by Roger Knight
I am fully persuaded from the haughtiness of his [Stuart’s] manner you never would have agreed; for tho’ I believe he is a man of parts and enterprise, he cannot possibly bear any difference of opinion from his own and [he is] certainly the least accommodating of any man upon earth. Sir Ralph, on the contrary, I hold to be a reasonable, considerate, good officer, and listens with temper and patience to every proposal made to him.78*
In April 1800 Abercromby set sail southwards with 5,000 troops for the Mediterranean, though his orders were vague. An attempt to land at Belle Isle was abandoned. On 24 July the cabinet decided on attacks on Ferrol and on Cádiz. Both operations were a shambles: in neither were troops actually landed. Relations between Abercromby, the Scots general, and Keith, the Scots admiral, were distant. Of the scene off Cádiz, Colonel John Moore wrote to his father: ‘It is not to be described the bad management and confusion which attended the assembling of the boats; it was increased by the ships being under sail.’ Another army officer wrote: ‘The business was most sadly bitched.’79 Lord Cornwallis, the most respected senior general, wrote at the time that the army was ‘the scorn and laughing stock of friends and foes’.80 Rumours reached London that army and naval commanders overseeing the aborted attack had been on different ships. Ministers knew well that it was the prickly and defensive Keith who was being difficult. He received separate letters from Spencer and Dundas that had obviously been coordinated, since both mention the same points and were written on the same day; and the absolute requirement for cooperation between army and navy was stressed in each. The kindly Spencer was outspoken, but Dundas’s letter was downright threatening. If it was true that the two commanders were on different ships, he wrote,
[it] is a new circumstance in a conjunct expedition, and appears to me calculated to lose many valuable hours which might be employed occasionally in connecting your ideas and concerting your future operations … If unfortunately there does exist for it even the smallest foundation I must conjure both of you … that you would extirpate from your minds every remnant of so pernicious a weed, which if allowed to grow into any magnitude will not fail ultimately to confuse the service in which you are engaged. If from such a course the fatal day of failure should arise, the public will not stoop so far from its chagrin and resentment as to enquire where the blame lay, but will consign to disgrace the fame of those who have brought so great a calamity upon them.81
The secretary for war could not make it more plain that, in the event of failure, it would be Keith who would shoulder any blame. Though relations between Abercromby and Keith were never close, cooperation now improved to such an extent that, five months later, they achieved brilliant success.
By March 1800 Keith had accumulated thirty-two chartered transports in the Mediterranean, totalling 10,545 tons, almost all in the Western Mediterranean: ten were at Gibraltar, unloading stores from England; three were troopships for the Minorca garrison; six victuallers and storeships were at Minorca, together with three carrying ordnance stores; and another five were at Palermo in Sicily, being used to bring men and stores to Malta.82 The French garrison on the island had finally surrendered in September 1800 to the besieging British troops under General Graham, giving the cabinet, after much debate, the confidence to send Abercromby’s forces to Egypt in an attempt to dislodge the French Army, which had occupied the country since 1798. It was a high-risk strategy, but the cabinet, pushed on by Dundas, now scented the possibility for peace, and a strong card was required for the negotiating table. On 19 November, Abercromby reached Malta, where the regiments and reinforcements were sorted out, and the sick taken off. Only three soldiers’ wives per regiment were allowed to proceed with the 14,000 troops. Heart-rending scenes were acted out as those women not allowed to sail were put ashore when the signal was flown for sailing on 12 December.83 Abercromby himself was not confident: ‘I never went on any service entertaining greater doubts of success … there are risks in the British service unknown to any other.’84
In the customary blowing winter weather in the Mediterranean, Keith took his warships and forty troop-carrying warships with Abercromby’s 14,000 soldiers eastwards from Malta, intending to anchor at Rhodes or in the Gulf of Macri.85 Some soldiers had come from England and been afloat for many months, their sea journey broken only by short periods ashore. The Inflexible, a converted 64-gun ship of 1,385 tons, was crewed by 120 seamen, and transported 605 officers and men, leaving Dover on 14 May 1800, picking up more at Cork and Port Mahon.86 The Thisbe, a 28-gun frigate of 596 tons – which before conversion to a troopship had had a full fighting complement of 121 seamen, now reduced to 89 – transported 286 troops of the 2nd Foot, commanded by the earl of Dalhousie. His soldiers were crowded and on two thirds allowance of provisions.87 They lay under blankets, their clothes in tatters, for their replacement uniforms were aboard a storeship that had yet to arrive. Dalhousie cursed the ship’s officers, ‘vulgar blackguards, that would do anything to disoblige us or annoy a soldier’.88 As the fleet sailed towards the coast of southern Turkey, where Keith expected Turkish reinforcements and supplies, morale was low.
