It was extremely unlikely that the French fleet would in any case succeed in doing by night what it had failed to do by day, but at two in the morning, just when the English fleet was coming round to the north again, an event happened which made the battle of the following day inevitable. The Zélé with the others was tacking at the mouth of the passage, endeavouring not to lose if she could not gain ground in the trade wind. In the dark she met the Ville de Paris, Grasse’s own splendid flag-ship. The Zélé was on the port, the Ville de Paris on the starboard tack. According to the express orders of the admiral, and according to what is now the universal rule of the road at sea, it was the duty of the Zélé to put her helm up and go under the stern of the flag-ship. But the great gods were weary of Grasse’s peddling. They blinded the officer of the watch on the Zélé. He luffed, endeavoured to cross the bow of the flag-ship, and ran smash into her. The Zélé had her bowsprit snapped off short, and her foremast carried away just above the deck. The two vessels were entangled, wind and current swept them to leeward before they could be got clear. Then Grasse ordered the Astrée frigate, commanded by the famous and unlucky La Perouse, to take the Zélé in tow.
It was two hours before the cable was made fast, and they were on their way to Guadaloupe. By daylight, about five o’clock, Grasse and the ships closest to him had fallen to leeward. When the first rays of the sun showed them to the English fleet, now heading towards them, they were stretching over from nine to fifteen miles of water to westward of the Saints. Sir Charles Douglas, who was already up on board the Formidable, saw that the course of the English would cut right through them. He hurried down to the Admiral’s cabin to report that “God had given him his enemy on the lee bow.” From Rodney to the youngest middy in the fleet, all men saw that the battle was coming now.
CHAPTER XII
THE BREAKING OF THE LINE[A]
The great importance of this battle seems to justify a survey of the strength of the two fleets which took part in it. As the result of that survey, common honesty extorts the confession that the English were distinctly the stronger of the two in ships and guns. Very legitimate national pride enables us to add that it was also much the better. On that day Rodney had under his command thirty-six sail of the line, including five three-deckers, carrying in all two thousand six hundred and seventy-four guns. In addition to these weapons, some at least of the English ships carried carronades—short guns with a large bore, very effective at close quarters—which, being mounted on hitherto vacant spaces on the upper-deck as an experiment, were not counted in the nominal armament, but did add materially to the weight of the fire. Grasse had thirty sail of the line, including one three-decker, carrying in all two thousand two hundred and forty-six guns. The carronade was not as yet in use in the French service. We had therefore a superiority of six ships and two hundred and fourteen guns in a broadside, without counting the carronades. On the other hand, the French ships were generally larger vessels rate for rate than ours, and the calibre of their guns heavier. Ingenious attempts have been made to show that by virtue of the size of their ships, and the weight of the individual guns, the French were really equal if not superior to us. Sir Charles Douglas even calculated that they were two seventy-fours to the good. But our guns were quite big enough for the work they had to do, and battles are won by a superiority of sufficient blows. That we were materially stronger than our enemy cannot, I think, be honestly denied.
In this calculation, too, Sir Charles was less than just to himself. The improvements which he had introduced into our gunnery were part of our effective strength. His locks and his carriages enabled such of our ships as had adopted them both to fire quicker and to train their guns farther fore and aft than the French, whereby an Englishman passing an enemy on opposite tacks could get him under fire sooner, and keep him under it longer than he could answer. This was a kind of superiority which may be quoted with pride, for it was the fruit of intelligent and zealous work. The spirit which animated Sir Charles was shared by other captains also. There had been a great development of professional zeal during the war, and in many ways the fittings of our ships had been improved—for which let thanks be once more given to the power enjoyed by our captains. The crews, too, collected early in the war by hook and by crook, in the fashion already described, had been brought into admirable discipline. Long cruising in fleets had given our officers a complete knowledge of the qualities of their vessels as compared with others—a very necessary kind of knowledge indeed when a number of ships were to manœuvre together. Finally the spirit of the fleet was high. In spite of the little success gained in the war hitherto, our officers and men believed themselves to be better seamen and gunners than the French, and had been confirmed in that belief by the fighting near St. Kitts. They only wanted a chance. The disaster at Yorktown and the danger of England had roused the patriotism of our seamen, whether on quarter-deck or forecastle, and that emotion had swept the “spirit of faction” out of their hearts. In Sandwich’s words, they knew that the fate of the Empire was in their hands, and they did not intend that it should be lost for want of fierce fighting. Whatever Hood might think of Rodney, it was certain that he would obey punctually, and would do his utmost to damage the King’s enemies. In that respect he had a superiority over the French better than many ships and guns. There was no such spirit among the French officers and men. There was the gallantry of their race, there were knowledge and discipline; but there was no enthusiasm, and not much real aptitude for the work of sea-fighting. The jealousies which divided officers of all ranks were not controlled by a high patriotic spirit, and the qualities of the crews had sunk since the beginning of the war as the well-trained men were swept off and replaced by others drawn from a poorer maritime population than ours.
That every man may have his fair share of honour, the list of the two fleets is here given in the order in which they went into battle.
