THE ARMY AT SEA--TO 1815
The history of the army in early days, and, in fact, up to the
termination of the long war with France, was intimately associated with
naval operations. This naturally arose from our insular situation; and
though at first English armies were largely employed in Continental
war only, the time came when it was evident that blows of greater
weight and greater political consequence could be aimed at an enemy’s
colonial empire than even in great Continental battles, which were
invariably fought with the assistance of allies. There was little
but barren honour to be got by such land campaigns; but the naval
operations were not only valuable as lessening an enemy’s prestige,
but also gave tangible rewards and results in prize-money for the men
and territory for the State. In no other way, in fact, could Great
Britain’s supremacy at sea be used with greater effect; and hence it
is that in the battle-roll of many an English regiment are names of
victories which are practically semi-naval affairs. In fact, the army
has in its time been largely employed as marines, doing their twofold
duty of in some cases acting as the ship’s guard, and at others that
of a force to be landed for active service and re-embarked when their
work was done. Hence, regiments, though on the strength of the army,
were often lent to the navy for such duty. Thus in 1664 was raised the
“Admiral’s Regiment,” for service in the Dutch war, and was really
the “_Old_ Buffs,” as this was the colour of their facings. Said to
be raised from the London trained bands, which at that time must
have formed a very good recruiting ground of drilled men, they in
all numbered nearly 10,000 men, each ward furnishing a certain fixed
proportion. But these early naval soldiers were practically regarded as
a mere nursery for the navy, and when they had qualified as “foremast
men,” they were drafted as seamen, and fresh levy-money granted for
recruits to take their place. On the cessation of the Dutch wars, the
regiment was disbanded, to reappear in 1684 again as an “Admiral’s
Regiment,” but with the imposing title of “H.R.H. the Duke of York and
Albany’s Maritime Regiment of Foot.” This was eventually incorporated
with the Coldstream Guards, the Holland Regiment, formed about the same
time, which had also sent some of its companies on naval duty, taking
its place on the list, and numbering eventually the 3rd Regiment of
the line, or “Old Buffs.” The second title was given from the colour
of the facings and _linings_ of their coats, and to it was added the
term “old” to distinguish them from the “Young Buffs,” the 31st,
which wore the same colour. Several other marine regiments were also
raised, but they successively disappeared or were incorporated with
other regiments. Naval operations themselves were also becoming more
extended, and large fleets, rather than a few isolated ships, were
beginning to push out, from the narrow offensive-defensive actions
in and about the Channel, to wider seas and with greater aims. All
this necessitated, if any impression was to be produced on the actual
coastal people and defences of an enemy, the employment of soldiers.
Not that the effect of local naval victories was less important in the
past any more than in the future. The naval battle of La Hogue was, in
a way, as effectual in checking invasion as was Trafalgar later. The
very extension of the naval war of 1694 to the Mediterranean gave an
opening for one of these maritime operations, of which the naval and
military annals were for more than a century to be full. The action
of the army as an irritant to the general body politic of the hostile
state with which we were at war was to be evidenced. Thus, in 1694,
the absence of the French fleet in the Mediterranean led to an effort
to damage the French arsenal at Brest, for which purpose a landing was
attempted in Camaret Bay, when twelve regiments of the line and two of
marines embarked under Talmash. Churchill was currently believed to
be the cause of the disaster which followed; for he is stated to have
communicated the intended surprise to King James in France, so that
when the expedition reached its destination, it was most vigorously
opposed, and the general with 700 men fell.
But in 1702, while six regiments were specially raised for sea service,
of which only three, the 30th, 31st, and 32nd, now remain, six other
battalions were lent from the regular army for naval duty. These were
the 6th, 19th, 20th, 34th, 35th, and 36th; and they returned to land
service in 1713, when the other three of the six marine battalions were
disbanded.
Again, in 1739 and 1749, ten other marine regiments were formed;
but these again were, according to the prevailing custom, done away
with when, in 1748, war for a time ceased. But these newer levies
were becoming more like true marines. They were to be quartered near
the Government dockyards. They were to assist in the fitting out of
ships as well as helping to man them. Other independent companies of
a similar character were also formed in America and the West Indies,
and many of these became absorbed in the ranks of the land forces; but
so close was the union between the sea and land regiments then, that
exchanges between the officers of both were permitted.
Up to this time, the sea service regiments had done good work. In 1702
eleven regiments of the line, of which the 2nd, 4th, 6th, 7th, and 32nd
still remain, with a battalion of Guards and some Dutch regiments, were
despatched to the Spanish coast. An attack was first made at Rota,
in the bay of Cadiz, which was captured, but abandoned; and then the
squadron moved to Vigo Bay, where the Spanish galleons, laden with
treasure and convoyed by a French fleet, had taken refuge. The entrance
was difficult and guarded with batteries, and with a boom “made up of
masts, yards, cables, top chains, and casks, about three yards in
circumference, but this, though three-quarters of a mile long, and
guarded at the ends by seventy-four-gun men-of-war, was broken by the
_Torbay_ of eighty guns, the other ships following, while the troops
landed, stormed, and silenced the shore batteries at the Rhondella,
and this with little loss. The booty amounted to 20,000,000 pieces
of eight, and an equally valuable amount of merchandise, of which
14,000,000 pieces were saved, and about £50,000,000 worth of stores;
while 4,000,000 pieces of plate and ten of merchandise were lost.”[28]
But the most noteworthy event of these times was the capture and
retention in 1704 of Gibraltar, in which the 30th, 31st, and 32nd
Regiments, serving as marines at first in Sir Cloudesley Shovel’s
fleet, bore a gallant part. This is the early history of one of our
proudest possessions, even if it be not as valuable strategically now
as it was when the century was young.
Whoever the primæval inhabitants of “the Rock” may have been, and
their skulls and bones found in the stalagmitic limestone of the
caves show they were of no high class but merely cave-dwellers, they
were followed, somewhere about the eighth century, by the Moors. This
curious wave of invasion from the East seems to have simply skirted
the northern parts of Africa, until it reached what is now Algeria.
