The British were the first to feel the breeze as it came again after mid-day, and every captain began to cast his ship's head round to follow in the direction of the enemy. Hood, who at the outset remained becalmed after Rodney and Drake had begun to move again, was seen getting out his boats to tow theBarfleurround into the breeze. To over-take the French as soon as possible was the business of the afternoon for Rodney's captains.
De Grasse's business, on the other hand, was to get away without further fighting if he could, or at least to try and re-form. It was not an easy task, in the scattered state of his fleet and in the presence of an enemy who had the weather-gage. TheVille de Parissignalled for all to re-form line on the ships farthest to leeward, at the point farthest off from the British, and she headed in that direction herself. It was 'playing for safety,' so to speak, at the cost of abandoning some of his ships. What the rally so far to leeward wouldinevitably mean for certain of De Grasse's worst-damaged ships was soon seen. The more manageable of the French ships were able to make their way to leeward; but it was another matter for the cripples—in especial for the shattered trio—for the dismastedGlorieuxand the partially wreckedCésarandHector. For them it meant that they were to be left to their fate, left lying, between the two fleets, hardly able to move at all, full in the way of the advancing British. And so it proved in the result. On the hapless three, in due course, on each in her turn, fell the first blows of the reopening battle.
TheGlorieuxwas the first of the French to yield, in spite of an extremely gallant effort to save her. About one o'clock, as the breeze began to freshen, the French frigateRichmondwas ordered to close theGlorieuxand pass a towing cable on board. The effort was made under fire, for Rodney's nearest ships were already within range of theGlorieux. Midshipman Denis Decrès,aspirant de marineof theRichmond, had charge of the boat, round which the English cannon-balls splashed on all sides. He did his work, despite its difficulties, and won widespread fame and promotion for his gallantry. He lived to become an admiral, Napoleon's favourite Minister of Marine and a Peer of France, Duc Decrès. On his grand monument in Père la Chaise is a sculptured panel inrelief, to commemorate this particular incident in Admiral Decrès' career. It is elaborately carved, and represents a naval battle in grey marble, smoke-clouds, cannon firing, and so forth, with, in the centre, a small boat with a rope, a boy standing up at the stern, and near by a big dismasted man-of-war. Over the panel is the legend—'Remorque portèe auGlorieux: 1782.' The attempt, however, was palpably a hopeless one. The stricken seventy-four was water-logged and could hardly stir. The officers of theGlorieuxrecognised the state of things at once. They hailed across to the frigate to cast off the tow and shift for herself. De Mortemart, the captain of theRichmond, however, was not inclined to abandon a consort in distress. Although some of the British ships were already threatening to cut him off, as well as theGlorieux, he flatly refused to leave her. After that, as the only thing to be done, the hopeless ship's company of theGlorieuxcut the rope. So the two ships parted. TheRichmondhad to move away, and in the end she only saved herself with difficulty. Another French ship that tried at the last moment to create a forlorn-hope diversion in favour of theGlorieux, was De Glandevé'sSouverain, but she in turn had to give up the attempt, and, hunted like a hare among hounds, was hard put to it in the end to get clear. Now, without further respite, theBritish dogs of war ran in and closed on the doomedGlorieux. Trogoff de Kerlessi, her first lieutenant, and the senior surviving officer on board, could do no more. As the first British ship came up, he with his own hand stripped away the tattered shreds of theGlorieux' ensign, that still remained nailed to the stump of the mizen mast, and called across to the British to take possession. There was no other course left. The decks of theGlorieuxwere shambles from end to end—'a scene of complete horror,' in the words of Dr. Blane. 'The numbers killed were so great, that the surviving, either from want of leisure or through dismay, had not thrown the bodies of the killed overboard, so that the decks were covered with blood and mangled limbs of the dead, as well as wounded and dying.' Baron d'Escars, the captain, had fallen some time previously, about nine o'clock,—one of the victims of theFormidable'sawful first broadside. 'On boarding her,' adds Blane, 'our officers ... were shown the stains of blood on the gunnel where his body was thrown overboard.'
TheRoyal Oak, one of Hood's squadron, was ordered to take theGlorieuxin tow. Captain Burnett had almost exhausted his ammunition, and he utilised the opportunity to ransack the prize's magazines and transfer on board his own ship all the powder barrels theGlorieuxhad left, to fightany further Frenchmen he might encounter with their own powder. Several others of Rodney's ships, indeed, were equally short of powder after their morning's work, and another of Hood's squadron, theMonarch, was at that very moment alongside theAndromache, lifting forty barrels out of the frigate to enable herself to continue in action.
TheCésarwas the second French ship to meet her fate. She was the next to drop astern, and theCentaurand theBedfordwent at her together as they came up. Though little better than a wreck, theCésarmade a heroic defence for nearly half-an-hour. Hailed by theCentaurto surrender, the Comte de Marigny, theCésar'scaptain, replied by nailing his colours to the mast with his own hand and opening fire. De Marigny fell dangerously wounded within the first five minutes, but Captain Paul, his commander, took charge and made a desperate defence. He held out until, one after the other, his masts had gone overboard, the mizen carrying the ensign staff with it. After that, no rescue being possible, with six feet of water in the hold, and with only thirty-six rounds for her guns left in the magazine, theCésarsurrendered to theCentaur.
