the Spaniards under Don Luis de Cordova, had compelled
us to leave our outposts in the Straits, and our other outpost at
Minorca, to their own resources. The cruise of the combined fleets had
done us little harm, owing partly to the diseases which devastated their
ships’ companies, and partly to those qualities of the Spaniard which
have at all times made him the most exasperating of all mankind in a
co-operation. The allies separated with mutual reproaches, and we were
left free to strike a counter-blow. A great convoy was collected in the
Channel. Twenty-one line-of-battle ships were to protect it. Of this
force Rodney was to have the command. His duties were to proceed to
Gibraltar, relieve the fortress, send a convoy up the Mediterranean to
Minorca, then go on himself to the West Indies with four ships, leaving
his second in command, Rear-Admiral Digby, to bring back the empty
transports, the sick and wounded from the garrisons.
From October till the end of the year Rodney was at Portsmouth with his
flag flying in the _Sandwich_, a ninety-gun ship, driving on the
preparation of the fleet and the convoy. His hands were abundantly full.
The dockyards as usual required incessant spurring and whipping up. An
immense correspondence had to be attended to, legitimate and
illegitimate. The official work was bad enough, and it was aggravated by
appeals from all sorts and conditions of persons, from the anxious
mother down to the First Lord of the Admiralty imploring him to take
care of Dowb--to find places, promotion, and favourable attention for
their sons and nephews, and the deserving offspring of important
constituents. Rodney was driven wild by it all, and wrote almost
passionately to his wife, instructing her to inform at least one most
pertinacious acquaintance that Admiral of the White, Sir George Brydges
Rodney, was _not_ a schoolmaster, and would _not_ stand in _loco
parentis_ to an indefinite number of hopeful small boys. Then the wind
joined in the dance. When at last transports and war-ships were ready,
and collected at the back of the Isle of Wight, the westerly gales
settled down to it, and blew right up Channel, whirling rain and mist
along, wrapping up headland and landmark in an impenetrable cloak of
salt haze. To take a heavy convoy of clumsy sailing ships in the teeth
of that wind, between the overlapping headlands which shut in the
Channel, surpassed the resources of seamanship. There was nothing for it
but to wait till it pleased the wind to blow from another point of the
compass. In the meantime the Admiral had to pace the quarter-deck of the
_Sandwich_, or sit in her cabin, receiving and answering pathetic
appeals from the First Lord imploring him to get to sea, for God’s sake
to get to sea, and save not only Gibraltar, but his old friend, who will
be driven rabid by questions in Parliament, and reproaches in places “to
which he pays more attention,” from the King, to wit, if something is
not done and that quickly. During these days the dockyards, the officers
of the war-ships, and the masters of the transports were kept on the
stretch by a rattling fire of orders and rebukes. The Admiral’s doctor
also, Gilbert Blane, had his hands full, no doubt. This gentleman, for
the rest, deserves more than passing notice, for he will be a
conspicuous figure during the great years of Rodney’s life. He is, in
the first place, one of the best of our authorities, and then he has an
honourable place of his own in the history of the navy. With Rodney’s
help and encouragement he did more than any man, except Cook, to drive
the scurvy out of the fleet, and in so doing contributed very materially
to the final victories by providing the admirals with healthy crews. It
is to be noted that the circumstances of this struggle to be off in 1779
were so closely repeated when Rodney was going to sea on his last great
cruise at the end of 1781, that some of his letters of the later date
have been printed under the earlier in his published correspondence.
In the last days of December, 1779, the wind first fell and then shifted
round to the east. With its help the great fleet got under way, and at
last swept clear of the Channel. An immense feeling of relief must have
come to Rodney when at last he saw the Land’s End sink below the
horizon, and he knew that his priceless charge was clear of those narrow
waters which, even in these days of steam, lighthouses, and fog-horns,
the seaman navigates with that wise fear which is the mother of safety.
