THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR, ETC.
Though successful on the Continent, the power of Napoleon by sea was this year broken. Nelson had been appointed to the command of the Mediterranean fleet in the autumn of the year 1803. In the first month of the present year, while at anchor off Sardinia, he received intelligence that the Toulon fleet had put to sea. Nelson instantly weighed, and after beating about the Sicilian seas for ten days, he ran for Egypt, under the impression that they were bound for that country. Subsequently he discovered that the enemy had put back to Toulon; and, in the hope of tempting it out to sea, he bore away for the coast of Spain, and ran down as far as Barcelona. This stratagem failed of effect; but on the last day of March he received intelligence that Villeneuve had put to sea, with eleven ships of the line and seven frigates, and when last seen was steering towards the coast of Africa. Under the impression that the enemy was bound for Egypt, Nelson covered the channel between Sardinia and Barbary, and when he found that he was mistaken, he bore up for Palermo, and despatched cruizers in all directions, lest it should pass to the north of Corsica. At length, feeling that Villeneuve was not gone toward the Levant, he despatched frigates to Gibraltar, to Lisbon, and to Admiral Cornwallis, off Brest, beat up against contrary winds, and arrived in sight of Gibraltar, on the 30th or April; but being unable to pass through the Straits, by reason of a strong westerly gale, he anchored off the coast of Barbary. In the mean time the French admiral had hastened on to Cadiz, and Sir John Orde, who commanded the blockading squadron, retired at his approach. Villeneuve was joined at Cadiz by six Spanish, and two French ships of the line; making his whole force, eighteen line-of-battle ships, six frigates of forty guns each, and four smaller vessels. The united squadrons now sailed for the West Indies, and Nelson having discovered their place of destination, set sail with ten ships of the line, and three frigates, in pursuit of them. It has been supposed that Nelson would not have engaged his enemy, had he met with them, his force being so disproportionate: but it is clear from his own words that he would have fought had he come up with them. “Take you each a Frenchman,” he observed to his officers, “and leave the Spaniards to me: when I haul down my colours, I expect you to do the same.” But Nelson was again doomed to be disappointed in his search. He sought the enemy at Tobago, Trinidad, and Grenada, but not being able to discover or to gain any certain intelligence of them, he came to Gibraltar, where he went on shore for the first time since June, 1803. While at Gibraltar, he communicated with Admiral Collingwood, who, with a detached squadron, had taken his station off Cadiz, to prevent any progress of the Spaniards, and who had divined that the enemy’s intention, or at least a part of it, was to invade Ireland. Subsequently Nelson sought the enemy off Cape St. Vincent, at Cadiz, in the Bay of Biscay, and on the north-west coast of Ireland. Frustrated in all his hopes, after a pursuit which exhibited the most indomitable ardour, and which scarcely has its parallel in history, he judged it best to re-enforce the Channel-fleet, and accordingly, on the 15th of August, he joined Admiral Cornwallis, off Ushant. While off Ushant, Nelson received orders to proceed with the “Victory,” his own ship, and the “Superb,” to Portsmouth. It was at Portsmouth that he first received certain intelligence of the enemy’s movements. Sir Robert Calder, who had been sent out to intercept their return, fell in with them on the 22d of July, sixty leagues west of Cape Finisterre; and though his force consisted only of fifteen ships of the line, and two frigates, he boldly attacked the enemy, who now numbered twenty-seven of the line, three of fifty guns, and two frigates; and after a combat of four hours succeeded in capturing two ships of the line, and defeated the greatest and best combined project ever formed by the genius of Napoleon. The French admiral sought refuge in Ferrol, and then threw himself into Cadiz. Nelson was now once more appointed to the command of the fleet, and once more he went in search of the enemy. He considered the enemy’s fleet, which he had so long pursued, his own proper game, the price and reward of his long and anxious search. In this feeling, also, his country joined.