It never penetrated far south, and yet it represents one of the few
traces of civilisation in the dark continent. Most curious of all is
it that African aborigines have done so little for themselves. All
the civilising waves have been immigrant, from those who built the
dead cities of Mashonaland to the men who have made Buluwayo. Such
civilisation as North Africa possesses has been wholly of foreign
origin. The negro race has done nothing worth mentioning, and it may
well be believed, after the experience of Liberia, never will. So that
the Arab invasion sought for other outlets for its expansion than the
warmer clime of Mid or Central Africa. Reaching Algiers, Tarik the
Conqueror passed across the straits to the peninsula of Gibraltar,
and built there, somewhere about 725, a castle of which the existing
Moorish tower may be a relic. It remained in Mohammedan hands for seven
hundred and forty-eight years, and then, captured by the Spaniards, was
remodelled, the “Gebel al Tarik” becoming Christian “Gibraltar.” Its
present arms, a castle with a key pendent at the gate, granted by Henry
IV. of Castile, refer to its condition as a fortress once the key to
the Mediterranean, but now, with the improvements in the range and size
of modern guns, of less value than heretofore.
In 1704 the place was but feebly garrisoned, and fell mainly owing to
the silencing of the batteries by the squadron and their occupation
then by seamen landed from the ships. The troops, under the Prince of
Hesse Darmstadt, meanwhile occupied the isthmus until the fortress
surrendered. So important a capture was not likely to be agreed to
without a further struggle, and in 1705 the Marquis de Villadarius was
despatched to formally besiege it. The garrison, however, had been
reinforced by the 13th and 35th Regiments, a battalion of Guards, and
some Dutch troops, and though several gallant efforts were made to
carry the place by assault they successively failed, and after seven
months the siege was abandoned and converted into a partial blockade.
It had cost the Spaniards and French some 10,000 men, but the garrison
lost only some 400.
For more than twenty years the British flag flew unmolested from the
“Rock.” But, in 1727, Spain made a more determined attempt to regain
her lost possession. The strength of the fortress had been increased
since the previous siege, but the armament was indifferent, many of
the guns being so honeycombed as to be liable to burst on the first
fire, and at least a hundred of them were so destroyed during the
coming siege. But the command of the sea, and the presence of Hopson’s
powerful fleet, prevented stores reaching the Spanish army save by
land, and reinforcements, composed of the Edinburgh Regiment, the 35th,
some Engineer and Artillery officers and men, as well as, later on,
another line battalion and one of the Guards, were despatched to the
aid of the beleaguered fortress. So again, after a tedious four months,
during which time about 3000 of the enemy and 300 of the garrison had
fallen, a suspension of hostilities was agreed to, and followed by a
treaty of peace.
But the last and most sustained attack upon the place was made during
the years 1781-83. Great Britain had been somewhat occupied, since
1775 and before, with warlike operations on the American Continent,
and needed much of her naval strength to cope with French fleets and
American corsairs, let alone to protect in addition her home waters.
The entry of Spain into the arena intensified her difficulties; and,
as might be expected, the great dream of the new enemy was to seize
the opportunity of England’s difficulty and repossess herself of the
key to the Straits. There was a strong French fleet cruising off Cape
Finisterre in 1779, and a Spanish one in Cadiz Bay, either of which
could spare a sufficiently powerful blockading squadron without risk.
So that, by the middle of August 1779, the place was closely invested
by a Spanish army at San Roque, and a fleet of four ships, five xebecs,
and numerous “row-galleys” in the bay; and preparations were made for
the capture of Gibraltar by a formal siege, trenches, parallels, and
siege batteries being carefully and laboriously constructed.
The fortress was commanded by that gallant “Cock of the Rock,” George
Augustus Elliot. His garrison consisted of the 12th, 39th, 56th, and
58th Regiments, the old 72nd, or Royal Manchester Volunteers, disbanded
in 1783, three Hanoverian regiments, and a company of Engineers.
The strength of the place had been greatly increased, especially on
the side facing the isthmus and Spain. Powerful batteries had been
erected there, and galleries with portholes for guns had been hewn
out of the solid rock. It was deemed impregnable in those days. It
was thought that “No power whatever can take that place, unless a
plague, pestilence, or famine, or the want of ordnance, musketry, and
ammunition, or some unforeseen stroke of Providence should happen.”
Throughout 1779 the place was simply blockaded, and there was little
firing on either side. But provisions ran short. General Elliot himself
tested practically that it was just possible to exist on four ounces
of rice a day! The arrival of Sir George Rodney’s fleet early in 1780,
after the destruction of a Spanish squadron off Cape St. Vincent, was
therefore joyfully welcomed. It reprovisioned the fortress, removed
the women, children, and invalids, and strengthened the garrison by a
strong battalion of Highlanders, then numbered the 73rd, but now the
71st Highland Light Infantry. But by March 1781 the stores again began
to fail, and soldiers were directed to economise flour and go with
unpowdered hair; and a cargo of potatoes “run” by a polacca fetched £7,
10s. 6d. a hundred-weight.
The Spanish batteries, being complete and fully armed, opened a
tremendous fire. Far from discouraging the garrison, they replied
to it vigorously, though inferior in number of guns, and, more than
that, executed a most brilliant sortie, storming the siege works and
trenches, and setting fire to all the combustible material, doing
damage, it was said, to the tune of £2,000,000, and that with a loss of
but four killed and twenty-five wounded.
In second line to the 12th, 39th, 72nd, 73rd, etc., who led the
assault, were the 39th and 58th Regiments, commanded by General Picton,
the uncle of the Peninsular hero. Finally, the continuous bombardment,
broken only by the diversion effected by a British squadron conveying
the 25th and 39th Regiments, culminated, on the 13th September 1782, in
a desperate attack both by sea and land. Specially constructed floating
batteries, the sides of which were formed of timber with wet sand
between, took part in the bombardment, when some 400 guns were hurling
their projectiles into Gibraltar. But it was of no avail: the vessels
were disabled and many burned. From the eighty cannon, with some
mortars and howitzers, which formed the artillery of the defence, more
than 8000 rounds were sent in reply, and quite one-half of them were
red-hot shot.
