Silas Deane had been the first American agent abroad, reaching Europe
in July, 1776. Franklin and Arthur Lee arrived in France in December
of that year, the former in the brig _Reprisal_, which was the first
American man-of-war to visit the eastern hemisphere. Seldom has there
been a ship whose safety meant so much; for upon Franklin’s great
social and political influence was to depend the aid of France, and
upon this aid, American independence. The _Reprisal_ had taken several
prizes which she had carried into Nantes, and the reception of these
and the many to come later into French and Spanish ports caused strong
protests from England to which these governments had to give heed. The
commissioners were to purchase or hire eight line-of-battle ships as
well as a frigate and two cutters, but their endeavors fell far short
of such a program. Nevertheless, all things considered, aid in money,
and particularly in much needed army stores, was forthcoming to a
surprising degree, and the name of Beaumarchais in France and that of
Gardoqui in Spain, who acted at Bilbao as Beaumarchais’s agent, deserve
lasting remembrance by Americans. In 1778 Deane was replaced by John
Adams, who, accompanied by his son, John Quincy, then eleven years
old, sailed from Boston on February 15th in the frigate _Boston_, and
reached Bordeaux on April 1st. Naval interests, after Deane’s recall,
were taken over chiefly by Franklin.
The war had lasted three years, but now in this year of 1778 it was
to take a new development. The immediate cause was the surrender of
Burgoyne at Saratoga on October 17, 1777. The chain of causes was,
as already mentioned, the resistance offered on Lake Champlain the
previous year (1776) by the flotilla under Arnold, the transfer of the
main part of the British force from New York to Philadelphia when it
should have been employed to support Burgoyne, and the too leisurely
movement of Clinton up the Hudson with a large portion of the 8,000
men left at New York. Clinton captured the forts at the Highlands, but
he was too late to save Burgoyne, who surrendered the day after the
British army burned Kingston. The surrender was a fitting nemesis
for such an act. A greater strategic failure than was this campaign
on the part of the British is not recorded in history, nor has there
ever been one with more momentous consequences. It convinced the French
Government, smarting under its loss of Canada in the treaty of 1763,
that there was now a fair chance of American success, and on February
6, 1778, was signed the treaty of alliance which brought the ships
the aid of which was so vital to our success. Two months later, April
13, 1778, Vice-Admiral Charles Henri Theodat d’Estaing du Saillans,
generally known to us as the Count d’Estaing, sailed from Toulon with
twelve battleships and five frigates. Two of these ships were of 80
guns, six of 74, three of 64, and one of 50. The naval story of our
Revolution, though its greatest exploits in the cruise of Paul Jones
and the capture of the _Serapis_ were yet to come, must, henceforward,
be largely of French ships.
The French commander had one of the greatest chances in history. The
British fleet was in the Delaware awaiting the preparation of the
British army to return to New York from Philadelphia. Howe had but six
64’s, three 50’s, and six frigates. They had been a sure prey to the
French had there been in command a man of greater energy. But d’Estaing
had been transferred at the mature age of thirty-five from the army
to the navy, the profession of all others which requires a life-long
familiarity, and where the rigidity and formality of the army school of
the period were wholly out of place. There have been rare exceptions
to the general rule, Blake being a notable example, but d’Estaing was
not one of these. He was, says a French writer, “detested from the
first--the word is not too strong--by most of his officers.”[5]
Whether through bad luck or want of energy, he was more than a month
(thirty-three days) in even reaching the Straits of Gibraltar, 700
miles from Toulon, thus making an average of but twenty-one miles a day.
A British frigate was noted by the French in passing Gibraltar, which
“tranquilly and comfortably watched the French fleet defile by in
three columns.” But this same ship followed for ninety leagues into
the Atlantic, to make sure of the French course, and then hastened to
England. It arrived there on June 5th, fifty-three days after d’Estaing
had left Toulon and twenty after he had passed the Straits. This
knowledge, however, was not necessary to British action. A force equal
to d’Estaing’s and to be commanded by Vice-Admiral Byron had already
been in preparation, though it had been hampered as much by poor
dockyard administration and want of men as was d’Estaing by his own
want of push.
