On the first of June 1794, the British fleet was steering to the
westward with a moderate breeze, south by west, and a tolerably smooth
sea. All night Lord Howe had carried a press of sail to keep up with
the French fleet, which he rightly conjectured would be doing the same;
and as he eagerly looked forth at early dawn, great was his satisfaction
to descry them, about six miles off, on the starboard or lee bow of his
fleet, still steering in line of battle on the larboard tack. His great
fear had been that the French Admiral would weather on him and escape;
now he felt sure that he had him.
At about 5 a.m. the ships of the British fleet bore up, steering first
to the north-west, then to the north; and then again, having closed with
the Frenchmen, they hauled their wind once more, and the Admiral,
knowing that their crews had heavy work before them, ordered them to
heave-to and to pipe to breakfast.
The frigates, the _Ruby_ among them, and the smaller vessels brought up
the rear. Exactly at twelve minutes past 8 a.m., Lord Howe made the
looked-for signal for the fleet to fill and bear down on the enemy; then
came one for each ship to steer for and independently engage the ship
opposed to her in the enemy's line.
The British line was to windward, and Lord Howe wished that each ship
should cut through the enemy's line astern of her proper opponent, and
engage her to leeward.
Soon after 9 a.m. the French ships opened their fire on the advancing
British line, which was warmly returned. The gallant old English
Admiral set an example of bravery by steering for the stern of the
largest French ship, the _Montague_, and passed between her and the
_Jacobin_, almost running aboard the latter.
So energetically did the men labour at their guns, and so tremendous was
the fire that they poured into both their opponents, that in less than
an hour the _Montague_ had her stern-frame and starboard quarter
shattered to pieces, and a hundred killed and two hundred wounded. In
this condition she was still able to make sail, which she did, as did
also the _Jacobin_, the _Queen Charlotte_ being too much disabled in her
masts and rigging to follow.
Most of the other British ships were in the meantime hotly engaging
those of the enemy. The _Queen_ especially received a tremendous fire
from several ships, and became so crippled that the _Montague_, after
she had got clear of the _Queen Charlotte_, followed by several other
ships, bore down to surround her.
Lord Howe, however, having once more made sail on his ship, wore round,
followed by several other ships, to her rescue. The _Montague_, though
she had suffered so much in her hull and had lost so many men, had her
masts and rigging entire; and this enabled her to make sail ahead,
followed by other ships which had in the same way escaped with their
rigging uninjured. Twelve French ships, however, were by half-past
eleven almost totally dismasted, while eleven of the British were in
little better condition; but then the Frenchmen had suffered in addition
far more severely in their hulls.
The proceedings of the line-of-battle ships had been viewed at a
distance by the eager crew of the _Ruby_. As one ship after the other
was dismasted, their enthusiasm knew no bounds.
"Oh, Paul, I wish I was there!" cried True Blue vehemently. "There!--
there!--another Frenchman is getting it! Down comes her foremast!--
see!--her mainmast and mizen-mast follow! Oh, what a crash there must
be! That's the eighth Frenchman without a lower mast standing. Hurrah!
we shall have them all!"
"Not quite so sure of that, boy," observed Peter Ogle, who had come upon
the forecastle. "Two of our own ships, you see, are no better off; and
several have lost their topmasts and topgallant-masts. Still they are
right bravely doing their duty. I've never seen warmer work in my day.
Have you, Paul?"
"No. With Lord Rodney we have had hot work enough; but the Frenchmen
didn't fight as well as they do to-day, I must say that for them,"
observed Paul. "See now that Admiral of theirs; he is bearing down once
more to help some of his disabled ships. See, his division seems to
have four or five of them under their lee; but there are a good many
more left to our share."
"Hurrah!" cried True Blue, who had been watching an action briskly
carried on in another direction. "There's one more Frenchman will be
ours before long. That's a tremendous drubbing the _Brunswick_ has
given her."
No ship's company displayed more determined gallantry during that
eventful day than did the _Brunswick_, commanded by the brave Captain
Harvey. Being prevented from passing between the _Achille_ and
_Vengeur_, in consequence of the latter shooting ahead and filling up
the intervening space, she ran foul of the _Vengeur_, her own starboard
anchors hooking on the Frenchman's larboard foreshrouds and
fore-channels.