So the attempt failed, and though the fire was steadily continued,
the attack was practically exhausted; and the preliminaries of peace,
signed in February 1783, were welcomed by all. The famous siege had
lasted three years, seven months, and twelve days. The loss suffered by
the garrison amounted to 1231 men, and 205,328 shot were fired during
that time.
But other regiments embarked for local or special service were also
meanwhile earning naval honours for the army. The 6th Regiment showed
conspicuous gallantry in the attack on Fort Monjuich at Barcelona. The
6th, 9th, 11th, 17th, 33rd, and 36th Regiments also served at Almanza
in 1707, and the 6th also at Saragossa; while nothing can exceed the
gallantry of the defence of the Castle of Alicante by a regiment now
disbanded, when the officers refused to surrender, and drank the health
of good Queen Anne in a bastion over the mine that a few minutes later
blew the castle nearly in pieces!
Again, in the melancholy expedition to the Spanish Main in 1740-41, the
6th, 15th, 16th, and 36th Regiments served; and the 6th, especially,
suffered so terribly from fever at Jamaica in 1742 that when it
returned home it had, from this and other causes, only eighteen men
left of the eight hundred who sailed from England. The expedition,
including the abortive attacks on Cuba and Carthagena, was throughout
conducted in such a way as to be fruitless of result, and is noteworthy
as a rare event in such expeditions, for the want of cordial
co-operation between the naval and military commanders.
In 1746 the Royal Scots, 15th, 28th, 30th, 39th, and 42nd were embarked
under General Sinclair to destroy Port L’Orient, but beyond a feeble
bombardment little was done, and the army re-embarked to make a similar
abortive attempt at Quiberon Bay. Similarly, the 30th fought in the
naval action of Finisterre as marines (in addition of course to those
troops that had been definitely enlisted for sea service), and received
the thanks of the Admiral for their general behaviour. At that time the
proportion of marines embarked in vessels of war was one man per gun;
a fifty-gun frigate carrying therefore fifty men.
At the outbreak of hostilities in 1739-40, six regiments had been
raised for sea service, and two years later four were added (numbering
from the 44th to the 53rd inclusive though still bearing the names of
their colonels); but all these ten regiments were disbanded in 1740,
and with them the principle of lending line battalions to the fleet,
except in 1741, practically ceased. For in 1755 fifty companies of true
Marines were raised, who were to be placed on the strength of the navy
and put under the definite command of the naval authorities. At this
time the army had been reduced to forty-nine line battalions, so the
newly raised Marine corps took rank after that regiment when serving
with the land forces, and the 52nd Foot, raised in 1755, became the
50th two years later. It is curious to note here, again, how frequently
the number had changed. The first “Fiftieth” was “Shirley’s American
Provincials” formed in 1745, which received its number in 1754 and was
disbanded in 1757.
From this time forward, then, the land forces were only on occasional
emergencies lent to naval squadrons for sea duty. That was to be
carried out by the newly formed Marine companies, which, since their
reorganisation in 1755, have continued as a military force paid by the
navy, and not as a body lent when the occasion arose to the army. Thus
its duties are twofold, as in one respect its superiors are. When borne
on the books of a vessel of war, the Royal Marine is under the Naval
Discipline Act, and subject to the supreme authority of the Admiral
commanding the fleet. On shore he is liable to the provisions of the
Army Act, and owes allegiance to the officer commanding the garrison
in which he happens to be stationed. Employed, therefore, ashore as
well as afloat, the history of the Royal Marines is that of both the
army and the navy. Between their employment at Cork in 1690 and the
cessation of the long war in 1815, the services of marine soldiers are
mentioned in 369 naval actions and 169 coast operations and campaigns.
This does not include numerous small “affairs” in which lives were
lost. Between 1827 and the present date, again, there are more than
thirty battles and campaigns in which they have taken part, and this
list does not enter into details. So wide a story as theirs is that
of the army itself almost, and extends far beyond the limits of these
pages. But, briefly summarising the history, it may be said that the
first fifty companies of a hundred men each were first formed into
three divisions at Chatham, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, and to that,
later, was added one at Woolwich, which was disestablished, the depôt
at Walmer taking its place. Its badge, “the Globe,” with the motto,
“_Per mare, per terram_,” were granted in 1760, “for special service
during the war”; the title “Royal,” when the facings were changed from
white to blue, was granted in 1802, “for its many and varied services”;
and in 1827 George IV. added the laurel wreath to the globe, as well as
“Gibraltar” and the royal cipher, to mark its gallantry in the defence
of the fortress and “as the most appropriate emblem of a corps whose
duties carried them to all parts of the globe, in every quarter of
which they had earned laurels by their valour and good conduct.” The
designation “Light Infantry” was bestowed after 1855.
To the light infantry companies were added, in 1804, artillery
companies, which were formed into a distinct body, “the Royal Marine
Artillery,” in 1860.
Some of the Marine regimental records are interesting as showing
the inner life of the sea, or even land, soldier a hundred years
ago. In the tailor’s shop in 1755, for example, the idea of an eight
hours’ working day was evidently not a burning question; for the men
worked from 4 a.m. to 8 p.m., with _one_ hour only for meals. Again,
punishments were severe, as the sentences passed on three deserters in
1766 shows; for while one was shot, the other two were to receive a
thousand and five hundred lashes respectively. In 1755 two “private men
absent from exercise” were “to be tyed neck and heels on the Hoe half
an hour”; while thirteen years later, a sergeant, for taking “coals and
two poles” from the dockyard, was sentenced to five hundred lashes,
and to be “drummed out with a halter round his neck,” after, of course,
being reduced to the ranks.
