while De Vaudreuil, who well knew what kind of action his leader
intended him to fight, was preparing to carry out his orders. Two
French ships, to leeward of the rest, attempted to cut across the
head of Hood's ships, which were sailing in close order at one cable
interval. The two had got separated from their consorts during the
night, and were taking the nearest way to rejoin. One of them shirked
coming to close quarters, and made a sweep round well ahead of Hood.
The other, in the coolest and most insolent way, stood directly for
the leader of the British column. She approached deliberately and
aggressively, and came on as though she did not care if she came into
collision with anybody or not. Her ports were closed down, her ensign
staff showed no colours. On the reckless Frenchman came, and the next
instant, to the astonishment of the whole squadron, the _Alfred_,
Hood's leading ship, herself gave way, and sheered out of line. The
_Alfred_ bore up to allow the enemy's seventy-four to pass. The amazing
display of impudence was attended with complete impunity. Everything
was done in dumb show. Not a gun went off on either side. Hood's men
in the eight ships were all at quarters and ready, fidgeting with
suppressed excitement but in hand. Their guns were pointed and run
out and all training on the Frenchmen--yet not a shot was, or could
be, fired. No signal to 'commence action' had gone up. Until it did,
until the red flag broke at the _Formidable's_ foretopmast-head, no
captain dared begin. Why Rodney delayed the signal was inexplicable.
The _Formidable_ was between five and six miles from Hood at that
moment; but on board the flagship they must have seen what was taking
place. At any rate it was a fine display of British discipline. In
breathless silence the French ship forged slowly past the _Alfred's_
broadside, every gun of which was kept pointed on her, training round
and following her as she went by. She made no sign, but held stolidly
on for her own fleet, until she had reached a safe distance from the
British ships. Then, as if in bravado, the French captain hauled his
ports up, ran his guns out, and displayed his colours. Immediately
afterwards the _Formidable_ made the signal--'Engage.'
De Vaudreuil at the same moment opened his attack--such as it was.
He had had his instructions from De Grasse as to the sort of attack
he was to deliver. It was not to be pressed home. No risks were to
be run. Hood was to be dealt with by long-range fire from the French
36-pounders, and his ships dismasted and crippled, the French ships
themselves meanwhile keeping off as much as possible out of harm's
way. With fifteen ships to the British eight, De Grasse anticipated
being able to handle Hood so roughly that Rodney would be forced after
the fight to stop behind to attend to the repairs of his second in
command's squadron, which would let him go on his way to San Domingo
without further interference. That was what was in the French admiral's
mind. De Grasse would not see that he had only to go one step farther.
The gods had favoured him, the odds were all on his side: a little
boldness, a little of the _furia francese_ at point-blank range,
and Rodney's whole fleet would be out of action for the rest of the
campaign. Had De Vaudreuil made use of his superiority on the spot and
attacked Hood vigorously at close quarters, there would have been no
question of repairs. Hood's squadron would have ceased to exist as a
fighting force: twenty-five per cent of Rodney's total strength would
have been shorn away at one stroke.[25] When De Vaudreuil began firing,
the nearest ships of Rodney's squadron were four miles from Hood, and
still becalmed; Admiral Drake and the rear squadron, all also becalmed,
were from ten to twelve miles off. It was an anxious moment for the
British, until they saw how things were shaping themselves.
De Vaudreuil attacked in a very clever fashion, with a remarkably
artistic display of minor tactics. He circled his ships round and round
and blazed away with a continuous fire on his opponent, who kept a
close line for most of the time, with main-topsails to the mast. At
times two or three of the French ships--sometimes, indeed, more--were
firing at once on individual British ships. The _Barfleur_, we are
told, 'had at one time seven and generally three ships upon her.'[26]
Hood remained very little the worse for his hammering, and after
three-quarters of an hour's firing De Vaudreuil gave over for a time.
The attack was renewed a little before noon with some fresh ships.
