A Hero in the Making
(1773-1783)
“_True honour, I hope, predominates in my mind far above riches_”
--NELSON.
We are fortunate in having an account of Nelson’s early career at sea
penned by himself, otherwise the material at our disposal would be
extremely scanty. The story of the next few years is therefore told
in his own words. What it lacks in picturesqueness is made up for in
authenticity:
“On our arrival in England,” he says, “and paid off, 15 October [1773],
I found that a squadron was fitting out for the East Indies; and
nothing less than such a distant voyage could in the least satisfy my
desire of maritime knowledge: and I was placed in the _Seahorse_ of 20
guns, with Captain Farmer, and watched in the foretop; from whence in
time I was placed on the quarter-deck: having, in the time I was in
this ship, visited almost every part of the East Indies, from Bengal to
Bussorah. Ill-health induced Sir Edward Hughes, who had always shown
me the greatest kindness, to send me to England in the _Dolphin_ of
20 guns, with Captain James Pigot, whose kindness at that time saved
my life. This ship was paid off at Woolwich on 24 September, 1776. On
the 26th I received an order from Sir James Douglas, who commanded
at Portsmouth, to act as lieutenant of the _Worcester_, 64, Captain
Mark Robinson, who was ordered to Gibraltar with a convoy.[6] In this
ship I was at sea with convoys till 2 April, 1777, and in very bad
weather. But although my age might have been a sufficient cause for not
entrusting me with the charge of a watch, yet Captain Robinson used to
say, ‘he felt as easy when I was upon deck, as any officer in the ship.’
“On [the 9th] April, 1777, I passed my examination as a lieutenant;
and received my commission the next day, as second lieutenant of the
_Lowestoffe_ frigate of 32 guns, Captain (now Lieutenant-Governor of
Greenwich Hospital) William Locker. In this ship I went to Jamaica; but
even a frigate was not sufficiently active for my mind, and I got into
a schooner, tender to the _Lowestoffe_. In this vessel I made myself a
complete pilot for all the passages through the (Keys) Islands situated
on the north side [of] Hispaniola. Whilst in this frigate, an event
happened which presaged my character; and, as it conveys no dishonour
to the officer alluded to, I shall relate it.
“Blowing a gale of wind, and very heavy sea, the frigate captured an
American letter of marque.[7] The first lieutenant was ordered to board
her, which he did not, owing to the very high sea. On his return on
board, the captain said, ‘Have I no officer in the ship who can board
the prize?’ On which the master ran to the gangway, to get into the
boat; when I stopped him, saying, ‘It is my turn now; and if I come
back, it is yours.’ This little incident has often occurred to my mind;
and I know it is my disposition, that difficulties and dangers do but
increase my desire of attempting them.
“Sir Peter Parker, soon after his arrival at Jamaica, 1778, took me
into his own flag-ship, the _Bristol_, as third lieutenant; from which
I rose by succession to be first. Nothing particular happened whilst I
was in this ship, which was actively employed off Cape François, being
the commencement of the French war.”
A few words with reference to the hostilities mentioned are needed as
explanation. The war between Great Britain and her colonists in North
America, which culminated in the birth of a new World-Power, now known
as the United States, had broken out in 1775, although the seeds of
dissension had been sown much earlier. This unfortunate and disastrous
quarrel had also embroiled “the mother of nations” in a strife with
France and Spain, whose help the New Englanders secured in 1778 and
1779 respectively. In 1780 Holland became involved. The foolishness of
not having sufficiently watched the doings of a potential enemy now
became apparent. For several years “resolute Choiseul, the abrupt proud
man” of Carlyle, had bent his energies on increasing the French navy,
and when the Brest fleet of thirty-two sail-of-the-line, under Count
D’Orvilliers, met the British fleet of thirty sail, under Vice-Admiral
the Hon. A. Keppel, off Ushant on the 27th July 1778, the action was
indecisive. In American waters Lord Howe hove in sight of the fleet
under D’Estaing, the French commander having better ships and heavier
metal, but while Howe was manœuvring to attack the enemy a storm parted
the would-be contestants. Both suffered considerable damage by wind and
not by shot as had been anticipated. Shortly afterwards Admiral Byron
took over Howe’s command and endeavoured to come up with D’Estaing’s
ships. Unfortunately the Frenchman had sailed to the West Indies, which
“in this protracted contest,” to use the words of Admiral Mahan, was to
be “the chief scene of naval hostilities....” “The West Indies is the
Station for honour,” said Nelson sometime later. Froude, the historian,
predicted that “If ever the naval exploits of this country are done
into an epic poem--and since the _Iliad_ there has been no subject
better fitted for such treatment or better deserving it--the West
Indies will be the scene of the most brilliant cantos.” We shall have
occasion to refer to this great strategic point many times in these
pages, especially in the great game of hide-and-seek between Napoleon’s
captains and Nelson immediately preceding the Trafalgar campaign.[8]
The year 1778 was not a brilliant one in British naval annals, although
it closed by Hotham and Barrington attacking D’Estaing off St Lucia and
preventing him from landing more than half the troops intended for the
subjugation of that island. As a consequence the force under Chevalier
de Michaud surrendered, and St Lucia was won.
