Admiral Keppel was now appointed to the command of the Channel Fleet, and soon afterwards the Milford captured the Licorne, a French frigate of 32 guns, which, with three others, had been found reconnoitring the fleet. The Arethusa and Alert cutters pursued the other French vessels, and at night came up with the Belle Poule, when the first action of this war ensued, celebrated in song. Captain Marshall informed her commander that his orders were to conduct him to the British admiral, with which the French captain peremptorily refused to comply. Captain Marshall then fired a shot over her, which was instantly returned by a broadside from the Belle Poule. A desperate engagement took place, and continued with great obstinacy for two hours, by which time they were close in with the French coast. The Belle Poule then stood in to a small bay, from whence a number of boats came out and towed her into a place of safety. The Arethusa’s main-mast fell over the side, and she was otherwise so disabled that it was with the utmost difficulty she could clear the land. The next morning she was towed back to the fleet by the Valiant and Monarch.
“The Arethusa.”
Come, all you jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour’s mould,
While English glory I unfold,
Huzza to the Arethusa!
She is a frigate, tight and brave,
As ever stemm’d the dashing wave;
Her men are staunch
To their favourite launch;
And when the foe shall meet our fire,
Sooner than strike we’ll all expire
On board of the Arethusa.
’Twas with the spring fleet she went out
The English Channel to cruise about,
When four French sail in show so stout
Bore down on the Arethusa.
The famed Belle Poule straight ahead did lie;
The Arethusa seemed to fly—
Not a sheet, or a tack,
Or a brace, did she slack,
Tho’ the Frenchmen laugh’d and thought it stuff;
But they knew not the handful of men, how tough
On board of the Arethusa.
On deck five hundred men did dance,
The stoutest they could find in France;
We with two hundred did advance
On board of the Arethusa.
Our captain hailed the Frenchmen, Ho!
The Frenchmen they cried out, Hallo!
“Bear down, d’ye see, To our admiral’s lee.”
“No, no,” says the Frenchman, “that can’t be;”
“Then I must lug you along with me,”
Says the saucy Arethusa.
The fight was off the Frenchmen’s land,
We forced them back upon their strand,
For we fought till not a stick would stand
Of the gallant Arethusa.
And now we’ve driven the foe ashore,
Never to fight with Britons more.
Let each fill a glass
To his favourite lass;
A health to our captain and officers true,
And all that belong to the jovial crew
Of the gallant Arethusa.
On the 23rd of June Admiral Keppel’s fleet came in sight of that of the French under the command of the Comte D’Orvilliers. After an engagement of some hours, the French fleet took to flight during the night, and escaped into Brest.
It is impossible to relate the numberless gallant actions which from this period took place for many years between the ships of Great Britain and her enemies.
In consequence of charges exhibited by Sir Hugh Palliser against Admiral Keppel for his conduct in the engagement just mentioned, a court-martial was held at the governor’s house at Portsmouth to try him, when the following sentence was pronounced:—“That in their opinion the charge against Admiral Keppel is malicious and ill-founded, it having appeared that the said admiral, so far from having, by misconduct or neglect of duty on the days therein alluded to, lost an opportunity of rendering essential service to the State, and thereby tarnished the honour of the British Navy, behaved as became a judicious, brave, and experienced officer.”
On the following day Admiral Keppel received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament.
Not long after this the “gallant Arethusa” was wrecked upon the rocks near Ushant, in pursuit of an enemy. The crew were saved, and treated by the French with great humanity.
On the 15th of June, 1779, his Royal Highness Prince William Henry embarked on board his majesty’s ship Prince George, 90 guns, to serve as a midshipman in the navy. The next day a proclamation was issued to commence hostilities against Spain, in consequence of the hostile attitude that country had assumed. The first Spanish ship captured during the war was taken by the Pearl, of 32 guns, commanded by Captain George Montague, during a cruise off the Western Islands. After an action which lasted from half-past nine till half-past eleven, she struck, and proved to be the Santa Armonica, a Spanish frigate of 32 guns and 271 men, 38 of whom were killed and 45 wounded. The Pearl had 12 killed and 10 wounded.
Admiral Byron, though a gallant officer, appears always to have been unfortunate. In the last engagement which took place while he commanded the British fleet on the American station, Comte D’Estaing managed to pass him and escape after severely mauling his ships, when 103 men were killed and 346 wounded, though the French loss amounted to 1200 men killed and 1500 wounded.
At this time the want of active flag-officers was severely felt. Promotions were exceedingly slow, so that it was not until officers were nearly superannuated that they attained to that rank. The junior captain promoted in 1779 to the rank of rear-admiral was Sir John Lockhart Rose, who had been twenty-three years on the list of post-captains. Others had been a still longer time.