The breeze had reached the French main body, enabling De Grasse and
three-quarters of his fleet to arrive on the scene. It also brought up
some of the headmost ships of Rodney's own squadron, the _Formidable_
among them, but these were far fewer than the French, who throughout
had a superiority within the fighting zone of nearly two to one. The
rear division of Rodney's squadron and the whole of Drake's still
remained becalmed a long way astern. Once again De Grasse refused to
seize his chance and push his advantage home. 'Had the French fleet
come down as they ought,' said Rodney, 'in all probability half my
fleet would have suffered extremely; but they, as usual, kept an awful
distance, and only made a cannonade!'[27] For upwards of an hour and
a half the firing went on, and then it ceased for the day. Rodney's
rear division and Drake's ships had at last got a breeze and were
beginning to work up into action. On seeing that, De Grasse broke off
the fighting abruptly and drew off out of range. His half-hearted game
had failed entirely. None of Hood's ships had suffered damage that
could not be repaired at sea within twenty-four hours. On the other
hand, the straight shooting of Hood's gunners, long as the range had
been, had severely mauled some of De Vaudreuil's ships. On board the
_Formidable_, in the short time she was in action, three men were
killed and ten wounded; the killed including an officer. Lieutenant
Hill--'my best lieutenant,' as Rodney called him.
De Grasse employed the afternoon in working to windward towards the
Saints, a group of islets about six miles to southward of Guadeloupe.
Rodney, after reversing the order of his line so as to bring Drake's
fresh ships to the van and place Hood's squadron in rear, hove-to in
order to give the damaged ships an opportunity for attending to their
repairs.
They remained hove-to until daybreak next morning (Wednesday, the 10th
of April), when once more Rodney took up the chase. The French were
in sight, some twelve miles off. All day Rodney chased hard, beating
up against a stiff north-easterly breeze. The French admiral showed
no disposition to turn on his pursuers and fight. 'The French,' wrote
Rodney, 'always had it in their power to come into action, which they
cautiously avoided.' De Grasse held on his course, and gaining steadily
during the day led by fifteen miles at nightfall. He was by then near
the Saints. Rodney's last signal before sunset was 'General chase,' so
as to give his ships every chance of doing their best independently.
There was little fear of missing the enemy. Throughout the night the
flashes of the French signal-guns and their signal-flares and false
fires were plainly visible.
In spite of Rodney's efforts, however, the French gained on him in the
night. To the British admiral's bitter disappointment, on Thursday
morning the enemy were nearly out of sight. Only a few of their ships
were to be seen. De Grasse, indeed, had secured so long a lead that
already a large part of his fleet had weathered the Saints. It looked,
in fact, as though the enemy were going to get away clear after all.
Rodney, however, was not a man to despair. 'Persist and conquer,' was,
as he himself said, his favourite maxim in war. He held doggedly on,
trusting to the chapter of accidents. It was, no doubt, all he could
do. Anyway, as events proved, it was the right thing.
He had his reward, and before he had waited very long. Early in the
afternoon two of De Grasse's ships were made out to be in difficulties.
They had dropped astern of the French line and to leeward, and were
drifting in the direction of the course of the advancing British.
During Wednesday night the _Zélé_, a seventy-four, had collided with
another French ship, losing her main-topmast in the collision. Unable
to make good her damage, after trying in vain to keep up with her
consorts, the unfortunate vessel had dropped gradually to leeward,
in company with the _Magnanime_, also a seventy-four, whose foreyard
had been carried away in tacking. The two ships were several miles to
leeward of the French fleet when, early in the afternoon, they came
under Rodney's attention. At that time they were still a long way to
windward of the weathermost of the British fleet, but their situation
offered Rodney an opening. Supposing he made a show of trying to cut
the two French ships off--how would De Grasse take it? Would he turn
back and come to the rescue? Rodney felt sure that he would. De Grasse,
he was positive, would never let two of his ships be snapped up by an
enemy in full view of his own fleet without making an effort to save
them. That being so, there could only be one outcome. 'I flattered
myself,' said Rodney, 'he would give me an opportunity of engaging next
day.'
The signal to chase the two ships was made at once, and within a few
minutes the weathermost of the British ships were drawing out directly
towards them. They were Rodney's fliers, and they sailed fast. They
'gained on the French so fast that the two French ships,' according to
Sir Charles Douglas, who was watching the chase from the quarter-deck
of the _Formidable_, 'began to make signals for help to three or four
of the enemy, all then in sight from the mast-head.' That was just what
Rodney wanted. What he hoped for followed. De Grasse could not stand
by and see two of his ships cut off. The French admiral, observing the
signals of distress, went about and bore down to the rescue under full
sail. 'De Grasse,' said Captain Douglas, describing the afternoon's
work, 'bore down _en corps_, our chasers still menacing their game
until the Count's headmost ships had got very near them, when they and
the rest of the fleet were recalled into close order by signal.'[28]
By five o'clock De Grasse had lost all the advantage of position that
he had toiled so hard to secure during the past two days. He saved his
two ships, and he was still to windward; but it was more than an even
chance now that Rodney would be able to force on a battle next day. 'I
hope we shall do most effective business to-morrow,' were Hood's words
in a note to Rodney that evening.