His convoy consisted all told of over three hundred sail, and must have
covered miles of sea from wing to wing. In the centre were the
transports and merchant vessels. On either side of these sailed the
line-of-battle ships. Ahead, and on the outlook for dangers, went the
frigates, except a few told off to come behind the flock and bark at
laggards. The wind continued fair and the great armament cleared Ushant,
crossed the bay, and had passed Cape Finisterre, when the first of two
well-deserved pieces of luck fell in the way of our fleet. The same
change of wind which had released Rodney from the Channel had opened the
way for a Spanish convoy from Ferrol. It consisted of sixteen vessels
laden partly with merchandise and naval stores, partly with provisions
destined for the Spanish force besieging Gibraltar. A sixty-four-gun
ship, the _Guipuzcoano_, and six frigates or corvettes had been told off
to protect it. Whether it was that luck or their own incorrigibly lazy
habits were against them, the Spaniards were just too late in getting
round Finisterre. As they turned to go south the English dropped right
upon them at daybreak on January 9th, 1780. A general chase was at once
ordered. A Spanish ship chased was a Spanish ship caught, according to a
French naval officer of the time, and in a few hours every one of them
was in possession of an English prize crew. “Help from Spain comes late
or never,” was a proverb in the days when the tercios in the Low
Countries, or in Tunis, looked in vain for help from the procrastinating
government of Philip the Second. It has proved true ever since. On this
occasion the succour came never to the Spaniards in the camp at San
Roque. The provision ships were carried on to Gibraltar for the use of
Elliot and his garrison. The bale goods and naval stores went to England
under charge of the _America_ and the _Pearl_. In order that they might
be the safer from recapture Rodney manned the _Guipuzcoano_, renamed her
the _Prince William_, and sent her also to convoy to England what had
been meant for the help of England’s enemies. The name was taken in
honour of Prince William, afterwards King William the Fourth, who was
serving in the fleet as a midshipman on Admiral Digby’s flag-ship.
A week later a greater capture fell into his hands. On the 16th the
convoy turned Cape St. Vincent, and at one o’clock was at a distance of
about four leagues to the south of it. Rodney knew that the Spaniards
had a squadron at sea to intercept reliefs for the besieged fortress. He
was prepared for them, and had his war-ships now in front. At one the
_Bedford_ signalled that the enemy was visible in the south-east, ahead
of the English between them and Gibraltar. At once the order was given
to form in line abreast (side by side in land language), and approach
the enemy. The wind was from the west or north-west, all in our favour
now, and it rested with us to force the battle on. It was also our
policy to force an action on, as we were in overwhelming superiority of
force. The squadron now in front of Rodney consisted of eleven
line-of-battle ships, one of eighty and ten of seventy guns, and two
frigates. It was absurd to suppose that such a force could offer
resistance to twenty-one line-of-battle ships containing three
three-deckers. The Spaniards were commanded by Don Juan de Langara. With
the extraordinary fatuity which has distinguished the modern Spanish
admiral and general, he had--so he seems to have actually said
himself--taken it for granted that the English would do the most
imbecile thing possible in the circumstances. He knew that a convoy was
on its way to Gibraltar, and he must have known how important it was for
us that the garrison should be relieved. Yet he made his mind up that
the convoy would not be protected by war-ships. In this belief he waited
quietly below Cape St. Vincent till the English convoy was good enough
to run into his jaws. He kept no frigates to windward; he did nothing
but lie there and wait. When Rodney bore down on him he allowed an enemy
of crushing superiority to come close upon him, while he wasted
invaluable time in forming “a line of battle on the starboard tack,”
with the intention apparently of going off in seemly order, instead of
doing the only thing he could do at once, namely, put his ships’ heads
on Cadiz, and fly under every stitch of canvas he could set without
carrying his masts away. So much mismanagement had, could have, and
deserved to have, but one end.