Elsewhere at this time, towards four o'clock, there was a good deal of 'partial and desultory' firing, to use Dr. Blane's term, going on here andthere, principally in the direction of De Grasse's squadron. The French admiral's attempt to rally and re-form line had failed. Bougainville's ships kept away in a body, apparently too much occupied in repairing their own damages to pay attention to their commander-in-chief. Many of De Vaudreuil's seemed equally shy, although De Vaudreuil himself, with two or three of his command, gallantly beat to windward and joined theVille de Paris, making up a forlorn-hope band round De Grasse that comprised the rearmost formed group of the French fleet. They moved away at the best speed they were capable of, but owing to the state of theVille de Paris'smasts and spars, the rate of sailing was dangerously slow.
De Grasse's group, numbering, with De Vaudreuil's accession and others, nine ships in all, formed, as it were, a lodestone to the British captains. It drew towards it all who could possibly make for the spot. The great French flagship in the centre, with the commander-in-chief's flag at the mast-head, was for all eyes the supreme attraction. Each followed as well as the wind, which was variable and at times very light, and the state of his own masts and spars, would let him.
The FrenchHectorwas their first victim, between five and six o'clock in the evening,—the third Frenchman to surrender. She had beenbadly hammered by Hood's squadron when it broke the line, losing so many men that to supply the main and upper deck batteries the quarter-deck and forecastle guns had to be abandoned, but had been able to keep up with theVille de Parisfor most of the afternoon. For the last two and a half hours, according to a letter from one of theHector'sofficers, they had been firing their stern chasers to try and keep the advancing British back, but in vain. Then, towards the end of the time, two British seventy-fours drew out and ranged alongside theHector. They were theCanadaand theAlcide. The two pushed up abreast and came to close quarters. Their attack was met by theHectorin a spirit worthy of her heroic name. She struck out right and left like a wounded tigress at bay. She looked, in the words of an eye-witness, 'like a blazing furnace vomiting fire and iron.' The display was brilliant, but it could not last. De la Vicomté, the gallant captain of theHector, was struck down, mortally wounded, and with his fall the spirit of the defence flickered out. 'Some men on the main deck having run from their quarters,' says the letter just referred to, 'the captain was putting his foot on the ladder to go below to kill with his own hand the dastards, when a cannon-ball smashed his thigh.' He was carried to the cockpit, and a few minutes later De Beaumanoir, the first lieutenant,'seeing the ship being knocked to pieces and powder running short,' after a hasty consultation with the other surviving officers, hauled the ensign down and hailed theAlcidethat they had surrendered.
A fourth ship, theArdent, was taken about the same time. She was one of Bougainville's squadron, and the only ship of all the French van that, on seeing how things were likely to fare with the commander-in-chief, had turned back to lend him a hand. In so doing she met her fate. TheArdentwas intercepted and cut off by the BritishBelliqueuxand thePrince William, who brought her to close action, and after a sharp set-to of a quarter of an hour, made her lower her colours. Some English prisoners, taken a few weeks before out of a merchantman prize, happened to be on board, and their red ensign was hoisted in token of surrender. The taking of theArdentwas peculiarly gratifying to the British fleet. In point of fact it was a recapture. TheArdentwas a British-built man-of-war which had fallen into the hands of the enemy in very discreditable circumstances earlier in the war. It was this same ship that the Franco-Spanish combined fleet had snapped up, practically without her firing a shot, off Plymouth Sound three years before, when they were parading the English Channel in triumph at the time they compelledthe Channel Fleet to retreat before them to Spithead. It was a satisfactory stroke of retaliation, although if it had taken place six weeks earlier it would have been still more satisfactory. Then the Vicomte de Marigny—Charles Réné Louis, of an old Norman family, elder brother to Comte Bernard, the captain of theCésar—the officer who had been the original captor of theArdent, would have been on board. In honour of his capture of a British man-of-war, 'si vaillamment,' Charles de Marigny had been posted to the prize by the King of France's special command, his commission being accompanied by a picture in oils representing his feat, painted at the instance of His Most Christian Majesty, and sent by the King's order to be hung in the cabin of theArdent, with the legend over it: 'Donné par le Roi au brave Vicomte de Marigny.'[41]The Vicomte, unfortunately for the dramatic completeness of the situation, had been sent home with De Grasse's despatch after the capture of St. Kitts, and he had taken the oil-painting with him. Still, though, even without De Marigny, it was a good thing to have theArdentback under her old flag once more.
We now come to the closing fight of the day, to the story of the fate of the noblest victim of all. It was next the turn of theVille de Parisherself. Between half-past five and six o'clock the course of the pursuit had brought the headmost of Rodney's ships well up with the rearmost group of the enemy, close astern of De Grasse himself and the little group of ships that kept company with theVille de Paris. There were ships both of Rodney's own squadron and of Hood's squadron among the British at that point, although most of them were Hood's, hustled forward in chase by their chief's incessant signals during the afternoon. TheBarfleurherself, with every inch of canvas set and stu'ns'ls out aloft and alow, was following among the foremost and eagerly pressing on. TheFormidableand great part of Rodney's squadron were in rear, a little way off. As they neared the enemy the headmost ships came streaming on and firing briskly, steering to overlap the French on either side.
