Damaged British ships began, one by one, to come in sight during the forenoon. The Belleisle was made out, totally dismasted, in tow of a frigate. Then the Victory was seen, partially dismasted and also in tow. The Donegal made her number to the flagship as she passed. A little time afterwards a third British man-of-war, with her three topmasts gone, came into view. It was the Téméraire. The Donegal passed quite near, and hailed across: “What news?” The answer was shouted back from the Téméraire through a speaking trumpet: “Nineteen sail of the line taken and Lord Nelson killed!”
On board the Donegal all were listening with straining ears. As the trumpet bawled the direful intelligence across, a shudder, we are told, seemed to run through the whole ship, followed by a deep, long drawn-out groan, plainly heard on board the Téméraire as that ship swept past on her way.
They reached Collingwood and the rest of the fleet off San Lucar a few hours later. At once the Donegal found work to do in finishing off and taking possession of the stricken and dismasted Spanish three-decker El Rayo, one of the forlorn-hope squadron that had made the sortie from Cadiz on the 23rd, hoping to find the British fleet in serious distress after the battle and the storm, and to be able to recapture some of the prizes.
Most of El Rayo’s men were taken on board the Donegal. In connection with one of them, Captain Brenton tells this story. “A man fell overboard from the Donegal in a gale of wind on this occasion; the usual cry was raised, when some one thoughtlessly called out, ”He is only a Spaniard.” “Supposing he is only a Spaniard?” said a gallant English seaman, seizing the end of a rope, and darting into the sea at the same time; “no reason the poor ⸺ should be drowned!” Happy am I to say, from the information of Sir P. Malcolm, both men were picked up.
Besides that, the Donegal rendered invaluable assistance to several of the badly-damaged British ships during the second gale between the 25th and the 28th; and in rescuing men from some of the prizes that had been driven ashore, or were in peril among the reefs here and there along the rock-bound coast.
Wrote Collingwood a day or two afterwards: “Everybody was sorry that Malcolm was not there, because everybody knows his spirit and skill would have acquired him honour. He got out of Gibraltar when nobody else could, and was of infinite service to us after the action.”
By way also of appreciation and acknowledgment of the magnificent services rendered by the Donegal after the battle, the officers and men of the Trafalgar fleet, without one dissentient voice, agreed that the Donegal should be specially permitted to have a share, equally with themselves, in the Nelson Monument, which the ship’s companies that fought at Trafalgar immediately after the battle jointly subscribed for, as their own personal tribute to their dead chief—the tall obelisk on Portsdown Hill at the back of Portsmouth Harbour.
The Donegal, three months later, was in the thick of the fighting in the brilliantly successful battle in the West Indies, when Vice-Admiral Sir John Duckworth, with a squadron detached by Collingwood off Cadiz, on special service, captured or destroyed an entire French squadron of five ships of the line from Brest, including the finest three-decker in the world, the great 110-gun ship L’Impérial, so named in honour of Napoleon himself. It was in this battle that the British flagship Superb led down into the fight with a portrait of Nelson lashed to the mizen stay, and her band playing “Nelson of the Nile.”
Three of the five French ships lowered their colours to Captain Malcolm and the Donegal. First she led off with a rattling exchange of broadsides with the mighty French flagship L’Impérial. Then she fastened on a second French ship, and after a sharp set to at close quarters made her give in. Passing on, the Donegal engaged another French ship till her colours in turn came down. Then she ran on board one more Frenchman, the Jupiter, a ship that had already been hotly engaged. The Jupiter surrendered to the Donegal after next to no defence. Such was the Donegal’s work that day, in a battle that is really unique in the completeness of its results, but which, owing to its having taken place within three months of Trafalgar, the world paid little heed to at the time, and we have since quite forgotten—lost sight of in the dazzling lustre of the greater event near home.