None the less, these were the men who fought the battles of the crown
in the eighteenth century; and perhaps of all their exploits, that of
the “Diamond Rock,” in 1804, is best worth noting. The rock lies near
Cape Diamond, and is described by Davenant as “a rough-looking place,
with little that was inviting about it--a great firm rock, the highest
point of which might be something over 500 feet above the level of the
sea, the circumference of it less than a mile, and in its shape not at
all unlike a haystack. On the west side there were bold, rugged cliffs,
precipitous, sheer up and down walls, seeming as though they would
defy all approach to them; and the roar of the surf beating against
the base of them was distinctly audible at the distance of a mile. Yet
here was the only place where a landing could be effected. The other
three sides of the Diamond Rock were simply inaccessible, presenting a
perpendicular face from within a few feet of the summit. On the whole,
it looked uncommonly like a _noli me tangere_ sort of place, reminding
me of Lundy Island in the British Channel, where, as old Holinshed
quaintly says, ‘there is no entrance but for friends single and able.’”
Its position was such that vessels passing between it and the shore
in those days of sailing ships were often able to escape pursuit; so,
to prevent this, the rock was garrisoned by Lieutenant Maurice and a
hundred and twenty marines and seamen, who for five months garrisoned
the place, and which, during that time, appeared in the estimates as
“His Majesty’s sloop of war, Diamond Rock”! So much trouble did the
garrison give the French, that a squadron of five ships was despatched
to capture it, but all attempts failed, until want of ammunition and
provisions led to its exhaustion. Even when compelled to capitulate,
however, the small detachment made such terms that the British flag was
not to be hauled down until the garrison had reached the ships, the men
were to be permitted to wear their side arms, and were to be sent under
a flag of truce to Barbadoes.
A more extraordinary instance of coolness and bravery is not to be
found in any page of our national history; and the Marine service
has always been popular, for what was stated in 1775 is equally true
now, that “the Marines recruited better in every part of the island
[of Great Britain] than the line.” But, putting aside the operations
undertaken solely by the marine, the soldier acting temporarily as
such, or the bluejacket, there were many others in which the army
shared, though they do not form part of a connected series of battles
such as characterise more serious campaigns. They partake rather of
the nature of naval raids for the specific annoyance of the enemy,
or attempts at the actual capture of his outlying possessions. They
are individually interesting in many ways, but it would be impossible
to do more than tabulate them more or less in order of occurrence,
emphasising only the share the army took in them. Practically ships of
war either conveyed the soldiers as transports for the required duty,
or themselves formed the escort and guard of the convoy of transports
which accompanied the battleships, and for the time being formed part
of the armada.
Thus, when the Seven Years’ War broke out, the attention of the French
was directed towards Minorca, which, captured in 1708 by Stanhope,
was regarded as only second in importance to Gibraltar for a naval
power having interests in the Mediterranean. Its capture was the
first appearance of England as a naval power possessing a naval base
in that closed sea. It was garrisoned by the 4th, 23rd, 24th, and
34th Regiments; and, unrelieved by Admiral Byng’s fleet, on whose
co-operation alone was it possible for the defender to hold out, its
commandant, Blakeney, was compelled to surrender in 1755, though the
troops behaved with such gallantry after the terrible bombardment,
with numerical odds against them of some 20,000 to 3000, that they
were allowed to march out with drums beating and colours flying, with
all the honours of war. The siege had lasted from May to July. It is
a noteworthy instance of the absolute importance of a most full and
cordial co-operation between the naval and military commanders in cases
such as these, when the army, cut from its home base, is dependent on
the navy for its line of communications. In the future, without full
command of the sea, isolated posts and coaling stations will be always
at the mercy of bold and skilful raids, unless powerfully armed and
sufficiently garrisoned.
Minorca was restored to the British flag in 1763, and eighteen years
later had to undergo a second siege by the French under Crillon, when,
at the end, the governor, out of 660, had 560 on the sick list against
14,000 besiegers, and for the second time the fortress capitulated.
It was taken for the third and last time by General Stuart (with the
8th and 42nd) in 1798, of whom it was said that no man could “manage
Frenchmen like him, and the British will go to h--ll for him.” Little
resistance was made, and the number of the prisoners exceeded that of
the invaders. It was ceded finally to Spain in 1802.
In 1758 a force was despatched to destroy the shipping at St. Malo,
and to capture Cherbourg, both of which affairs were successfully
conducted, the docks being blown up, and the brass cannon captured
taken in triumph through the streets of London; but success in these
somewhat pitiful operations was to receive a rude check, for a third
landing in the bay of St. Cas was conducted with such contempt for all
military precautions, that the force, on re-embarking, was heavily
beaten by the French, and while many boats were sunk by the fire of
artillery, some forty-six officers and eight hundred men were left
prisoners in the hands of the enemy.
In 1759 the first serious attempts at extending our power over the
West Indies began; as did the first serious effort for the conquest of
Canada, the main action in which was the gallant capture of Quebec.
An expedition, in which the 3rd, 4th, 61st, 63rd, 64th, 65th, some
marines, and a second battalion of the 42nd, raised readily and rapidly
to avenge the loss of the first battalion at Ticonderoga the previous
year, took part, was therefore despatched under General Hopson, and
though they failed at Martinique, they succeeded, after much toil
and privation for three months, during which the climate was a more
deadly foe than the French, at Guadaloupe. Similarly, two years later,
while one force was sent to harass the French coast and destroy the
harbours of refuge for French privateers, and suchlike, on the island
of Belleisle in the Bay of Biscay, a success in which the 3rd, 9th,
19th, 21st, 25th, 37th, 61st, etc., Regiments shared, and where Private
Samuel Johnson, though severely wounded, distinguished himself by
killing six men in the defence of his wounded officer; another army
composed of the 1st, 17th, and 22nd Foot completed the capture of the
Caribbean Sea Colonies by the occupation of Dominica, Martinique, St.
Vincent, and St. Lucia. When Spain, too, joined the enemies of Great
Britain in 1762, and it was found impracticable to land an army on the
Continent, it was none the less clearly evident that decisive blows
could be struck against her in other parts of the world.