The French, for their part, were in a straggling line, with irregular gaps between the ships. They comprised theVille de Paris, originally in the centre but now fallen back to be almost last ship; theTriomphante, De Vaudreuil's flagship; De la Charette'sBourgogne, Macarty Macteigne'sMagnifique, De Rions'Pluton, and theMarseillais, commanded by De Castellane-Majastre. All these belonged to De Vaudreuil's squadron, and had rallied with their chief to try and help theadmiral. Three of De Grasse's own ships were with them—all that had stood by the chief,—theLanguedocand theCouronne(theVille de Paris'stwo 'seconds' in the original line of battle) and the younger De Vaudreuil'sSceptre. Like his brother, that officer was at the post of greatest danger, in accordance with the traditions of his House. The last three had dropped back to join De Grasse about four o'clock. None of Bougainville's ships were near De Grasse; the only one that had tried to reach him had been theArdent, now, as the result, in Rodney's hands. Round this devoted band of nine ships the British attack concentrated, and for a second time the battle blazed up fiercely. The encounter was, however, too one-sided to endure. Stout-heartedly as they defended themselves, and most of them were fighting both broadsides at once, the French last-hope band were thrown into disorder and broken up.
The BritishCanada, Cornwallis's hard-hitting seventy-four, fresh from her victorious bout with the FrenchHector, came on in the forefront of the pursuing British and fastened at once on theVille de Paris. The French flagship by now had fallen quite to the rear. TheCouronnehad failed her admiral at the last moment. De Grasse, as he himself reported to Versailles, had personally hailed her just before, and ordered her tokeep station close in the flagship's wake. They had answered back, 'Oui, Général!' but as theCanadacame up theCouronneshifted out of the way and edged off past the flagship, letting Cornwallis in.[42]Cornwallis knew what he had to do, and pointed his guns high. Stationing theCanadaon the quarter of theVille de Paris, out of direct reach of De Grasse's broadside, he hung on there fixedly, pounding his hardest meanwhile into the French flagship with every gun theCanadacould bring to bear, cutting away spars and rigging and holding the great vessel back until other British ships were at hand to take up the task. TheCanadathen moved off after the other French ships farther on, passing over the work of holding theVille de Paristo Saumarez of theRussell, the only captain of Admiral Drake's squadron who was 'in at the death'—thanks to his own intelligent anticipation of probable events earlier in the day. TheRussellduring the afternoon had had a series of long-range encounters with four of the French fleet elsewhere, but she was fresh enough for the business before her. Saumarez pushed in boldly, hauled up under the stern of theVille de Paris, and gave her a raking broadside that swept the giant three-decker from end to end. After that theRussellplaced herself on thelee quarter of theVille de Paris, to prevent her from edging off after the other French ships of her group, which were now giving way everywhere as the attack on them was being driven home. There she remained until Hood himself with theBarfleurcame on the scene.
De Grasse by this had been practically abandoned to his fate. Even De Vaudreuil's devotion could help him no further now. TheLanguedocmade one despairing attempt to come to her flagship's rescue, but could not get through. Beaten back by theDukeand another ship, she turned away and fled, hoisting all sail. On board theVille de Parisevery spar had been shot down, stripped from the masts, which had themselves been riddled and were tottering. The rudder had been smashed away, and the ship could not be steered; many guns were disabled; one gun had burst, killing sixteen men and injuring thirty. There was hardly a yard of space along her sides that had not a shot-hole through it. From three to four hundred of her crew—the exact numbers were never returned—were dead or in the cockpit. Those who were still at quarters were dead-beat and nearly dropping from exhaustion, having been without food since daybreak. All the cartridges in the magazines were exhausted, and they had to supply the guns by ladling loose powder into them from open barrels brought up on deck. The'fighting lanterns' between decks were mostly extinguished, the candles burned out; all was dark below, and they waded ankle-deep and stumbled amid the horribledébrisof what that morning had been living human beings. Even then De Grasse would not give in; not at least to any British captain. He stoutly resisted until, a little after six o'clock, he caught sight of Hood's flag at theBarfleur'smast-head, showing above the smoke a little way off. He would wait until Hood came up and then surrender. It was a point of honour: his flagship should lower her colours only to a flagship.
ONE OF THE 'FIGHTING LANTERNS' OF THEVILLE DE PARIS
Now in the Museum of the Royal United Service Institution, Whitehall.
As theBarfleurgot nearer, De Grasse fired a challenging gun. It was to attract the approaching flagship's attention. Hood marked the gun and understood it. He at once headed theBarfleurdirectly for theVille de Paris. 'I concluded,' said Hood, 'the Count de Grasse had a mind to be my prisoner, as an old acquaintance, and therefore met his wishes by looking towards him.' As theBarfleurbegan to close with the French flagship, De Grasse made a show of opening fire on her, 'which I,' continued Hood, 'totally disregardedtill I had proved, by firing a single gun from the quarter-deck, that I was within point blank.'[43]That was theBarfleur'sdistance. Ranging up to theVille de ParisHood greeted the French admiral with one tremendous salvo of round-shot and grape at close quarters that crashed through the sides of De Grasse's doomed flagship as though they were cardboard. That one broadside struck down sixty men. All was over for the French admiral now. In less than ten minutes the end had come. De Grasse stepped to the taffrail, and with his own hand pulled theVille de Paris'sensign down. The battle of the 'Glorious Twelfth of April' had been fought and won. As theVille de Paris'sensign dropped the sun's rim touched the sea-line.
