Nelson: The Essential Hero (22 page)

When I got into her main-chains, a Spanish Officer came upon the quarterdeck rail, without arms, and said the Ship had surrendered. From this welcome information, it was not long before I was on the quarterdeck, when the Spanish Captain, with a bended knee, presented me his Sword, and told me the Admiral was dying with his wounds below. I gave him my hand, and desired him to call to his Officers and Ship’s Company that the Ship had surrendered, which he did; and on the quarterdeck of a Spanish First-rate, extravagant as the story may seem, did I receive the Swords of the vanquished Spaniards, which as I received I gave to William Fearney, one of my bargemen, who placed them, with the greatest sang-froid, under his arm.

He went on to add that a number of those involved in the capture of the two Spanish ships, among them Captain Berry and the unemotional William Feamey, were old ‘Agamemnons’. The circumstances in which Nelson’s
Captain
took these two ships, using the one to board the other - later described as ‘Nelson’s patent bridge for boarding first-rates’ - were remarkable enough. What must not be forgotten is that the condition of these two ships, which had been so heavily hammered and rendered unnavigable, was not all due to the fire of the
Captain.
Far from it: a considerable amount of the credit for the success of this part of the action must go to the other British ships also engaged with them, and in particular to Collingwood’s
Excellent.
Nevertheless, the spectacle of the three vessels locked together, with the British ensign triumphant over an island of ships, was something that those who saw it could never forget. Sir Gilbert Elliot, who was aboard the frigate
Lively
, later wrote to Nelson that: ‘Nothing in the world was ever more noble than the transaction of the
Captain
from beginning to end, and the glorious group of your ship and her two prizes . . . was never surpassed and I dare say never will.’ The crew of
Victory,
surging past after the fleeing enemy, lined her rails and gave three cheers as the men looked with wonder at the astonishing sight.

The battle, which had been hard fought for over two hours, ended with four Spanish ships taken as prizes. The mighty
Santissima Trinidad
had been so badly damaged that Cordoba had to transfer his flag to another vessel. Unfortunately for British hopes, this vast man-of-war, which everyone had hoped to see among the prizes, managed to slip away under tow as darkness fell. What prevented the Battle of Cape St Vincent from being the overwhelming victory that it might well have been was that the junction of the two sections of the enemy fleet was finally effected when ‘the day was too far advanced’, as Nelson put it, for further action. In any case, Jervis, in view of the damage to his own ships, could hardly have prosecuted the action once the two halves of the Spanish fleet had come together, some of their ships being quite fresh, not having been in action. What Sir John could not have known, of course, was that complete disorder and indeed nigh-chaos. prevailed in Cordoba’s fleet. The unfortunate Admiral and his officers were destined in due course to share much the same fate as had Medina Sidonia and those who had failed with the Spanish Armada. He, his surviving Rear-Admiral, and several of his captains were court-martialled and dismissed the Service, while it was said that in Cadiz ‘the officers cannot come ashore for fear of the populace’.

Nelson had shifted his flag from the
Captain
to the
Irresistible,
which was undamaged, in the hope of coming up with the
Santissima
Trinidad.
After the signal to discontinue action was received, he must, despite his astounding success, have felt somewhat uneasy about his first meeting with Sir John Jervis. The latter, after all, was known as the strictest disciplinarian in the Service, and Nelson had committed a court-martial offence by hauling out of line during a battle. But Jervis was great enough a seaman to have instantly recognised what Nelson’s action had achieved. Indeed, immediately upon seeing the
Captain
wearing out of line, he had signalled Collingwood in the
Excellent
to support Nelson. Jervis received his Commodore aboard the quarterdeck of the
Victory
in a most untypical manner - with open arms. Nelson’s appearance was remarkable : part of his hat shot away, his face darkened by gunpowder and his clothes in tatters. Jervis, as Nelson recalled, ‘. . . having embraced me, said he could not sufficiently thank me, and used every expression to make me happy’. The Commander-in-Chief himself had narrowly escaped death, a marine standing by him having been killed by a shot, while Nelson had also been wounded by a flying splinter of wood or metal. He was later to write, underestimating his injury, to Sir Gilbert Elliot that ‘it is only a contusion and of no consequence, unless an inflammation takes place in my bowel, which is the part injured’. In fact he was in great pain for a number of days and the husband who regularly kept Fanny posted as to every event could manage no more than a line : ‘I am well, Josiah is well.’ As late as 1804, seven years after the action, a lump sometimes appeared on the site : ‘brought on occasionally by coughing’. Modern diagnosis is that he was probably badly ruptured.