It was not until July 7, 1778, that the French fleet anchored at the
Capes of the Delaware. But the quarry had gotten away. The British army
had left Philadelphia on June 18th on its march to Sandy Hook. The
scores of transports carrying the army baggage and stores had started
down the Delaware next day. They did not get clear of the Capes until
June 28th, and, convoyed by the men-of-war, reached inside of Sandy
Hook on June 30th. Never was greater opportunity lost. A little earlier
and with Howe’s fleet captured, the fall of New York, practically
undefended, was a certainty. But for d’Estaing’s want of push the war
would have ended in 1778 instead of five years later.
Howe had heard of d’Estaing’s approach. He made admirable preparations
to resist the entry of New York Bay. D’Estaing arrived off Sandy
Hook, but though offering the large sum of 150,000 francs, pilots
were unobtainable, probably by reason of fearing the vengeance of
the British if they should be taken. On July 22d there was a fresh
northeast wind and a spring (a highest) tide. There was ample water for
any ship of his fleet, but d’Estaing and his officers were unacquainted
with the region and did not dare to venture. “At eight o’clock,” wrote
an eyewitness in the British fleet, “d’Estaing, with all his squadron,
appeared under way. He kept working to windward as if to gain a proper
position for crossing the bar by the time the tide should serve. The
wind ... blew from the exact point from which he could attack us to
the greatest advantage. The spring tides were at the highest.... We
consequently expected the hottest fray that had been fought between
the two nations. On our side all was at stake. Had the men-of-war
been defeated, the fleet of transports and victualers must have been
destroyed, and the army of course fallen with us. D’Estaing, however,
had not spirit equal to the risk; at three o’clock we saw him bear off
to the southward, and in a few hours he was out of sight.”[6]
Naturally Washington’s disappointment over d’Estaing’s failure was
great. The great prize had been lost. He had, however, arranged with
d’Estaing that should the latter not attack New York, he would go to
Newport, Rhode Island, and assist General John Sullivan in attacking
the British force of some 6,000, which, supported by six ships-of-war,
held Newport.
D’Estaing anchored off Newport (outside the bay) on July 29, 1778. The
next day Suffren, with two ships-of-the-line, went into the channel
west of Conanicut Island, and two frigates and a sloop-of-war entered
Sakonnet; whereupon the British burned the _Kingfisher_, of 16 guns,
and some galleys stationed there. The British general, Sir Robert
Pigot, withdrew 1,500 Hessians from Conanicut and concentrated his
forces about the town. Goat Island, where is now the United States
Torpedo Station and where for many years was a fort, was also occupied,
as this commanded the main channel and the entrances to the inner
harbor. On August 5th Suffren with his two ships went into the main
channel near the north end of Conanicut, two others taking his former
place. Captain John Brisbane, the senior British naval officer, now
destroyed four frigates, the _Flora_, _Juno_, _Lark_, and _Orpheus_, of
32 guns each, and the corvette _Falcon_, of 16 guns, two being sunk at
the south end of Goat Island. Five transports were sunk between Goat
and Coasters’ Harbor Island, thus closing both entrances to the inner
harbor. The guns, ammunition, and the thousand or so men of their crews
went to strengthen the forces of the batteries.
It was not until August 8th that d’Estaing with the eight remaining
ships-of-the-line ran the batteries and anchored between Coasters’
Harbor Island and Conanicut. He was now joined by the others except
one which remained as a lookout in the West Channel. The long delay of
ten days from the time of arrival had been at Sullivan’s request, who
was not yet ready. Two thousand men had been sent by Washington under
Lafayette, but the expected militia were slow to come in. Things now
looked very black for the British, but the delay had been fatal.
D’Estaing on August 9th landed on Conanicut such of his thousand
soldiers in the fleet as were fit for duty and some two thousand
seamen, in readiness for the morrow’s attack as arranged. Scarcely were
these landed when the lifting of the fog revealed the English fleet at
anchor off Point Judith, seven miles southwest of Narragansett Bay.
Though there were some thirty ships, there were but one 74, six 64’s,
and five 50’s, a force wholly inadequate to meet d’Estaing’s. Howe,
thus inferior, could not have ventured into the bay, but his presence
caused d’Estaing to lose his judgment. The latter had begun to get
his ships into position for defence, in the prevailing calm, but next
morning when the wind came out from the northeast, fair for leaving
port, but making it impossible for Howe to come in even had his force
allowed, d’Estaing in over haste cut his hemp cables and went to sea.
