Napoleon had preferred to keep the squadron on the coast to co-operate with his army, though he gave the admiral conditional leave to sail for Corfu, if he could not take his fleet into the old harbour of Alexandria or find a safe anchorage elsewhere on the coast. Brueys could not leave for Corfu even if the general had been honest in giving him leave to go, for he was short of water and provisions, and most of what the shore could supply was taken for the army. To get into the old harbour was difficult. To get out of it in the face of a blockading force would have been impossible. A squadron once shut in it might be destroyed by bombs. So he sought for a safe anchorage and thought he found it at Aboukir, to the N.E. of Alexandria. Aboukir, the ancient Canopus, is the western point of the bay which lies west of the Rosetta branch of the Nile, and it has a shallow harbour stretching from N.W. to S.E. with an island at the N.W. point. Brueys, as an officer of the old royal corps, serving revolutionary France from necessity, disliked his captains as members of the class which had ruined and degraded his own. He thought them boors, and knew them to be ignorant. He had no confidence in his command, for his ships were all short-handed, and several lacked a fourth or even a third of their complement. The proportion of genuine seamen was small and the discipline bad. No practice could be given while the ships were crowded with soldiers and military stores. When the ships were cleared of the army there had been little time to drill the men, and little will on their part to be drilled, for the anarchical spirit of the Revolution was strong among them, and it was difficult to secure obedience. Therefore Brueys was justified in believing that his squadron was unequal to an encounter with an English force of approximately the same strength. His wisest course was to meet battle, if meet it he must, in conditions which would put the least possible strain on its weakness. The measures he took say little for the military intelligence of the famous royal corps. He might have placed his ships at the N.W. corner of the bay, close to the bank which lines the shore, and where the English could not place ships on both sides of his. He did anchor them so far from the bank that there was room for an enemy to pass between them and the land, and he arranged them in a very obtuse angle, with its apex pointing to the N.E. If an attack was made at either end, the other would not be able to support the part assailed. The history of war contains no more tragic example of a force weak in itself and so handled that all the causes of defeat were heaped upon its weakness. And this was done in the face of an English squadron trained in a fine school of discipline, rendered confident by long success, perfected by practice in nerve and judgment, led by that man of all men who was best qualified to give its strength free play. One of the most idle of idle discussions has chattered round the imaginary problem whether the course of doubling on the head of the French line, actually adopted by the English fleet, was taken by Nelson’s order or inspired by the example of Captain Foley of the Goliath. It was perhaps the greatest of Nelson’s great qualities, his truest claim to be a consummate leader of men, that he lived in genial harmony with his subordinates, discussing all possible contingencies with them, laying down the principles, and leaving to every man the inspiring freedom to co-operate within the just bounds of his duty, to act as circumstances served in the spirit of his orders, as a free man, and not as one bound to follow the letter like a mere instrument. Whether the French line would be doubled on must depend on its position at the moment of battle. The advantage of doubling and putting an opponent between two fires had been obvious to average human intelligence from of old. On a previous page of this book it has been shown how Tourville did it at the battle of Beachy Head. The manœuvre, like all the work of man, fell short of perfection. There was a risk that when two ships were firing into a third placed between them they would fire into one another. It was a risk which weighed with good officers, notably with Captain Saumarez of the Orion. He thought that, given the superiority of our gunnery, we developed a superior force whenever an English ship came into action with a French ship of the same rate or one not greatly superior in armament. It is possible that part of the loss suffered by the English squadron was inflicted by English hands. It is a not incredible might-have-been, that if our ships had stretched along the outside of the French line, each anchoring as she came up and covering the passage of the comrade behind, we might have reached their rear ships before they got away, and so have taken them all. But the advantages of the course followed were palpable. It was certain that the French ships, attacked on both sides, would be rapidly crushed, for their insufficient crews were overtaxed when compelled to fight both broadsides. The nominal strength of the crews of the French ships was 11,000 men. Their actual force was 7850. Twenty-five men per ship were absent guarding the watering place on shore, and many were away in the boats engaged in bringing off water when the English appeared.