"Shall we cut away the anchor, sir?" inquired the master, Mr Stewart,
of the Captain.
"No, no. We have got her, and we will keep her," replied Captain
Harvey.
The two ships on this swung close to each other, and, paying off before
the wind with their heads to the northward, with their yards squared,
and with a considerable way on them, they speedily ran out of the line,
commencing a furious engagement. The British crew, unable to open the
eight lower-deck starboard ports from the third abaft, blew them off.
The _Vengeur's_ musketry, meantime, and her poop carronades, soon played
havoc on the _Brunswick's_ quarterdeck, killing several officers and
men, and wounding others, among whom was Captain Harvey, three of his
fingers being torn away by a musket-shot, though he refused to leave the
deck.
For an hour and a half the gallant _Brunswick_ carried on the desperate
strife, the courage of her opponent's crew being equal to that of her
own, when, at about 11 a.m., a French ship was discovered through the
smoke, with her foremast only standing, bearing down on her larboard
quarter, with her gangways and rigging crowded with men, prepared, it
was evident, to board her, for the purpose of releasing the _Vengeur_.
Instead of trembling at finding the number of their enemies doubled, the
British seamen cheered, and the men stationed at the five aftermost
lower-deck guns on the starboard side were turned over to those on the
larboard side, on which the fresh enemy appeared. A double-headed shot
was added to each of these guns, already loaded with a 32-pounder. The
main and upper deck guns were already manned.
"Now, my lads," cried the officer, "fire high, and knock away her
remaining mast!"
The stranger, which was the _Achille_, had now got within musket-shot,
and wonderfully surprised were her crew at the hot fire with which they
were received. Round after round from the after-guns were discharged in
rapid succession, till, in a few minutes, down came the Frenchman's
foremast, falling on the starboard side, where the wreck of the main and
mizen-masts already lay, and preventing him making the slightest
resistance. A few more rounds were given. They were not returned, and
down came the Frenchman's colours, which had been hoisted on one of her
remaining stumps. The _Brunswick_, however, was utterly unable to take
possession, not having a boat that would swim, and being still hotly
engaged with her opponent on the opposite side.
When the Frenchmen discovered this, they once more rehoisted their
colours, and, setting a spritsail on the bowsprit, endeavoured to make
off. The _Brunswick_, as they did so, gave them a parting dose; but it
had not the effect of making them once more lower their colours. All
this time, the crews stationed at the _Brunswick's_ lower and main deck
guns were heroically labouring away. Profiting by the rolling of the
_Vengeur_, they frequently drove home the quoins and depressed the
muzzles of the guns, which were loaded with two round-shot, and then
before the next discharge withdrew the quoins and pointed the muzzles
upwards, thus alternately firing into her opponent's bottom and ripping
up her decks. While, however, they were hurling destruction into the
side of the enemy below, the French musketry was sweeping the
quarterdeck, forecastle, and poop, whence, in consequence, it was
scarcely possible to work the guns. Several times, also, she had been
on fire from the wadding which came blazing on board.
The brave Captain Harvey, on passing along the deck, was knocked down by
a splinter; but, though seriously injured, he was quickly on his legs
again encouraging his men. Soon afterwards, however, the crown of a
double-headed shot, which had split, struck his right arm and shattered
it to fragments. He fell into the arms of some of those standing round.
"Stay a moment before you take me below!" he exclaimed, believing that
he was mortally wounded. "Persevere, my brave lads, in your duty.
Continue the action with spirit, for the honour of our King and country;
and remember my last word, `_The colours of the Brunswick shall never be
struck_!'"
Hearty shouts answered this heroic address, and the crew set to work
with renewed energy to compel their opponents to succumb. Never,
perhaps, however, were two braver men than the Captains of the
_Brunswick_ and _Vengeur_ opposed to each other, and their spirits
undoubtedly animated their crews. If the British had resolved to
conquer, the French had determined not to yield as long as their ship
remained afloat.
Still it appeared doubtful which would come off the victor. At this
crisis, for an instant, as the smoke cleared off, another line-of-battle
ship was seen approaching the _Brunswick_. If a Frenchman, all on board
saw it would go hard with her. Still they determined not to disappoint
their Captain's hopes, and to go down with their colours flying rather
than strike.