There were but three unwounded men on theVille de Paris'squarter-deck when the admiral hauled down the flag. De Grasse himself was one. More than a third of the flagship's immense company, officers and men, had gone down, while he himself, at the most exposed point of all from the first shot to the last and seeming to court death throughout, had come through the day unscathed, except for a contusion across the loins from a splinter which did not break the skin.
DE GRASSE'S FLAG COMES DOWN. RODNEY WATCHING THE SURRENDER OF THEVILLE DE PARIS
[Immediately behind Rodney's left shoulder is seen the head of Lord Cranstoun. Midshipman Dashwood is readily recognisable, and the tall, bulky man on the extreme right of the picture is Sir Charles Douglas with the little bantam cock near his feet. The picture was shown at the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1784.]
[Immediately behind Rodney's left shoulder is seen the head of Lord Cranstoun. Midshipman Dashwood is readily recognisable, and the tall, bulky man on the extreme right of the picture is Sir Charles Douglas with the little bantam cock near his feet. The picture was shown at the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1784.]
The grand finale was witnessed from theFormidable, now close at hand and drawing up, but just too late to share in the honour of theevent. Dr. Blane saw the French flag drop. 'TheFormidablewas right astern, and having come within shot, was yawing in order to give the enemy a raking broadside, when, Sir Charles Douglas and I standing together on the quarter-deck, the position of our ship opened a view of the enemy's stern between the foresail and the jib boom, between which we saw the French flag hauled down!'[44]
Some one else saw it too—De Vaudreuil. He was about a quarter of a mile off at the moment, and still fighting. It made him senior officer, commander-in-chief. There was now no De Grasse to keep pace with for the honour of the flag. He could consider his own safety. De Vaudreuil at once clapped on every sail that his masts could bear and made off, hoisting as he did so the signal to rally to the north-west. TheBourgognewas the nearest ship to him. Across to her De Vaudreuil shouted orders to make all sail and follow, and as he passed the other ships ahead of him he hailed each to the same effect in turn.
Captain Knight of theBarfleur—son of Dr. Johnson's old friend, Admiral Sir Joseph Knight, with whom the Doctor once stayed for a week on board theRamilliesat Chatham, and afterwards expressed the opinion that 'No man will be a sailorwho has contrivance enough to get himself into gaol'—received De Grasse's surrender. A party of seamen and marines from theBarfleurunder the first-lieutenant at the same time took possession of the prize. They put off within five minutes of the surrender, and arrived not a moment too soon. With the hauling down of the flag all discipline on board vanished. 'The moment theVille de Parisstruck,' wrote Captain Douglas, 'her worthless, disorderly crew broke open the chests and trunks of all their officers, and with lighted candles in their hands, stove in the doors of the store-rooms in quest of wine and other liquors, to the great danger of all on board from fire.'[45]
Lord Cranstoun in a boat from theFormidablereached theVille de Parisa few minutes after Captain Knight. He described De Grasse as 'a tall, robust, and martial figure, presenting in that moment an object of respect, no less than of concern and sympathy.' He looked pale and apparently dazed at the tremendous catastrophe that had befallen him. According to Lord Cranstoun the French admiral 'could not recover from the astonishment into which he was plunged, the expressions of which he often iterated, at seeing in the course of so short a time, his vessel taken, his fleet defeated, and himself a prisoner.' Lord Cranstoun brought De Grasse a courteous message fromRodney, to the effect that if he wished he might remain for the night 'at his ease' on board theVille de Paris, 'with every testimony of attention and regard manifested towards him on the part of the British commander.'[46]
'Count de Grasse, the French Admiral, resigning his Sword to Admiral Rodney after being defeated by that gallant Commander in the West Indies. April 12, 1782.'
'Count de Grasse, the French Admiral, resigning his Sword to Admiral Rodney after being defeated by that gallant Commander in the West Indies. April 12, 1782.'
The state of things on board was appalling, 'altogether terrible,' said Lord Cranstoun. The quarter-deck was 'covered with dead and wounded.... Between the foremast and main-mast, at every step he took,' Lord Cranstoun told Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, 'he was over his buckles in blood.'[47]Below, where the cattle (to provide the troops on board with meat) had been stalled between the guns, things were even more horrible, for 'they had suffered not less than the crew and troops from the effects of the cannon.' De Grasse himself, incidentally, gives an idea of the state to which theVille de Parishad been reduced at the end. In his official report to Versailles on thebattle he said, 'I was reduced to such a state that the enemy on the morning of the 13th, to strike the ship's pennant, were obliged to cut away the masts for fear, in sending a man to get at the pennant, all would go overboard or come down in a crash on deck.'