“On 8 December, 1778,” Nelson continues, “I was appointed commander
of the _Badger_ brig; and was first sent to protect the Mosquito
shore, and the Bay of Honduras, from the depredations of the American
privateers. Whilst on this service, I gained so much the affections
of the settlers, that they unanimously voted me their thanks, and
expressed their regret on my leaving them; entrusting to me to describe
to Sir Peter Parker and Sir John Dalling their situation, should
a war with Spain break out. Whilst I commanded this brig, H.M.S.
_Glasgow_, Captain Thomas Lloyd, came into Montego Bay, Jamaica, where
the _Badger_ was laying: in two hours afterwards she took fire by a
cask of rum; and Captain Lloyd will tell you, that it was owing to my
exertions, joined to his, that her whole crew were rescued from the
flames.”
This stirring incident merits a more detailed description than the bare
facts which Nelson chose to set forth. The crew was in a panic when he
and his men set foot on the deck of the doomed vessel, and by almost
superhuman exertions managed to throw all the gunpowder in the magazine
overboard before the flames reached it. He also ordered that the loaded
cannon should be directed upward, so that when they exploded, owing to
the intense heat, no damage would result. Thus early in his career did
Nelson show that he was not at a loss when the unusual and unexpected
happened. In a letter to Captain Locker, who was ill, the young officer
describes the fate of the _Glasgow_ as “a most shocking sight; and had
it happened half an hour later, in all probability a great many people
would have been lost.” He also notes that the company of the derelict
were falling ill very fast owing to the constant tropical rains to
which the men were exposed, there being no room for them on the
_Badger_.
“On 11 June, 1779,” Nelson continues, “I was made post into the
_Hinchinbrook_. When, being at sea, and Count d’Estaing arriving at
Hispaniola (Haïti) with a very large fleet and army from Martinique, an
attack on Jamaica was expected. In this critical state, I was by both
admiral and general entrusted with the command of the batteries at Port
Royal; and I need not say, as the defence of this place was the key to
the port of the whole naval force, the town of Kingston, and Spanish
Town, it was the most important post in the whole island.”
D’Estaing’s fleet consisted of twenty-two sail-of-the-line, excluding
transports and privateers which had attached themselves to him, and it
was commonly reported that he had no fewer than 20,000 troops on board.
Nelson, as noted above, was now Post-Captain, and although he had no
occasion to prove his ability as a commander of land batteries, he
seems to have taken kindly to the situation. In a letter to his friend
Captain Parker, dated the 12th August 1779, he states that “Jamaica is
turned upside down since you left it,” and furnishes particulars of the
measures made for the defence of the island. “You must not be surprised
to hear of my learning to speak French,” he remarks as a humorous aside.
To help to achieve the downfall of the wily d’Estaing was not to fall
to Nelson’s lot. That worthy hastened to Savannah, which was attacked
by troops under General Lincoln and himself. They were routed by the
British lines, whereupon d’Estaing sailed away.
Great Britain was now at war with Spain, which had thrown in her lot
with France, and was soon to feel the effects of the Armed Neutrality,
consisting of Russia, Sweden, Denmark, Holland, and Prussia. They
resented England’s right to search neutral ships, with the result
that the latter Power could not retain her supremacy at sea, a cause
of Cornwallis’s surrender at Yorktown and the consequent loss of the
American Colonies. In January 1780 it was resolved to make an attempt
to take the important post of Fort San Juan, on the river of that name.