At four o’clock Rodney, seeing that he need not stand on ceremony with
an enemy half his size, hauled down the signal for the line abreast, and
hoisted that for a general chase. There was no time to lose, for in that
latitude the twilight is short, and in that season of the year darkness
was not far off at four o’clock in the afternoon. It was advisable to
get to handgrips before it came on. The English ships were therefore
ordered to go into action as fast as they could, and to take the
lee-gauge. With the wind at west this would be on the eastern side of
the Spaniard. This was for two reasons the best position. It would put
the English between the enemy and his port of refuge at Cadiz, which lay
to south of east of him; and it had this advantage, which at all
conditions belonged to the lee-gauge, that if any of the Spaniards were
crippled in the spars they would be driven by the wind among the English
ships. But in the circumstances the course was a dangerous one, for it
would necessarily bring the English close to the shore in the dark. The
wind was rising, and there was every prospect of a stormy night. It was
not without some hesitation, and after consultation with his
flag-captain, Young, that Rodney finally decided to run the risk. Decide
he did, however, and very shortly after four the quickest of the English
ships were up with the slowest of the Spaniards, who were now--all
futile attempts to keep order having been given up--flying for Cadiz
“like a shoal of frightened porpoises a swarm of sharks pursue.” Ranging
up on the eastern side of them, the leading English ships opened a fire
which was answered with spirit, but, to judge from the very trifling
loss in our fleet, with exceedingly bad aim. Our vessels did not loiter
by the Spaniards they had caught up, but pressed on to those ahead, sure
that the English behind would answer for the lagging enemy. The order to
the sailing-master of the _Sandwich_ was, that no attention was to be
paid to small enemies; she was to be steered for the biggest--for the
admiral if he could be discovered.
The action had not lasted half an hour when one of the Spaniards, the
_San Domingo_, of seventy guns, blew up. One mangled survivor was picked
out of the water, but died before his English captors could carry him to
Gibraltar. At six another of the Spaniards struck. The wind rose
steadily, and the night came, but not the darkness. There was a
brilliant moon, and by its light the English could follow the Spaniards,
who struck one after another. By two in the morning the _Sandwich_ was
alongside of the leading Spanish ship, the _Monarca_. After a few
broadsides she too struck. Then, knowing that the enemy was practically
annihilated, and knowing, too, that the headlong pursuit had brought the
dangerous shoals of San Lucar under his lee, Rodney signalled the order
to stop pursuit, and lie to for the night. By this time the wind had
risen to a gale. For the remainder of the night our squadron was hard at
work. It had to keep off shore itself, and to secure its prizes by
shifting the Spanish officers, and part at least of the men, which, in
the midst of the storm and the darkness which came on at last, were not
easy tasks. Thanks to the difficulties thrown on us by the wind and the
want of light, two of the Spaniards slipped through our fingers after we
had taken possession. One ran on shore with her prize crew, and became a
total wreck. Another was retaken by the Spanish prisoners who remained
on board, and was by them carried into Cadiz. Four of the liners and the
two frigates got away before they could be compelled to strike. The _San
Domingo_, as has been already said, had been blown up. There remained in
Rodney’s possession four line-of-battle ships, including Don Juan de
Langara’s own vessel the _Fenix_, with the Don himself on board
grievously wounded. The day following the battle was spent in
laboriously working off shore. Several of our liners, the _Sandwich_
among them, had got into shoal water in the battle and the darkness, and
were in great danger, in Rodney’s own opinion. But the seamanship of
officers and men was equal to the danger, and before night the war-ships
were out of shoal water, and had rejoined the transports of the convoy,
which had been kept out to sea.
