The Story of Nelson 35

The Story of Nelson 35

CHAPTER XXI

 

The Rout in Trafalgar Bay

 

(1805)

 

“_Thank God, I have done my duty._”

 

NELSON.

 

 

The 21st October 1805 is a red-letter day in the history of England.

Dawn had scarcely succeeded night ere Nelson was up and doing. He wore

his Admiral’s frock-coat, the only decoration being four stars of

different Orders which were pinned on his left breast. “In honour I

gained them,” he said, “and in honour I will die with them.” He had not

buckled on his sword, and this is the only action he fought without it.

 

The previous night Villeneuve had signalled for the columns of his

fighting squadron to form in close line of battle without regard

to priority of place, his former intention having been to give the

three-deckers the more important positions. Captain Lucas of the

_Redoutable_ states that the ships “were all widely scattered” in

consequence of this order. “The ships of the battle squadron and

those of the squadron of observation were all mixed up,” although

the commanders of the latter did their best to get into something

approaching order.

 

Early the following morning--the glorious 21st--the French Admiral

signalled to “clear for action!” and in response to the _Hermione’s_

message, “The enemy number twenty-seven sail-of-the-line,” he ordered

each ship to leave but one cable’s length between its immediate

neighbour. They were now on the starboard tack. Almost before these

instructions had been completely carried out Villeneuve decided to

alter their position, signalling them to form in line of battle on the

port tack. The manœuvre was not easily effected. The wind was light,

with a heavy swell, many ships missed their station, and there were

several gaps and groups of ships along the line instead of vessels

at regular intervals. The newly-formed line was consequently very

irregular and almost crescent-shaped. Villeneuve, prudent to a fault,

wished to have Cadiz harbour under his lee; he was apparently already

lending his mind to thoughts of disaster.

 

Gravina, with the twelve reserve ships, seems to have pursued his own

tactics. Instead of keeping to windward of the line, so that he might

bring succour to Villeneuve if need should arise, the Vice-Admiral

“moved to the rear to prolong the line”--now extending some five

miles--“without having been signalled to do so.” Whether Villeneuve

took particular notice of this false move at the time is uncertain,

but later, on his attempt to get his colleague to take up the position

previously arranged for him and which would have enabled Gravina “to

reinforce the centre of the line against the attack of the enemy,” no

attention was paid to the command. Never was there a more fatal error

of policy. Had the Spanish Admiral been able to bring twelve ships to

bear upon the battle when it was at its height he might have rendered

valuable assistance.

 

Scarcely less reprehensible was the behaviour of Rear-Admiral Dumanoir

Le Pelley, who with ten ships fell to leeward and formed a rear

squadron.[70] Not until it was too late did he attempt to take any part

in the battle.

 

The British fleet was formed into two columns, eleven ships following

the _Victory_ (100), and fourteen in the rear of the _Royal Sovereign_

(100), under Collingwood. Nelson’s idea was to bear down upon the

enemy with these two divisions and break the centre of the combined

fleet in two places at once, Nelson leading the weather line, and

Collingwood the lee. While Villeneuve was issuing his last order before

the struggle, “Every ship which is not in action is not at its post,”

the British Commander-in-chief was committing to paper the following

prayer:

 

“May the great God whom I worship grant to my country and for the

benefit of Europe in general a great and glorious victory, and may no

misconduct in anyone tarnish it; and may humanity after victory be the

predominant feature in the British fleet! For myself individually, I

commit my life to Him that made me, and may His blessing alight on my

endeavours for serving my country faithfully. To Him I resign myself

and the just cause which is entrusted me to defend.”

 

Nelson also made his will, heading it, “October 21st 1805, then in

sight of the Combined Fleets of France and Spain, distant about ten

miles.” Blackwood and Hardy attached their signatures as witnesses. He

left Emma, Lady Hamilton, “a legacy to my King and country, that they

will give her an ample provision to maintain her rank in life. I also

leave to the beneficence of my country my adopted daughter, Horatia

Nelson Thompson; and I desire she will use in future the name of Nelson

only.”

 

[Illustration: Hoisting the Famous Signal

 

C. M. Padday]

 

Blackwood had gone on board the flag-ship at six o’clock in the

morning, and found the admiral “in good, but very calm spirits.” He

tells us in his “Memoirs” that “during the five hours and a half that

I remained on board the _Victory_, in which I was not ten minutes from

his side, he frequently asked me, ‘What I should consider a victory?’