Immediately after the surrender of theVille de ParisRodney made the signal for the fleet to cease firing and bring-to. There was to be no pursuit. It was a decision for which Rodney has been bitterly criticised. He had, however, his reasons, and he put them in writing; but it was, all said and done, a very grave error of judgment on the part of the British leader. 'Come, come,' he is said to have exclaimed in reply to a suggestion that was made to him by Hood, that part of the fleet at any rate might follow up the enemy, 'we have done very handsomely!' It was not the old Rodney of theEaglewho said that, one must remember. Rodney in April 1782 was a man broken in health, racked with gout, a man grown prematurely old,—ten years, at least, older than his real age,—and utterly worn out after twelve anxious hours on deck under a burning sun. Before that, also, as Rodney himself said, he had had no proper rest for four nights. Most unfortunately, as it proved, Rodney underestimated the force of the smashing blow that he had dealt the enemy, and formed an entirely erroneous estimateof the condition of the ships that had escaped. He allowed himself to form a picture of their condition that was totally at variance with the facts, and did not think it wise to risk a pursuit in the dark. He made up his mind that the enemy had gone off 'in a collected body,' and that his own fleet had suffered more severe damage than was actually the case. There is no need here to press the matter further, or to recall Hood's bitter animadversions on his chief's breakdown, or what certain of the captains are said to have thought. Rodney was commander-in-chief and all responsibility for the safety of the British West Indies rested on his shoulders. Also his reasons for bringing-to commended themselves to him at the time.
The short tropical evening closed in, and darkness fell on the scene—the darkness of a sultry black night without moon or stars. Each ship, of course, had her poop lantern showing, and lights gleamed out through the ports of all as the working parties moved about between decks, busily engaged in cleaning up and taking temporary measures to clear away the marks of battle, as far as might be done in an hour or two, preparatory to turning-in for the night.
Yet before the wearied men could get to their hammocks one more event was to happen, to mark the dread closing of a tremendous day. Norwas it out of keeping with what had gone before. Towards nine o'clock, all of a sudden, a burst of roaring flame shot up from one of the French prizes, illuminating the sky and sea for many miles all round. De Vaudreuil and his fugitive fifteen, far away to northward by now, below the horizon, could see the reflection and guessed what it was. Bougainville, in the other direction, flying towards Curaçao, saw it too. The victim was the capturedCésar. One of her own disorderly crew, it came out later, did the mischief. They had been as usual clapped under hatchways after the surrender, but had the hold to themselves. There the rabble—as on board theVille de Paris, all bonds of discipline had ceased to exist with the striking of the flag—had broken into the spirit-room and held a wild orgy among themselves, regardless of consequences. A drunken French soldier, seeking for more drink with a pannikin in one hand and a naked light in the other, dropped the flaring candle into an open cask of ratafia. Who-o-o-f!!! Instantly the whole place was ablaze from end to end, and the flames leapt along in a flash from deck to deck throughout the ship. There was no checking them, and the splintered woodwork everywhere was in the best state to feed the fire. Out of mercy to the prisoners below the hatches were lifted off, and those who could escape given a chance. That, unfortunately, at the same time made things worsefor the ship. The more sober of the Frenchmen joined the small British prize-crew of fifty-eight men and a lieutenant, and lent a hand to try and get the flames under. Half-a-dozen thought of their wounded captain, the Comte Bernard de Marigny, who was lying badly wounded in the cabin. These made their way into the cabin, and told De Marigny that the ship was expected every minute to blow up. 'So much the better,' was all the Captain replied, very quietly, according to French accounts, 'the English won't keep her! Shut my door, my friends, and leave me. Try and save yourselves!'[48]The British prize-crew—they were all from theCentaur—fought the fire heroically, and spared no efforts to beat the flames back, but in vain. The British lieutenant in command was seen at the last in the stern gallery giving his orders. All theCésar'sboats had been knocked to pieces in the battle. Outside, all round, were the boats of the fleet lying on their oars, ready to save all they could, but, for various reasons, unable to get near the ship. One of the reasons has been specially recorded—the sharks. Again the sharks were on the spot, 'not yet glutted,' said Dr. Blane, 'with the carnage of the preceding day.' What the men on the boats saw and told the doctor, was, in Blane's words, 'too horrid to describe.' A solidbelt of sharks surrounded the burningCésar, a closely packed mass of struggling, huge-girthed brutes, rolling and tumbling about all round, jostling one another and scraping their rough backs together as they plunged and wallowed about all over the surface. Attracted by the glare they had come crowding to the spot, 'every shark in those waters seemed to be there,' and swarmed thronging close round the vessel, surging up and snapping and tearing at the poor frenzied wretches who were clinging on alongside on fragments of spars and wreckage that had dropped overboard. One by one the sharks picked the poor fellows off. The boats meanwhile could not, dared not, force their way through. They could only look helplessly on and wait for the end:—
Watch the wild wreck; but not to save.
The end came between ten and eleven. TheCésar, half burned to the water's edge, blew up with a dull heavy roar—'not a loud explosion,' notes an onlooker. Indeed there was not much powder left to blow up in the bravely defended ship's magazines. It was merely a belching up of flame and sparks, like the blowing out of the pinch of powder at the bottom of a squib or Roman candle; just enough to rend the remains of the hull apart and scatter its contents. Then all was black darkness. A few twinkling sparks high overheadcaught the eye, as the burning fragments poised in mid-air and turned for the downward drop, followed by splashes in the sea all round, and here and there, out of sight,
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cryOf some strong swimmer in his agony,
as some shark claimed its last victim, and then all was over. Silence and darkness fell once more on the heaving waters, and the boats pulled sadly and wearily back to their ships. Such was the tragedy of theCésar. A handful of survivors were picked up, though how they escaped is not stated. All were Frenchmen. Not one of the British prize-crew escaped.