In the far East was Manila, which since 1564 had been her undisturbed
possession. But the old 79th from Madras, with some other troops,
marines and sailors, gave a “good account of it,” and 9 colours and 536
guns were taken with the fortress, though “the front we were obliged to
attack was defended by the bastions of St. Diego and St. Andrew, with
orillons and retired flanks, a ravelin which covered the royal gate,
a wet ditch, covered way, and glacis,” and the attacking force was
totally inadequate to attempt the full investment of the place.
But this was not the only material gain. A still more important
expedition was despatched to the West Indies to take Havannah. The
troops embarked were the 1st, 9th, 22nd, 34th, 40th, 42nd, 56th, 72nd,
90th, and others, and there, after much hard fighting and considerable
hardships, during which at one time over 5000 men were on the sick
list, effected the storm of the Moro Castle and the place. Great indeed
was the prize. Nine sail of the line were taken in the harbour, 361
guns on the fortifications, and treasure valued at nearly £3,000,000
sterling. The Commander-in-chief’s share amounted to £122,697, but poor
“Thomas Atkins,” who had borne even more the burden and heat of the
day, got but £4 odd!
Still these two great captures were the most important effected during
the whole war, and the combined army and navy had, both in the East and
West, as fully “singed the King of Spain’s beard” as did Drake some two
hundred years before.
So again (and it is curious to see how little was known beforehand in
those days of an enemy’s probable movements), the French fitted out
a squadron at Brest and recaptured Newfoundland; but they only held
it for a short time, as the fleet sailed away, as Byng’s did, without
supporting the troops on shore, and the 45th and 77th re-took and
garrisoned St. John’s.
For nearly twenty years there is little to record as regards these
isolated affairs; but in 1779 the French took St. Vincent, Granada,
the small garrison of the latter place having been surprised in the
dark by some of the Irish Brigade, who, “by speaking the same language,
were admitted into the entrenchments as friends,” and “immediately
overpowered our troops by numbers;”[29] and in the naval actions that
accompanied the closing scenes of the American War of Independence, the
4th and 46th again served as marines in Admiral Byron’s squadron, as
did, in 1780, some of the 5th in Rodney’s fleet.
One romantic story of the army of this time found its conclusion
at Gibraltar. Many years before, a certain Maria Knowles, a tall,
handsome Cheshire girl, fell in love at Warrington Market with a
certain Sergeant Cliff of the Guards, who was on recruiting duty.
When he returned to his regiment, the girl ran away and enlisted in
the same regiment as the man she loved, but who does not appear up to
that time to have reciprocated her passion. She accompanied a draft
to Holland, fought in several engagements in Flanders, and, on being
desperately wounded at Dunkirk, the secret of her sex was discovered.
On recovering, she was induced to divulge the reasons for her action,
and the officers provided them with a handsome subscription, and the
chaplain of the 66th married them. Later on, he was promoted adjutant
of the 66th, and died at Gibraltar, whence his widow, with one son,
returned to England in 1798.
The outbreak of the French Revolution, and the beginning of the long
war with France, led to a resumption of these combined operations.
Thus, in 1794, Paoli, a Corsican patriot, determined on throwing off
the French yoke, and for this purpose invited England’s co-operation.
Curiously enough, against him fought a young artillery officer, one
Napoleon Bonaparte. The force was composed of the 1st, 11th, 18th,
25th, 30th, 50th, 51st, and 69th Regiments, and the 12th Light Dragoon
Regiment, under Colonel, afterwards Sir John, Moore; and it seems
strange to read now that when resistance ceased, a “Te Deum” was sung
in the Cathedral of Bastia, and prayers were read for “George III.,
King of Great Britain and Corsica”! Some of the 12th were employed at
Civita Vecchia, and so good was their conduct that the Pope Pius VI.
presented each of the twelve officers with a gold medal. In due course
Corsica was resigned to native hands, without any attempt or desire on
the part of Great Britain to retain it. In these years, too, Tobago,
St. Pierre, and Miquelon were captured; and the 13th, with some of
the 49th, assisted at the capture of St. Domingo. Martinique was also
taken, and the 1st and 3rd Regiments shared in the operation. Cape
St. Vincent, on the 14th February 1797, saw not only the brilliant
victory of Admiral Jervis over the Spanish fleet, but the gallant
boarding of the _San Nicolas_ by the seamen and some of the 69th,
who acted as marines under Lieutenant Charles Pierson. For while the
officer commanding dropped on to the deck of the enemy’s ship from
the spritsail yard, a private of the 69th dashed in the window of the
quarter gallery from the fore chain of the _Captain_, and led the
boarding column.
The year following a brilliant dash was made with the object of
damaging Ostend, and, like many others of these harassing and
essentially useless debarkations, it did much damage; but, failing to
be able to re-embark, the assailants were compelled to surrender. The
force was but 1200 strong all told, with 6 guns, and was made up of
detachments of the Guards, 11th, 23rd, and 49th Foot, and a few men of
the 17th Light Dragoons under General Coote.
Similarly useless and disastrous was the abortive passage of the
Dardanelles in 1807, which was followed by a feeble descent on Egypt,
in pursuance of the idea, this time, of harassing the Turk. But the
army was too weak to effect any real annoyance, and the 35th, 78th, and
31st sacrificed useless lives at Rosetta and El Hamet, the detachment
of the 78th being surrounded and losing 260 men out of 275. Several of
the men became leaders in the Turkish army, and one Scottish drummer
boy was until recently still living, the last survivor of General
Fraser’s small command.
