When, I know not how long after, the idea of life dawned once more on
my darkened spirit, I was conscious only of being miserably cold;
indeed, this was the only fact that made me aware of my own existence,
for I remembered nothing whatever of all that had happened and had not
the slightest idea of where I was. When my mind began to get clearer
and my senses recovered their functions I found that I was lying on
the beach; some men were standing round me and watching me with
interest. The first thing I heard was: "Poor little fellow!--he is
coming round."
By degrees I recovered my wits and, with them, my recollection of past
events. My first thought was for Marcial, and I believe that the first
words I spoke were an enquiry for him. But no one could tell me
anything about him; I recognized some of the crew of the _Rayo_ among
the men on the beach and asked them where he was; they were all agreed
that he must have perished. Then I wanted to know how I had been
saved, but they would tell me nothing about that either. They gave me
some liquor to drink, I know not what, and carried me to a neighboring
hut, where, warmed by a good fire and cared for by an old woman, I
soon felt quite well, though still rather weak. Meanwhile I learnt
that another cutter had put out to reconnoitre the wreck of the _Rayo_
and that of a French ship which had met with the same fate, and that
they had picked me up still clinging to Marcial; they found that I
could be saved but my companion was dead. I learnt too that a number
of poor wretches had been drowned in trying to reach the coast. Then I
wanted to know what had become of Malespina, but no one knew anything
either of him or of his father. I enquired about the _Santa Ana_
which, it appeared, had reached Cadiz in safety, so I determined to
set out forthwith to join my master. We were at some distance from
Cadiz, on the coast to the north of the Guadalquivir, I wanted
therefore to start at once to make so long a journey. I took two days'
rest to recover my strength, and then set out for Sanlúcar, in the
company of a sailor who was going the same way. We crossed the river
on the morning of the 27th and then continued our walk, keeping along
the coast. As my companion was a jolly, friendly fellow the journey
was as pleasant as I could expect in the frame of mind I was in,
grieved at Marcial's death and depressed by the scenes I had so lately
witnessed. As we walked on we discussed the battle and the shipwrecks
that had ensued.
"A very good sailor was that old cripple," said my companion. "But
what possessed him to go to sea again with more than sixty years on
his shoulders? It served him right to come to a bad end."
"He was a brave seaman," said I, "and had such a passion for fighting
that even his infirmities could not keep him quiet when he had made up
his mind to join the fleet."
"Well, I have had enough of it for my part," said the sailor. "I do
not want to see any more fighting at sea. The King pays us badly, and
then, if you are maimed or crippled--good-bye to you--I know nothing
about you--I never set eyes on you in my life.--Perhaps you don't
believe me when I tell you the King pays his men so badly? But I can
tell you this: most of the officers in command of the ships that went
into action on the 21st had seen no pay for months. Only last year
there was a navy captain at Cadiz who went as waiter in an inn because
he had no other way of keeping himself or his children. His friends
found him out though he tried to conceal his misery, and they
succeeded at last in getting him out of his degrading position. Such
things do not happen in any other country in the world; and then we
are horrified at finding ourselves beaten by the English! As to the
arsenals, I will say nothing about them; they are empty and it is of
no use to hope for money from Madrid--not a _cuarto_ comes this way.
All the King's revenues are spent in paying the court officials, and
chief among them the Prince of Peace; who gets 40,000 dollars as
Counsellor of the Realm, Secretary of State, Captain-General, and
Sergeant-Major of the Guards.--No, say I, I have had enough of serving
the King. I am going home to my wife and children, for I have served
my time and in a few days they must give me my papers."
"But you have nothing to complain of friend," said I, "since you were
on board the _Rayo_ which hardly did any fighting."
"I was not in the _Rayo_ but in the _Bahama_, one of the ships that
fought hardest and longest."
"She was taken and her captain killed, if I remember rightly."
"Aye, so it was," he said. "I could cry over it when I think of
him--Don Dionisio Alcalá Galiano, the bravest seaman in the fleet.
Well, he was a stern commander; he never overlooked the smallest
fault, and yet his very severity made us love him all the more, for a
captain who is feared for his severity--if his severity is unfailingly
just--inspires respect and wins the affection of his men. I can
honestly say that a more noble and generous gentleman than Don
Dionisio Alcalá Galiano was never born. And when he wanted to do a
civility to his friends he did not do it by halves; once, out in
Havana he spent ten thousand dollars on a supper he gave on board
ship."
"He was a first-rate seaman too, I have heard."
"Ah, that he was. And he was more learned than Merlin and all the
Fathers of the Church. He made no end of maps, and discovered Lord
knows how many countries out there, where it is as hot as hell itself!