Now at last Rodney's day was over: the 'Glorious Twelfth' reached its last hour in silence and passed away.
'The battle is over and the British fleet victorious, De Grasse is in my cabin, theVille de Parisand four ships of the line are in our possession and one sunk, their whole fleet completely mauled.' So ran the opening sentence of Rodney's first letter after the battle, written on the morning of the 13th. Writing to a brother-admiral he spoke of the battle as having been 'long and bloody, but never doubtful in my opinion.' Eleven hours was Rodney's estimate ofits duration, and he added, 'by persons appointed to observe there was never seven minutes' respite during the engagement.'
For the enemy it had been a sanguinary and costly day. The French losses in the battle—including the crews of four ships taken by Hood a week later—amounted, in round numbers, to 'at least 15,000 men.' Seven thousand of the number were either killed, wounded, or drowned. Six French captains were among the dead,[49]who, reckoned by themselves, were 3000. Over a thousand of the casualties were in theVille de Parisand theCésaralone. Among the 8000 prisoners were 2000 soldiers. The monetary loss to France, in the value ofmatérieltaken, was put at just half a million sterling; and that sum does not include the treasure-chest of De Bouillé's army, thirty-six boxes of money containing coin to the value of £25,000.[50]Also on board the captured ships, by a curious chance, was found the whole of the French army's siege-train for Jamaica, heavy guns and carriages, and equipment complete.
Such were some of the first fruits. Theimmediate collapse of the campaign against Jamaica was another of the fruits of the victory, and there were yet other results of wider-reaching effect. The blow that Rodney dealt on the 12th of April reacted on the sea campaign in Home waters, and strengthened Howe's hand for the final effort of the war, the relief of Gibraltar. 'On that memorable day,' says Froude, 'was the English Empire saved.'
For the British the 'butcher's bill,' as the tars of Rodney's day called it, proved comparatively light. The Admiral's first despatch gave the figures as 230 killed and 759 wounded; corrected later to 337 killed and 766 wounded, or 1103 in all. Of the total theFormidable'sshare was surprisingly small, only 14 killed and 39 wounded, yet hers was the third heaviest return sent in. The French officers of De Grasse's suite, indeed, when they were told the figures, refused at first to accept them. 'It was with difficulty,' says Dr. Blane, 'we could make the French officers believe that the returns of killed and wounded made by our ships to the Admiral were true. One of them flatly contradicted me, saying we always gave the world a false account of our losses. I then walked him over the decks of theFormidableand bade him remark what number of shot-holes there were, and also how little her rigging had suffered, and asked if that degree of damage was likely tobe connected with the loss of more than fourteen men, which was our number killed, and the greatest number of any in the fleet except theRoyal OakandMonarch. He was visibly mortified to see how little our ship had suffered, and then owned that our fire must have been much better kept up and directed than theirs.'[51]It was, of course, the demoralising effect of Rodney's gunnery on the enemy at the outset that made all the difference.
TheFormidable, as to that, had taken her own part effectively. The gunner's return showed that the British flagship had fired eighty broadsides—35 tons of shot. Rodney himself was enthusiastic over his ship's performance. 'TheFormidable,' he wrote, 'proved herself worthy of her name!'
De Grasse came on board theFormidablenext morning, and stayed there as Rodney's guest for two days while theVille de Paris, for the time being in tow of theNamur, was being cleansed and made habitable. A night's rest worked wonders in the French admiral. 'He bears his reverse of fortune with equanimity, conscious as he says that he has done his duty, and I found him very affable and communicative.' So Dr. Blane wrote. He and Captain Douglas acted as interpreters between the admirals: Rodney—it is rather curious, if we remember a certain story—could not speak a word of French.[52]De Grasse was very frank with everybody. For one thing, he said, he did not wonder that he had been beaten. From what he had seen he considered that the French navy was 'a hundred years behind that of Great Britain.' Wrote Rodney himself of one conversation:—'Comte de Grasse, who at this moment is sitting in my stern gallery, tells me he thought his fleet superior to mine, and does so still, though I had two more in number; and I am of his opinion, as his was composed of all large ships and ten of mine only sixty-fours.'[53]
Rodney remained in the neighbourhood of Dominica for four days, refitting and repairing damages. His frigates meanwhile searched the bays among the islands to northward, St. Kitts and Eustatius in particular, for traces of French fugitives in that quarter. None, however, were found. The only news brought back was that several crippled French ships, one identified as De Vaudreuil'sTriomphante, had been sighted by the islanders passing on the day after the battle. On the morning of the 17th Hood was despatchedwith the least damaged of the British ships to cruise off the south of San Domingo and intercept any of De Vaudreuil's laggards. Rodney himself moved off in the afternoon of the same day with the more seriously damaged ships and the prizes in tow, for Jamaica, following on much the same course towards San Domingo. He met Hood four days later, returning with four French prizes, two ships of the line and two frigates, the proceeds of a smart little affair that Hood had had with a force of the enemy in the Mona Passage. Rodney then continued his course for Port Royal where he arrived on the 29th, to be received as the saviour of the colony.