They had sighted the coast of Egypt about Alexandria on the morning of the 1st August. The Alexander, 74, Captain Ball, and Swiftsure, 74, Captain Hallowell, were sent in to reconnoitre, and reported at 10 a.m. that they saw the harbour full of vessels, but that the French squadron was not there. At 1 p.m. the Zealous, 74, Captain Samuel Hood, signalled that the enemy was at anchor in Aboukir. The Swiftsure and Alexander were recalled, and the squadron headed for the enemy. By about 5.30 it was to the north of Aboukir Island, which, from the battle of the night, was to receive the name of Nelson Island. The Mediterranean charts of the time were generally untrustworthy, and seamen had to rely on their own observation to learn the depths of water. Nelson hailed the Zealous to ask of Captain Hood if he thought the ships could turn with the security that they would clear the shoal. Hood replied that he did not know, but would stand in and try. The orders were to attack the enemy’s van and centre, and to anchor. It was at six o’clock that the order was given to stand in, and the squadron which had come from the west turned to the south to throw itself on the French van. At that moment eleven ship were in line. The Goliath, 74, Captain Foley; Zealous, 74, Captain Samuel Hood; Orion, 74, Captain Sir James Saumarez; Audacious, 74, Captain Davidge Gould; Theseus, 74, Captain Miller; Vanguard, 74, Nelson’s flagship, of which Edward Berry was captain; Minotaur, 74, Captain Louis; Defence, 74, Captain Peyton; Bellerophon, 74, Captain Darby; Majestic, 74, Captain Westcott; and the Leander, 50, Captain Thompson. The Culloden, 74, Captain Troubridge, always an unlucky ship, was outsailed and was behind, and the Alexander and Swiftsure were still further off.
The French squadron consisted of thirteen vessels and was anchored as follows:—The Guerrier, 74, a very old ship, Captain Trullet, was at the head, and lay nearly two miles to the south-east of Aboukir island. Behind her and stretching to the south-east lay the Conquerant, 74, Captain Dalbarade, a vessel so rotten with age that her armament had been reduced, and manned by a crew of only four hundred. The Spartiate, 74, Captain Eimeriau; the Aquilon, 74, Captain Thevenard; and the Peuple Souverain, 74, Captain Raccord, which was as much worn out as the Conquerant. The Franklin, 80, Captain Gillet, the flagship of Rear-Admiral Blanquet Duchayla, and the Orient, 110, the flagship of Admiral Brueys, whose flag-captain was Casabianca, and who had with him Ganteaume as captain of the fleet. The line turned to the south beyond the Orient, and consisted of the Tonnant, 80, Captain Dupetit Thouard; the Heureux, 74, Captain Etienne; the Mercure, 74, Captain Cambon; the Guillaume Tell, 80, flagship of Rear-Admiral Villeneuve, whose flag-captain was Saunier; the Généreux, 74, Captain Lejoille; and the Timoléon, 74, Captain Léonce Trullet. Four frigates of forty guns were anchored inside the line, and one of them carried the flag of Rear-Admiral Decrès. When Nelson was sighted by the French at 2 p.m. a hasty council of war was held in the Orient. There was discussion what ought to be done, though lack of means and of time forbade the doing of anything save one thing—that was to lie and wait for the English attack in the hope that it would not be made till next morning, and with the expectation that it would not be made on the van, though that, as being the windward end of the squadron, was precisely the point at which attack would be most effective, and least liable to interruption by the French ships to leeward.
The attack was made that night, and was made on the van. At six o’clock, just as the sun was touching the horizon, the Goliath crossed the bow of the Guerrier, pouring in her fire with such effect that the Frenchman’s foremast came down. The men on the deck of the Goliath, who could see that they had drawn the first blood, cheered the happy omen, and the cheer was taken up by the crews at the guns below. The Goliath was to have been anchored with a spring at her cable, abreast of the Guerrier, but the anchor did not hold, and she was brought up abreast of the Conquerant. The Zealous followed in her wake and took the place she had failed to hold abreast of the Guerrier. The Orion followed, and, passing inside of the Goliath and Zealous (so wide was the space between the French ships and the shoal water), anchored by the Spartiate. The Audacious came along the same track and anchored by the Peuple Souverain. The Theseus passed astern of the Guerrier, through the overwide interval of 150 metres between the French ships, and ahead of the Conquerant, then swept inside of her comrades and assailed the Aquilon. Nelson came into action behind the Theseus, but passed outside the French line, and, neglecting the already overpowered Guerrier and Conquerant, anchored on the starboard side of the Spartiate which was already attacked on the port side by the Orion. The Minotaur passed outside the Vanguard and joined the Theseus in firing into the Aquilon. The Defence came on behind the Minotaur and assailed the Peuple Souverain. She had no colleague, but the French ship was so weak as to be hardly able to fire her guns without danger to herself and was no formidable antagonist. Thus eight English ships were in action with five French, of which three were more or less unfit to be in a line of battle. So the French van was rapidly crushed and the victory was won.
