“Sir Robert Calder has not yet, even to the Admiralty, given that explanation of his conduct which his country expects and his character demands. With his character and its failings we are well acquainted, but we only wish to regard his talents. The French fleet did certainly not run away; owing to the particular manœuvres of the action, they may be said even to have pursued us, and this may, perhaps, have been occasioned by some feint of our Admiral in order to attack the French to greater advantage. But the whole is at present merely conjecture, until some further explanation of the action has taken place. The account which the French have published in the Moniteur, allowing for their natural boasting and vanity, contains a greater portion of truth than usual.”
Villeneuve’s letter will give an idea of what that account was. “The battle then began almost along the whole line. We fired by the light of the enemy’s fire, almost always without seeing them. The fog did not abate during the remainder of the evening. At the first peep of dawn I made signal to bear down upon the enemy, who had taken their position at a great distance, and endeavoured by every possible press of sail to avoid renewing the action. Finding it impossible to force them to an engagement, I thought it my duty not to remove further from the line of my destination.”
In consequence of this Sir Robert Calder was recalled and tried by court-martial at Portsmouth in the following December, when he was severely reprimanded for an “error in judgment.” The severity of tone of the Naval Chronicle towards those who were fighting the country’s battles finds its parallel in the French newspapers of the date. Villeneuve was deeply stung by a sneering remark in the Moniteur upon what the conduct of the French fleet might be if commanded by a man of ability—so much so as to induce him to disregard Napoleon’s wishes that he should go to Toulon, collecting forces on the way, and to lead him to come to close quarters with our fleet as soon as a convenient opportunity offered. Of that opportunity and the Battle of Trafalgar to which it led we will speak in the following chapter.
CHAPTER X
“A MELANCHOLY SITUATION”
The month of September was spent in blockading Cadiz. The Canopus, as already stated, was one of the squadron of five told off to keep close in shore and watch the port. So close were they that one time the Tigre nearly ran aground and had to be towed off. The log on September 16th gives an account of what could be seen of the enemy’s fleet.
“We stood in till all the enemy’s fleet were open of the town, and had an opportunity of distinctly counting them. Their whole force consisted of thirty-three sail of the line and five frigates, all apparently quite ready for sea, with the exception of two ships of the line; one of which (French) had her topmasts struck, and main top-gallant mast down on the deck; the other (Spanish) had her foremast struck and fore-stay slack as if doing something to the bowsprit. Of the ships of the line seventeen were French and sixteen Spanish, of which last two were three-deckers. The frigates were all French, and one of them appeared to have a poop. We saw also at the Carracas three large ships (two of them appearing to be three-deckers) and two small ones, all of them in a considerable state of forwardness in point of rigging.”
On September 28 the Victory arrived from England, with Nelson on board, and three days later the Canopus joined the main part of the fleet, and was almost immediately told off to take her turn in the duty of fetching water from Gibraltar. The story of the month of October, with its hopes, fears, and disappointments, is best told by Francis Austen himself in the following letter to Mary Gibson:
“Canopus at Sea, off Gibraltar, October 15, 1805.
“My dearest Mary,—Having now got over the hurry and bustle which unavoidably attends every ship while in the act of compleating provisions, water and stores, I think it high time to devote some part of my attention to your amusement, and to be in a state of preparation for any opportunity which may offer of dispatching letters to England. But in order to make myself understood I must endeavour to be methodical, and therefore shall commence the account I have now to send you from the date of my last, which was finished and forwarded by the Nimble brig on the 2nd of this month. We had then just joined the fleet from the inshore squadron, and, I believe I mentioned, were about to quit it again for Gibraltar and Tetuan. We sailed that evening with four other ships of the line, a frigate, and five merchant vessels under convoy, and on the following morning fell in with the Euryalus, which we had left off Cadiz to watch the enemy. Captain Blackwood informed us by signal that he had received information by a Swedish ship from Cadiz that the troops had all embarked on board the men-of-war, and it was reported they were to sail with the first easterly wind. Though much confidence could not be placed on the accuracy and authenticity of this intelligence, it was, however, of such a nature as to induce Admiral Louis to return with four of the ships to Lord Nelson, leaving the Zealous and Endymion (both of them crippled ships) to proceed with the convoy to Gibraltar. We rejoined the Commander-in-Chief on the morning of the 5th, and were again dispatched in the course of the day.
“The wind being directly against us, and blowing very strong, we were not able to reach Gibraltar until the 9th, when every exertion was made to get on board such supplies of stores and provisions as we were in want of, and the Rock could supply. This was effected in three days, at which time the wind changed to the westward and became favourable for our watering at Tetuan, where we anchored on the evening of the 12th. We sailed again last night to return to the fleet, having got on board in the course of two days, with our own boats alone, 300 tons of water, and every other ship had got a proportionate quantity. You will judge from this that we have not been idle. We are now expecting a wind to take us out of the Mediterranean again, and hope to accomplish it in the course of the next twenty-four hours; at present it is nearly calm, but appearances indicate an easterly wind. We are, of course, very anxious to get back to the fleet for fear the enemy should be moving, for the idea of their doing so while we are absent is by no means pleasant. Having borne our share in a tedious chace and anxious blockade, it would be mortifying indeed to find ourselves at last thrown out of any share of credit or emolument which would result from an action. Such, I hope, will not be our lot, though, if they do venture out at all, it must happen to some one, as a part of the fleet will be constantly sent in to compleat as fast as the others arrive from having performed that duty.