CHAPTER XIV
The Campaign of the Baltic
(1800–1)
“The service of my King and Country is the object nearest my heart.”
Nelson.
Ostensibly Nelson had come back to England because of illness. That his health was improved by the prolonged journey home via the overland route is quite possible. The relief from worry as to the Mediterranean in general and to Keith in particular no doubt conduced largely to so desirable a result. It is evident that he had returned to a normal condition of mind and of body; otherwise we should not find him writing to the Secretary of the Admiralty on the day of his arrival in England that his health was “perfectly re-established” and that he wished “to serve immediately.”
Nelson did not have to wait long for his wishes to be fulfilled. On the first day of the new year he was made a Vice-Admiral of the Blue, not as a reward for his services but in a general promotion. A little over a fortnight later he hoisted his flag on the San Josef (112), one of the prizes of the battle off Cape St Vincent, commanded by the devoted Hardy. Nelson then made the request, apparently on the principle of “nothing venture nothing have,” that the Lords of the Admiralty would not consider his “necessary coming from Italy as a dereliction of the service, but only a remove from the Mediterranean to the Channel.” Although he was a favourite of the rank and file of the Navy, he was certainly not esteemed so highly by “the powers that be.” No doubt he was himself partly responsible. His friend Collingwood’s “Correspondence” at the time affords a little sidelight on the matter. “We are at present lying completely ready,” he writes on the 25th January, “and, on the least motion made by the enemy, should sail; so you may conceive what an anxious time I have of it. Lord Nelson is here; and I think he will probably come and live with me when the weather will allow him; but he does not get in and out of ships well with one arm. He gave me an account of his reception at Court, which was not very flattering, after having been the admiration of that of Naples. His Majesty merely asked him if he had recovered his health; and then, without waiting for an answer, turned to General ——, and talked to him near half an hour in great good humour. It could not be about his successes.”
The early days of the nineteenth century were overshadowed by a storm-cloud which burst with sudden fury and dispersed almost as rapidly, giving place to a short-lived peace followed by twelve years of incessant tempest. So far back as 1780 Russia, Sweden and Denmark had entered into a league of Armed Neutrality by which, in the terse summing-up of Laughton, they had “bound themselves to resist the right of ‘visit and search’ claimed by the belligerents, and to enforce the acceptance of certain principles of so-called international law; among others, the security of a belligerent’s property under a neutral flag,—‘a free ship makes free goods’; that a blockade to be binding must be maintained by an adequate force; and that ‘contraband of war’ must be distinctly defined beforehand. As these principles, if admitted by England, amounted to the import by France of naval stores,—masts, hemp, tar—from the Baltic, to be paid for by French exports, the English Government was resolved to contest them.” From 1793 to 1800 Sweden and Denmark were neutral, but Great Britain, secure in her maritime supremacy, had continued to search merchant-ships, whether convoyed by a vessel of war or not. Matters were brought to a crisis by the capture of the Danish frigate Freya on the 25th July 1800, and the subsequent passage of the Sound by a British squadron. At the moment Denmark was not prepared for hostilities, and entered into a convention with Great Britain, which admitted the right of search.
When, a little later, the half-crazy Czar, Paul I., dissatisfied with England as an ally, and led on by specious promises on the part of Napoleon, definitely renewed the League, the two Baltic Powers willingly joined him. He laid an embargo on all British ships in Russian ports, and generally showed that it was a case of “off with the old love and on with the new.”
It was thought in England that negotiations, backed by a strong fleet, would be sufficient to sever Denmark from the alliance. With this object in view fifteen sail-of-the-line[52] having a considerable number of soldiers on board for use if necessary, and attended by a collection of smaller vessels, sailed early in March. When Nelson heard of Sir Hyde Parker’s appointment as Commander-in-chief, he was no more pleased than when Keith had returned to his former station in the previous year, but he wisely smothered his disappointment. His “sole object,” he informs Lord St Vincent, “and to which all my exertions and abilities tend, is to bring this long war to an honourable termination; to accomplish which, we must all pull in the collar, and, as we have got such a driver who will make the lazy ones pull as much as the willing, I doubt not but we shall get safely, speedily, and honourably to our journey’s end.” This is Nelson at his best, the Nelson who could sacrifice himself for King and Country. It was not until the 17th February that he received definite instructions to “put himself under the command” of Parker. Shortly afterwards he changed his ship for the St George (98). “The St George will stamp an additional ray of glory to England’s fame, if Nelson survives;” he writes to Lady Hamilton, “and that Almighty Providence, who has hitherto protected me in all dangers, and covered my head in the day of battle, will still, if it be his pleasure, support and assist me.” To his old friend Berry he says, “I hope we shall be able as usual to get so close to our Enemies that our shot cannot miss their object, and that we shall again give our Northern Enemies that hail-storm of bullets which is so emphatically described in the ‘Naval Chronicle,’ and which gives our dear Country the Dominion of the Seas. We have it, and all the Devils in Hell cannot take it from us, if our Wooden walls have fair play.” As this letter was penned on the 9th March, before the armament left Yarmouth, it is clear that the Admiral did not set much store by the proposed negotiations, for which purpose Mr Vansittart,[53] reputed to be a skilful diplomatist, sailed with the fleet when it weighed anchor three days later.
The first general rendezvous was the Skaw, which was made on the 19th. A period of heavy weather—bad winds, sleet, snow, frost, and rain—had set in. Believers in omens not unnaturally predicted the ill-success of the expedition, which was intensified by the loss of the Invincible (74) with some 400 souls. She struck a sandbank, floated off into deep water, and then went down. Nelson’s own ship was not in the best of condition; she was both leaky and uncomfortable. However, a vessel is but a means to an end, and so long as the St George could float and her men could fire a broadside Nelson was content. In his eager, passionate way, the Admiral strongly disapproved of what he had been able to ascertain of Parker’s plans: “honour may arise from them, good cannot. I hear we are likely to anchor outside Cronenburg Castle, instead of Copenhagen, which would give weight to our negotiation: a Danish Minister would think twice before he would put his name to war with England, when the next moment he would probably see his Master’s Fleet in flames, and his Capital in ruins; but ‘out of sight out of mind,’ is an old saying. The Dane should see our Flag waving every moment he lifted up his head.”