by Dudley Pope
However, Denmark was neutral, and there was little that Hamilton could do to prevent her going into port if she wished. The shot across the bow might well put off her captain for twenty-four hours, but after that…
In Puerto Cabello, His Most Christian Majesty’s frigate Santa Cecilia, the subject of Captain Hamilton’s thoughts, was ready to sail. The long squabble between the Captain-General and the Intendant had not, of course, been resolved—Leone was awaiting a reply to his protest to Admiral Langara that the Captain-General’s critical report had been wrong.
In the meantime the Spanish admiral commanding the squadron at Havana, Cuba, had given orders for the Santa Cecilia to be prepared for sea. The intelligence report which had reached Sir Hyde Parker several weeks earlier had been correct but not complete. The Spanish authorities intended that she should join a squadron being formed with the idea of attacking British convoys, which were known to be lightly escorted. The squadron was to consist of the 64-gun Asia, under the command of Don Francisco Montes (who was to be captured in the San Rafael by Sir Robert Calder’s squadron three months before Trafalgar); the 44-gun Amfitrite under Diego Villagomez, and the 16-gun corvette El Galgo, under Jose de Arias. (Two weeks later this squadron, without the Santa Cecilia, attacked a British convoy in the Mona Passage. The escort of two British frigates drove off the considerably more powerful Asia and Amfitrtte, and captured El Galgo. The enemy ‘appeared very undetermined’ one of the frigate captains reported later to Sir Hyde Parker.)
AS a British ship, the Santa Cecilia had been armed with twenty-six 12-pounders on the maindeck, with four 6-pounders on the quarterdeck and two more on the fo’c’sle, plus eight carronades. Her official complement had been 220, although we have seen that in practice it was rarely more than 170. However, as she prepared to sail for Havana under the command of Don Ramon de Eschales y Gaztelu, she had a complement of 392—more than double the number of men Pigot ever had—consisting of 321 officers and seamen, reinforced by 56 infantrymen and 15 artillerymen. And the frigate was at last in an excellent condition thanks to the work of the Spanish shipwrights at Puerto Cabelio, who had carried out the necessary repairs: new gangways had been laid on either side; new bulwarks had been built on; various planks in the hull and decks had been replaced, as well as beams and knees. A new capstan had been fitted forward—the frigate originally had only one, which was aft on the quarterdeck—and she had a new rudder. Any captain would be pleased with her outfit of sails: only two of her outfit of twenty-six were half-worn: the rest were either new or only a third worn. The Spanish had also increased her armament and rated her a 44-gun ship.
The Surprise by comparison, was much smaller: her official complement was 200, but she had only 180 men on board. The Santa Cecilia’s crew outnumbered hers by more than two to one. Like the Santa Cecilia, she had been built under a different flag from the one she now flew, having been captured from the French and commissioned by the Royal Navy as a 28-gun frigate.
Captain Hamilton had only a few hours in which to make up his mind what his next move was to be: with the Danish ship in the offing and waiting to dart into Puerto Cabelio, and more neutral ships likely to arrive at any moment, there were only two plans worth considering. The Hermione was still in Puerto Cabelio—that much was certain, since his lookouts peering over the curvature of the earth from the mastheads had been able to see her masts. So he could either return to the Aruba—Cape San Roman area and continue his patrol, or he could take some action at Puerto Cabelio.
Hamilton does not appear to have even considered resuming his patrol; but it was too late to do anything on Wednesday night, after he had forced the Danish ship to tack offshore. He seems to have wasted little time in making his plan, which was devastatingly simple and on the face of it so daring as to be impossible. If he failed he would almost certainly be court-martialled (providing he survived to face a trial) since it meant disregarding, if not actually disobeying, Sir Hyde’s orders. If he succeeded—well, he would probably get a knighthood.
Hamilton did not discuss his plan with his officers, and that night, as the frigate wallowed in a light wind, barely making a knot through the water, Hamilton worked in his cabin with the watch and quarter bills—which listed the name and various tasks of every man in the ship for each evolution, whether sailing or fighting—and then wrote out six different sets of instructions.