But there were two incidents in these times that are worth recording,
those of the first attempts against South America at Buenos Ayres and
Monte Video, and the successive operations that led to the conversion
of the Cape of Good Hope into an English colony. Beginning with the
latter, it will be remembered that it was first taken possession of
in 1795, with the consent of the Prince of Orange, but contrary to
the desire, apparently, of the colonists, who resisted the attempt
to occupy a position at Simon’s Bay held by the 78th and some
marines; but when reinforced by the 84th, 95th, and 98th Regiments,
an advance was made on Wynberg, where, after a slight skirmish, the
inhabitants surrendered. In the same year a number of other small
Dutch possessions, including Colombo, fell into English hands. The
Cape was resigned in 1801 by the treaty of Amiens; but the alliance
between the French and Dutch led to the assembling of an expedition
for its recapture, in which a Highland brigade, the 71st, 72nd, and
93rd Regiments, a brigade composed of the 24th, 38th, 59th, and 83rd
Regiments, with the 20th Light Dragoons, and one field battery with two
howitzers, took part. The resistance was most feeble, and the enemy,
though armed with nineteen cannon, barely awaited the attack of even
the Highland brigade.
A number of the natives there were later formed into a regiment by
Colonel Graham, and these were the forerunners of the Cape Mounted
Rifles, a force which has done good service in Kaffir wars since. In
connection with this conquest, so important in the expansion of our
Eastern Empire, may also be recorded the capture, in 1810, of Mauritius
from France, and Java from the Dutch, in which the 12th, 19th, 22nd,
65th, 84th, and 89th, under Abercrombie, and the 14th, 59th, 69th,
78th, and 89th, under Auchmuty, took an active part. Their capture
freed those seas from the Dutch and French privateers, and secured our
trade route with Calcutta.
The want of employment militarily, in South Africa, led to the
transference of the theatre of war to South America. In 1806, a small
force of dragoons, marines, and the 71st Foot occupied Buenos Ayres
with scarcely any opposition, but the Spanish afterwards assembled in
some strength, and compelled General Carr Beresford to capitulate.
Measures were at once taken to remedy this disaster. Colonel Vassall
of the 38th, and Colonel Backhouse, with the 43th, occupied the island
of Maldonado, which commanded the harbour of the same name, and, after
storming the batteries, furnished a safe and protected anchorage for
the fleet, which, with General Auchmuty, and the 38th, 40th, 47th,
87th, a company of the 71st, the 93rd, some marines, and the 17th Light
Dragoons, was on the way from England. The enemy were defeated outside
the town of Monte Video, when the advance was made from Maldonado,
but the further effort to penetrate into the city, through a breach
made by a few light guns, met with the most determined resistance,
and the assault of the “Gibraltar of America” cost some 600 officers
and men out of the 1200 who formed the column of assault, among whom
was Colonel Vassall, who had won the affectionate regard of the 38th
Regiment, which he commanded. So much so was this the case, that it is
said that when the regiment returned home and was stationed in Ireland,
a publican “realised a little fortune by simply hoisting as his sign
the effigies of the colonel,” and the “Vassall Arms” were as popular
there as was the name of the “Marquis of Granby,” Dorking, in former
years.[30]
The capture was some consolation for the loss of Buenos Ayres, and
Auchmuty’s success led to the hope that our disaster there might be
avenged. So it might, possibly, had that general retained command;
but the army was to be placed under that of General Whitelock, who
was reinforced by General Crawford from the Cape with the 5th, 36th,
45th, 88th, the Rifles, some artillery, and the 6th Dragoon Guards.
A more extraordinary exhibition of want of judgment on the part of a
general in command has rarely been witnessed. Throughout the previous
operations, both of Beresford and Auchmuty, there had been no trace of
want of fighting power on the part of the enemy. But everything now
seems to have been left to guess. Reconnaissance was ignored, though
General Beresford had escaped from the town and, joining his chief,
could have given him the fullest information. The possible nature of
the defence with flat-roofed houses, each of which, defended by its
owner and his negroes, became a fortress; deep ditches and barricades
formed across the streets; stout buildings stoutly held; grape-loaded
guns entrenched to sweep the avenue; were so little imagined, that
“from motives of humanity”--Heaven save the mark!--many of the men’s
arms were unloaded, and others not provided with flints or even
locks,[31] lest they should “fire wantonly on the inhabitants.”
Doubtless this was much exaggerated, but there is no doubt that the
muskets were generally empty. The strong force of artillery captured
at Monte Video was not used at all, when a steady bombardment before
any attempt at assault or penetration into the town would have been of
the highest value. Yet, hemmed in and helpless as the columns were,
their bravery and steadfastness stand out in brilliant contrast to the
culpable and idiotic folly of their most incompetent generals. The
88th especially distinguished themselves, and one portion of the army
was compelled to surrender, having fired its last cartridge, while
Crawford, hemmed in on all sides, had to lay down his arms too. When
Whitelock finally agreed to withdraw, having lost 2500 men, according
to his despatch, he surrendered Monte Video as well, and on his return
to England was justly court-martialled. He was found guilty, and was
cashiered, and so much was his name held in detestation by the people,
that when, in 1830, he asked the landlord of the Somersetshire inn in
which he was staying, to drink with him, the man, when he knew who his
guest was, refused to “drink another glass with him,” at the same time
throwing down the price of the bottle, that he might not be indebted to
the cashiered general.
The first efforts at conquest on the South American mainland had met
with little save disaster and disappointment, and were absolutely
barren of result. Our other possessions on that continent were gained,
not by hard fighting there, but by treaties dependent on hard fighting
elsewhere. Both British Guiana and Honduras saw no battles fought on
their soil by British soldiers. The former, captured in 1796, was
confirmed to the English rule in 1814; the latter became a crown colony
in 1867.
Thus, though many of these expeditions rather partook of the nature of
filibustering raids than real war, they none the less are interesting
as showing the gradual extension of military operations beyond the
main theatre of war. In many cases, doubtless, as in the landing on
the French coast, no real benefit was derived from them, and they
only tended to exasperate and embitter a contest that already was
sufficiently imbued with these feelings. They brought the horrors of
war on defenceless people, as well as on the enemy’s military and naval
resources. In so doing they harassed and annoyed, and to some extent
lent their aid to the otherwise needless dispersion of the enemy’s
troops; but such deeds only lead to reprisals, and, like killing
individual soldiers on outpost duty, have little real effect on the
conduct or result of a campaign.