Rodney made it his business that De Grasse should not have the chance
of evading battle on the morrow. With that one aim he issued his orders
for the night. He saw his way to outmanoeuvre the French under cover of
the dark. All lights on board every ship were to be dowsed except one
lantern at the stern of the _America_, told off as the 'guide of the
fleet.' On a signal, given from the _Formidable_ after dark, the whole
fleet, in order of sailing and under press of canvas, was to stand to
the south, 'which was away from the French,' until two o'clock in the
morning. Then, on a gun signal from the _Formidable_, all would tack
together and beat up until daylight.
Everything turned out exactly as Rodney anticipated. From the British
fleet they marked the flashes of De Grasse's signal-guns from time to
time during the night, and could guess what he was doing. The French
admiral, on the other hand, saw nothing and heard nothing of the
British fleet. He had not the least idea of Rodney's whereabouts all
the night through, and was immensely surprised when daylight showed up
the complete success of Rodney's clever move. 'We had no conception,'
said one of De Grasse's officers afterwards, 'that the British fleet
could be so near.'
Rodney at daybreak was asleep in his cabin. Having set things in train,
he had lain down to get what rest he might before the fateful morrow
came. He had not been able to sleep at all for anxiety during the three
previous nights. The admiral was sleeping peacefully when, a little
before half-past five, Sir Charles Douglas entered the cabin and awoke
Rodney with the news that 'God had given him his enemy on the lee bow!'
Rodney was on deck a very few minutes later. It was broad daylight.
This is the situation as it presented itself before Rodney's eyes
that morning. The British fleet in line ahead, not a ship out of
station, was steering east-north-east on the starboard tack. The wind
was from the south-east. Right ahead lay the open channel between
Dominica and Guadeloupe, divided by the chain of islets known as 'the
Saints'--Columbus's name for them in commemoration of their discovery
on All Saints' Day. They lay off the south end of Martinique, six miles
from shore, with, on the other side, between them and Dominica, a wide
space of open water, fifteen miles across--'The Saints' Passage,' as
it was called. Prince Rupert's Bay in Dominica lay some miles away
on Rodney's starboard beam. The enemy were to the north-east of the
British fleet, as Douglas had said, 'broad on the lee bow.' They were
out of formation, a straggling array of ships, making towards the
south on the port tack and pointing diagonally across the Saints'
Passage.[29] The French had had a bad night and were widely separated.
Most of their ships were far off on the horizon, nearly twelve miles
away. A small group of five or six ships, with a big three-decker in
the midst of them, were not more than eight miles from Rodney. That,
however, was not all. Rodney, after his first glance ahead, turned his
attention in another direction. What he saw was enough to astonish him.
There, under his very eyes, by an extraordinary chance, the situation
of yesterday afternoon was repeating itself. Dead to leeward of the
British fleet, and only five or six miles off, were two isolated French
ships. One was a seventy-four, with her foremast down and bowsprit
gone. The other was a frigate, which had the crippled ship in tow. The
two were going off before the wind, apparently bound for Basse Terre,
Guadeloupe.
There had been another collision in the French fleet. The hapless
_Zélé_, whose earlier misfortunes had been the cause of De Grasse
turning back on Thursday afternoon, had during the previous night
had a second collision. While tacking shortly after midnight, she
had blundered clumsily into the _Ville de Paris_ with disastrous
consequences. In her present state the _Zélé_ was a danger to his
fleet, and De Grasse told off La Pérouse of the _Astrée_ to tow the
crippled ship off at once into Basse Terre. It proved, though, for one
reason and another, not so easy a thing to do in the dark, and the
first streaks of dawn were showing before the towing-cable had been got
across. After that, when at length the two moved away they crawled off
dead slow, making barely five knots. All the time, ever since midnight,
the wind and set of the tide had been carrying not only the _Zélé_ and
the _Astrée_, but also the _Ville de Paris_ and the half-dozen ships
with her that were standing by, steadily to leeward, away from the
main body of the French fleet, and ever nearer to the course on which
Rodney, in the dark, all unknown to De Grasse, was fast approaching.