And then they send men like these out to fight and to be killed like a
parcel of cabin-boys. I will just tell you what happened on board the
_Bahama_. As soon as the fighting began Don Dionisio Alcalá Galiano
knew we must be beaten on account of that infernal trick of turning
the ships round--we were in the reserve and had been in the rear.
Nelson, who was certainly no fool, looked along our line, and he said:
'If we cut them through at two separate points, and keep them between
two fires, hardly a ship will escape me.' And so he did, blast him;
and as our line was so long the head could never help the tail. He
fought us in detachments, attacking us in two wedge-shaped columns
which, as I have heard say, were the tactics adopted by the great
Moorish general, Alexander the Great, and now used by Napoleon. It is
very certain, at any rate, that they got round us and cut us in three,
and fought us ship to ship in such a manner that we could not support
or help each other; every Spaniard had to deal with three or four
Englishmen.
"Well, so you see the _Bahama_ was one of the first to be under fire.
Galiano reviewed the crew at noon, went round the gun-decks, and made
us a speech in which he said: 'Gentlemen, you all know that our flag
is nailed to the mast.' Yes, we all knew the sort of man our Captain
was, and we were not at all surprised to hear it. Then he turned to
the captain of the marines, Don Alonso Butron, 'I charge you to defend
it,' he said. 'No Galiano ever surrenders and no Butron should
either.'
"'What a pity it is,' said I, 'that such men should not have had a
leader worthy of such courage, since they could not themselves conduct
the fleet.'
"Aye, it is a pity, and you shall hear what happened. The battle
began, and you know something of what it was like if you were on
board the _Trinidad_. The ships riddled us with broadsides to port and
starboard. The wounded fell like flies from the very first, and the
captain first had a bad bruise on his foot and then a splinter struck
his head and hurt him badly. But do you think he would give in, or
submit to be plastered with ointment? Not a bit of it; he staid on the
quarter-deck, just as if nothing had happened, though many a man he
loved truly fell close to him never to stand up again. Alcalá Galiano
gave his orders and directed his guns as if we had been firing a
salute at a review. A spent ball knocked his telescope out of his hand
and that made him laugh. I fancy I can see him now; the blood from his
wound stained his uniform and his hands and he cared no more than if
it had been drops of salt-water splashed up from the sea. He was a man
of great spirit and a hasty temper; he shouted out his orders so
positively that if we had not obeyed them because it was our duty, we
should have done so out of sheer alarm.--But suddenly it was all over
with him.--He was struck in the head by a shot and instantly killed.
"The fight was not at an end, but all our heart in it was gone. When
our beloved captain fell the officers covered his body that we men
might not see it, but we all knew at once what had happened, and
after a short and desperate struggle for the honor of our flag, the
_Bahama_ surrendered to the English who carried her off to Gibraltar
if she did not go to the bottom on the way, as I rather suspect she
did."
After giving this history and telling me how he had been transferred
from the _Bahama_ to the _Santa Ana_, my companion sighed deeply and
was silent for some time. However, as the way was long and dull I
tried to reopen the conversation and I began telling him what I myself
had seen, and how I had at last been put on board the _Rayo_ with
young Malespina.
"Ah!" said he. "Was he a young artillery officer who was transferred
to the sloop to be taken to shore on the night of the 23d?"
"The very same," said I. "But no one has been able to tell me for
certain what became of him."
"He was one of a party in the second boat which could not get to
shore; some of those who were whole and strong contrived to escape,
and among them that young officer's father; but all the wounded were
drowned, as you may easily suppose, as the poor souls of course could
not swim to land."
I was shocked to hear of Don Rafael's death, and the thought of the
grief it would be to my hapless and adored little mistress quite
overcame me, choking every mean and jealous feeling.
"What a dreadful thing!" I exclaimed. "And is it my misfortune to have
to carry the news to his sorrowing friends? But, tell me, are you
certain of the facts?"
"I saw his father with my own eyes, lamenting bitterly and telling all
the details of the catastrophe with such distress it was enough to
break your heart. From what he said he seemed to have saved everybody
on board the boat, and he declared that if he had saved his son it
would have been at the cost of the lives of all the others, so he
chose, on the whole, to preserve the lives of the greatest number,
even in sacrificing that of his son, and he did so. He must be a
singularly humane man, and wonderfully brave and dexterous." But I was
so deeply distressed that I could not discuss the subject. Marcial
dead, Malespina dead! What terrible news to take home to my master's
house. For a moment my mind was almost made up not to return to Cadiz;
I would leave it to chance or to public rumor to carry the report to
the sad hearts that were waiting in such painful suspense. However, I
was bound to present myself before Don Alonso and give him some
account of my proceedings.
