Full expectation gives the mind to wait,
And moments lengthen in the hands of fate.”
I shall never forget the 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st of October, 1805. Signs of a movement in the combined fleets of France and Spain in Cadiz were made by signal on the 18th by the inshore squadron, and on the 19th the enemy came out of port. The wind was light and the day rather hazy, so that the body of our fleet never perceived them. Sunday we had a fresh breeze, when some of the headmost ships saw the enemy in shore, but they were too close under the land to be attacked. All hearts towards evening beat with joyful anxiety for the next day, which we hoped would crown our anxious blockade labours with a successful battle. When night closed in, the rockets and blue lights, with signal guns, informed us the inshore squadron still kept sight of our foes, and, like good and watchful dogs, our ships continued to send forth occasionally a growling cannon to keep us on the alert, and to cheer us with the hope of a glorious day on the morrow.
And the morrow came; and with it the sun rose, which, as it ascended from its bed of ocean, looked hazy and watery, as if it smiled in tears on many brave hearts which fate had decreed should never see it set. It was my morning watch; I was midshipman of the forecastle, and at the first dawn of day a forest of strange masts was seen to leeward. I ran aft and informed the officer of the watch. The captain was on deck in a moment, and ere it was well light, the signals were flying through the fleet to bear up and form the order of sailing in two columns.
The wind had moderated considerably in the night, but still our fleet, which consisted of twenty-seven sail of the line, four frigates, a schooner, and cutter, was much scattered. Our ship had been previously prepared for battle, so that with the exception of stowing hammocks, slinging the lower yards, stoppering the topsail-sheets, and other minor matters, little remained to be done. All sail was set, and the different ships tried to form the line in two divisions, but the lightness of the wind, and the distance of the sternmost from the van, prevented anything like speed in the manœuvre; in short, the line never was properly formed, for the brave and gallant chiefs of each division were too eager to get into battle to wait for this. The old Neptune, which never was a good sailer, took it into her head to sail better that morning than I ever remember to have seen her do before. About ten o’clock we got close to the Victory, and Captain Fremantle had intended to pass her and break the enemy’s line, but poor Lord Nelson himself hailed us from the stern-walk of the Victory, and said, “Neptune, take in your studding-sails and drop astern; I shall break the line myself.” A signal was then made for the Téméraire (98) to take her station between us and the Victory, which consequently made us the third ship in the van of his lordship’s column.
At this period the enemy were forming their double line in the shape of a crescent. It was a beautiful sight when their line was completed: their broadsides turned towards us, showing their iron teeth, and now and then trying the range of a shot to ascertain the distance, that they might, the moment we came within point blank (about six hundred yards), open their fire upon our van ships—no doubt with the hope of dismasting some of our leading vessels before they could close and break their line. Some of them were painted like ourselves—with double yellow sides; some with a broad single red or yellow streak; others all black; and the noble Santissima Trinidada (138), with four distinct lines of red, with a white ribbon between them, made her seem to be a superb man-of-war, which indeed she was. Her appearance was imposing; her head splendidly ornamented with a colossal group of figures, painted white, representing the Holy Trinity, from which she took her name. This magnificent ship was destined to be our opponent. She was lying-to under topsails, top-gallant sails, royals, jib, and spanker; her courses were hauled up; and her lofty, towering sails looked beautiful, peering through the smoke, as she awaited the onset. The flags of France and Spain, both handsome, chequered the line, waving defiance to that of Britain.
Then, in our fleet, union-jacks and ensigns were made fast to the fore and fore-topmast-stays, as well as to the mizen-rigging, besides one at the peak, in order that we might not mistake each other in the smoke, and to show the enemy our determination to conquer. Towards eleven, our two lines were better formed, but still there existed long gaps in Vice-Admiral Collingwood’s division. Lord Nelson’s van was strong: three three-deckers (Victory, Téméraire, and Neptune), and four seventy-four’s, their jib-booms nearly over the others’ taffrails, the bands playing “God save the King,” “Rule Britannia,” and “Britons strike home;” the crews stationed on the forecastle of the different ships, cheering the ship ahead of them when the enemy began to fire, sent those feelings to our hearts that ensured us victory. About ten minutes before twelve, our antagonists opened their fire upon the Royal Sovereign (110), Vice-Admiral Collingwood, who most nobly, and unsupported for at least ten minutes, led his division into action, steering for the Santa Anna (112), which was painted all black, bearing the flag of Admiral Gravina, during which time all the enemy’s line that could possibly bring a gun to bear were firing at her. She was the admiration of the whole fleet.
To show the great and master mind of Nelson, who was thinking of everything even in the momentous hour of battle, when most minds would have been totally absorbed in other matters, it was remarked by him that the enemy had the iron hoops round their masts painted black; orders were issued by signal to whitewash those of his fleet, that in the event of all the ensigns being shot away, his ships might be distinguished by their white masts and hoops.