THE 'RODNEY TEMPLE,' SPANISH TOWN, JAMAICA[The two guns from theVille de Parisare visible behind the railings.]
'All Jamaica,' wrote Rodney, 'went mad with joy.' So much so, indeed, that the Admiral did not set foot on shore for a week, 'to avoid being pestered with addresses, etc.' To this day Rodney is thegenius lociin Jamaica. The statue to him, by Bacon, voted by the House of Assembly 'as a mark of gratitude and veneration,' is one of the sights of the island. It represents the Admiral in the dress of a Roman Imperator, and stands, flanked by two brass guns from theVille de Parispresented by Rodney himself, under an imposing classic temple that takes up one side of 'the Square' in the centre of Spanish Town, the old capital of Jamaica; with the 'King's House,' the residence of the Governor, on one hand, and theHouse of Assembly on the other, and facing it, across the gardens of the square, the Court House.
ADMIRAL DE GRASSE AS A PRISONER OF WAR
[Stated to have been 'drawn from the life by a celebrated artist,' while De Grasse was in London on parole as a prisoner of war. The background is, of course, artistic fancy work.]
[Stated to have been 'drawn from the life by a celebrated artist,' while De Grasse was in London on parole as a prisoner of war. The background is, of course, artistic fancy work.]
The fleet remained refitting at Port Royal for upwards of nine weeks. Port Royal dockyard proved to be in an almost hopeless state of neglect and confusion, totally unfitted to supply the needs of a great fleet in the condition of Rodney's. De Grasse left for England in the interval, as a passenger in the first convoy sailing. We may take leave of him here. How the French admiral—the first commander-in-chief of an enemy brought to this country since Marshal Tallard came over after Blenheim—landed on Southsea beach in the presence of a cheering crowd; how King George received him in the most kindly and gracious manner, while English society showed him every mark of courteous sympathy, are matters beyond our present scope.[54]Nor can the unfortunate admiral's after fate be referred to at length. It will be enough to say that De Grasselater on published an open letter complaining that he had been betrayed by his captains. This caused an outburst of indignation in France which led to aConseil de Guerreon every officer from De Vaudreuil downwards. The tribunal exonerated everybody,[55]laying all the blame on De Grasse himself, and the admiral was banished from Court in disgrace, which meant social ostracism and the cold shoulder for the rest of his days.[56]
TheVille de Parisfollowed her late admiral with the next convoy to England—never, however, to arrive there. She went to the bottom in a terrific storm which fell on the convoy in mid-Atlantic, but when, or exactly where, or how, is to this day unknown. Of all on board, upwards of five hundred officers and men, one seaman only was saved. He was picked up after the stormone morning, clinging to some floating wreckage—an imbecile. Mind and memory had gone. The only thing that the man could say was that a day or two before he had seen theGlorieuxgo down suddenly. All after that, all about his own ship, everything, except that he was 'Wilson of theVille de Paris,'—was a blank.
Rodney was detained at Port Royal until the 10th of July. Then with all the fleet repaired and fit for service, just as he was on the point of sailing to blockade the enemy off Cape Haitien, a ship from England, theJupiter, arrived bringing a curt order from the Admiralty to 'strike his flag and come home.' It was the first word of any kind he had had from England since the battle; indeed, since the beginning of April, when he was in Gros Islet Bay before the battle. To add to the sting of the blow Rodney's successor was on board the ship that brought the order:—Admiral Pigot, an absolute nonentity, a man who had never served at sea since he was a captain, and then without distinction. That was the sort of man sent out to supersede the first naval commander of the age on the morrow of his greatest triumph. It was all a matter of party politics, a shameless political job. Rodney was a Tory in politics and had been appointed by a Tory First Lord. The Whigs had come into power since he last heard from England, and the new Ministry on coming intooffice had promptly cancelled his appointment and sent out one of their own partisans, hitherto only known as a naval M.P., to replace, in the presence of the enemy, the ablest sea officer that Great Britain possessed.
The Ministry having discarded Rodney, what took place when the startling news of Rodney's victory, with the capture of De Grasse and the finest man-of-war in the world, reached England, was indeed the irony of fate. It made up a striking and intensely dramatic situation. When Rodney was ordered home the news of the battle had not arrived. It came on the 18th of May, when Captain Byron of theAndromache, and Lord Cranstoun, who had accompanied him, arrived with Rodney's despatches at the Admiralty at two in the morning. Admiral Pigot had only left London for Plymouth two or three days before. The Admiralty and the Ministry were aghast, amazed, absolutely nonplussed. They had recalled the victor in the hour of the greatest victory that the Royal Navy had ever won perhaps since the defeat of the Spanish Armada. It was an extremely awkward position. Admiral Pigot must be stopped at all cost, and Rodney's order of recall torn up. That was the only thing to be done. A King's messenger with relays of horses was sent galloping down to Plymouth as fast as man could ride. He carried with him a letter ofcompliment and congratulation to Rodney, written at seven on the morning of the 18th, which was to go instead of the other. The messenger got to Plymouth just too late. He arrived there at two in the afternoon of the 19th, to find that Pigot had sailed on the evening before. A swift cutter was sent after theJupiter, but failed to catch her up. So the Whig Ministry were left face to face with the unenviable situation that their own narrow partisanship had created.