At length we reached Rota and there embarked for Cadiz. It is
impossible to describe the commotion produced by the report of the
disaster to our fleet. News of the details had come in by degrees, and
by this time the fate of most of our ships was known, though what had
become of many men and even whole crews had not been ascertained. The
streets were full of distressing scenes at every turn, where some one
who had come off scot-free stood telling off the deaths he knew of,
and the names of those who would be seen no more. The populace crowded
down to the quays to see the wounded as they came on shore, hoping to
recognize a father, husband, son or brother. There were episodes of
frantic joy mingled with shrieks of dismay and bitter cries of
disappointment. Too often were hopes deceived and fears confirmed, and
the losers in this fearful lottery were far more numerous than the
winners. The bodies thrown up on the shore put an end to the suspense
of many families, while others still hoped to find those they had lost
among the prisoners taken to Gibraltar.
To the honor of Cadiz be it said never did a community devote itself
with greater willingness to the care of the wounded, making no
distinctions between friends and foes but hoisting the standard, as it
were, of universal and comprehensive charity. Collingwood, in his
narrative, does justice to this generosity on the part of my
fellow-countrymen. The magnitude of the disaster had deadened all
resentment, but is it not sad to reflect that it is only in misfortune
that men are truly brothers?
In Cadiz I saw collected in the harbor the whole results of the
conflict which previously, as an actor in it, I had only partially
understood, since the length of the line and the manœuvring of the
vessels would not allow me to see everything that happened. As I now
learnt--besides the _Trinidad_--the _Argonauta_, 92 guns, Captain Don
Antonio Pareja, and the _San Augustin_, 80 guns, Don Felipe Cagigal,
had been sunk. Gravina had got back into Cadiz with the _Príncipe de
Astúrias_, as well as the _Montañes_, 80 guns, commanded by Alcedo,
who with his second officer Castaños, had been killed; the _San
Justo_, 76 guns, Captain Don Miguel Gaston; the _San Leandro_, 74,
Captain Don José Quevedo; the _San Francisco_, 74, Don Luis Flores;
and the _Rayo_, 100, commanded by Macdonell. Four of these had gone
out again on the 23d to recapture the vessels making for Gibraltar;
and of these, two, the _San Francisco_ and the _Rayo_ were wrecked on
the coast. So, too, was the _Monarca_, 74 guns, under Argumosa, and
the _Neptuno_, 80 guns; and her heroic commander, Don Cayetano Valdés,
who had previously distinguished himself at Cape St. Vincent, narrowly
escaped with his life. The _Bahama_ had surrendered but went to pieces
before she could be got into Gibraltar; the _San Ildefonso_, 74 guns,
Captain Vargas, was taken to England, while the _San Juan Nepomuceno_
was left for many years at Gibraltar, where she was regarded as an
object of veneration and curiosity. The _Santa Ana_ had come safely
into Cadiz the very night we were taken off her.
The English too lost some fine ships, and not a few of their gallant
officers shared Nelson's glorious fate.
With regard to the French it need not be said that they had suffered
as severely as we had. With the exception of the four ships that
withdrew under Dumanoir without showing fight--a stain which the
Imperial navy could not for a long time wipe out--our allies behaved
splendidly. Villeneuve, only caring to efface in one day the
remembrance of all his mistakes, fought desperately to the last and
was carried off a prisoner to Gibraltar. Many of their officers were
taken with him, and very many were killed. Their vessels shared all
our risks and dangers; some got off with Gravina, some were taken and
several were wrecked on the coast. The _Achille_ blew up, as I have
said, in the midst of the action.
But in spite of all these disasters, Spain had paid dearer for the war
than her haughty ally. France had lost the flower of her navy indeed,
but at that very time Napoleon had won a glorious victory on land. His
army had marched with wonderful rapidity from the shores of the
English Channel across Europe, and was carrying out his colossal
schemes in the campaign against Austria. It was on the 20th of
October, the day before Trafalgar, that Napoleon, at the camp at Ulm,
looked on as the Austrian troops marched past, while their officers
delivered up their swords; only two months later, on the 2d of
December, he won, on the field of Austerlitz, the greatest of his many
victories.
These triumphs consoled France for the defeat of Trafalgar; Napoleon
silenced the newspapers, forbidding them to discuss the matter; and
when the victory of his implacable enemies, the English, was reported
to him he simply shrugged his shoulders and said: "I cannot be
everywhere at once."