Howe, unable to meet him, did the same, and now the day and part of
the next were spent in maneuvering for position in face of a rising
storm. The wind had gradually increased and finally blew with such
force as to make action impossible. Next day (August 12th) it developed
into an “August storm,” a West India hurricane, which had taken its
usual course up our coast, scattering both fleets and inflicting heavy
damage, particularly upon the French, whose flagship, the _Languedoc_,
completely dismasted and with tiller broken, came near being taken on
the 13th by a much weaker but wholly manageable British 50-gun ship,
the _Renown_. Only night saved her. D’Estaing, with several ships
under jury masts, anchored east of Cape May and gradually collected
his damaged fleet. He was seen here by Howe, who had now but two of
his ships in company. By August 20th d’Estaing was again off Newport,
but only to hold a council of war at which were present Sullivan and
Lafayette. D’Estaing was willing to remain two days if the American
officers would guarantee the surrender of Newport in that time. This
they could not do, and the fleet left for Boston, which was mentioned
in the admiral’s orders as the place in which he was to refit in case
of need. It is of no use to dwell upon the bitter feeling aroused among
the Americans, who felt that the British army at Newport was, with the
aid of the fleet, in their power. In all fairness, however, the failure
was really due to Sullivan’s own delay, which changed completely naval
conditions. The siege was raised; the great effort had gone for nothing
but the destruction of a few unimportant British ships. The British
fleet, now heavily reinforced by the thirteen powerful ships under
Byron which had left England in June, had command of the sea.
D’Estaing spent two months refitting at Boston, and then following the
letter of his orders, left on November 4, 1778, for the West Indies,
where he was much more fortunate, but where we cannot follow him. His
departure left our coast open to invasion at every point, and thus
Savannah was occupied in December by a strong British force; it was the
beginning of the Southern invasion which was to cost us dear.
Pressed by our people, d’Estaing in the summer of 1779, though he had
received orders to return with his own particular squadron to France,
determined to attempt to dislodge the British at Savannah. He thus left
Santo Domingo with twenty ships-of-the-line and seven frigates, and
anchored, on August 31, 1779, off Tybee at the mouth of the Savannah
River, on which, eighteen miles from the sea, is Savannah, then but a
small village. Troops were landed by the French, an attack made, and
an expedition, expected to be completed in eight days, extended to
two months. It ended in disaster; gale after gale crippled the French
fleet here on an unprotected coast, until on October 28th it was wholly
dispersed. The flagship was driven to sea with the loss of both her
only remaining anchors, and it was not until well into December that
the main portions came together again in the West Indies. D’Estaing
himself, however, was driven so far to sea that he determined to return
alone to France. This he did, fortunately meeting the _Provence_ which
gave him an anchor, and reached Brest on December 7, 1779.
He returned, having accomplished nothing in aid of the United States
itself, however fortunate in the West Indies. He was severely judged by
naval officers of his service. One, however, need not go to the extent
of Captain La Clocheterie, whom the Vicomte de Charlus (who kept a
journal when crossing the Atlantic with Rochambeau’s expedition next
year) reports as saying: “He was a coward and a man of no talent.” His
failure is found rather in the _mot_ of a really great French sailor,
Suffren: “If he had only been as much of a seaman as he was brave----”
The whole conduct of d’Estaing’s campaign illustrates what superior
strength at sea might accomplish but, in this case, did not. If he had,
in going to America, pressed westward, even to the extent of towing
his slow sailers, he would have made one of the great successes of
history, and have ended the war in America. Failing this, he could,
at once on his arrival, have forced the surrender of Newport, upon
which he had but to close his hand and the place, with its 7,000
soldiers and sailors, and the bay would have been in possession of the
allies. His fault, militarily considered, was in acceding to Sullivan’s
request for delay. Reading into the psychics of the question, this
request had its basis in Sullivan’s desire to make as good a showing
as possible in the combined operations, and not from actual necessity,
as the powerful French fleet in itself commanded the situation, and
d’Estaing’s compliance came from a natural desire to meet the wishes of
the American commander. But on neither side was it war. His leaving the
bay at the crisis of events was an unfortunate want of judgment. His
later action was but part of the ill-judged strategy of the time which
ended in the fall of Charleston and the British occupancy of the whole
South, its wholesale devastation and well-nigh subjugation.
But neither side, British nor French, could understand how completely
the whole was a question of naval domination. Washington saw, but he
was powerless to do more than proclaim again and again the truth, until
finally in 1781 he was listened to, the result of which was one of the
decisive triumphs of all time.