The relief of Gibraltar had now been practically effected. The Spanish
squadron had been swept out of the way, and no other was ready to
replace it. The road therefore was open, but the winds and currents of
the Straits presented difficulties of their own, and it was some days
before the convoy got in--nor did it get in all at once. When the storm
had blown itself out the wind fell, and the fleet was carried by the
currents into the Mediterranean as far as Marbella. From thence Rodney
wrote to Logie, the English Consul at Tangiers, to buy up cattle from
the Moors to be carried over to the garrison, and sent word to Elliot of
the victory. In Gibraltar however it was already known. A midshipman who
was prize-master of one of the Spaniards taken from the Carracas convoy
had brought his vessel into Gibraltar on the 17th. He had passed the
fleets after the engagement began, and had actually seen the explosion
of the _San Domingo_. Then Rodney himself had been seen from the
look-out on the Rock by the help of the flashes of lightning during the
gale, before he was swept out of sight again to Cape Spartel. With their
knowledge of the strength of the Spanish squadron, and what they learnt
from the prize-master of the force under Rodney’s command, the garrison
could have no fear as to the result. They waited in confidence for the
plenty which was to replace their recent short commons. It soon came
pouring in. First Admiral Digby arrived with the wounded Spanish admiral
in his captured flag-ship, and part of the convoy. A few days later
Rodney followed. He had sent his second in command on before, because he
had pilots for the Straits with him and there were none on the flag. A
few days later he came in himself from Tetuan.
He remained at Gibraltar till February 13th, when he sailed for the West
Indies. In the interval there was much to be done. The part of the
convoy destined for Minorca had to be sent on its way, and Rodney had to
wait till the ships protecting it returned. Then in Gibraltar the
squadron had to be looked after, preparations made for the next voyage,
and a ticklish negotiation carried on with the Spaniards as to exchange
of prisoners. It was all successfully done. Minorca was relieved, and
the ships returned. After much correspondence, conducted with infinite
courtly politeness between Rodney and Langara, the exchange of prisoners
was at least partially arranged, and at last the English fleet got off.
Two days later it divided at sea--Admiral Digby to return to the Channel
with the bulk of the force and the homeward-bound convoy--Rodney to make
his way with four ships to the West Indies.
The events of this month of January had completely altered Rodney’s
position. When it began he was a distinguished officer like many others.
When it ended he was the first man in his profession, and the most
popular man in England. The capture of the two convoys, the taking of an
enemy’s admiral and four of his line-of-battle ships, and the relief of
Gibraltar, were by far the most brilliant events of the war so far as it
had yet gone. It was true that we had had the odds in our favour; but
then after nearly two years of depressing dulness the country had begun
to suspect that even when numbers were in their favour its admirals had
not spirit to make use of them. The suspicion was unjust, and no doubt
either Howe or Barrington would have done the work equally well. As for
Byron, “Foul Weather Jack,” his ill luck was really so persistent that
if he had been there the wind would probably have blown a gale from the
east till he gave up attempting to get through the Gut altogether. But
though others might have done the work, as a matter of fact it was
Rodney who did do it, and he reaped the credit as a matter of course.
Besides, although the odds were in our favour, the circumstances had
been of a nature to somewhat redress the balance. The fiery pursuit of
the Spanish fleet in the night and the gale, and on to a lee shore, had
about it something of the “Quiberon touch”--a flavour of the old daring
and seamanship. Here was a man of the old Blake and Hawke stamp--one who
would not come back with a tale of a lee shore as an excuse for letting
the enemy off.
With the King and the minister too the success had done Rodney infinite
good. He had established a claim to their gratitude. That this timely
piece of service should have been done by their Tory admiral was a
great point in their favour. There was something they could throw in the
teeth of Keppel as he sat surrounded by the Whig connection in the
House, snarling at the officers who succeeded him in the Channel
command, and predicting disaster. From this time Sandwich’s letters
become not only most cordial but at times almost submissive. He is quite
eager that the Admiral should tell people that he, Sandwich, had the
credit of making so good a selection of an officer to command. From that
one may judge how pleased the King was. George the Third had chosen
Rodney at least as much as the minister, and he assuredly believed in
the justice of the war in which he was engaged. That his admiral should
have scored a victory in his war was a most legitimate source of joy to
the King. For King, minister, and people alike the substantial results
of the cruise were undeniably admirable. The relief of Gibraltar had
shown that if the Spaniards were to get back the Rock it would not be by
starvation. If they were to get it by other weapons there would need to
be a great change in their methods of attack. The garrison was indeed
much less effectually relieved than the nation supposed; but the failure
was the fault not of the Admiral, but of the Ministry, which had
organised the convoy very ill.