Nelson: The Essential Hero (21 page)

It was not until the morning of 14 February, St Valentine’s Day, that the two fleets were engaged. The wind was now almost due west, almost dead astern for the Spaniards running back towards the port of Cadiz, and comfortably on the starboard beam for the British. The Spanish fleet was in haphazard array. Those long months at sea which had become native to the British - coupled with the iron discipline of Jervis - had given them a superiority which could not be matched by larger ships and greater fire-power. There was mist again over the water and the first sight of the Spanish fleet was something that the greatest of all British artists, William Turner (who was half a sailor at heart) would have loved to see : ‘Thumpers, looming like Beachy Head in a fog’. The First Captain of the
Victory
, walking the quarterdeck in the company of Sir John Jervis, began to count the enemy ships as they emerged out of what the log-book of Nelson’s ship describes as ‘moderate and foggy’ weather. Their topsails shimmered first over the opaque mist, then their lower courses - fore, main, and mizzen - and then the hulking shadows of their hulls.

‘There are eight sail-of-the-line, Sir John.’

‘Very well, sir.’

‘There are twenty sail-of-the-line, Sir John.’

‘Very well, sir.’

‘There are twenty-five sail-of-the-line, Sir John.’

‘Very well, sir.’

‘There are twenty-seven sail-of-the-line, Sir John; near double our own! ’

‘Enough, sir,’ came the answer. ‘No more of that! If there are fifty sail, I will go through them. England badly needs a victory at the moment.’

Captain Ben Hallowell, a Canadian-born officer who had been Nelson’s constant companion in the batteries at Calvi, and whose ship had been wrecked through no fault of his own a few months before, was serving as a supernumerary aboard the
Victory.
He was present on the quarterdeck during this exchange and so far forgot himself as to thump his formidable Commander-in-Chief on the back, with a hearty : ‘That’s right, Sir John, that’s right! And, by God, we’ll give them a damned good licking.’

Jervis’s remark that England needed a victory was true enough. The country’s situation was somewhat similar to that which was to occur

in the summer of 1940, with all the continent of Europe lined against her. But in 1797 the position for England was, if anything, somewhat worse. Not only was the enemy everywhere triumphant, but in Ireland revolutionary agitators were creating even more ferment than usual in that unhappy country. Britain’s commercial interests were threatened on all hands, and, to make matters worse, dilatoriness in the payment of the men, coupled with inefficiency and brutality, had produced a state where the Channel fleet was on the verge of mutiny.

The Spaniards, who had lost their formation when driven into the Atlantic, were now trying under the welcome westerly wind to get themselves back into some semblance of order. But, at the moment that they sighted the British - something which ‘took them completely by surprise’ - they were straggling along in two main groups. There was a gap of about seven miles between the leading ships, six in all, and the main body of twenty-one ships bringing up the rear. But even these were ranged in a slovenly fashion, some abreast of one another, and others standing along on their own. ‘We flew to them as a hawk to his prey,’ as Collingwood put it. Shortly after eight in the morning Jervis made the signal: ‘Form line of battle as convenient.’ This meant that the British, who had been proceeding in two columns, now drew together into one single column with a precision that was second nature after their many months at sea. In close order, Nelson’s
Captain
being third from the rear, the British sails came down on a southwesterly course towards the enemy, a deadly spear with Troubridge’s
Culloden
at the tip.

Jervis, as he wrote, ‘confident in the skill, valour, and discipline of the officers and men I had the happiness to command, and judging that the honour of His Majesty’s arms, and the circumstances of war in these seas required a considerable degree of enterprise’, had decided to take advantage of the enemy’s divided fleet and pass his own clean between the two sections. The
Culloden
in the van, the
Blenheim
,
Prince George
,
Irresistible
,
Colossus
and
Orion
were ordered to cram on all sail and make straight for the gap. Seeing the danger, the Spanish division in the lead altered back from their easterly course, in order to try to rejoin the main body. Nine Spanish ships all told were to the eastward of him as Troubridge in the
Culloden
burst through the line and opened fire at 11.30 a.m. So close did he come to the leading Spanish vessel that it looked for a moment as if a collision was inevitable. ‘Let the weakest fend off,’ was Troubridge’s dry comment just before he opened fire. The
Culloden
poured into her opponent two double-shotted broadsides, ‘as if by a second’s watch, and in the presence of a port-admiral’s inspection’. When the fire and smoke and thunder was over, it was seen that the Spanish three-decker had fallen away in such a state of disrepair and confusion that she had not even fired her guns. The British were through - the Spanish backbone was broken.

The
Culloden'
s consorts came into action as they too drove into the gap between the two sections of the Spanish fleet. The main body of the enemy now altered to the north, so that they and the British were passing each other on reciprocal courses. To prevent their escape Jervis made the signal for his ships to tack in succession. This meant that they came about one after another, still forming the same line-of-battle sequence as when they had gone in. It was at this moment that the Spanish van, which had been cut off to leeward, came beating back in an attempt on their part to cut the British line at the point where they were turning. They received such heavy fire from the British, who maintained so close a station that it was not like the broadsides of individual ships but one solid wall of shot, that they were driven off and fell away. Only one vessel managed to pass through and rejoin the main body of their fleet. The British, however, were still turning as they altered course in succession - so that they presented, could they have been observed from the air, a V extended over the water. One side of this was returning to engage the main body of the Spaniards while the other side was still inoperative as it sailed down to the bottom of the V. Admiral Cordoba had already given up any thoughts of victory. He saw that he had but one chance of extricating his fleet, and that was by pressing on under full sail so that he and the ships with him could slide across the top of the V, rejoin the van and make safely away eastward for the welcome arms of Cadiz harbour.