Still there were many cases in which the semi-naval operations were
of supreme value to a great naval power. The true outlet for a
vigorous nation’s natural expansion is its colonies. Shorn of these,
in many instances the parent country loses its most vital limbs, with
increasing injury to the main trunk. Morally, as well as politically,
the loss of colonial empire gravely affects the mother country. The
loss of the American States to England long lowered her prestige in the
eyes of Europe, and for a time led nations to think her end as a great
power had come. The dropping away from Spain and Portugal of those vast
colonies which owe their origin and existence to the energy of the
people of those countries in the past, have left the mother countries
far behind in the race, low down in the political scale of Europe.
Hence the conquest of French and Spanish colonies in this prolonged
war was not only a serious loss to the States concerned, but an
important element of strength to the power that first of all effected
the conquest, and then was strong enough to hold them. No doubt, in
days when steam and telegraph were not, the element of secrecy entered
largely into the calculation of how these attacks could be successfully
planned and executed. It was possible then to attempt what now would be
far more risky, because foreseen. “To be forewarned” is more than even
“to be forearmed” in these modern days.
But, in addition, there is one other point to be considered in thinking
of what was done in past wars, and so examining if similar things
could be done in the future. Would the bombardment of open, or feebly
defended, coast towns be permitted? Would that old “harassing” side
of war, without any other end beyond that of harassing, be considered
justifiable now? There is a certain _general_ and no longer _local_
public opinion to be considered nowadays, and much that was done when
the nineteenth century was young will be very possibly looked on as
barbarous and unnecessary when another century dawns.
Lastly, the means of local defence have also largely increased. It is
common to see, as at Havana, how frequently forts and batteries were
fully silenced by the fire from the fleet, whose guns were certainly
not of great power. But coast batteries are now more scientifically
and powerfully built, and mount guns quite as formidable, if not more
so, than battleships can carry. Ranges are greater, and the accuracy
of fire enormously improved, and ground mines and active torpedoes
can make situations, whence fleets could formerly best act, too
dangerous now to be occupied at all. Quick-firing and machine guns,
repeating rifles, and what not, will render boat operations practically
impossible, except at night. Such landings as those at Aboukir Bay,
etc., should be now out of the question. It may safely be surmised that
the class of operations referred to in this chapter will be less easy
of execution in the future than when Guadaloupe was taken.
But one thing is clearly apparent in watching the story of this
combination of military and naval war. It was only as England began
to feel her strength, and, by increasing her squadrons, to have the
power of showing it, that she really began to grow to greatness. At
first the wars were local and somewhat restricted on shore, as were the
actions of the fleets. But the desire to get at France and Spain on
both sides, or all along their coast lines, led, instinctively almost,
to the capture of Gibraltar, the gateway to the Mediterranean, and next
to seize Minorca, as she did later Malta, and then Cyprus, as a base of
operations for her naval strength. Such harbours or bases are needful
always for rest, refitting, reprovisioning, and, _now_, recoaling. No
such fortified place is by itself a menace; it is only the basis of
that active menace, the sea-going fleet of battleships. Neither Malta
nor Biserta would in the least affect the destinies of the world unless
behind the shelter of their defensive works was a sea-going fleet
capable of offensive action. The defence of the fortress is purely
passive; the defence power of the fleet is, like that of cavalry,
either active or nothing. This in the last century was the use of
Minorca.
So, with the extension of the idea, the growing size of the fleet,
came greater ideas of expansion and greater powers of carrying it
out. Success had produced confidence. Confidence had created greater
boldness. Commerce had increased, and continued to increase, despite
the continuous wars. Though the loss of ships was terrible, the
merchant navy still went forth bravely upon the seas. Merchant princes
must have had calm, philosophical heads to have recognised, as they
must have done, an almost certain percentage of serious loss of both
ship and cargo. Such loss was to be risked from the mouth of the Thames
to the mouth of the Hudson, and yet still the traders sought the open
sea. Is such a spirit alive now, or is the commercial dread of loss
in the end of the nineteenth century greater than the commercial
fearlessness of the early part of it? That only the next war can prove.
But the next stage in the national growth which is clear in these
bygone days, is that commercial expansion led to bold enterprises
against the enemy’s colonies, on which his commerce much depended.
It was so with the expansion of the Indian Empire on the one hand, and
the American Empire, after the conquest of Canada from the French,
on the other. Both led to yet another idea, of which earlier history
could show no trace. The connection between these growing empires
and the mother country was becoming increasingly important, and so
remained until they were self-supporting or self-dependent. With
British India, then a mere spot on the peninsula of Hindustan, it was
to home and England only that she could look for everything. Until the
vast territories along the banks of the Potomac, the Hudson, or the
Ohio had been subdued and become populous, only the mother country
could be of use to help her struggling Western children in their early
youth. To guard the roads by which this necessary help must come was
all-important then, as it is now with such of our dependencies as have
not grown up to that national manhood which means independence of all
maternal support.
Hence, then, the natural and instinctive desire to possess the Cape of
Good Hope. None saw then that there were other advantages and channels
of expansion, besides the Cape itself, to be gained in the “Hinterland”
to those unknown but reported “Mountains of the Moon.” It was only as
being a port on the road to India, in those days, that made the Cape
valuable, and for a very simple reason. Ships, like men, require stores
and food. Supplies run short, sails are destroyed, boats swept away.
These calling places are to the navy what “the Stores” are to the
individual; and if access to such places were denied, the ship and the
individual would suffer. A hostile Table Bay or Simon’s Bay would have
meant, in those days, no house of call between St. Helena and Bombay!
Therefore it is so interesting to watch this gradual expansion of the
national idea of empire based entirely, instinctively, and rightly
on the colonies we were founding. The whole “earth hunger” of Great
Britain, if viewed in its natural light, is the opening of new lands
for trade, the extension of colonial empire by true colonists, men who
mean to make the new realm their permanent home, and the preserving
intact, with a good series of supply stations along these unmarked
ways, the roads that unite Great Britain with her colonial children.