This would materially aid the British to secure the city of Granada,
on Lake Nicaragua, and to sever the communications of the enemy
between their northern and southern dominions. The idea originated
with Dalling, Governor of Jamaica, to whom history has scarcely done
justice. The naval force was entrusted to Nelson, the command of the
troops to Captain John Polson.
The soldiers at the disposal of the intrepid adventurers were a mere
handful, scarcely 500 in all, but perhaps that fact added the necessary
spice of danger. Nelson left his ship, and “carried troops in boats one
hundred miles up a river, which none but Spaniards since the time of
the buccaneers had ever ascended,” to use his own words. He “boarded”
an outpost of the enemy, situated on an island in the river; “made
batteries, and afterwards fought them, and was a principal cause of
our success.” When the miniature expedition arrived at Fort San Juan
the rainy season had commenced, bringing malaria in its train. Nelson
was all for making an immediate attack, but Polson ruled the slower,
and perhaps surer, method of erecting batteries and so forth, in which
Nelson lent a willing hand. “I want words to express the obligations I
owe to Captain Nelson,” Polson told Governor Dalling. “He was the first
on every service, whether by day or night. There was not a gun fired
but was pointed by him, or by Captain Despard, Chief Engineer.” Fever
played havoc with the men; of the 200 sailors of the _Hinchinbrook_,
no fewer than “eighty-seven took to their beds in one night; and of
the two hundred, one hundred and forty-five were buried in mine and
Captain Collingwood’s[9] time: and I believe very few, not more than
ten, survived of that ship’s crew; a proof how necessary expedition is
in those climates.” Nelson’s own health was undermined by dysentery.
A few hours before the Spanish flag gave place to the Union Jack he
left the region of the fort in order to join the _Janus_ (44 guns), of
which he had been given command. The ship being stationed at Jamaica,
he was taken to Port Royal in a sloop. Here he met with a good and
tender-hearted friend in Lady Parker, the wife of Sir Peter Parker,
Commander-in-Chief at Jamaica, but he gained so little in strength that
he was compelled to ask leave of absence and leave the West Indies for
England. Had he stayed it is improbable that he could have rendered
useful service while in such a low condition. The expedition eventually
ended in failure. He sailed on the 4th September 1780 in the _Lion_,
commanded by Captain the Hon. William Cornwallis, a younger son of
Earl Cornwallis, who acted the part of nurse to the patient’s entire
satisfaction, and cemented a friendship which lasted until Nelson’s
death.
Having to resign the _Janus_ probably caused Nelson more torture than
his physical suffering, for he was intensely ambitious. It is stated
that when he arrived in England he would not proceed to Bath to drink
the waters until he had been conveyed to the Admiralty to beg for
another vessel. “This they readily promised me,” he observed in a
humorous way, “thinking it not possible for me to live.” At Bath he
stayed with Mr Spry, an apothecary, who resided at 2 Pierrepont Street;
his medical adviser was Dr Woodward.
On the 23rd January 1781 Nelson was able to inform Captain Locker that
he was “now upon the mending hand,” although he had been “obliged to
be carried to and from bed, with the most excruciating tortures.” Some
three weeks later further progress was reported; “My health, thank
God, is very near perfectly restored; and I have the perfect use of
all my limbs, except my left arm, which I can hardly tell what is the
matter with it. From the shoulder to my fingers’ ends are as if half
dead; but the surgeon and doctors give me hopes it will all go off. I
most sincerely wish to be employed, and hope it will not be long.”
Again the flicker of ambition is evident, always a good sign in a
patient. “I never was so well in health that I can remember,” he writes
on the 5th March. On Monday of the following week he began his return
journey to London. Unfortunately his progress was intermittent. He had
“good” days and “bad” days. Two months later we find Nelson telling his
beloved brother William that he has entirely lost the use of his left
arm and nearly of his left leg and thigh. However, the surgeon who was
attending him gave him hopes of recovery, “when I will certainly come
into Norfolk, and spend my time there till I am employed.”