Describing his departure from Portsmouth, his biographer remarks:—“Many were in tears, and many knelt down before him, to bless him as he passed. All men knew that his heart was as humane as it was fearless; that there was not in his nature an alloy of selfishness or cupidity, but that he served his country with a perfect and entire devotion; therefore they loved him as truly and fervently as he loved England.” Nelson arrived off Cadiz on the 29th of September, the very day on which the French admiral received orders to put to sea the first opportunity. That it might not be known to the enemy that the hero of the Nile was watching them, Nelson did not suffer his flag to be saluted, and took every precaution of keeping his arrival secret, as well as the numerical force of his fleet. He took his station fifty miles westward of Cadiz, near Cape St. Mary, where he prepared his plan of attack, which he sent to Admiral Collingwood, who was blockading all the small ports between Cadiz and Algesiras, in order that Villeneuve might finally be compelled for want of provision to set sail. Nelson’s plan was to be nearly that of sailing, which was in two lines, with an advanced squadron of eight fast-sailing two-deckers: the second in command, having the direction of his line, was to break through the enemy about twelve ships from their rear, and Nelson himself was to lead through the centre, while the advanced squadron was to cut off three or four ahead of it. This plan received Collingwood’s cordial approbation; and Nelson then called his admirals and captains together, and thus addressed them:—“The enemy’s fleet is supposed to consist of forty-six sail of the line, the British forty; if either is less only a proportionate number of the ships are to be cut off. British to be one fourth superior to the enemy they cut off. Something must be left to chance. Nothing is sure in a sea-fight; shot will carry away the masts and yards of friends as well as of foes; but I look with confidence to a victory before the van of the enemy could succour their rear; and then that the British fleet would most of them be ready to receive their twenty sail of the line, or to pursue them should they endeavour to make off. If the van of the enemy tack, the captured ships must run to leeward of the British fleet; if the enemy wear, the British place themselves between the enemy and the captured and disabled British ships; and should the enemy close I have no fear for the result. The second in command will, in all possible things, direct the movements of his line by keeping them as compact as the nature of the circumstances will admit. Captains are to look to their particular line as their rallying point; but in case signals cannot be seen clearly or understood, no captain can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of an enemy.”
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At length the day which Nelson had long looked for arrived. On the 19th, signal was made by the “Mars,” first, that the enemy were coming out of port, and then that their fleet was at sea. On that day they were narrowly watched by the British fleet, as they were through the night; and on the morning of the 20th the combined fleets, consisting of thirty-three sail of the line and seven large frigates, were seen ahead in a close line of battle, on the starboard tack, about twelve miles to leeward, and standing to the south. On board the enemy had four thousand troops, and numerous Tyrolese riflemen were dispersed through the ships. The British admiral had with him only twenty-seven sail of the line and four frigates; six ships of the line having been dispatched to Gibraltar for provisions and water. With this force he resolved to attack the enemy on the next day; and soon after daylight he called Captain Blackwood on board the “Victory,” the last words he uttered to whom were:—“God bless you, Blackwood; I shall never see you more.” He had a presentiment that, while he was certain of victory, it would, nevertheless, be gained at the price of his own life. Yet, with this prospect before him, appalling as it must have been to his mind, he was calm and serene. His whole attention was fixed on Villeneuve, who was wearing to form the line in close order upon the larboard tack, thereby to bring Cadiz under his lee, and to facilitate, if necessary, his escape into that port. This induced Nelson to steer somewhat more to the north, and telegraph Collingwood, “I intend to pass through the van of the enemy’s line, to prevent his getting into Cadiz.” Villeneuve’s movements had also produced another danger, for they had brought the shoals of San Pedro and Trafalgar under the lee of both fleets; and to guard against this danger Nelson made a signal for the British fleet to anchor at the close of day. All things prepared, the hero of the Nile gave his last signal:—“England expects every man to do his duty!” which was greeted with three cheers on board of every ship in the fleet. “Now,” said Nelson, “I can do no more; we must trust to the Great Disposer of all events and to the justice of our cause: I thank God for this grand opportunity of doing my duty.” While gradually approaching the enemy, whose ships had fallen into a crescent form, Nelson dressed himself, putting on the coat which he had usually worn for weeks, and on which the order of the Bath was embroidered. The captain of the “Victory,” Hardy, suggested that this might become a mark for the enemy; to which Nelson replied, “He was aware of it; but that, as in honour he had gained his orders, so in honour he would die with them.” The battle commenced about ten minutes after the hour of noon, when Admiral Collingwood, in the “Royal Sovereign” engaged the “Santa Anna,” the flag-ship of Vice-Admiral Alava, the second in command. Ship after ship followed his example, and the battle waged fiercely on every hand. The “Victory,” in which Nelson was, singled out the “Santissima Trinidad,” a huge four-decker, which he had encountered before, and which he was wont to call his old acquaintance. At the same time seven or eight French and Spanish ships opened a fire on the “Victory.” Mr. Scott, his secretary, was killed, Captain Hardy was wounded in the foot, and fifty sailors perished before the “Victory” returned a shot. At length orders were given to fire; and as it had been discovered that the French admiral, who hoisted no colours, was in the “Bucentaure,” of eighty guns, Nelson’s terrible sixty-eight pounder carronade from the “Victory’s” forecastle was turned chiefly against that ship. In two minutes nearly four hundred men were killed or wounded in this ship; twenty of her guns were dismounted, and she was almost disabled. The next ship which the “Victory” encountered was the “Redoubtable,” against which she ran foul, the anchor of the one striking the spare anchor of the other, and the hooks and boom-irons getting intermixed or catching in the leash of the sails, holding the two ships together. Again the starboard carronade was fired, which cleared the French ship’s gangway in a moment. At the same time the “Victory’s” larboard guns did fatal execution in the “Santissima Trinidad,” now engaged likewise. At length the “Redoubtable” took fire, and the flames spread to the “Victory.” The English sailors put out their own fire, and threw buckets of water into the “Redoubtable” to help the French to extinguish theirs. In the midst of this terrific scene Nelson—the brave, undaunted Nelson—fell: a rifle or musket-ball from the mizen-top of the “Redoubtable” passed through him, and he fell on his knees on the very spot where his secretary had before him breathed his last. “They have done for me at last,” said he to Hardy, who was anxiously bending over him, “my backbone is shot through.” He was carried down to the cockpit, which was crowded with the wounded and the dying, and where it was too soon discovered that his wound was mortal, the ball had entered his left shoulder, through the forepart of the epaulette, and had lodged in his spine. In the meantime the battle raged with fury. In the midst of the roar of cannon and the shrieks of the wounded and the dying, the crew of the “Victory” ever and anon by their shoutings announced that some ship of the enemy had struck. On hearing their shouts, joy sparkled in the eyes of the dying Nelson; and he sent for Captain Hardy to inquire how the battle proceeded. It was some time before Hardy could leave the scene of carnage on the quarter-deck; but on reaching the side of the dying Nelson he informed him that twelve or fourteen of the enemy’s ships had struck, but that five of their van had tacked and shown an intention of bearing down upon the “Victory,” and that he had called two or three ships round it to guard against the clanger. Hardy then returned to the quarter-deck; but in less than an hour he returned, and congratulated his dying friend on having obtained a brilliant and complete victory: fourteen or fifteen of the enemy’s ships, he said, were captured. “That’s well,” replied Nelson; “but I bargained for twenty;” then in a louder tone he exclaimed, “Anchor, Hardy, anchor!” Hardy suggested that Admiral Collingwood would now take upon himself the direction of affairs: but Nelson, endeavouring to raise himself from his bed, replied that he would command while he lived, and gave imperative orders to anchor. It is supposed that he meant, in case of his surviving until all resistance was over, he would anchor the ships and prizes, as the surest means of saving them, should a gale of wind arise. Soon after this the hero’s gallant spirit fled: his last words, thrice repeated, were, “Thank God, I have done my duty.” The victory was complete; and Admiral Collingwood, who now succeeded to the command of the fleet, and who had largely contributed to gain the battle, distinguished himself no less by his skill after it was gained, than by his undaunted bravery in the action. The number of ships captured was nineteen; and Villeneuve and two Spanish admirals fell into the hands of the British. One French ship blew up after her surrender, two hundred of the crew of which were saved by our tenders. The total number of prisoners taken amounted to nearly 12,000 men; the total British loss was 1,587, including many officers and the gallant Nelson. Out of eighteen sail of the line the French only preserved nine; and out of fifteen sail of the line the Spaniards preserved only six. Most of the captured vessels, however, were subsequently lost at sea through stress of weather; four only were saved and carried to Gibraltar. “Our own infirm ships,” says Collingwood, “could scarce keep off the shore: the prizes were left to their fate; and as they were driven very near the port, I ordered them to be destroyed, that there might be no risk of their again falling into the hands of the enemy.” Thus ended the greatest naval victory recorded in history, whether in ancient or modern times. By it England was rescued from all chances of invasion, and left sole mistress of the seas. And the moral effect of the victory was as great as the physical one; the marine force of Napoleon might be said to be annihilated. It was, in fact, a glorious set off to his successes on the continent; and deep must have been his chagrin on hearing the news. In England the joy was great, and was only damped by the consideration that posthumous honours alone could be awarded to him who was instrumental in gaining the victory. These honours were with gratitude heaped on his memory. His brother was made an earl, with a grant of £6000 per annum; £10,000 were voted to each of his sisters; and £100,000 for the purchase of an estate. As for the hero himself, a public funeral and a public monument in St. Paul’s was decreed to him, and statues, columns, and other monuments were voted in most of our principal cities. Nor did the gratitude of the nation stop at the moment. Recently a noble monument has been erected to his memory in Trafalgar Square, chiefly by private contributions. His name will live in the history of England and the memories of his grateful countrymen down to the latest period of time. Faults and errors in private life may have stained his character; but his memory will nevertheless be precious in the sight of admiring posterity.