But on that night, while the shattered Spanish fleet regrouped and mourned their losses - in the
Santissima Trinidad
and the
San Jose
alone over 400 men - and the British also buried their dead and fished their yards and spars, it was quite clear where the victory lay. It was the greatest naval engagement since the Battle of the Saints in the West Indies in 1782, when Rodney had decisively defeated the French. There could be no doubt in anyone’s mind that a large part of the credit for the victory must be accorded to Commodore Horatio Nelson.

Captain Calder
of the
Victory
is credited with having said to Jervis, when Nelson had hauled out of line and had only the
Culloden
to help him: ‘Sir, the
Captain
and
Culloden
are separated from the fleet and unsupported, shall we recall them ?’ only to receive the reply, ‘I will not have them recalled. I put my faith in those ships.’ Calder’s anxiety, as First Captain, was natural enough, but what later may seem to stem from envy of Nelson’s success is provided in an anecdote related by Benjamin Tucker, secretary to Jervis: ‘In the evening, while talking over the events of the day Captain Calder hinted that the spontaneous manoeuvre which carried Nelson and Collingwood into the brunt of the battle was an unauthorised departure by the Commodore from the prescribed mode of attack. “It certainly was so,” said Jervis, “and if ever you commit such a breach of your orders, I will forgive you also.” ’

It has sometimes been suggested that it was through Captain Calder’s influence that Sir John Jervis’s original draft relating to the action was toned down in such a way that only he, Calder, received personal praise in the Commander-in-Chief’s official despatch. It is extremely unlikely, however, that a man like Jervis could have been influenced in his despatch by anyone, let alone his Captain, whom he had in fact told off during the day for ordering a premature broadside. Jervis’s despatch can only be seen in the light of events : everyone had fought their ships well and, as it turned out, everyone was duly rewarded. Jervis, in a private letter to Earl Spencer, wrote: ‘Commodore Nelson, who was in the rear on the starboard tack, took the lead on the larboard, and contributed very much to the fortune of the day.’ He also went on to single out for special commendation Vice-Admiral Waldegrave and Captains Berry, Hallowell, Collingwood and Troubridge.

From aboard the
Irresistible
in Lisbon, on 28 February, Nelson wrote to Fanny: ‘We got up here with our prizes this afternoon : the more I think of our late Action, the more I am astonished; it absolutely appears a dream. ... I believe this Spanish War will give us a Cottage and a piece of ground, which is all I want.’ Then, on 3 March: 'I shall come one day or other laughing back, when we will retire from the busy scenes of life : I do not mean to be a hermit. The Dons will give us a little money. . . .’ Only on 23 February Fanny had written to him from Bath, where she was staying with his father, that ‘Yesterday’s Gazette authorises our good father and myself to congratulate you on being a flag officer, may it please God your fame and successes increase and continue under this promotion.’ Nelson did not receive the news until 1 April. He had in fact been promoted to flag rank on 2 February, so that at the time the Battle of Cape St Vincent was fought he was, unbeknown to himself or any others present, already a Rear-Admiral of the Blue. His promotion was accorded him in the normal course of events, nine other post-captains all of eighteen years’ seniority being promoted at the same time.

On 11 March Fanny wrote him again, having been reassured by Locker that reports that he had been slightly wounded were untrue. She had by now received Nelson’s note that he and Josiah were well, and she had been more than flattered by the attentions of Lady Saumarez (wife of Sir James Saumarez who commanded the
Orion
in the battle) who had heard from her husband that, Fanny quoted : ‘He speaks generously and manly about you, and concluded by saying, “Commodore Nelson’s conduct was above praise”. You were universally the subject of conversation.’ But that deep concern for his safety, that concern so natural yet so misplaced since she must by now have understood his nature, breaks through: ‘I shall not be myself till I hear from you again. What can I attempt to say to you about Boarding? You have been most wonderfully protected : you have done desperate actions enough. Now may I - indeed I do — beg that you never Board again.
Leave it for Captains
.’ On reading this no doubt he must have smiled, affectionately - and wryly. Unlike the wives of so many sea-officers, who came from the same stock and who had grown up surrounded by tales of their ancestors, and of battle and high courage and inevitable loss, Fanny was from so very different a background. Why, a man was just as likely to be cut down on his own quarter-deck by a cannon ball, chain-shot, or a sharpshooter’s bullet as he was in the action of boarding. ... It was something he had no intention of explaining to her.