The French had entirely lost touch with Rodney since sunset, owing to
his having put out his lights.
From the _Formidable's_ quarter-deck Rodney marked the situation of
the _Zélé_. He saw what it meant. A flutter of signal-flags broke
overhead, and within two minutes four of Hood's smartest ships--the
_Monarch_, _Valiant_, _Centaur_, and the _Belliqueux_--were sweeping
out of the line with all sail set, heading straight for the _Zélé_ and
the frigate. De Grasse saw it. To lose the _Zélé_ like that would be
a personal disgrace; but that was not all the mischief. The great De
Bouillé himself, Commander-in-Chief of the French army, was on board
the _Astrée_. It was terribly awkward. De Grasse at once signalled to
his fleet in the distance to make all sail and close on the _Ville de
Paris_, forming line on the port tack.[30] He himself meanwhile with
the ships nearest him bore down towards the British four to frighten
them off. That was just the false step that Rodney wanted him to
take--the outcome of "an impulse of hasty unbalanced judgment."[31]
By another move he might have forced Rodney to recall his chasers
before they could reach the _Zélé_, at the same time also keeping the
weather-gage for himself. By hurrying down under sail ahead of his
fleet De Grasse not only delayed the formation of his line, as his
ships had the farther to go to reach their stations, but he also
carried his fleet bodily to leeward and within Rodney's reach. A worse
blunder still was the forming line on the port tack--the opposite to
that on which Rodney was standing. By continuing on the port tack, the
French, after the first exchange of fire in the open channel, could not
help running into the belt of calms and variable airs off the coast
of Dominica, which would render further manoeuvring on their part
impossible. It was a glaring blunder, and his own fleet saw it. 'What
evil genius,' exclaimed De Vaudreuil's flag-captain, Du Pavillon, who
had the reputation of being one of the ablest officers in the French
navy, as he read off the flags at the _Ville de Paris's_ mast-head with
his glass, 'What evil genius has inspired the admiral!'
When the French had come far enough to leeward to suit his purpose,
Rodney recalled his chasing ships and went to breakfast.
The men had already breakfasted, and every ship was ready, cleared for
action: the decks were rid of unnecessary gear and sanded down, the
yards slung and sheets stoppered, fire screens rigged, the guns cast
loose, and run out, the galley fires extinguished and the magazines
opened. On board the _Formidable_ during these preliminary moments, Sir
Charles Douglas with Captain Symonds went round below and inspected
the gun-locks throughout the ship and the supplies of quill priming
tubes--eighty tubes with a couple of Kentish flints to each gun.
The Admiral's breakfast party, we are told, sat down in a very cheerful
and confident mood. Douglas of course formed one of the party, and
Captain Symonds; Paget the admiral's secretary. Dr. Blane, and the
flag-lieutenant were the others. One chair was vacant, that of Lord
Cranstoun. Lord Cranstoun was remaining behind on deck to watch the
movements of the enemy. When the others were half-way through the meal
he came hurrying into the cabin with the announcement that the course
on which they were standing must carry them through the enemy's line.
Everybody glanced at Rodney expecting him to say something;--but the
admiral made no remark and calmly went on with his meal.
When they went on deck again after breakfast the enemy had hauled up
rather nearer to the wind than before, but were still standing on
the port tack and heading to cross the bows of the British fleet. De
Grasse's line was not yet formed. The ships farthest off when the
French Admiral first made his signal had not yet had time to join,
though they were hastening down with all sail set.
The spectacle at every point was inspiring, and was girt round by
a magnificent setting. On one hand, right ahead, the Saints' group
stretched away to the north-east, islet beyond islet, all showing
up clear in the golden sunshine of the cloudless morning against the
towering darker background of the Souffrière of Guadeloupe. On the
horizon, due east, a faint greyish-blue blur marked the low-lying
island of Marie Galante. Away on the starboard beam and not far distant
the mountain masses of Dominica, crowned by the jagged volcanic summit
of the mighty Diablotin, the loftiest peak of the Antilles, overtopped
the scene and closed in the view. 'If superior beings,' wrote Dr.