Then their luck started to turn. Strong winds prevented Keith from reaching the Gulf of Macri, but the fleet fell in with the Peterel sloop, commanded by a young lieutenant, Charles Inglis, who had been cruising in the area. The spectacular Bay of Marmaris had not been surveyed and charted, but Inglis had been there a month before, so he volunteered to take the fleet in.89* The southerly wind made it a lee shore; the sloop’s log records: ‘Strong gales and squally with lightning and rain.’90 It was a dramatic moment. The entrance to the Bay of Marmaris is narrow and hidden by perpendicular, lofty and rocky cliffs that plunge into water as deep as the cliffs are high. Inglis informed a brother officer, ‘It was an arduous undertaking, considering circumstances – a gale of wind, hazy weather, a lee shore and dangerous coast. I fortunately pricked for the port within a quarter of a mile, although during the day we hardly ever saw half a mile ahead.’91 According to Midshipman George Parsons, matters were very tense on the quarterdeck of the Foudroyant, Keith’s flagship. He reported that the normally tight-lipped Keith shouted out,
‘God be praised for this great mercy!’ … uncovering and bowing his head with great devotion … The entrance of Marmorice now became distinctly visible to all on deck, from the contrast of the deep still water to the creamy froth on the shore … We now entered the spacious and splendid harbour, circular in its form, and more than twenty miles in circumference.92
The next night, Dalhousie and his officers celebrated Hogmanay ashore around a huge log fire, drinking to the new century. The brandy left them distinctly hung over the next morning.93
Fleet and army spent seven weeks there, waiting for supplies and reinforcements from the Turks, and for the wind to ease. On 20 January the troops were put on full rations. They put the time to good use by perfecting landing manoeuvres, Abercromby ensuring that army and naval cooperation flourished. During these weeks of recuperation, Keith carefully made several matters clear to Abercromby by letter. He would comply with requests for men to help the army, but,
The crews of the troopships are so short, and their anchors and cables so heavy in proportion to their strength, that your Excellency must be sensible, when their boats are employed in transporting provisions, water, etc., few, or no, men can be drawn from them; and from the transports and victuallers, nothing more can be expected than crews for their long boats, and others to tow them after which many of them will not have four men left on board.94
On 22 February 1801, Keith’s fleet left the shelter of Marmaris Bay for Egypt. It totalled 175 ships: a handful of warships, forty troopships, many transports from England, the rest consisting of polacres, xebecs and feluccas gathered from the ports of Asia, the Aegean and the Adriatic.95 Rough weather again prevailed, and the fleet did not sight the Egyptian coast until 1 March. Twenty miles from Alexandria, the plan was to land at Aboukir Bay, which they reached by 3 March. Unable to sai
l nearer the shore because of shallow water, the troopships and transports were anchored two miles out. On 7 March the Peterel ‘Answered a general signal to cook three days Provisions for the troops etc.’96
The French Army commander, General Menou, had not taken the threat of a British landing at Aboukir seriously and the local commander, General Friant, had only 2,000 infantry and cavalry at his disposal, though he was confident of defeating a landing. He had three iron cannon and a dozen field guns which would play havoc with the boats filled with troops.97 On 8 March, British regiments were rowed ashore by ships’ boats and landed in concentrated numbers: 3,000 men in fifty-eight flat-bottomed boats, supported on each side by cutters with 6-pounders mounted in their bows. They were followed by a second flotilla of eighty-four boats, each carrying thirty men. The third flotilla consisted of fourteen launches, towed by thirty-seven cutters, carrying the guns.98 Under fire, several of the boats were hit and sank. Colonel Henry Bunbury described the scene:
So closely were our soldiers packed in the boats that they could not move, and indeed the strictest orders had been given that they should sit perfectly still. The seamen pulled steadily onward, the pace of each boat being regulated by that on the extreme right. In this calm order on they came, till they were within reach of grapeshot, and then the fire became terribly severe and destructive. Some boats were sunk, and many of our men were killed or wounded as they sat motionless and helpless.99
The wounded were ferried back to the two hospital ships. A naval officer who was present blamed ‘the confusion of the transport boats on our left’.100 But after their weeks of training, the troops remained calm, and they formed up in perfect order on the beach.101 The fighting was intense. The smaller French army was swept from the beach and sand dunes in minutes, which was fortunate, since the wind was too strong the next day to land more troops.102 It was, however, novel to see Frenchmen retreating: the restoration of the reputation of the British Army had begun.
Almost seven years later, under a very different government, three conjunct operations took place that defined the rest of the war. The first, against Copenhagen in August and September 1807, was a brilliant success, and benefited from a united cabinet solidly behind the pre-emptive action. The possibility of hostilities against Denmark had long been anticipated, and naval preparations had started a year before, when Tom Grenville was first lord in his brother’s short-lived Talents ministry. Grenville had the masters attendant of the dockyards survey the ships in ordinary and then refit 64- and 74-gun ships, which drew less water and so were suitable for the shallow Baltic. By the time his administration ended in April 1807, he had ordered twelve of them to Great Yarmouth, to be followed by four more, commanded by Rear-Admiral Keats.103 Moreover, by the summer of 1807 Castlereagh, now secretary of state for war, also had troops at his disposal. A further 8,000 of the King’s German Legion were already on the island of Rügen. A further 16,500 had been gathered in Britain intended for service in Germany. Thirty-eight warships were mustered in Yarmouth Roads, accompanied by 400 transports.104
Transporting the troops in high summer went smoothly, and Copenhagen was invested on 17 August by 24,500 troops. The Danes were surprised and indignant; the main Danish army was in Jutland because of the French threat, and forced to remain there by British naval ships.105 Good relations between Admiral Gambier, the naval commander, and Lord Cathcart, the army commander, together with initiative from more junior officers, including Sir Arthur Wellesley, led to a successful operation. The three-day bombardment of Copenhagen and the deaths of numerous civilians sickened many, including the highly religious Gambier; and the legality of the pre-emptive attack was thought dubious, with George III, in particular, disapproving – but, in operational terms, the expedition could hardly have gone more smoothly.106 Seventeen Danish ships of the line were seized and sailed back to England.*
The second operation was a success retrieved from a potential disaster, when warships and transports evacuated Sir John Moore’s retreating army at Corunna in January 1809, the army which had been transported from England only months before. Moore was pursued by a French army under Marshal Soult, but a courageous rearguard action kept the French at bay, though Moore was killed. Rear-Admiral Sir Samuel Hood, with some warships and 227 hastily chartered transports, was sent from England to bring them off. The skill of the masters and crews of the transports, combined with the strength and tenacity of the crews of the naval pulling boats, was pointedly demonstrated. Three thousand troops were evacuated from Vigo, and 25,097 exhausted troops were taken off the beach at Corunna, with the French Army at their heels and the transports themselves under fire. Five transports were grounded and had to be abandoned, though the soldiers were transferred to other ships.107 Four thousand barrels of gunpowder, just sent out from England, were blown up to avoid their being seized by the French. The explosion was witnessed by an army officer: ‘a magnificent sight, but it did great damage to the city which rocked as with an earthquake and several men were killed by the explosion’.108 Some cavalry horses were embarked, but most of them, worn out and lame, were shot on the shore. Another cavalry officer reported that ‘Our loss may be well imagined when I mention that we embarked 640 horses and brought home 60.’109
