“Then, your Lordship,” ventured Pasco, “if you will permit me to substitute ‘expects’ for ‘confides’ the signal can be more quickly completed, because we have ‘expects’ in the vocabulary, while ‘confides’ must be spelled.” The code-book therefore won the day, and a message which has inspired the Navy for over a century was soon floating on the breeze.
In this connection there is a tradition that a Scottish sailor complained to a fellow-countryman: “Not a word o’ puir auld Scotland.” “Hoots, Sandy,” answered his comrade, “the Admiral kens that every Scotsman will do his duty. He’s just giving the Englishers a hint.”
To continue Blackwood’s narrative: “The wind was light from the S.W., and a long swell was setting into the Bay of Cadiz, so that our ships, like sovereigns of the ocean, moved majestically before it; every one crowding all the sail that was possible, and falling into her station according to her rate of going. The enemy wore at about seven o’clock, and then stood in a close line on the larboard tack towards Cadiz. At that time the sun shone bright on their sails; and from the number of three-deckers amongst them, they made a most formidable appearance; but this, so far from appalling our brave countrymen, induced them to observe to each other, ‘what a fine sight those ships would make at Spithead.’[71] About ten o’clock, Lord Nelson’s anxiety to close with the enemy became very apparent. He frequently remarked to me, that they put a good face upon it; but always quickly added, ‘I’ll give them such a dressing as they never had before,’ regretting at the same time the vicinity of the land. At that critical moment I ventured to represent to his lordship the value of such a life as his, and particularly in the present battle; and I proposed hoisting his flag in the Euryalus, whence he could better see what was going on, as well as what to order in case of necessity. But he would not hear of it, and gave as his reason the force of example; and probably he was right.”
A sailor who rejoiced in the nickname of Jack Nasty-Face gives us an excellent view of the proceedings as the sail-of-the-line were got ready for action: “During this time each ship was making the usual preparations, such as breaking away the captain and officers’ cabins, and sending the lumber below—the doctors, parson, purser, and loblolly men were also busy, getting the medicine chests and bandages and sails prepared for the wounded to be placed on, that they might be dressed in rotation as they were taken down to the after-cockpit. In such bustling, and, it may be said, trying as well as serious time, it is curious to notice the different dispositions of the British sailor. Some would be offering a guinea for a glass of grog, while others were making a sort of mutual verbal will—such as, if one of Johnny Crapeau’s shots (a term given to the French) knocks my head off, you will take all my effects; and if you are killed, and I am not, why, I will have yours; and this is generally agreed to....”
Another intimate word-picture of what happened just before the contest of giants began is furnished by General Sir S. B. Ellis, K.C.B., who was a second lieutenant of Marines in the Ajax. “I was sent below with orders,” he writes, “and was much struck with the preparations made by the bluejackets, the majority of whom were stripped to the waist; a handkerchief was tightly bound round their heads and over the eyes, to deaden the noise of the cannon, many men being deaf for days after an action. The men were variously occupied; some were sharpening their cutlasses, others polishing the guns, as though an inspection were about to take place instead of a mortal combat, whilst three or four, as if in mere bravado, were dancing a hornpipe; but all seemed deeply anxious to come to close quarters with the enemy. Occasionally they would look out of the ports, and speculate as to the various ships of the enemy, many of which had been on former occasions engaged by our vessels.”
At about noon the first shot was fired. It came from the Fougueux, a French ship of 74 guns, under the command of Captain Louis Baudoin.
The Royal Sovereign, with the Belleisle (74), Mars (74), and Tonnant (80) just behind her, forged ahead. Nelson had signalled Collingwood to break the enemy’s line at the twelfth ship from the rear, but on seeing that she was only a two-decker Collingwood changed his course and steered straight for the Santa Ana, a huge Spanish ship of 112 guns, commanded by Vice-Admiral Alava. The Fougueux (74) then came up and endeavoured to prevent Collingwood from getting through the line. This caused the English Admiral to order his captain to make a target of the bowsprit of the Frenchman and steer straight for it. Fortunately for the enemy she altered her course, but although she saved herself she did not prevent the Royal Sovereign from breaking the line.
Collingwood was in his element; his usual silent ways gave place to enthusiasm. “What would Nelson give to be here!” he observed, the while his double-shotted guns were hurling death into the hold of his adversary and raking her fore and aft. A broadside and a half tore down the huge stern gallery of the Santa Ana (112), and killed and wounded a number of her crew, all of whom showed by deed and daring that they were worthy of their famous ancestors.
Both ships were soon in a pitiable condition, but they hugged each other in a last desperate struggle. A terrific cannonade ensued, the Fougueux and the San Leandro (64) raking the Royal Sovereign, and the San Justo (74) and Indomptable (80) lending their assistance some distance away, although it was difficult for them to distinguish between the two chief contestants, so dense was the smoke from the guns. Some fifteen or twenty minutes after Collingwood had maintained the unequal contest alone, several British ships came up and paid attention to those of the enemy which had gone to Alava’s assistance. At about a quarter past two the mammoth Santa Ana struck her flag. On the captain delivering up his sword as deputy for the Vice-Admiral, who lay dreadfully wounded, he remarked that he thought the conquering vessel should be called the Royal Devil!