The command had now devolved on Lieutenant Cracraft. For three hours
the two ships had been locked in their fiery embrace, pounding away at
each other with the most desperate fury, when, near 1 p.m., the
_Vengeur_, tearing away the three anchors from the _Brunswick's_ bow,
rolled herself clear, and the two well-matched combatants separated.
The newcomer was seen to be the _Ramillies_, with her masts and spars
still uninjured. Having, indeed, had but two seamen killed and seven
wounded, she was quite a fresh ship. She, however, waited for the
French ship to settle farther from the _Brunswick_, in order to have
room to fire at her without injuring the latter. The brave crew of the
_Brunswick_ were, however, not idle even yet, and continued their fire
so well-directed that they split the _Vengeur's_ rudder and shattered
her stern-post, besides making a large hole in her counter, through
which they could see the water rushing furiously.
At this spot the _Ramillies_, now only forty yards distant, pointed her
guns, and the _Brunswick_, still firing, in a few minutes reduced the
brave _Vengeur_ to a sinking state. Just then, it being seen from the
_Ramillies_ that the _Achille_ was endeavouring to make her escape, all
sail was made on her, and away she stood from the two exhausted
combatants in chase of the fugitive, which she ultimately secured
without opposition. Soon after 1 p.m., the two gallant opponents ceased
firing at each other, and at the same time a Union-Jack was displayed
over the quarter of the Frenchman as a token of submission and a desire
to be relieved.
Not a boat, however, could be sent from the _Brunswick_, and in a few
minutes her mizen-mast went by the board and made her still less able to
render assistance. It made the hearts of the brave crew of the
_Brunswick_ bleed to think of the sad fate which awaited their late
enemies, and which no exertion they had the power of making could avert.
Mr Cracraft now considered what was best to be done. The French
Admiral Villaret was leading a fresh line on the starboard tack, to
recover as many as he could of his dismasted ships; and the difficulty
of the _Brunswick_ was to rejoin her own fleet, without passing
dangerously near that of the French, the loss of the mizen-mast and the
wounded state of the other masts rendering it impossible to haul on a
wind as was necessary. Accordingly, the head of the _Brunswick_ was put
to the northward for the purpose of making the best of her way into
port, while all possible sail was made on her.
Sad was her state. Her mizen-mast was gone, and her two other masts and
bowsprit were desperately wounded; her yards were shattered; all her
running and most of her standing rigging was shot away, and her sails
were in shreds and tatters. Twenty-three guns lay dismounted; her
starboard quarter gallery had been carried away, and her best bower
anchor with the starboard cathead was towing under her stem. Her brave
Captain was mortally wounded, and she had three officers, eleven
marines, and thirty seamen killed, and three officers, nineteen marines
and ninety-one seamen wounded. The survivors immediately began to fish
the masts, repair the damaged rigging, and to secure the lower-deck
ports, through which the water was rushing at every roll. Her
adventures were not over, though; for at 3 p.m., on her homeward course,
she fell in with the _Jemappes_, wholly dismasted, and moved only by
means of her spritsails. The _Brunswick_, which had received, early in
the day, considerable annoyance from her, luffed up under her lee for
the purpose of capturing her; but her crew displayed the Union-Jack over
her quarter, and hailed that she had struck to the English Admiral, at
the same time pointing at the _Queen_, then some distance to the south.
The assertion being credited, the _Brunswick_ stood on, and happily
reached Plymouth Sound in safety, where, on the 30th, her brave Captain,
John Harvey, died.
Her gallant opponent, meantime, the _Vengeur_, soon after they parted,
lost her wounded fore and main masts, the latter in its fall carrying
away the head of the mizen-mast. Thus reduced to a complete wreck, she
rolled her ports deeply in the water, and the lids of those on the
larboard side having been torn or knocked off in her late engagement,
she filled faster than ever. Hopeless seemed the fate of all on board.
Her officers scarcely expected that she could float many hours, or
indeed minutes, longer.
None of her own consorts could come to her assistance. Her boats were
knocked to pieces; there was no time to construct a raft, and the sea
was too rough to launch one. Her decks were covered with the dead and
dying; her cockpit full of desperately wounded men, not less than two
hundred in all. Discipline was at end. Many broke into the
spirit-room. Many burst forth into wild Republican songs, and insisted
on the tricoloured flag being again hoisted.