The destruction of the French squadron was not to be completed with the same ease. The next in order to the Peuple Souverain in the French line was the Franklin, 80, next to her came the Orient, 110, and the Tonnant, 80. These three powerful ships formed, as it were, a central citadel to the French line, and our most severe loss was suffered in action with them. The Bellerophon, which followed the Vanguard, passed the Franklin, and came under the broadside of the Orient. The Majestic went beyond the Bellerophon and came into action with the Tonnant. Both were severely mauled. The Bellerophon was shattered by the fire of the Orient, and drifted off down the bay. The Majestic was fiercely dealt with by the Tonnant, fell away from her, and became entangled with the next in the line, the Heureux. The Heureux’s captain, Etienne, had called up his men to repel boarders, or to board, when the Majestic broke away and was brought up beside the Mercure. These two ships suffered far more severely than any of the others engaged. The Bellerophon lost 49 men killed and 148 wounded. The Majestic, 50, killed, including her captain Westcott, and 143 wounded. Between them they suffered a greater loss than all the ships of Jervis’s squadron at the battle of Cape St. Vincent. But now the vessels which had not been near enough to take part in the first attack began to come in. The Swiftsure attacked the Franklin and the Alexander, L’Orient. They were joined by the little Leander which had been delayed by her efforts to drag off the ever unlucky Culloden, which had grounded on the Aboukir shoal. The Leander anchored ahead of the Franklin and raked both her and the Orient. As the fire in the French van ceased by the surrender of the overpowered ships, our vessels dropped down and helped to crush the enemy’s centre. They were aided by the frightful disaster which befell the Orient. She caught fire and blew up. The French ships beyond her cut their cables and drifted away. The isolated Franklin fought long and gallantly but was overpowered at last. In the French rear Villeneuve, hesitating, contemplating difficulties, thinking of safety and seeking it not by grasping the nettle, but by evasion, as he was to do seven years later, did nothing to help his comrades. He thought it much that he could escape next morning with his flagship the Guillaume Tell, the Généreux and two frigates. Nelson, who had been wounded in the head by a langrage shot while engaged with the Aquilon, thought, that if he had not been disabled, even they would have been taken. But the case was indeed one for saying they had done very well. During the night and the following morning all the French ships, except Villeneuve’s four, were taken or destroyed. Brueys fell on the deck of his flagship. The total loss of the French is difficult to estimate. It has been put by themselves at 1451 killed and 1479 wounded. The loss in Nelson’s squadron was 218 killed and 678 wounded, and to that total of 896, the Bellerophon and the Majestic contributed 390. Of the ships which were active in crushing the van the Zealous lost only 1 killed and 7 wounded, the Theseus 4 killed and 7 wounded, the Defence 4 killed and 11 wounded, while the Leander had only 14 men wounded and none killed.
Six days after the great turning movement had been wrecked in Aboukir Bay, the attack on England from the ocean ports of France began to be put into execution. It was to be directed through Ireland, and was to be double. One squadron under Savary was ordered to carry troops from Rochefort, while another and stronger squadron was to carry a division from Brest. Combined operations are liable to fail from obstacles which upset the most promising combination, and this was no exception to a common experience. Savary did indeed sail unseen from Rochefort on the 6th of August. He reached Killala Bay, between Sligo and Mayo, on the 21st. He had with him the Concorde, 40, the Franchise, 36, the Medée, 36, and the Venus, 28, and they carried General Humbert, an officer of much spirit and ingenuity, and 1150 soldiers. Now, as for the raid Humbert made, the victory he won at Castlebar, his surrender at Ballinamuck, and the difficulty he said he found in discovering a real general among the many English officers of that title he heard of, are they not written in the books of the chronicles of Ireland? The story inspires a profound gratitude to the Providence which confined the invasion to Humbert and 1150 men, and spared us Hoche with ten times (or more) that number. Having landed his charge, Savary was quickly away on the 23rd and anchored safely at Royan, in the Gironde, on the 9th September, from whence he returned to Rochefort on the 20th.