At this period Nelson did not have to eat out his heart in chagrin and
disappointment owing to neglect as some of our modern naval officers
have had to do. In August 1781, when his health had improved, he was
given command of the _Albemarle_, a frigate of 28 guns, and on the 23rd
of that month he hoisted his pennant at Woolwich. The appearance of
the little vessel pleased him considerably, his officers and men even
more so, as his letters abundantly testify. “My quarter-deck is filled,
much to my satisfaction, with very genteel young men and seamen”; “I
have an exceeding good ship’s company. Not a man or officer in her I
would wish to change”; “I am perfectly satisfied with both officers
and ship’s company. All my marines are likewise old standers,” are
some of his remarks to correspondents. We must not imagine that Nelson
necessarily had a pattern-ship and a pattern-crew because of the kind
things he said of them. His recent recovery from serious illness has
doubtless to be taken into consideration. We all see the world and its
inhabitants through rose-coloured glasses after an enforced absence
from the ordinary duties and modes of life. A natural sweetness of
disposition may also partly account for his optimism. In later years
Samuel Rogers, the Banker-poet, recorded in his entertaining “Table
Talk” that “Lord Nelson was a remarkably kind-hearted man. I have seen
him spin a teetotum with his _one_ hand, a whole evening, for the
amusement of some children.”
The young captain’s first voyage in the _Albemarle_ was not unattended
by adventures. His reference to his experiences in the Autobiography is
slightly tinged with a semi-humorous cynicism one can readily forgive,
although it contrasts oddly with the remarks just quoted. “In August,
1781,” he writes, “I was commissioned for the _Albemarle_; and, it
would almost be supposed, to try my constitution, was kept the whole
winter in the North Sea.” He cruised to Elsinore, where he found a
number of vessels waiting for convoy to Portsmouth and Plymouth. “We
have not had any success;” he complains, “indeed, there is nothing you
can meet, but what is in force: the Dutch have not a single merchantman
at sea. One privateer was in our fleet, but it was not possible to lay
hold of him. I chased him an hour, and came fast up with him, but was
obliged to return to the fleet. I find since, it was the noted Fall,
the pirate.... What fools the Dutch must have been not to have taken us
into the Texel. Two hundred and sixty sail the convoy consisted of.”
On another occasion the British ships in the Downs mistook Nelson and
his motley collection for a Dutch fleet. Many of the sail-of-the-line
prepared for action and would have chased their friends had not Nelson
sent a cutter to inform the officers of their ludicrous error. In
the early days of 1782 the _Albemarle_ was ordered to Portsmouth to
take in eight months’ provisions, “and I have no doubt was meant to
go to the East Indies with Sir Richard Bickerton,[10] which I should
have liked exceedingly, but alas, how short-sighted are the best of
us.” The young captain then goes on to tell his brother William of
the fate which overtook him. During a fierce gale an East India store
ship collided with the _Albermarle_. “We have lost our foremast, and
bowsprit, mainyard, larboard cathead, and quarter gallery, the ship’s
[figure] head, and stove in two places on the larboard side--all done
in five minutes. What a change! but yet we ought to be thankful we did
not founder. We have been employed since in getting jury-masts, yards,
and bowsprit, and stopping the holes in our sides. What is to become of
us now, I know not. She must go into dock, and I fear must be paid off,
she has received so much damage.”
A letter to the same correspondent, dated the 8th February 1782,
reveals something of Nelson’s philosophy of life. “We all rise by
deaths,” he asserts. “I got my rank by a shot killing a post-captain,
and I most sincerely hope I shall, when I go, go out of [the] world
the same way; then we go all in the line of our profession--a parson
praying, a captain fighting.” He had his wish gratified, as we all
know. There was something more than a suspicion of the Stoic in Nelson,
for while it cannot be said that he was unaffected by passion, he
certainly displayed praiseworthy indifference to creature comforts
when at sea. That he grumbled to the authorities proves nothing to the
contrary. It was usually with reference to half-unseaworthy ships,
which added to the trials and troubles of his men and oftentimes
precluded him from doing himself justice where the enemy was concerned.
His letters prove conclusively that he had the utmost faith in God,
whom he regarded as a powerful Ally.
Shortly afterwards Nelson sailed with a convoy to Newfoundland and
Quebec. The experience was anything but pleasant, and when he returned
to the latter place in the middle of September he was “knocked up
with scurvy,” the old-time sailor’s curse, owing to a diet of salt
beef for eight weeks. “In the end,” he says, “our cruise has been an
unsuccessful one; we have taken, seen, and destroyed more enemies than
is seldom done in the same space of time, but not one arrived in port.
