At this time there were no less than 30,000 French prisoners in England, and by an agreement with their own government, which was to support them, it was arranged they should reside at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Norman Cross, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Chatham, and Stapleton. Arrangements were made towards the end of the war for the exchange of prisoners, but it was found that there were only 2800 English in France. The French Directory now issued a decree declaring that all persons natives of, or originally belonging to, neutral countries, or countries in alliance with France, serving on board any English ship, should be tried as pirates. The English Government, in retaliation, threatened to treat all subjects of the French Republic in the same manner, should the savage order be carried out. This threat had the desired effect.
Bonaparte had been for some time planning a campaign in Egypt. Sailing with a large fleet from Toulon, he first captured Malta, and then proceeded to Alexandria, wonderfully escaping Earl Saint Vincent and Vice-Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson. Napoleon having landed, his fleet, under Admiral Brueys, brought up in Aboukir Bay. Here Nelson found the French on the 8th of August, drawn up at anchor in order of battle, and at 3 p.m. he threw out the signal to prepare for the fight, followed an hour afterwards with orders to anchor by the stern with springs to their cables. Another signal was shortly afterwards made to signify that the admiral meant to attack the enemy’s van and centre. At 6 p.m. Nelson signalised to the fleet to fill and stand on, which they did in admirable order, the Goliath leading; when, soon afterwards hoisting their colours, with the Union Jack in several parts of the rigging, the British ships took up the stations allotted to them. At 6:20 p.m. the Conquirant, followed by the Guerrier, opened her fire upon the Goliath and Zealous, which was quickly answered by those ships; but the sun had already sunk into the ocean before any other British ship had fired a shot. Loud cheers now burst from every ship of the English fleet, when the men, flying to their guns, opened their broadsides with a spirit which soon knocked away the masts and spars of their opponents, and spread death and destruction on board their ships. The action had continued for two hours, several French ships having struck, when a fire was perceived on board the Orient, which in an hour afterwards blew up with a tremendous explosion, the burning wreck falling far and wide around, and setting fire to several ships, friends and foes, in the neighbourhood. So awful was the effect, that for ten minutes not a gun was fired on either side. Thus the battle raged all night long, till soon after dawn the French frigate Artemise, after striking her colours, also caught fire, and with a terrific explosion blew up.
In the morning the enemy’s ships still in a condition to make sail got under way and endeavoured to escape. Of the thirteen French ships of the line, by this time, one had blown up, eight had surrendered, and two had escaped. Of the remaining two, one, the Timoléon, was on shore, with her colours flying; the other, the Tonnant, lay about two miles from her, a mere wreck, but also with her colours up. On the approach, however, of the Theseus and Leander, she hauled them down; while the crew of the Timoléon set her on fire, and she soon afterwards blew up. Thus, in the memorable “Battle of the Nile,” the French lost eleven line-of-battle ships, besides frigates. In this action the British lost 218 killed and 678 wounded. Among the latter was Horatio Nelson, who was struck above his already darkened eye by a splinter; while all the ships were considerably cut up. On board the Orient fell the Commodore Casa Bianca, as well as his gallant young son, who had refused to quit his post; and the French commander-in-chief, Brueys, who, after receiving two severe wounds, was nearly cut in two by a shot. While still breathing, he desired not to be carried below, but to be left to die upon deck, exclaiming in a firm voice, “Un amiral Français doit mourir sur son banc de quart.”
“A French admiral ought to die on his quarter-deck.”
While the ship was in flames, the boats of the British ships put off to save the hapless crew, seventy of whom were thus rescued. The heroic conduct of the captain of the Tonnant, Du Petit Thonars, deserves to be recorded. He first lost both his arms, and then one of his legs; even then, still able to speak, he gave his dying commands to his crew not to surrender the ship. Of the English fleet, the Culloden unhappily got on shore while going into action, and only by great exertions did she get off, after the battle was over. That the French fought with the utmost gallantry is acknowledged by all, while we must rank the victory of the Nile among the most brilliant achievements of the British Navy.