When Rodney was summoned by his captain of the fleet at daybreak on the 12th, and came on deck to see with his eyes the proof that his calculation of the night before was correct, the French were straggling over a space variously estimated at nine or at fifteen miles from east to west to the north-east of him. The English were in a rough oval drawn from north to south. Hood had resumed his proper place in the van; Rodney was in the centre; Rear-Admiral Drake in the rear. A line carried out from the leading English ship would bisect the French. As the wind was from south of east, the trade wind of the West Indies, all the Frenchmen to the west of that line were on the Admiral’s lee-bow, which meant that he had every chance of forcing a battle on them before they could again get away to windward. To the west of the French was seen the crippled Zélé in tow of the Astrée going to Guadaloupe. Rodney at once decided to try whether he could not, by threatening these two vessels, draw the French admiral still farther to leeward. Orders were given to some of the best sailers in Hood’s division to chase. As soon as they had stood well out from among the English ships the effect of the measure was manifest. Signals fluttered up the mainmast of the Ville de Paris, and the French ships were seen to be coming down to cover the Zélé, and to be steering to take their places in the line of battle ahead, and astern of their admiral. This meant that Grasse had sacrificed what remained to him of the windward position, and the fleets were now equal as regards the wind. There was no time to be lost. At once—it was now about a quarter to seven—the chasing ships were recalled, but in order to avoid the delay which would be caused by waiting till they resumed their place, Rodney decided to order the rear to lead into action. Thus, while the chasing ships were returning to their post in the van, the ships farthest from the enemy hauled to the wind and stood to the north-east between the bulk of the fleet and the land of Dominica. Each ship fell into place as her turn came, the chasing ships from the van arriving in time to take their post in what had now become the rear. In Captain Matthews’ plans the ships of Admiral Drake’s division may be seen curling over the fleet, and pointing at the French like the tail of the scorpion. The line was formed with rapidity and without a hitch. It was, in technical language, a line ahead on the starboard tack at a cable’s length asunder—each ship was, that is to say, two hundred yards in front of or behind the other in a line. From the first ship to the last there was, when the formation was complete, a distance of more than five miles.
While the line was forming, the fleet went to breakfast. Every man not actually at work, or the wheel, hastened to get all the food he could. In the Admiral’s cabin a party sat down with the appetite of warriors whom death could not daunt, and the care of veterans who foresaw the extreme probability that no more victuals might be attainable for the rest of that day. Douglas, the captain of the fleet; Symonds, the captain of the Formidable; Paget, the Admiral’s secretary; Gilbert Blane, his doctor; and a few others who messed at the Admiral’s table, sat down with Rodney. Cranstoun remained on deck to watch the enemy. In the middle of breakfast he came down with the news that on the course they were then following the English would cut through the French. Grasse had formed on the port tack, and was standing to the south-east across the northerly course of the English. It was his natural object to place himself across the mouth of the passage, and to windward of the English if he could. The two fleets were now running along two lines which formed an obtuse angle, of which the apex pointed to the east. Whichever reached that apex first would weather the other. Cranstoun’s message showed that the French would win the race. They had (though there is some doubt on the point) been slightly favoured by a shift of the trade wind to the north. Rodney made no answer to Cranstoun, and doubtless thought the occasion called for none. He had always preferred to engage to leeward, as he did in his battle with Langara. The windward position was only valuable to him because it would enable him to force on an action. Now, when it was a case with the French of “fight they will, and fight they must,” he cared not a jot whether or no they weathered the head of his line. His position compelled the enemy’s admiral to give battle. As it turned out ill for him he has been severely criticised by his countrymen, who do not seem to understand that their complaints are in truth a confession of inferiority. The experience of the previous day had shown that Rodney could not be shaken off. On the morning of the 12th Grasse had to choose between running away to Guadaloupe with the English after him, or standing as he was now doing across their van. If he had endeavoured to get away on the opposite tack he would have been unable to clear the Saints, and he would have been taken in a trap. Not to have fought in these circumstances would have been to acknowledge that a French fleet could not hope to meet an English one on anything approaching to equal terms. The plan of Grasse was a good plan enough. He hoped to cross the English van, to cripple a few of the ships, then, when he had reached a convenient place for tacking, to turn to windward, and make off while Rodney was refitting his damaged ships.
The feasibility of this plan depended, for Grasse, on his power to keep at long bowls. If a close action could be forced on them his ships would be unable to tack under the English fire. A close action was forced. At some moment between seven and eight o’clock the leading English ship, the Marlborough, came within range. If the upper side of the obtuse angle spoken of above is prolonged we shall get the relative position of the fleets pretty accurately. The English formed the lower line and they impinged on the French at about the ninth ship—the Brave. Rodney had hoisted the signal to engage close to leeward. When, therefore, Captain Taylor Penny of the Marlborough found himself within musket-shot range of the Brave he put his helm up, and turning a little to port, led the English line close along the French. Our enemy was as yet barely in order. Bougainville, who commanded the van, had just taken his place. Their rear was still in confusion, and Vaudreuil, who commanded there, afterwards declared that he formed his line under small-arm fire. We have now to figure to ourselves the two fleets filing past one another, cannonading as they went. Both were going very slowly. The wind was light; it was necessary to go at something below the speed of the slowest ship, since all must retain the power to shoot ahead if required, and so they filed slowly along at about three and a half miles an hour. Their course would have carried the leading French ships away from the English, but Grasse ordered them to bear down, with the intention of putting our leading vessels under the utmost possible amount of fire before they reached his centre and rear. Each fleet was soon engaged from the leading ship, and the two lines hurtled past one another in opposite directions. The English, having a margin of wind to draw on, used it to hug the French close—so close that, as Thesiger, an officer of the Formidable, said, it would have been possible to throw a cold shot on board them as they went past. At that range the carronades of the English ships did great execution. On board the French, which were crowded with the soldiers who were to have conquered Jamaica, the slaughter was terrible, and the effect of it soon visible, first in the number of the dead, or sometimes only badly wounded, who were hurled overboard to the sharks, and then in the slackening fire of the French. Gilbert Blane has left it on record that although our enemy’s fire was effective at long ranges, it grew wild and irregular at close quarters. We could, he says, actually see the Frenchmen running from their guns in spite of the determined efforts of the officers to keep them steady. Captain Savage of the Hercules, who suffered as badly from the gout as his Admiral, had a chair placed for himself in the waist of his ship, and sat there leaning over the bulwarks ironically saluting the passing enemy.