'A generation ago,' says a writer in one of the earlier numbers of theQuarterly Review, 'men were still living who could tell of the flame of indignation which ran through the country when it was known that the new Whig Government had recalled Admiral Rodney, because the expedition which he commanded had been planned by the Tories.' No doubt that was so. But the flame burned itself out quickly. The Whigs in Parliament and outside it were able to counter the Tory reproaches by retorting that whatever was the case then, when the recall of Rodney was first notified, three weeks before the despatches came, not a voice had been raised against it. All over the country at the same time, Whigs and Tories made common cause in heaping adulation on the victor, and expressing their general feelings in exuberant rejoicings. In London, after the Park and Tower guns and the pealing of thechurch bells had confirmed the breakfast-table rumour, 'the whole town was in an uproar,' we are told, everybody making the day a holiday and hanging out flags. All London was illuminated that night, the very poorest finding a candle to stick in every pane in their windows. Wraxall, writing in 1816 (the year after Waterloo) his recollections of how London received the news of Rodney's victory, says: 'When I reflect on the emotions to which it gave rise in London, I cannot compare them with any other occurrence of the same kind that we have since witnessed in this country.'[57]Dr. Blane writing some years afterwards from what he was told, says that even the cripples and invalids in hospital 'demonstrated their joy on hearing of this victory, by hoisting shreds of coloured cloth on their crutches.' Lady Rodney and her daughters went to the theatre that evening. 'When we went in,' wrote Miss Jane Rodney to her father, 'the whole house testified by their claps and huzzas, the joy they felt at the news, and their love for you, and their acclamations lasted for, I am sure, five minutes.'[58]The versifiers of course seized on the occasion, and they found editors ready to take their 'copy.'
The Grass in Paris streets so long had grownThat farmer Rodney thought it should be mown,So up his Formidable scythe he tookAnd cut the Grass of Paris at one stroke—
was one effusion that is among the best. Throughout the country, as the laurel-bedecked stage-coaches passed the news along, there was hardly a village that did not ring its bells and have its bonfire. Half the taverns, we are told, painted out their 'Markis o' Granby' signboards for 'The Admiral Rodney,' and Rodney's is to this day the most common of naval names on inn signboards. There are, as a fact, more 'Lord Rodneys' up and down the country than 'Lord Nelsons.'
Rodney, at Port Royal, accepted the situation with quiet dignity. He said nothing, handed over the command to Admiral Pigot, and shifted out of theFormidableforthwith into the smallerMontagu, then under orders to proceed to England. Twelve days after Pigot's arrival, Rodney sailed. There is no need to carry the story further. How Rodney was rewarded by the country, and how he passed his closing years, are matters of general history.
One of theFormidable'smen on Rodney's day was a smart young seaman named Stephens. He lived to be 'Mr.' Stephens, the boatswain of the famousShannonwhen she met theChesapeake, onwhich occasion, too, he lost an arm. He found a place in Captain Broke's despatch, and had the further distinction of being asked by the officers to sit for a statuette of himself to be made, which became one of the special treasures of the last of theShannon'sofficers, the late Admiral of the Fleet, Sir Provo Wallis. The last surviving officer of Rodney's flagship was Sir Charles Dashwood, who died in 1847, Vice-Admiral of the White, and K.C.B. The last survivor of all, both of theFormidable'scompany in 1782, and of all who fought in the battle itself, was a seaman of theFormidable, George Neale, who died at Coventry in 1849.
We will close the story with one final word about theFormidable'safter career. She outlasted Rodney by nineteen years, and served in the interim throughout the war with the French Revolution and with Napoleon. Had it not been for an accidental delay she would have been Duncan's flagship at Camperdown. TheFormidablehad been fitted for Admiral Duncan's flag, and sailed from the Downs for the Texel on the very day that the battle was fought. Her end came in 1813, in which year the fine old veteran of the sea was struck off the Navy List as unfit for further service, and handed over to the shipbreaker.
To Dead Man's Bay when her day is past,To Dead Man's Bay comes the ship at last.
Thus for the present we close the record of this 'blustering adjective' from the point of view of naval history. Enough has been told. 'A nation,' says Guizot, 'is safe in the greatest crisis of its fate if it can remember its own history.' Those who on a future day may serve in our presentFormidablebefore an enemy, will be none the worse for remembering the associations of old-time victory that form part and parcel of their ship's famous name, in virtue of which, that name finds its place to-day on the roll of the Royal Navy for 'one of the best' among the battle-ships of the British Fleet.[59]'No man,' wrote a young officer of the famousBellerophon, in his last letter home on the evening before Trafalgar, 'can be a coward on board theBilly Ruff'n.' No man on board theFormidable, who knows the story of his ship, should be found wanting on the day of battle. It will rest as a point of honour with those who then man theFormidableto remember Rodney and prove theFormidable'worthy of her name.'