The fourth Royal Sovereign fought as a flagship with Lord Howe on the 'Glorious First of June,' and was Collingwood's ship at Trafalgar. 'See how that noble fellow Collingwood takes his ship into action!' exclaimed Nelson, as he saw the Royal Sovereign open fire and break the line. Nor did any other ship in all the British fleet make a more brilliant fight of it that day than the Royal Sovereign and her 'Tars of the Tyne,' as Collingwood himself called the sturdy Northumbrian lads who formed nine-tenths of his flagship's crew.
Our fifth Royal Sovereign was an ironclad of the 'sixties, and the sixth is the present battleship of the name, now in the Home Fleet, which was named and launched with much éclat by Queen Victoria at Portsmouth on the 26th of February 1891, and served for many years as flagship of the Channel Fleet.
Such in brief outline are some of the leading events in the story of the Royal Sovereign.
The historic event here related in ballad form belongs to the story of the Royal Sovereign of the great war with the French Revolution, the fourth ship of the name. 'Cornwallis's Retreat' was the name that our ancestors had for it. It took place on the 17th of June 1795, and the Royal Sovereign was the British flagship on the occasion. The event, no doubt, is unknown to most of us. Nine out of ten people probably never heard of it. It is one of the forgotten episodes of our annals. Nothing is said of it in our general histories. One finds it alluded to in naval books, but little mention is made of it outside that class of literature. Even that famous naval dining club, the 'Royal Naval Club of 1765 and 1785,' which meets regularly at intervals throughout the year to commemorate notable events in the annals of the Sea Service—La Hogue, Rodney's battle, the 'Glorious First of June,' the battle of Cape St. Vincent, Camperdown, and so on—does not celebrate the 17th of June, the anniversary day of 'Cornwallis's Retreat.' Yet, surely, it is deserving of the honour? As a display of cool valour in the face of tremendous odds, of down-right heroism and unflinching endurance, crowned in the end with complete success, this feat of Admiral the Honourable William Cornwallis's distinguished career deserves, there is no gainsaying, to be reckoned among the finest exploits in our history.[71]
It may partly be, of course, because of the term 'retreat' that the event of the 17th of June 1795 has nowadays been forgotten by the Navy and the nation. Englishmen do not like retreats. Everybody knows the story of how Napoleon once told a captured British drummer boy to prove his identity by beating the British Army 'retreat,' and how the little lad scornfully flung down his drum, and looking Bonaparte in the face replied, 'There is no such drum-beat in the British Army. We don't do it!'[72] To our forefathers of a hundred years ago, however, 'Cornwallis's Retreat,' as they themselves called it, was a source of infinite pride and gratification. They did not hesitate to compare it, and not unreasonably, with that famous tale of history, Xenophon's Retreat of the Ten Thousand.
Here is the story, told in plain unconventional ballad form, as it were by one present on the occasion. The details are historical, and the words attributed to the admiral are his own, as reported at the time. 'Billy Blue,' it should be added, was a favourite nickname for Cornwallis in the Navy, although whether it had come into vogue as early as the date of the incident is another thing.
'CORNWALLIS'S RETREAT'