Blane, 'make a sport of the quarrels of mortals, they could not have
chosen a better theatre for the magnificent exhibition.'[32]
The fleets in themselves afforded a spectacle in keeping with the
surroundings. Nothing could have been finer than the show they made
that morning: nearly eighty men-of-war all told, three-deckers,
two-deckers, and frigates in battle array, their lofty canvas glinting
white in the bright sunshine, with gleaming yellow sides, tiers on
tiers of ports, wide open with the red port-lids lashed back showing
the brass muzzles of the shotted guns, all gliding forward in stately
order across a placid sea of the deepest blue, shimmering under a
cloudless sky.
The Blue Ensign led the British line, the colours of Drake's squadron;
twelve ships all with blue ensigns at the stern. The White Ensign was
in the centre, waving over the _Formidable_ and her division of twelve;
Rodney's own colour as admiral of the White. Hood's twelve in rear wore
the Red Ensign, Hood being a flag officer of the Red. On the French
side, Bougainville led with the 'Escadre Bleue,' De la Clochetterie
having the post of honour in the van ship. De Grasse himself, with the
'Cornette Blanche' at the mast-head of the mighty _Ville de Paris_, was
in the centre. De Vaudreuil with the 'Blanche et Bleu' at the fore, the
service term for the parti-coloured flag that French seconds-in-command
flew, brought up the rear.[33]
After calling in his chasers Rodney closed his fleet to one cable
interval all along the line. His van ships continued meanwhile to lead
obliquely across the course that the French were steering, making
towards the spot where, as both sides could see, the two lines were
bound to intersect. The headmost ships of the French fleet passed over
the spot first; just, it so happened, as the leading ships of the
British fleet came within range. For that the French had been watching.
As soon as they saw that their shots could reach the enemy they opened
fire.
De Grasse did not intend, if he could help it, to fight a pitched
battle. It was not his policy to fight the battle out. Since he
must fight he would confine the day's proceedings to a mere passing
cannonade, after which he would work to windward and slip away. He
knew he had the heels of Rodney; the events of the past two days had
shown that. Thus at the last moment De Grasse thought he might snatch a
strategical advantage in the great game. His gunners, however, did not
shoot straight enough. They failed to do the execution among Rodney's
masts and spars that their admiral hoped for. The British fleet came
steadily on with little to show by way of damage except a few rope-ends
dangling loose and some shot-holes through the sails.
The _Marlborough_, a powerful 74, one of the finest men-of-war that
Deptford dockyard ever sent to sea, led the line. She kept her helm
steady and held her way forward without checking for an instant,
unswerving, regardless of the storm of shot that hurtled overhead
or splashed in the sea alongside. Taylor Penny, the _Marlborough's_
captain, a gallant son of Dorset and a veteran now serving in his
third war, was not the man to mind a cannonade. The _Marlborough_ stood
on silently until she had come within 150 yards of the French line.
Then, when nearly opposite the fifth ship from the enemy's van, her
helm went swiftly up and the ship's huge bulk swung round to port.
The next minute she began to range along the enemy broadside on, in
the opposite direction to that the French were taking. Not a shot had
come from the _Marlborough's_ ports all this time. Four French ships
in turn passed her and fired at her, but Captain Penny took no notice.
The flagship had made no sign. No order to 'commence action' had been
given. Every telescope on board was kept fixed on the _Formidable_,
while below the captains of the guns fidgeted impatiently with the
firing lanyards. They had to practise patience. Eight bells clanged
out on board the silent _Marlborough_, and still they waited. Then,
instantaneously the signal was made. The _Formidable's_ signal halyards
were seen to twitch, and a little ball of bunting slid swiftly aloft to
the mast-head. There was a jerk, and the next instant the red flag for
battle--the 'bloody flag,' as the navy called it--was 'abroad,' flying
out upon the breeze. It went up just as the _Marlborough_ came abreast
of the French _Dauphin Royal_, the ninth ship in De Grasse's line, and
as the flag 'broke' the _Marlborough's_ opening broadside flashed off
with a thundering crash, guns, carronades, and musketry all together.
The British ships nearest astern of the _Marlborough_ opened fire at
the same moment. Each in her station, a cable's length apart, they had
been following close in the _Marlborough's_ wake, equally ready and
eager to begin.
There were sixteen ships in the line between the _Marlborough_ and the
_Formidable_, each 200 yards apart (the length of a cable), and the men
of Rodney's flagship had to wait some little time yet for their turn.
Their eyes, though, had something to look at, for most of the ships
ahead of them were full in their view meanwhile. What they saw was
worth seeing.