Dawn on Thursday, October 14, brought only cloudy weather and very little more breeze. For Hamilton’s purpose the cloud was welcome, but he wanted more wind. At noon Puerto Cabello lay to the south-west. There were still twenty-eight tons of fresh water remaining below in the hold, and the crew had already filled the emptied casks with sea-water because, stowed low down in the ship, they acted as ballast.
Captain Hamilton finally decided that any further delay was dangerous: at the moment the Spanish at Puerto Cabello were almost certainly unaware that the Surprise was waiting just over the horizon, but there were many neutral ships around who could easily raise the alarm. The plan to deal with the Hermione depended, like all good plans, on surprise, and would therefore be carried out that evening.
‘I turned the hands up to acquaint the officers and ship’s company of my intentions to lead them to the attack,’ he wrote.
According to one source, he began by reminding the men of the frequent and successful enterprises they had undertaken together, and then declared: ‘I find it useless to wait any longer; we shall soon be obliged to leave the station, and that frigate will become the prize of some more fortunate ship than the Surprise; our only prospect of success is by cutting her out this night.’
At this the men gave ‘three tremendous cheers’. Hamilton is said to have added: ‘I shall lead you myself, and here are the orders for the six boats to be employed, with the names of the officers and men to be engaged in this service.’ The cheers and the shouts that they ‘would follow me to a man,’ Hamilton wrote later, ‘greatly increased my hopes, and I had little doubt of succeeding’. (The scene is shown in the oil painting by Lt-Col Harold Wyllie, specially commissioned for this book, facing page 272.)
As the officers read out the names of the men and their boats, the excitement in the frigate increased. The disappointed men who had not been chosen to go are reputed to have offered cash to their more fortunate shipmates to change places.
Hamilton’s confidence can only have been in his men: the task he had set himself in cutting out the Hermione was otherwise an almost hopeless one. He knew where she was moored—in an apparently impregnable position—and his boats could not carry more than one hundred seamen and Marines. If there was no wind—or, even worse, a foul wind—at least half those men would have to stay in the boats and tow the Hermione out, leaving only fifty to board and capture the ship.…
Puerto Cabello harbour, formed by a large lagoon with its entrance on the west side, was bounded to the north—the seaward side—by sandy islands, with the eastern and southern sides merging into swampy cays of mangrove. The town stands on the south side of the entrance and the actual anchorage (at that time a small basin on the north side of the lagoon called Great Bay) was linked to the entrance by a half-mile-long channel which was too narrow to allow ships to tack. With a foul wind, they had to be towed in or out. The Hermione was moored with her stern towards the entrance and her starboard side facing the town.
The whole lagoon was well guarded: on the north side of the entrance stood St Philip’s Castle; to the south, beyond the town, was another large castle, with a third, Fort Brava, also covering the entrance. Hamilton had few illusions about the defences—‘there are about two hundred pieces of cannon mounted on the batteries,’ he wrote.
His attack had to have two main aims: first, to achieve complete surprise—that alone would reduce the odds considerably, since his boarders might then have a sporting chance of overwhelming the Spaniards actually on deck; and secondly, he would have to get the Hermione under way as soon as possible—even though his men would probably sti
ll be fighting for possession of the ship. If there was no wind or it was foul, so that he had to tow her out with boats, then half a dozen out of the 200 Spanish guns sweeping the lagoon with round and grapeshot could rapidly reduce the boats to matchwood and, if the Spanish gunners were made of stern enough stuff to fire on their own countrymen, they could easily sink the frigate even before she reached the channel leading from the anchorage. Once clear of the entrance, however, Hamilton would be able to get help from the Surprise.
The written instructions he had given his officers were detailed right down to the names of the actual seamen and Marines forming the crew of each boat. All the men were to wear blue or black clothing: no one was to carry anything white, which might show up in the darkness. The rendezvous for the boarders would be the Hermione’s quarterdeck; the pass word was ‘Britannia’ and the answer ‘Ireland’—perhaps in deference to the fact that Hamilton’s family originally came from Ireland, though his father had settled at Chilston in Kent.