Their brave Captain looked on with grief and pain at what was going
forward, and did his utmost to restore order. He had a young son with
him--a gallant little fellow, who had stood unharmed by his side during
the hottest of the fight; and was he now thus to perish? Could he save
the boy? There seemed no hope.
Captain Garland had been aloft all day with his glass, as had also
several of his officers, eagerly watching the proceedings of the two
fleets. Never for a moment did he doubt on which side victory would
drop her wreath of laurel; still his heart beat with an anxiety unusual
for him. He had remarked the two ships remaining hotly engaged, yardarm
to yardarm out of the line, and he had never lost sight of them
altogether. What their condition would be after so desperate and
lengthened an encounter he justly surmised, and he at length bore down
to aid a friend in capturing an enemy, or to succour one or the other.
The _Ruby_ had more than one ship to contend with on her way, and her
boats were summoned by signal to take possession of a prize; so that the
evening was drawing on when she, with another ship, and the _Rattler_
cutter, got down to the sinking Frenchman.
Evidently, from the depth of the shattered seventy-four in the water,
and the slow way in which she rolled, she had but a short time longer to
float. The guns were secured, and every boat that could swim was
instantly lowered from the sides of the British ships. The gallant
seamen showed themselves as eager to save life as they had been to
destroy it.
"Jump, jump, Jean Crapaud!--jump, jump, friends!" they shouted as they
got alongside. "We'll catch you, never fear," they added, holding out
their arms.
Numbers of Frenchmen, begrimed with powder and covered with blood, threw
themselves headlong into the boats, and had it not been for the English
seamen, would have been severely injured. Some refused to come, and
looked through the ports, shouting, "Vive la Nation!", "Vive la
Republique!"
"Poor fools!" cried Paul Pringle sadly; "they'll soon be singing a
different tune when the water is closing over their heads. That will
bring them too late to their senses."
The boats, as fast as their eager crews could urge them, went backwards
and forwards between the sinking Frenchman and the English ships. Some
hundreds had been taken off; but still the wounded and many of the
drunken remained.
Sir Henry Elmore commanded one of the boats, and True Blue was in her.
In one of her early trips an officer appeared at one of the ports,
dragging forward a young midshipman.
"Monsieur," he said, hearing Sir Henry speak French, "I beg that you
will take this brave boy in your boat. He wishes to be one of the last
to leave the ship, and, as you see, we know not how soon she may go
down, and he may be lost. He is our Captain's son, and where his father
is I cannot say."
"Gladly--willingly," answered Sir Henry. "And you, my friend, come with
the boy."
The lad showed signs of resistance; but True Blue sprang up into the
port, aided by a boathook which he held, and, taking the lad round the
waist, leaped with him into the boat. The officer refused to come,
saying that he had duties to which he must attend; and the boat being
now full, Sir Henry had to return to the frigate.
On hastening back to the ship, the officer again appeared. "I will
accompany you now," he said, leaping in and taking his seat in the
sternsheets. "But I have been searching in vain for our brave Captain
Renaudin. What can have, become of him I do not know. If he is lost,
it will break that poor boy's heart, they were so wrapped up in each
other."
The boat, as he spoke, was rapidly filling with French seamen.
"Shove off! shove off!" cried Sir Henry energetically.
It was time, indeed. There was a general rush from all the decks and
ports of the hapless _Vengeur_. Some threw themselves into the water,
some headlong into the boats; others danced away, shouting as before;
while one, more drunken or frantic than the rest, waved over her counter
the tricoloured flag under which the ship had been so gallantly fought.
The boats shoved off and pulled away as fast as they could move; there
was danger in delay. The men pulled for their lives. The ship gave a
heavy lurch, the madmen shouted louder than ever; and then every voice
was silent, and down she went like some huge monster beneath the waves,
which speedily closed over the spot where she had been, not a human
being floating upwards alive from her vast hull, now the tomb of nearly
a third of her crew.
There were many other desperate encounters that day, but none so
gallantly fought out to the death as that between the _Brunswick_ and
the _Vengeur_. Six line-of-battle ships were secured as prizes. The
total loss of the French in killed, wounded, and prisoners was not less
than 7000 men, of whom fully 3000 were killed.