* * * * *
Brave and gallant as had been the conduct of soldiers on board ship,
whether acting as marines afloat or as landed parties, there are other
instances of skill and courage equally well worth recording.
In 1852 the _Birkenhead_ transport was on its way to India, with drafts
of the 12th Lancers, and of the 2nd, 6th, 12th, 43rd, 45th, 60th,
73rd, 74th, and 91st Regiments, under the command of Colonel Seton,
and, entering Simon’s Bay, struck on a sunken rock, and began to fill.
She was ill provided with boats, for there was scarcely sufficient
accommodation for the women and children, let alone the crew or the
gallant representatives of the army, and the harbour swarmed with
sharks. But the noble spirit of duty, that fearlessness of death and
danger which all brave men have and which discipline intensifies, was
never shown more grandly than in this moment of supreme peril. The
men fell in on the upper deck as if on parade, and there they stood,
bearing themselves as stoutly before that dread foe death, as ever they
had or would have done before an earthly enemy, while the weeping,
helpless, women and little ones were being saved. And standing there,
while the officers shook hands and wished each other good-bye, the
_Birkenhead_ sank beneath their feet. Of 630 souls on board, only 194
were saved, and among them, Captain Wright of the 91st.
Similarly, in 1857, sheer coolness and discipline saved an entire ship.
For the 54th were on their way to Mauritius, when the vessel caught
fire. It was only through the exertions and steadiness of the men that
the ship was saved at all, and then she reached her destination a mere
burnt-out shell.
Nor was the case of the _Birkenhead_ the only one in which the greatest
of all bravery--facing death in cold blood--was evidenced by men of
the 91st. In 1846, the reserve battalion was taking passage in the
_Abercrombie Robinson_, when the vessel was wrecked near Cape Town. But
the 500 men of the 91st assembled on deck as if on parade, and kept the
grim silence of discipline until the women and children were safely in
the boats.
Noteworthy is the discipline and patience of the gallant 78th, when the
transport _Charlotte_, in which they had embarked, for transference
from Batavia to Calcutta in 1816, ran ashore on a sunken rock a
few miles from the island of Preparis, and that so violently, that
in fifteen minutes she filled to her main deck. Though death was
apparently imminent, the men behaved like the heroes and soldiers they
were. Every man waited for orders, and there was no sign of panic or
disobedience. The women, children, and sick were transported to the
island, with a few bags of rice only, and a few pieces of salt pork.
It was four days before the rest of the men and crew were landed on
the inhospitable shores of Preparis, and during that time some 140 men
were quartered on a raft fastened to a rock near the ship that was just
aflush with water at low tide. There they had neither sleep, nor food,
nor water. But the most perfect order obtained none the less. When they
were all got on to the island, things were little better. They remained
without relief from the 9th November until the 6th December, by which
time even the poor two-day allowance of a glass of rice and two ounces
of meat per head had been exhausted. Shell-fish were collected at low
tide and stored. All such finds were brought to the common stock, and
there was no need even for a guard! Officer and man shared the same
privation until the final relief came, and throughout the discipline of
the men was perfect.
But it is not merely in times of dangerous emergency that soldiers
alone have shown that they are descended from those Vikings who were
the true marines, equally good on shore or afloat. At the conclusion of
the China war of 1860, the regiments engaged returned to England, and
among them were the Buffs. Three companies of this grand old regiment,
who, like the Royal Marines, claim their descent from London trained
bands, and oftentimes had done seagoing duty, embarked on board the
_Athleta_. All went well till after she had touched at the Cape to
water. The crew was like many a merchant’s crew now, even if not much
more so now than then, built up of indifferent materials, probably
what is known as “Beachcombers,” men who in sterner days were marooned
on desert islands. The gold fever in Australia, too, had set in, and
hence caused desertions in homeward bound crews. So the crew of the
_Athleta_ tried to desert, and were prevented, and then came aft in a
body to complain of imaginary ill-treatment, and request to be taken
on shore before a magistrate. To have done so would have been fatal;
and the commanding officer of the Buffs stepped in. He suggested that
the captain should at once “weigh” and go to sea. The crew refused
to move a finger in the matter. Colonel Sargent proposed, as a quiet
and friendly way of settling the matter, to put the seamen in the
fo’castle, with an armed guard for their protection, and bread and
water for their food, while the Buffs worked the ship home. Captain
Potter joyfully assented, and went to sea with his strange, untrained,
crew. Volunteers were asked to go aloft, and the detachment was
cautioned as to its dangers, and the supreme necessity for coolness
and readiness of resource; and was told that to be _ordered_ aloft
was contrary to Queen’s regulations. None the less, sixty stalwart
lads stepped forward, and of these, twenty-eight were chosen for the
yards and “tops.” A week’s duty of this kind brought the mutineers
to their senses; that and the bread and water probably. They prayed
to be allowed to return to their duty, and did so. Colonel Sargent
thought, and rightly, that “he had had pleasure in going aloft with
them himself, because the boldest and most zealous of his men had never
been in the rigging before, and some had not even been on board a ship
of any kind previous to their voyage out and home.” Captain Potter
thought and said that he “was perfectly astonished to see soldiers able
to turn themselves all at once into such good sailors, and to teach
so wholesome a lesson to his crew, not one of whom, he was convinced,
would ever again strike work in a vessel on board of which British
soldiers were embarked.” The Buff crew refused payment for their extra
work, when it was proposed to stop a portion of the mutineers’ pay and
hand it over to the new crew, and “wished to enjoy the satisfaction
of feeling that they had only done their duty as British soldiers,
determined to support their commanding officer in any position.”
The incident is not merely one of passing interest, it evidences that
_sentiment du devoir_ and discipline which, combined, form the finest
soldiery the world has ever seen.
These are but a few of the noble records of the “Army at Sea.”