Bompard, who was to sail from Brest, was not so fortunate. His start was delayed first by want of money, for the finances of France were still in such a distressed state that the Government could not send him so small a sum as £6000 to pay the soldiers, and the men refused to sail without an advance. Then there was an alarm of an English inroad into Holland, and troops were held back to meet that danger. But the worst obstacle was the watch of the English blockading fleet. Its frigates cruised in the Iroise, and the line-of-battle ships were at hand. Bompard made one attempt to get away by the passage between the Black Rocks and Ushant, saw Bridport ahead of him, and went back. During the night of the 16th September he did get away, for though the wind blew strongly from the N.E. off shore, Bridport had taken his ships away to the northward of Ushant. So Bompard was free to sail out through the Raz du Sein to the southward, under cover of the dark. Next morning he was clear of the land in hazy weather, but he saw, and was seen, by the Ethalion frigate, Captain Countess, who had with him the Boadicea frigate, Captain R. Keats, and the brig Sylph, Captain White. They were between him and the Bee du Raz. Captain Countess attached himself to the French squadron, which consisted of the Hoche, 74 (the old Pégase), the Immortalité, Romaine, Loire, Bellone, Coquille, Embuscade, Resolue, and Semillante frigates and a schooner. The squadron carried 3000 troops under Generals Hardy and Ménage. Captain Countess despatched the Boadicea to warn Bridport, who, after looking into the Iroise to obtain the evidence of his own eyes, sent warning home that a French squadron had escaped what a very polite fiction would call his vigilance.
The Ethalion followed Bompard, retiring when menaced, and coming back again when the French went on. Bompard took the seeming cautious, but in reality very rash, course of endeavouring to shake off his pursuer by steering wide out to the south. He could hardly have provided more effectually for his own defeat. His one chance of success (and it was a poor one now that Savary’s success had aroused his enemy’s vigilance and had turned his attention to the Irish Coast) was to head an intercepting force. Every hour he added to his voyage increased the danger that he would be intercepted, and he was. When Bridport’s message reached England Sir J. B. Warren was sent from Cawsand Bay to the west coast of Ireland to bar the road. He sailed on the 23rd September, and on the 10th October was off Achill Head. If Bompard had gone direct to his destination, Killala Bay, trusting, as from the nature of his task he had to trust, to fortune, he would have been off Tory Island some days before Warren was in a position to attack him, and might have landed Hardy in Killala Bay. As he preferred to try artful management, where speed and boldness were wanted, he was sighted on the 11th October, near the Island, by Warren, who then had with him the Canada, 74, Robust, 74, Foudroyant, 80, Magnanime, Ethalion, Anson, Melampus, and Amelia frigates. The English officer pursued and overtook his enemy on the following day. The Hoche, Bompard’s one line-of-battle ship, was easily overpowered, and six of the frigates with her were captured in a succession of fights off the west coast of Ireland. The utmost audacity could have brought no worse fate on Bompard and his command.
Isolated French ships reached the Irish coast—as, for instance, the brig Anacreon, which in September visited the coast of Donegal, went back on hearing of the surrender of Humbert, and returned to her starting-point, Dunkirk, bringing a valuable prize with her. On the 12th October Savary sailed again from Rochefort with a larger squadron and 1090 soldiers. He looked into Killala, found that a landing was hopeless, and went back to Rochefort. He was chased and had to throw guns overboard to lighten his vessels, but he got back safe.
The direct invasion scheme had broken down. Yet the whole story puts these two questions—Did it break down because of the strength of our guard? What does the failure teach us to expect in the future? No fair-minded man can assert that fortune had no share in our success. Hoche’s expedition would have succeeded as fully as the expedition of Savary and Humbert, but for some measure of bad management on the part of Morard de Galle, and the persistence of bad weather. Of the expeditions of 1798, both of Savary’s reached the coast of Ireland and returned in safety. So did the Anacreon. Bompard alone was defeated at sea. The most obvious lesson of it all is of course that better management than Bridport’s will always be needed, and the better the enemy the greater the want. Other nations study these stories. We must not take it for granted that a French Revolution will help us by disorganising our foes.