After the battle every effort was made to repair the damages the ships had received, and to fit the prizes for the voyage to England. Nelson sent the prisoners taken on board them on shore in a cartel, on their parole not to serve again during the war; but Napoleon, with his usual disregard for treaties, formed them into a battalion, which he called the “nautic.” Three of the prizes, being in too shattered a condition to be refitted, were burnt; another, the Peuple-Souverain, being considered unfit to proceed farther than Gibraltar, was there turned into a guard-ship. The five remaining vessels arrived safely at Plymouth; three of them being new and magnificent ships, the Tonnant, Franklin, and Spartiate, were added to the British Navy, the name of the former being changed to Canopus. Rewards were liberally bestowed upon the victors; Sir Horatio Nelson was created a peer of Great Britain by the title of Baron Nelson of the Nile and of Burnham Thorpe, while a pension was settled on him of 2000 pounds a-year by the English Parliament, and 1000 pounds a-year by the Irish; the East India Company presenting him with 10,000 pounds.
After the defeat of his fleet at Aboukir, Napoleon determined to invade Syria. His plans, however, were thwarted by Sir Sidney Smith, who having captured the fleet which was bringing the battering-cannon and ammunition from Damietta for the siege of Saint Jean d’Acre, made use of it to fortify that town, into which, with a small body of seamen and a few officers, he threw himself, and put it into a state of defence, while he organised the Turkish troops who formed its garrison. Napoleon, obtaining fresh guns, in a short time laid siege to Acre. Though he made several desperate attempts to storm it, they were on each occasion repulsed by the valour of the Turks, aided by the fire from the English and sultan’s ships. During one of the many engagements the Theseus frigate caught fire, and the poop and after-part of the ship was almost blown to pieces, several of her officers and men being killed. The fire was put out by the courage of the surviving officers and crew.
Napoleon, enraged at his defeat, made every effort to destroy Sir Sidney Smith. Two attempts to assassinate him, however, happily failed. At length an Arab dervish appeared with a letter to the pacha, proposing a cessation of arms for the purpose of burying the dead bodies, which in vast numbers were piled up under the ramparts. While this proposal was under consideration, with unexampled treachery, Napoleon attempted to storm the town; but the garrison were on the alert, and the assailants were driven back with great slaughter. The Arab tribes having been induced to cut off the supply of provisions for the French army, on the 20th of May Napoleon raised the siege, and leaving his guns behind him, precipitately retreated towards Egypt. Such is a brief outline of one of the most daring exploits ever performed by a naval man.
Of a very different character, though one in which consummate bravery was displayed, was the cutting-out of the Hermione frigate. She had been in the year 1799 under the command of Captain Hugh Pigot, one of those tyrant commanders who are truly said to make their ships “hells afloat.” While cruising off Porto Rico, as the crew were reefing top-sails, the captain shouted that he would flog the last man off the mizen-topsail yard. Two, in their attempt to spring over their comrades’ backs, missing their hold, fell on the quarter-deck and were killed. The captain, it is said, on seeing it, merely observed, “Throw the lubbers overboard.” The crew, who were probably a bad lot to begin with, for such a captain could not have obtained a good ship’s company, from a long succession of tyrannical acts, had become infinitely worse. The next day they rose on their officers, murdered the greater number, including the captain, and carried the ship into La Guayra, a port of the Spanish Main. Hearing that the Hermione, which had been fitted out by the Spaniards and strongly armed, was lying in the harbour of Puerto Cabello, Captain Hamilton, commanding the Surprise, a 28-gun frigate, determined to cut her out. Coming off the port on the 21st of October, he discovered her moored head and stern between two strong batteries on either side of the harbour, with her sails bent and ready for sea. After waiting off the port till the 24th without mentioning his intentions, he addressed his crew, reminding them of many enterprises they had undertaken, and pointing out to them that unless they should at once attempt the capture of the frigate, some more fortunate vessel would carry off the prize. Three hearty cheers showed him that he might depend on his crew. “I shall lead you myself,” he added. “Here are the orders for the six boats to be employed, with the names of the officers and men to be engaged on the service.”
Every arrangement had been judiciously made. The crew were to be dressed in blue; the password was Britannia, the answer Ireland. The boarders were to take the first spell at the oars; then, as they neared the Hermione, they were to be relieved by the regular crews. The expedition was to proceed in two divisions, the one to board on the starboard, the other on the larboard bow, gangway, and quarter. Sharp axes were provided for those who were to cut the bower cable, while others were told off to cut the stern cable, and certain men were to go aloft to loose the sails. In the event of their reaching the ship undiscovered, the boarders only were to board, while the boats’ crews were to take the ship in tow directly the cables were cut; but should they be discovered, the crews