It was at this point that Nelson, seeing exactly what the Spanish Admiral had in mind, committed his famous indiscipline. His action required immense courage, for it ran completely counter to those
Fighting Instructions
which governed the conduct of the British fleet in battle. To depart from the
Fighting Instructions
, which specifically laid it down that no ship might leave the line-of-battle without orders from the Commander-in-Chief, was usually seen as an act of cowardice, and invariably entailed a court-martial. Nelson’s action, however, was the very reverse of cowardice for, seeing how the leading Spanish ship, the immense
Santissima Trinidad
, at the head of her column was on the point of slipping across the top of the British V, he wore his ship round through 180 degrees to port. (Wearing ship, turning a vessel round so that her stem comes into the wind, was a far quicker operation than tacking.) He passed astern of the
Diadem
, Captain Towry, who was immediately behind him, hauled across the bows of the
Excellent
, his old friend Collingwood, and made straight for the giant
Santissima Trinidad.
He had seen with that quick eye which made him a genius of naval warfare that, if the Spanish van - and the largest ship in the world - could be held in check, it would give the rest of the British sail-of-the-line time to execute their turn and come up with the enemy. ‘. . . Passing between the
Diadem
and the
Excellent
,’ as he later wrote, ‘at ten minutes past 1 o’clock, I was in close action with the Van, and, of course, leewardmost of the Spanish Fleet. ... I was immediately joined and most nobly supported by the
Culloden
, Captain Troubridge. The Spanish Fleet, from not wishing, I suppose, to have a decisive Battle, hauled to the wind on the larboard tack . . .’

Captain Frederick in the
Blenheim
and Collingwood in the
Excellent
were soon up with him, and Collingwood’s crew proved themselves such master-gunners that the Royal Navy was later to call its gunnery school at Portsmouth H.M.S. Excellent. Collingwood was a stem disciplinarian and a great believer in gunnery training, and his ship now proved herself; discharging into the Spaniards whom she engaged three broadsides to every one that the enemy managed to fire in return. As Nelson put it: The
Salvador del Mundo
and
San Isidro
dropped astern, and were fired into in a masterly style by the
Excellent
, Captain Collingwood, who compelled them to hoist English colours, when, disdaining the parade of taking possession of beaten enemies, he most gallantly pushed up to save his old friend and messmate, who was to appearance in a critical situation : the
Blenheim
having fallen to leeward, and the
Culloden
crippled and astern, the
Captain
at this time being actually fired upon by three First-rates and the
San Nicolas
and a Seventy-four, and about pistol-shot of the
San Nicolas.

Collingwood now drew up to help his old friend, and, with every sail set, passed within ten feet of the
San Nicolas
, ‘giving her a most awful and tremendous fire’.

Collingwood’s magnificent action gave Nelson’s devastated
Captain
something of a respite. All four ships,
Captain
,
Culloden
,
Blenheim
and
Excellent
, which had been in the forefront of this dramatic action, suffered heavy damage. The
Captain
, which had initiated the move, almost inevitably suffered worst of all. Her sails were in tatters, her rigging was torn to pieces, her fore-topmast gone, and the wheel itself had been shot away, so that she had to be steered by emergency tackles. The
Captain
fell away in the direction of the
San Josef
which had fallen foul of the First-Rate
San Nicolas
and become inextricably entangled with her. The confusion, the thunder of guns, the dense smoke, the chaos as rigging, yards, topmasts, and men with them, came falling from aloft, presented an inferno that even Dante could hardly have envisaged. Fleet actions in the days since sail gave place to machinery have also their attendant horrors, but not in quite such a devastatingly personal way as when ships actually ran alongside ships, firing at point-blank range. While the wood splinters howled and screamed, and the sharp-shooters opened fire from aloft, the soldiers, marines, and sailors waited to board. Now, as the
Captain
came alongside the
San Nicolas
, her out-jutting port cathead (the heavy oak frame that carried the anchor) fell foul of the Spaniard’s gallery on the quarter, while the spritsail yard of Nelson’s ship hooked itself into the enemy’s main rigging.

Familiar though they are, Nelson’s own words can never be bettered : I directed Captain Miller to put the helm hard-a-starboard, and calling for the Borders, ordered them to Board.

The soldiers of the 69th regiment, with an alacrity which will ever do them credit, were among the foremost on this service. The first man who jumped into the enemy’s mizen chains was Captain Berry, late my first lieutenant (Captain Miller was in the very act of going also, but I directed him to remain). A soldier having broke the upper quarter-gallery window, jumped in followed by myself and others as fast as possible. I found the cabin doors fastened, and some Spanish officers fired their pistols; but having broken open the doors, the soldiers fired, and the Spanish Brigadier [Commodore, with a distinguishing pendant] fell as retreating to the quarterdeck. Having pushed on the quarterdeck, I found Captain Berry in possession of the poop, and the Spanish Ensign hauling down. The i
San Josef
at this moment fired muskets and pistols from the Admiral’s stern-gallery on us. Our seamen by this time were in full possession of every part: about seven of my men were killed, and some few wounded, and about twenty Spaniards.

Having placed sentinels at the different ladders, and ordered Captain Miller to push more men into the
San Nicolas
, I directed my brave fellows to board the First-Rate, which was done in a moment.

So, from the captured
San Nicolas
, Nelson’s men now swarmed over her decks and began to board the huge
San Josef
which lay alongside her with her spars and rigging foul of her compatriot.