In order to convey a more accurate notion of the commencement and of the ensuing events of this glorious day, I shall introduce an extract from the log-book of His Majesty’s Ship Neptune (98 guns):—
“A.M., moderate and fine weather; at daylight discovered 39 strange ships to leeward. At 6, answered the signal from the Victory, Lord Nelson’s flag-ship, No. 76, to form the order of sailing in two lines; bore up and made all sail, the fleet consisting of twenty-seven ships of the line, four frigates, a cutter, and schooner, in company; cleared ship for action. At 11, answered the general telegraph signal, ‘England expects every man will do his duty’; Captain Fremantle inspected the different decks, and made known the above signal, which was received with cheers. At 11.30, the signal to break the enemy’s line, and engage to leeward.
“At 12, the Royal Sovereign (110), Vice-Admiral Collingwood, most nobly broke the enemy’s line, and engaged the Spanish Admiral Gravina, whose flag was flying in the Santa Anna (112), cutting off the 19th ship from their rear; the French and Spanish fleet, of 33 sail of the line, 4 frigates, and 2 brigs, lying-to for us to leeward, with their heads to the northward.
“At 12.15, the Victory (100), Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson, followed by the Téméraire (98), Captain Eliab Hervey, and Neptune (98), Captain Fremantle, broke the line of the enemy by the French Commander-in-Chief’s ship, Admiral Villeneuve, in the Bucentaure (84), and Santissima Trinidada (138), of four decks, bearing the flag of Rear-Admiral Don Cisneros Baltazar, the eleventh ship from the van.
“At 12.25, three of the enemy’s ships of the line opened their fire upon us, raking us fore and aft. At 12.35, we broke their line, passed between, and opened our broadside and raked them on both sides. At 12.47, we engaged a two-deck ship, with a flag at her mizen. At 1.30, entirely dismasted her, she struck her colours; but before that, the Leviathan (74), also opened her broadside upon her, we passed on (first giving her three hearty cheers), and bore down and attacked the Santissima Trinidada, a Spanish four-decker of 140 guns, with a flag at her mizen; raked her as we passed under her stern; and at 1.50 opened our fire on her starboard quarter. At 2.40, shot away her main and mizen masts; at 2.50, her foremast; at 3, she cried for quarter, and hailed us to say they had surrendered; she then stuck English colours to the stump of her mainmast; gave her three cheers. At this time the Leviathan and Conqueror (74’s), on our starboard quarter, firing on some of the enemy’s ships. Our standing and running rigging much cut; foretop-gallant and royal-yard shot away; the foremast and foretop-mast very badly wounded; three shot in the main-mast; one cheek of the mizen mast shot away, and wounded in other places; foreyard nearly shot in two, and ship pulled in several places; sent down men to get up more shot, having nearly fired away all that was on deck.
“When the smoke cleared away, observed the Victory, Royal Sovereign, and Téméraire warmly engaged, and the six van ships of the enemy who had not been engaged had tacked, and were bearing down to attack us. At 3.30, opened our fire on them, assisted by the Leviathan and Conqueror; observed one of them to have all her masts shot away by our united fire; the rest then hauled their wind (we learned afterwards it was Rear-Admiral Dumanoir), and making off to the southward, and we not in a condition to follow them, our sails being nearly shot from the yards, and, in addition to other defects, not a brace or bowline left. Turned the hands up to knot and splice, and bend new sails. At 5, observed 18 sail of the enemy making off, viz., 13 sail of the line, 3 frigates, and 2 brigs, leaving to us 20 ships of the line, 2 of which were first-rates, viz., Santissima Trinidada and Santa Anna. At 5.15, a French ship of the line, L’Achille, blew up with nearly all her crew. Observed the Victory with her mizen-mast and all her topmasts shot away; the Royal Sovereign with only her foremast standing; unable to see the condition of the rest of the fleet. At 6, we hailed the Ajax (74), and told her to go and take possession of a French ship of the line dismasted; saw the Prince (98) take the Santissima Trinidada (138) in tow, which had struck to us. Found we had 10 men killed, and 35 wounded, 4 of whom shortly after died of their wounds.
“At midnight, having repaired what damages we could, made sail. At 4 in the morning of the 22nd, we were spoke by the Pickle schooner, who told us it was Admiral Collingwood’s orders. We took some ship in tow. At daylight, observed Admiral C.’s flag in the Euryalus frigate, with the Royal Sovereign in tow, who made our signal to take her in tow, which we did.
“At daylight, it blew a fresh gale from the S.S.W.; the ships very much scattered; all the prizes dismasted and drifting about, most of them having been cast off from the ships that had them in tow; and the French 84-gun ship, Rédoutable, while in tow of the British Swiftsure, foundered with nearly all her unfortunate crew. At daylight of the 23rd, we picked up four of her people floating upon a piece of her wreck. Came on board of us, as prisoner from the Mars (74), Admiral Villeneuve, the French commander-in-chief.
“In this battle we lost the brave Vice-Admiral Viscount Nelson, who was killed on board the Victory by a musket-ball from the maintop of the French 84-gun ship, Rédoutable. The news of the death of this lamented hero threw a damp over our victory, which we were not prepared for. At noon on the 23rd, the signal was made that the remnant of the enemy’s fleet was coming out of Cadiz to try and pick up some of the dismasted ships and prizes; cast off the Royal Sovereign, and bore up with the rest of the ships that were able, and formed the line of battle to leeward of our dismasted ships and prizes for their protection; on seeing which, the enemy returned into port without accomplishing his object, but losing another ship, the El Rayo (100), for his pains!”