the certainty of which he never for an instant seemed to doubt,

although, from the situation of the land, he questioned the possibility

of the subsequent preservation of the prizes. My answer was, that

considering the handsome way in which battle was offered by the enemy,

their apparent determination for a fair trial of strength, and the

proximity of the land, I thought if fourteen ships were captured, it

would be a glorious result; to which he always replied, ‘I shall not,

Blackwood, be satisfied with anything short of twenty.’ A telegraphic

signal had been made by him to denote, ‘that he intended to break

through the rear of the enemy’s line, to prevent them getting into

Cadiz.’ I was walking with him on the poop, when he said, ‘I’ll now

amuse the fleet with a signal;’ and he asked me ‘if I did not think

there was one yet wanting?’ I answered, that I thought the whole of

the fleet seemed very clearly to understand what they were about, and

to vie with each other who should first get nearest to the _Victory_

or _Royal Sovereign_. These words were scarcely uttered, when his last

well-known signal was made, ‘ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN WILL DO HIS

DUTY.’ The shout with which it was received throughout the fleet was

truly sublime. ‘Now,’ said Lord Nelson, ‘I can do no more. We must

trust to the Great Disposer of all events, and justice of our cause. I

thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty.’”

 

It has been pointed out that Blackwood is wrong in the matter of

the cheer “throughout the fleet,” for several of the crews were not

informed as to the purport of the signal. The Admiral’s first idea was

to flag “Nelson confides that every man will do his duty.” Captain

Blackwood suggested “England” in place of “Nelson,” which the Admiral

told Pasco, the signal officer, to hoist, adding that he “must be

quick” as he had “one more signal to make, which is for close action.”

 

“Then, your Lordship,” ventured Pasco, “if you will permit me to

substitute ‘expects’ for ‘confides’ the signal can be more quickly

completed, because we have ‘expects’ in the vocabulary, while

‘confides’ must be spelled.” The code-book therefore won the day, and

a message which has inspired the Navy for over a century was soon

floating on the breeze.

 

In this connection there is a tradition that a Scottish sailor

complained to a fellow-countryman: “Not a word o’ puir auld Scotland.”

“Hoots, Sandy,” answered his comrade, “the Admiral kens that every

Scotsman will do his duty. He’s just giving the Englishers a hint.”

 

To continue Blackwood’s narrative: “The wind was light from the S.W.,

and a long swell was setting into the Bay of Cadiz, so that our ships,

like sovereigns of the ocean, moved majestically before it; every one

crowding all the sail that was possible, and falling into her station

according to her rate of going. The enemy wore at about seven o’clock,

and then stood in a close line on the larboard tack towards Cadiz. At

that time the sun shone bright on their sails; and from the number of

three-deckers amongst them, they made a most formidable appearance;

but this, so far from appalling our brave countrymen, induced them to

observe to each other, ‘what a fine sight those ships would make at

Spithead.’[71] About ten o’clock, Lord Nelson’s anxiety to close with

the enemy became very apparent. He frequently remarked to me, that they

put a good face upon it; but always quickly added, ‘I’ll give them such

a dressing as they never had before,’ regretting at the same time the

vicinity of the land. At that critical moment I ventured to represent

to his lordship the value of such a life as his, and particularly in

the present battle; and I proposed hoisting his flag in the _Euryalus_,

whence he could better see what was going on, as well as what to order

in case of necessity. But he would not hear of it, and gave as his

reason the force of example; and probably he was right.”

 

A sailor who rejoiced in the nickname of Jack Nasty-Face gives us an

excellent view of the proceedings as the sail-of-the-line were got

ready for action: “During this time each ship was making the usual

preparations, such as breaking away the captain and officers’ cabins,

and sending the lumber below--the doctors, parson, purser, and loblolly

men were also busy, getting the medicine chests and bandages and sails

prepared for the wounded to be placed on, that they might be dressed

in rotation as they were taken down to the after-cockpit. In such

bustling, and, it may be said, trying as well as serious time, it is

curious to notice the different dispositions of the British sailor.

Some would be offering a guinea for a glass of grog, while others

were making a sort of mutual verbal will--such as, if one of Johnny

Crapeau’s shots (a term given to the French) knocks my head off, you

will take all my effects; and if you are killed, and I am not, why, I

will have yours; and this is generally agreed to....”

 

Another intimate word-picture of what happened just before the contest

of giants began is furnished by General Sir S. B. Ellis, K.C.B., who

was a second lieutenant of Marines in the _Ajax_. “I was sent below

with orders,” he writes, “and was much struck with the preparations

made by the bluejackets, the majority of whom were stripped to the

waist; a handkerchief was tightly bound round their heads and over the

eyes, to deaden the noise of the cannon, many men being deaf for days

after an action. The men were variously occupied; some were sharpening

their cutlasses, others polishing the guns, as though an inspection

were about to take place instead of a mortal combat, whilst three or

four, as if in mere bravado, were dancing a hornpipe; but all seemed

deeply anxious to come to close quarters with the enemy. Occasionally

they would look out of the ports, and speculate as to the various ships

of the enemy, many of which had been on former occasions engaged by our vessels.”