On February 22, 1797, three frigates and a lugger, under Commodore Castagnier, appeared near Fishguard Bay in Pembrokeshire, and landed some 1,400 of ‘the legions.’ The Commander was an Irish-American adventurer named Tate. The intention had been to put them ashore in Somerset in order to burn Bristol. The actual landing was made at Llanwnda, about two miles from Goodwick, in an inlet called Careg Gwasted Bay. One life was lost, but otherwise by the 23rd the force was landed in safety, with its ammunition, and bivouacked on the heights above the inlet.
By kind permission of Mrs. Orchar.
A HIGHLAND OUTPOST.
From the picture by John Pettie, R.A.
Now, however, the weak point in the nefarious design showed itself. Owing to a recent wreck there were great quantities of wine and spirits available in the surrounding cottages. The men, devoid of any sense of duty or discipline, and only too ready to forget the misery of their life in prison, seized upon liquor with avidity, and before long General Tate’s force was either helplessly intoxicated or completely out of hand, engaged in reckless pillage. Castagnier, having accomplished the landing, set sail and stood out to sea. It certainly seems as if he had had orders to abandon the ‘legionaries’ to their fate. No attempt could be made to capture Fishguard itself, and Tate and his staff seem to have been powerless among their ruffianly followers. There is evidence that they endeavoured to suppress the excesses that were going on around them, but the men refused to obey orders. Brutal violence there was none; the invaders only seized all the food that they could find. Tate even endeavoured to return his property to a bold Welshman who remonstrated with him.
Meanwhile the men of the countryside were assembling en masse. Near Fishguard there were but 300 militiamen, seamen, and gunners, but before evening on the 23rd they were joined by Lord Cawdor with 60 yeomanry and 320 of the Pembrokeshire and Cardiganshire Militia. By this time there were collected on Goodwick Sands, headed by all the gentry of the neighbourhood who had been able to join, 2,000 furious Welshmen, armed with every sort of weapon—scythes, hayforks, picks, mattocks, and reaping-hooks—everything, in short, that had an edge or a point. Of properly armed men, including the militia, there were probably less than 1,000. There was a lack of ammunition, and lead from the roof of St. David’s Cathedral was used for moulding bullets. The women of the counties streamed after their men, and it is quite likely that, as has been said, their high black hats and red cloaks were mistaken by the befuddled ‘legionaries’ for regular uniforms. Tate saw the seemingly formidable force collecting in his front; he knew that his own men were helpless, and would in any case probably refuse to fight. He sent a letter to Cawdor offering to surrender on terms. Cawdor replied that, in view of his own great and increasing superiority of strength, he could only insist upon unconditional surrender! So next day the episode ended. The number of prisoners is given as ‘near 1,400.’ A light is thrown upon the real intentions of the French Government by what subsequently happened. They refused to exchange the prisoners. The British Government thereupon threatened to land them in Brittany to do their worst. This brought the Directory to their senses, and the exchange was effected. France received back her criminals; Britain regained an equal number of good fighting men, and thus, in circumstances not far removed from the proceedings of comic opera, ended the famous episode of Fishguard.
The fact that Hoche’s large expedition did actually, in part at least, reach the shores of Ireland was due largely to the slackness of Lord Bridport, the commander of the Channel Squadron. The British admirals had not yet adopted the plan of close and relentless blockade, which was soon afterwards initiated by Jarvis. The French were further assisted by the violent gales which, while they scattered their own fleet, also forced the British to run to port for shelter. The Fishguard raid, like that of General Humbert in Ireland shortly afterwards, is of value as demonstrating the impossibility, even to a great naval power, of preventing the landing of small invading forces. A close blockade might, in the days of sailing ships, be broken by exceptionally bad weather; but since the introduction of steam, blockades are more effective, and naval movements generally are carried out with infinitely greater precision.