The successful passage of the British fleet through the Straits, in the face of the combined forces, was regarded in Madrid as a glorious victory for the Spanish arms. The despatches of Don Louis de Cordova described the partial engagement as a complete rout, and Howe was made to flee with all press of sail from his brave pursuers.
Seizing upon this exaggerated intelligence as a counterpoise to the recent disastrous news from Gibraltar, the Government extolled the valor of the navy, and spread ludicrously bombastic accounts of the "glorious victory" throughout the country. Pamphlets descriptive of the engagement were published and disseminated, in which the casualties of the English were put down in numbers imposingly enormous.
Gibraltar having thus been again successfully relieved, the Spanish government relinquished all hope of securing its possession by force of arms; but the King still fondly retained some expectation of succeeding by negotiation. In order to conceal the actual hopelessness of the enterprise, and "to give a reasonable color to the formal prosecution of the siege," private instructions were sent to Crillon to continue the offensive. But the Spanish commander was in truth no less disheartened than the ministers of his government, and with the exception of daily attacks by gun- and mortar-boats, seconded by a warm fire from the isthmus, active operations completely ceased.
On February 2, 1783, the news of the signature of the preliminaries of a general peace reached the garrison by a flag of truce, and on March 12th the gates of the fortress, which had been closed for nearly four years, were once more thrown open.
The announcement of the peace was received with general joy throughout the garrison, and this feeling was most fully reciprocated by the disheartened and weary enemy. The two chiefs, who, since they had been opposed to each other as antagonists in a struggle which riveted the attention of all Europe, had learned to regret that they were foes, now met with the cordial embrace of friendship, and no opportunity was lost which could tend to obliterate the remembrances of former rivalry. Friendly meetings were interchanged between them, and all memory of previous antagonism was buried in oblivion.
Being introduced to the officers of the Royal Artillery, through whose courage and ability his brightest hopes of victory had been destroyed, Crillon met them with praises of their noble conduct, and remarked that "he would rather see them there as friends than on their batteries as enemies, where," he added, "they never spared me."
One day when inspecting the immense lines of fortification on the northern face of the Rock, all of which had been constructed during the progress of the siege, lost in astonishment at the magnitude of the works, he exclaimed, "This is indeed worthy of the Romans!"
Early in April, the Spanish camp having commenced to break up, and the lines on the isthmus having been dismantled, the Duc de Crillon handed over his command to the Marquis de Saya, and returned to Madrid.
Thus after a duration of three years seven months and twelve days ended this memorable siege; a siege which, in the words of Lord North, "was one of those astonishing instances of British valor, discipline, military skill, and humanity that no other age or country could produce an example of." At length the devoted garrison was relieved from a situation of suffering, peril, and privation almost unparalleled in the annals of war.