The chief agent for transports was Captain James Bowen, specially appointed by Lord Castlereagh; one of the key factors in the success of this operation was the close cooperation between him and Hood. Bowen reported later to the Transport Board that
The Tide being out when it commenced the troops were obliged to wade into the Boats up to their necks in water, the night was excessively dark, the transports were obliged to lie at a considerable distance, a gale of wind coming on as the tide flowed and the surf greatly endangering the safety of the Boats. To all this may be added the utmost efforts of a persevering enemy under whose fire more tremendous from its noise than from its effects. The latter part of the embarkation proceeded though he had not the satisfaction of sinking a boat or destroying a single man.110
Bowen praised the contribution of the transports and their crews, even though the well-crewed naval cutters and launches had made, according to Lord Melville in a speech in the House of Lords a year later, ten times as many trips as the boats from the transports.111 The explanation for this, reported Bowen, was that the crews of the naval boats and launches had had rest and sleep:
But the Agents and Crews of the Transports who had not this advantage supported the incessant toils of these first three days and two nights almost without refreshment, without rest and without a murmur and so exhausted at the conclusion as to be unable to pull to windward in the strong squalls. The general conduct of the transports has been highly meritorious notwithstanding the errors of a few: some stayed to get their allotment of troops long after the signal to weigh had been made.112
The wind got up in the final hours of the evacuation. Covered by the guns of the warships, the army rear-guard was embarked. Bowen brought off the last piquet of fourteen men of the 26th Regiment to Hood’s 98-gun flagship Barfleur. As he did so, the French entered the houses of St Lucia, as Bowen reported, ‘murdering stragglers’. The Barfleur crammed in 819 soldiers, small groups of officers and men from as many as twenty-three different regiments. Together with the crew of 500 seamen, a remarkable total of 1,371 men were on board.113 The larger, 110-gun Ville de Paris had a crew of 600 but embarked 743 soldiers, making a total of 1,343, among them General Sir David Baird and his staff, 40 soldiers’ wives and 7 children.114 The boats of the 74-gun Audacious destroyed the beached transports and took off General Hope, his staff and stragglers, taking a total of 308 soldiers to Portsmouth. Among the rescued on this ship were 13 wives and children and 33 French prisoners.115
The warships made the journey in four or five days, with gales and fresh southerly winds behind them. The slower transports took longer, and fog in the Channel and a south-easterly gale provided one more hurdle for the exhausted troops. Anchored safely in a transport at Spithead on 25 Ja
nuary, Major Lord Carnock of the 15th Hussars wrote in his journal: ‘Great apprehension entertained for the safety of the transports on account of the storm last night.’116 A good proportion of the evacuated army was billeted in Hurst Castle, bleak and isolated, and bitterly cold in winter, at the western end of the Solent.117
The ordeal of the rescued soldiers was not yet over, especially for those crowded into the transports. One eyewitness described the disembarking soldiers, who had
an appearance of much dirt and misery. The men were ragged, displaying torn garments of all colours; and the people of England, accustomed to witness the high order and unparalleled cleanliness of their national troops … and never having seen an army after the termination of a hard campaign, were horror-struck.118
Six thousand soldiers required immediate hospitalization. Those who landed at Plymouth were taken straight to the military hospital, while those at Portsmouth were landed at Haslar Naval Hospital, where the army had leased wards from the navy.119 Of 241 deaths at Plymouth, only twenty-five were caused by wounds; deaths from dysentery were twice those from typhus. According to the army surgeon James McGrigor: