“The flame that lit the battle’s wreck”
Charles Dixon, R.I., from a sketch by C. W. Cole
“After this awful scene, the firing was recommenced with the Ships to leeward of the Centre, till twenty minutes past ten, when there was a total cessation of firing for about ten minutes; after which it was revived till about three in the morning, when it again ceased. After the victory had been secured in the Van, such British ships as were in a condition to move, had gone down upon the fresh Ships of the Enemy, which occasioned these renewals of the fight, all of which terminated with the same happy success in favour of our Flag. At five minutes past five in the morning, the two Rear ships of the Enemy, Le Guillaume Tell and Le Généreux, were the only French ships of the Line that had their colours flying. At fifty-four minutes past five, a French frigate, L’Artemise, fired a broadside and struck her colours; but such was the unwarrantable and infamous conduct of the French Captain, that after having thus surrendered, he set fire to his Ship, and with part of his crew, made his escape on shore. Another of the French frigates, La Sérieuse, had been sunk by the fire from some of our Ships; but as her poop remained above water, her men were saved upon it, and were taken off by our boats in the morning. The Bellerophon, whose masts and cables had been entirely shot away, could not retain her situation abreast of L’Orient, but had drifted out of the line to the lee side of the Bay, a little before that Ship blew up. The Audacious was in the morning detached to her assistance. At eleven o’clock, Le Généreux and Guillaume Tell, with the two frigates, La Justice and La Diane, cut their cables and stood out to sea, pursued by the Zealous, Captain Hood, who, as the Admiral himself has stated, handsomely endeavoured to prevent their escape; but as there was no other Ship in a condition to support the Zealous, she was recalled. The whole day of the 2nd was employed in securing the French ships that had struck, and which were now all completely in our possession, Le Tonnant and Timoleon excepted; as these were both dismasted, and consequently could not escape, they were naturally the last of which we thought of taking possession. On the morning of the third, the Timoleon was set fire to, and Le Tonnant had cut her cable and drifted on shore, but that active officer, Captain Miller, of the Theseus, soon got her off again, and secured her in the British line.”
It was a decisive victory, the only kind of victory that appealed to Nelson, who styled it a “conquest.” Of the thirteen French battleships, nine were taken, one was blown up, one was burnt, and two escaped; one frigate sank, another was destroyed by fire, and two got away. Napoleon had been deprived of his only means of communication with France. Thus the sea swallowed his triumphs. From a political point of view the battle of the Nile paved the way for the formation of the Second Coalition against France, in which six Powers took part, namely, England, Russia, Austria, Turkey, Naples, and Portugal.
Nelson received his wound by being struck in the forehead by a piece of iron. The skin was torn so badly that it hung over his face, the blood streaming down with such profusion that he was afraid his left eye had gone like the right. “I am killed”; he cried to Captain Berry, “remember me to my wife.” But the Admiral had been “killed” in battle before, and the intense pain of the wound sufficiently justified the exclamation. He was carried to the cockpit, the cut bound up, and strict quiet enjoined. This was easier said than done with a patient such as Nelson. His abnormal mentality speedily gained ascendancy over his physical infirmities. He soon declared that he felt better, and shortly afterwards had so far recovered as to begin a dictated despatch to the Admiralty. On the Captain informing him that L’Orient was ablaze he insisted on clambering to the deck, as we have seen. Berry gave him his arm, and together they witnessed the disaster. Nelson was certainly more fortunate than Brueys, who was shot almost in two.
On the 2nd August the Admiral returned Public Thanksgiving on the Vanguard, an example he desired to be followed on every ship “as soon as convenient.” He also took the opportunity to thank the men of the squadron for the part they had played in the late action: “It must strike forcibly every British Seaman, how superior their conduct is, when in discipline and good order, to the riotous behaviour of lawless Frenchmen.”
In those days precedent was a fetish. To depart from what had previously obtained was not to be thought of, much less suggested. For this reason Nelson was created a Baron, the lowest rank in the peerage, but the highest that had been conferred “on an officer of your standing,” as he was informed. In addition he was voted a pension of £2000 a year, which was also to be paid to his two next heirs.
Mention of the “great and brilliant Victory” was made in the King’s Speech at the opening of Parliament, its organiser received the thanks of both Houses, as well as of the Parliament of Ireland, and many foreign potentates and British Corporations paid him honour. Among the numerous presents he received were two boxes set with diamonds, a superb diamond aigrette, a gold-headed cane, pieces of valuable plate, and a coffin. The latter, made of wood and iron from the ill-fated L’Orient, was sent to him by Captain Hallowell. By a strange coincidence Thanksgiving services were held in the churches of the United Kingdom on the 21st October, a date ever associated with Nelson, because of Trafalgar. It may be thought that there was unnecessary delay, but it must be remembered that the wonders of telegraphy were then undreamed of. News of the victory was not received in London until the fifty-seventh day after the event. “God be praised,” writes the Earl of St Vincent, “and you and your gallant band rewarded by a grateful Country, for the greatest Achievement the history of the world can produce.” Perhaps this noble sentiment from the Commander-in-chief was valued above the insignificant rewards of the Government.
To “Fighting” Berry Nelson entrusted the charge of his despatches for the Admiral, for which purpose he was given the Leander (50). With grim irony Fate played a trick entirely unworthy so gallant an officer. On the 18th August, off Gozo, near Candia, the Généreux, which it will be remembered escaped from Nelson’s vengeance at the Nile, appeared on the horizon. The frigate attempted to show “a clean pair of heels,” but recognising that the enemy was gaining in the race, sail was shortened and the decks cleared for action. The brave defenders of the Leander resisted manfully for over six hours until the mastless, rudderless hulk could be fought no longer. Berry, who was wounded, together with the officers and crew were landed at Corfu and thence sent to Trieste, where the officers were released on parole, and the crew kept prisoners. On being exchanged, the captain received the honour of knighthood, a reward richly deserved and valiantly won. Berry got even with the French after all, for in 1799 he turned the tables on the victors by capturing the Généreux with Nelson’s flagship, the Foudroyant.