England had needed a victory, and now the honours came pouring in thick and fast. Nelson, who had been very concerned, as he had said earlier in conversation with Colonel Drinkwater shortly after the battle, that he might be made a baronet (a hereditary title which he did not have the means to sustain) was delighted to have the Order of the Bath conferred upon him. This would not involve him in the kind of financial outlay that a baronetcy would have entailed, but it was a very high mark of distinction. Sir John Jervis became Earl St Vincent, and received a pension of £3,000 a year, Rear-Admiral Parker and Vice-Admiral Thompson were made baronets, and the Admirals, Commodore Nelson, and all Captains of ships-of-the-line received gold medals. Captain Calder, who had carried Jervis’s despatch home, was knighted. Nelson, ever mindful of his origins, sent the sword which had belonged to the dead Spanish Rear-Admiral Don Xavier Winthuysen, and which he had received aboard the
San Josef
, to the City of Norwich, writing: 'I know no place where it would give me or my family more pleasure to have it kept, than in the Capital City of the County in which I had the Honour to be born.’ The local hero received the freedom of Norwich, while the freedoms of London and Bath were also conferred upon him. At the age of thirty-eight he was now Rear-Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson, K.B. - so far had the ‘radiant orb’ led him over the years. There would also be prize money. The sailors, too, those without whose blood and strength and iron endurance no victory could ever be won, would also get prize money - but theirs would be minimal compared with that of the officers. Certainly, even their share would finally enable them to enjoy the pleasures of the shore for, as an old song puts it in the words of the sailors’ women :

Don’t you see the ships a-coming ?

Don’t you see them in full sail ?

Don’t you see the ships a-coming

With their prizes at their tail ?

Oh! my little rolling sailor,

Oh! my little rolling he;

I do love a jolly sailor,

Blithe and merry might he be.

But one cannot help wondering if over the years, as the Orders and the medals and other distinctions came - and rightfully came - his way, Nelson recalled those words which had so impressed him as a young seaman in the West Indies:
‘Aft the most honour forward the better man.’
Perhaps he did, or he would never have included that saying in his brief autobiography.

The
Captain
still being unserviceable, Nelson remained aboard the
Irresistible
, being despatched early in March with two other sail-of-the-line in quest of the Viceroy of Mexico, who was reputed to be on his way home to Spain with three sail-of-the-line escorting a large convoy of treasure ships. The idea of overcoming their escort and capturing a wealth of gold, silver, and emeralds from the rich mines of Spanish America inspired Nelson, just as it had inspired Drake in earlier days. But, despite an intensive search, cruising between Gape St Vincent and the African coast, the treasure train eluded him. He could not be sure whether it had managed to get into Cadiz unobserved - though he doubted this - or had temporarily taken refuge in the Canary Islands; most probably at Santa Cruz in Tenerife. He cannot have helped recalling how Blake in 1657 had fallen upon Santa Cruz, subdued the castle and forts protecting the anchorage, and sailed out again having destroyed sixteen Spanish ships including four that contained the silver upon which so much of Spain’s finance depended. The thought haunted him that such an exploit could be repeated.

On his return from this abortive search he was once more ordered back into the Mediterranean. Not all the troops had been taken off from Elba on his previous expedition, nearly three thousand of them being still on the island, in an exposed situation where the arrival of even a small squadron from Toulon could have compelled their surrender. Nelson had at the back of his mind the conviction that they could be better employed elsewhere, but St Vincent required a little convincing that it was worth risking a squadron in the French-dominated inland sea for so few men. Nelson managed to prevail, sailing aboard the
Captain
once again (he described her: ‘she is little better than a wreck’) and having in company the
Colossus
and the 50-gun
Leander
, as well as a number of smaller ships. Their passage across the Mediterranean was uneventful, although this was more by luck than judgement, for only a north-west gale hurling out of the Gulf of Lions prevented their interception by a strong French force of four ships-of-the-line. Nelson sailed back with the convoy, and the remaining troops and stores, from the last British outpost in the Mediterranean. It was the kind of convoy that occurs often enough in times of war and which is hardly mentioned in the official histories - or only if it is unsuccessful. If Nelson’s small force had run into the French ships-of-the-line they might have given a good account of themselves, but they would certainly have been captured or sunk. As it was, he reached Gibraltar safely in May and the complete British evacuation of the Mediterranean had been effected.