The whole loss of the English on the 1st of June, and on the previous
days, was 290 killed and 858 wounded. The French having suffered more
in their hulls than in their masts and rigging, were able to manoeuvre
better than the English; and Admiral Villaret, being content with having
secured four of his ships, made no attempt to renew the battle, but
under all the sail he could set, with the dismasted ships in tow, stood
away to the northward, and by 6 p.m. was completely out of sight, a
single frigate only remaining astern to reconnoitre.
Thus ended this celebrated sea-fight, chronicled in the naval annals of
England as the glorious First--1st of June. Its immediate results were
in themselves not important; but it showed Englishmen what they were
ready enough to believe, that they could thrash the Frenchmen as in days
of yore; and it taught the French to dread the dogged resolution and
stern courage of the English, and to be prepared to suffer defeat
whenever they should meet on equal terms.
The news of the victory reached London on the 10th. So important was it
considered, that Lord Chatham carried the account of it to the opera,
and just after the second act it was made known to the house. A burst
of transport interrupted the opera, and never was any scene of emotion
so rapturous as the audience exhibited when the band struck up "Rule
Britannia!" The same enthusiasm welcomed the news at the other
theatres. The event was celebrated throughout the night by the ringing
of bells and firing of cannon, and the next day at noon by the firing of
the Park and Tower guns. For three successive evenings also the whole
metropolis was illuminated.
A few days afterwards, the King himself, with the Queen and Royal
Family, went to Portsmouth to visit the fleet. Lord Howe's flag was
shifted to a frigate, and the royal standard was hoisted on board the
_Queen Charlotte_. The whole garrison was under arms, and the concourse
of people was immense. The King, with his own hand, carried a valuable
diamond-hilted sword from the Commissioner's house down to the boat. As
soon as His Majesty arrived on board the _Queen Charlotte_, with numbers
of his ministers and nobles, and the officers of the fleet standing
round on the quarterdeck, he presented the sword to Lord Howe, as a mark
of his satisfaction and entire approbation of his conduct.
As their Majesties' barges passed, the crews cheered, the ships saluted,
the bands played martial symphonies, and every sign of a general
enthusiasm was exhibited.
The next day, the King gave audience to the officers of Lord Howe's
fleet, and to the officers of the army and navy generally; and after
their Majesties had dined at the Commissioner's house, they proceeded up
the harbour to view the six French prizes which lay there at their
moorings.
The primary object for which the fleet had put to sea was not
accomplished; the great American convoy was not fallen in with, nor did
Admiral Montague succeed in intercepting it, though he himself met
Admiral Villaret's defeated Squadron, and might, had the French shown
more courage, have been overpowered by it. He avoided an engagement and
returned into port; and a day or two afterwards, the expected convoy
appeared off the French coast, and gained a harbour in safety.
The _Ruby_ had arrived with the rest of the fleet at Spithead. The
seamen treated their prisoners with the greatest kindness and humanity;
and even Paul Pringle declared that the Jean Crapauds were not after all
such bad fellows, if you got them by themselves to talk to quietly.
Young Renaudin, the son of the brave Captain of the _Vengeur_, during
their ten days' passage home, became a great pet among the officers and
midshipmen. Still his spirits were very low, and he was very
despondent, believing that his father was lost to him for ever. He had
especially attached himself to Sir Henry Elmore and Johnny Nott, who,
remembering their own preservation from foundering, had a fellow-feeling
for him, and more especially looked after all his wants, while True Blue
was appointed to attend on him.
The day after their arrival, Sir Henry got leave to go on shore and take
their young prisoner, as well as Nott and True Blue, with him. Scarcely
had they touched the point, than the boy sprang from the boat, and,
breathless with excitement, rushed into the arms of a gentleman who had
just landed with some English officers.
"_Mon pere! mon pere_!" exclaimed the boy.
"_Mon fils_! _mon fils_!" cried the gentleman, enclosing him in his arms
and bursting into tears.
It was the gallant Captain of the _Vengeur_.
"Next to winning the battle, I would sooner have seen that meeting
between the brave French Captain and his son than anything else I know
of!" exclaimed True Blue as he recounted the adventure to Tim Fid, Harry
Hartland, and other messmates on board the _Ruby_.