But, however, I do not repine at our loss: we have in other things been
very fortunate, for on 14 August we fell in with, in Boston Bay, four
sail-of-the-line,[11] and the _Iris_, French man-of-war, part of M.
Vaudreuil’s squadron, who gave us a pretty dance for between nine or
ten hours; but we beat all except the frigate, and though we brought
to for her, after we were out of sight of the line-of-battle ships,
she tacked and stood from us. Our escape I think wonderful: they were,
upon the clearing up of a fog, within shot of us, and chased us the
whole time about one point from the wind....” Nelson managed to avoid
the enemy by “running them amongst the shoals of St George’s Bank,”
a manœuvre which caused the larger ships to stop pursuit. When he
prepared for action the commander of the frigate, deeming discretion
the better part of valour, wisely decided to rejoin his comrades.
After taking another convoy from Quebec to New York, Nelson sailed
under the command of Lord Hood for the West Indies, “the grand theatre
of actions.” Here he captured a French vessel attached to Vaudreuil’s
fleet, thereby getting some compensation for the loss of the frigate.
Her cargo consisted of naval material, and as some of the British ships
were urgently in want of topmasts the prize was more than usually
valuable.
He also attempted to recapture Turk’s Island, which had been taken by
the French. The proceeding was audacious in the extreme, as he had very
few ships at his disposal. An officer was sent on shore, under cover
of a flag of truce, to demand surrender. This proving abortive, a
little band of 167 seamen and marines, under Captain Charles Dixon, was
landed. The _Admiral Barrington_ then came up, and together with the
_Drake_, was about to bombard the town, when a concealed battery opened
upon them. A steady fire was maintained for an hour before Captain
Dixon, who had hoped to reach the enemy’s works while the ships were
engaging some of the French defenders, decided that the experiment was
too dangerous. The enemy’s guns were fought by seamen, the troops had
several field-pieces at their disposal, and two pieces of cannon were
mounted on a hill, consequently continued persistence would have been
foolhardy. “With such a force,” says the instigator of this expedition,
“and their strong position, I did not think anything further could be
attempted.”
Nelson succeeded in making himself thoroughly acquainted with Lord
Hood, who in his turn introduced him to Prince William, then a
midshipman and afterwards William IV., “our Sailor King.” There was
mutual admiration. “He will be, I am certain, an ornament to our
Service,” Nelson tells Locker. “He is a seaman, which you could hardly
suppose. Every other qualification you may expect from him. But he will
be a disciplinarian, and a strong one: he says he is determined every
person shall serve his time before they shall be provided for, as he
is obliged to serve his.” Such is Nelson’s comment. That of the future
monarch was not made at the time, but when Nelson went on board the
_Barfleur_ the incident made such an impression on the Prince that he
was able to paint a graphic word-picture of the event many years after.
Nelson “appeared to be the merest boy of a captain I ever beheld....
He had on a full-laced uniform; his lank, unpowdered hair was tied in
a stiff Hessian tail, of an extraordinary length; the old-fashioned
flaps of his waistcoat added to the general quaintness of his figure,
and produced an appearance which particularly attracted my notice; for
I had never seen anything like it before, nor could I imagine who he
was, nor what he came about. My doubts were, however, removed when Lord
Hood introduced me to him. There was something irresistibly pleasing
in his address and conversation; and an enthusiasm when speaking on
professional subjects that showed he was no common being.... Throughout
the whole of the American War the height of Nelson’s ambition was to
command a line-of-battle ship; as for prize-money, it never entered his
thoughts: he had always in view the character of his maternal uncle.”
On the 25th June 1783 Nelson was again at Portsmouth. After seeing to
the well-being of his sailors he travelled on the leisurely stage-coach
to London, where he was presented to the King by Lord Hood. In the
following September hostilities were concluded between Great Britain,
America, France, Spain, and Holland by the signature of the Treaty of
Versailles. The officer, therefore, found no difficulty in obtaining
six months’ leave to visit France. There he realised that perhaps there
might be some truth in the old adage to the effect that Jack has a
sweetheart in every port.