The six boats were to be divided into two divisions, each of three boats. There were to be two alternative methods of attack—one to be used if the alarm was raised before they reached the Hermione and the ship strongly defended; the other in case they managed to get alongside without being spotted.
The first division (consisting of the launch, pinnace and jolly-boat) would board from starboard, which was the town side, while the second division (the gig, and the two cutters, which were distinguished by their colours, one being red and the other black) would attack from the larboard side.
The pinnace, leading the expedition as well as the first division, would be commanded by Captain Hamilton, and with him would be the Gunner, Mr John Maxwell, a midshipman and sixteen seamen. They would all board the Hermione at the starboard gangway, and make straight for the quarterdeck, except for four men who would immediately climb aloft to loose the maintopsail.
The launch, commanded by Lt William Wilson, the acting First Lieutenant, with a midshipman and twenty-four men, would board over the Hermione’s starboard bow, but three men were to stay in the boat and cut the anchor cables. These were likely to be at least 17-inch rope (each anchor weighed nearly two tons) and Hamilton had already thought of the difficulty and confusion there would be if three men were crowded together, leaning over the side of the boat as they slashed away with axes: he had therefore ordered the carpenter to construct a small platform over the launch’s stern and quarters on which the axe men could stand.
The jolly-boat, under the Carpenter, would carry ten men and get alongside on the starboard quarter. While three men with axes stayed behind to cut the stern cables, the rest were to board the Hermione. Two would go aloft immediately and loose the mizen-topsail.
The first boat in the second division would be commanded by, of all people, the Surgeon, Mr John M’Mullen, who had volunteered for the job. Since Hamilton was short of officers—the First Lieutenant had of course died of his wounds after the attack on the schooner at Aruba—he gladly accepted. There would be sixteen other men in the gig, and they were to board over the larboard bow, sending four men aloft immediately to loose the foretopsail.
The black cutter, commanded by Lt Robert Hamilton (no relation to the captain), with the Marine Lieutenant, Mr de la Tour du Pin, and sixteen men, most of them Marines, would board at the larboard gangway and make for the quarterdeck. The red cutter, commanded by the Boatswain, with sixteen men, would board over the larboard quarter.
That was the plan of attack if the alarm had been raised before the boats reached the frigate, because in that case everyone—except the axemen and topmen—who could wield a boarding pike, tomahawk or cutlass would be needed for actual fighting. However, if they reached the Hermione undetected, Hamilton knew that surprise would be a valuable ally and he would need fewer boarders. The most important task would be to get the ship under way at once—either under sail if the wind served, or by using the boats to tow—and out of range of the shore batteries.
Therefore in his plan each boat had its normal crew, plus boarders and the necessary axemen and topmen. If the alarm had been raised, both normal crews and boarders—all but the axemen—would board; but if they really lived up to their ship’s name and achieved surprise, only the boarders would do the fighting: the boat’s crews would stay in their respective craft and take the Hermione in tow as soon as the axemen had cut the cables. For towing, each boat would be equipped with hook ropes (which were simply ropes six or eight fathoms long, each with a hook spliced into one end).
So much for the plans. On board the Surprise the boat commanders soon had their boarding parties and crews grouped round them, picking men for special tasks, Lt Wilson chose three strong men to wield the axes to cut the bow cables for instance, while the Gunner picked four of the best topmen to loose the maintopsail.
Cutlasses and tomahawks were handed out; boarding pikes were taken down from the racks round the masts and issued. The Carpenter produced three heavy axes for the launch men and three more for the jolly-boat, and set his crew to work making the platforms. The grindstones were brought up from below and set spinning while the men crowded round, anxious to put a sharp edge on their cutlasses, pikes and tomahawks.
The Marines under their Lieutenant checked their muskets, powder and shot, made sure the flints in the locks were good ones, and then sharpened their bayonets. Cloths were brought out ready to wrap round the mechanism of muskets and pistols to protect them from spray. The looms of the oars were bound with sacking and smeared with tallow, so that they should not click and squeak in the rowlocks.
The chatter of the excited men, the rumbling and grating of the grindstones, the hammering and sawing of the Carpenter’s crew busy on the platforms, must have pleased Hamilton—a man who, for all his faults, did not lack daring and initiative and, in action, the quality of leadership. Soon the sun set and dusk gave way to darkness as the Surprise tacked inshore to get as close as possible without warning the Spaniards. Suddenly—or so it seemed to the busy men—it was 7.30 p.m., and time to hoist out the boats. Hamilton had ordered that the boarding parties were to take the first spell at the oars—until they were roughly halfway to Puerto Cabello. They would then hand over to the normal boats’ crews and have a brief rest before the actual attack.
Finally Mr Made, the Master, who was being left in command of the ship, noted laconically in his log: ‘At 8 the boats under the command of Captain Hamilton left the ship to attempt to bring His Majesty’s late Ship Hermione out of Porto Cabello.’
The launch headed the little convoy, and while the Coxswain steered, using a compass lit by a small and well-shielded lantern, Captain Hamilton looked towards the shore with his night glass to pick out the hills behind Puerto Cabello and get his bearings.
The wind was falling away, leaving a lumpy swell. This made it hard work for the men bending to the oars, but on the other hand the fleeting shadows thrown by the swell waves as they chased each other silently through the night made it more likely that any Spanish guard boats rowing round the Hermione might mistake the silhouettes of the British boats for innocent crests surging into the lagoon.
When the boats—which were linked to each other by ropes, so that none should fall astern or get lost—were half way to the shore, Captain Hamilton ordered the normal crews to take over from the men at the oars, and the perspiring and tired boarders thankfully took up their cutlasses and pikes and settled down for the long wait. The launch once again got under way, followed by the other five boats, and headed for the shore: towards the possibility of glory and prize-money for them all; towards the probability of death or maiming for many; towards the certainty of 200 shore guns (plus the Hertmone’s own broadside if her men were alert). If the Spanish kept their heads even half a dozen of the guns could lay down such a barrage of roundshot, grape, chainshot and canister that the lagoon would be eut up like the surface of a pond in a hailstorm, and no boat could hope to survive.
Silence in the boats was essential: each of
the men had been examined before leaving the Surprise to make certain he had not stoked up his courage with a hoarded tot of rum that would make him careless or loquacious. Nevertheless, a man shifting a cramped leg usually caused someone else’s cutlass to clatter or an oarsman, not dipping the blade deep ‘caught a crab’ with the resulting hiss from the boat commander of ‘Quiet there!… Pull together… Don’t rattle that dam’ hanger!’
Soon Captain Hamilton could make out the entrance of the lagoon. To the left, beyond the chain of sandy islets forming the seaward side, was the dark bulk of the Hermione and other ships at anchor. A few lighted windows showed the town, and it was not difficult to pick out the three fortresses.
There was less swell as they closed the shore and the men who did not normally smoke or chew tobacco could soon detect the stench of the mangrove swamps and mud. Were there Spanish guard boats rowing to and fro across the entrance to the lagoon? Or would they be inside, circling the ships? There was a chance—just a chance—that the Spaniards were slack enough not to be rowing guard at all.
The tiny British convoy was within a mile of the Hermione when suddenly Hamilton spotted two Spanish guard boats in the darkness, and a moment later the flash and boom as the cannon in one of them fired showed that the British craft had been sighted. The echoes had hardly zigzagged back and forth across the lagoon, setting the wild birds and animals shrieking, before the cannon in the second boat was fired, followed by the popping of musketry.
A few moments later a drum started rattling its urgent call to arms on board the Hermione: sleepy-eyed Spaniards began tumbling from their hammocks, and groping their way in the darkness to their quarters, while in the forts on shore the gunners in the batteries, for the moment without the slightest idea what was happening, grabbed shot and cartridges.