by Dean King
Thus, my dear Sir, you have the most interesting particulars of this brilliant affair. I have other anecdotes in store; which I reserve until we meet to talk over this, as well as other occurrences, that have happened since we parted. I cannot, however, conclude my letter without remarking, for your satisfaction, knowing you to be a particular man, that the time mentioned in the narrative is taken from the minutes kept on board the VICTORY. Some difference occurs between them and those kept on board other ships; but I have thought proper to follow the former, conceiving them to be the most correct. In the hope of our meeting in a few days, I remain,
MY DEAR SIR, &C.
J. DRINKWATER.
A MEETING WITH NELSON
On the morning of the 15th, Sir Gilbert Elliot proceeded to offer to the British admiral his congratulations on the success of the previous day. Lord Garlies of course accompanied him.1 I was to have been of this party, and was actually descending the side ladder, when, being in uniform, it was discovered that I was without side-arms, for which I returned; but, when I got back to the gangway, the place destined for me was occupied by another person. My friends kindly offered to make room for me, but as this could not be done without occasioning great inconvenience to the whole party, I reluctantly gave up the intention of accompanying them.
My disappointment, however, was amply made up by what took place immediately after the Lively’s barge had left the frigate. A boat was seen approaching the Lively on the opposite side, and I heard with surprise, and no little pleasure, that Nelson was on board of her. Seeing me on the quarter-deck, the commodore immediately approached me, offering his hand, which I seized with a most cordial grasp, expressing, at the same time, my high admiration of the gallant conduct of the Captain on the preceding day, and my warmest congratulations on the success of the battle.
“Where is Sir Gilbert?” was his first inquiry “Gone with Lord Garlies to the Victory,” was my reply.—“I hoped,” he rejoined, “to have caught him before he saw the admiral, but come below with me,” and he led the way to the cabin.
Seated alone with the commodore, I renewed in the most expressive terms, my congratulations on his safety from the perils of such a fight, and on the very distinguished part he had personally taken in the action, of which many particulars had by this time reached the Lively. He received my compliments with great modesty, though evidently with great satisfaction. I then remarked that, as the Lively would bear the glorious news to England, I should feel much obliged by his giving me as many particulars of the proceedings of his ship, the Captain, and of his own conduct in the capture of the two ships, as he was disposed to communicate. Our intimacy was such that I felt no difficulty in drawing from him these details; and this circumstance will be an apology for my making these remarks with such great freedom. I observed to him that the position of the Captain appeared to all of us in the Lively to be for a long time most extraordinary and unaccountable. We had expected every instant to see the ship annihilated by the overpowering force to which she was singly opposed. In the animation of conversation, I went so far as to ask, “How came you, commodore, to get into that singular and perilous situation?” He good-naturedly replied, “I’ll tell you how it happened. The admiral’s intention, I saw, was to cut off the detached squadron of eight sail and afterwards attack the main body, weakened by this separation. Observing, however, as our squadron advanced and became engaged with the enemy’s ships, that the main body of the enemy were pushing to join their friends to leeward, by passing in the rear of our squadron, I thought, unless by some prompt and extraordinary measure, the main body could be diverted from this course, until Sir John (at that time in action in the Victory) could see their plan, his well arranged designs on the enemy would be frustrated. I therefore ordered the Captain to wear, and passing the rear of our squadron, directed Captain Miller to steer for the centre of the enemy’s fleet, where was their admiral-in-chief, seconded by two three-deckers, hoping by this proceeding to confound them, and, if possible, make them change their course (as he did), and thus afford Sir John Jervis time to see their movements, and take measures to follow up his original intention.”—I do not say that Nelson expressed himself in exactly the above words, but his statement was to the same effect.12
In compliance with my request, he then gave me the details of his boarding the St. Nicholas, and afterwards the St. Josef, which are given in the original Narrative, adding the following particulars:—“I saw (and then he spoke with increased animation) that from the disabled state of the Captain, and the effective attack of the approaching British ships, I was likely to have my beaten opponent taken from me; I therefore decided to board the St Nicholas, which I had chiefly fought and considered to be my prize. Orders were given to lay the Captain aboard of her: the spritsail-yard passed into her mizen rigging. Lieutenant Berry with the ship’s boarders, and Captain Pearson with the 69th regiment (acting as marines on board the Captain), soon got possession of the enemy’s ship. Assisted by one of the sailors, I got from the fore-chains into the quarter-gallery through the window, and thence through the cabin to the quarter-deck, where I found my gallant friends already triumphant.” He then gave me the details of the extraordinary circumstances attending his afterwards getting possession of the St. Josef. Of course, my high admiration of his conduct was often expressed, as he proceeded, in giving me these very interesting particulars, of which I made pencil notes on a scrap of paper I found at hand; and these communications from my gallant friend were the more valuable from their being made before he had seen any other officer of the fleet, except Captain G. Martin, of the Irresistible, to which ship he had repaired for refreshment and repose, until the Captain, his own ship, almost a wreck in her rigging, &c., could be put into manageable order.
Towards the conclusion of this interesting interview, I repeated my cordial felicitations at his personal safety, after such very perilous achievements. I then adverted to the honors that must attend such distinguished services. “The admiral,” I observed, “of course will be made a peer, and his seconds in command noticed accordingly. As for you, commodore,” I continued, “they will make you a baronet.” The word was scarcely uttered, when placing his hand on my arm, and looking me most expressively in the face, he said, “No, no: if they want to mark my services, it must not be in that manner.”—“Oh!” said I, interrupting him, “you wish to be made a Knight of the Bath,” for I could not imagine that his ambition, at that time, led him to expect a peerage. My supposition proved to be correct, for he instantly answered me, “Yes; if my services have been of any value, let them be noticed in a way that the public may know me—or them.” I cannot distinctly remember which of these terms was used, but, from his manner, I could have no doubt of his meaning, that he wished to bear about his person some honorary distinction, to attract the public eye, and mark his professional services.
This casual discovery of Nelson’s peculiar feelings on this subject was not forgotten, or without consequences. As was expected, his Majesty, in reward for Nelson’s distinguished conduct, had intended to create him a baronet. Sir Gilbert Elliot, who took a warm interest in Nelson’s welfare, called on me in London to impart this news; when I made known to him the purport of my conversation on board the Lively, and suggested that it was advisable to make this circumstance known to the government. Sir Gilbert saw the matter in the same light. He lost no time in communicating what had passed on this subject to some member of the cabinet, Lord Spencer, I believe, who was then at the head of the Admiralty Board, and his lordship took steps to meet Nelson’s wishes, in the manner most likely to gratify his feelings, by obtaining for him, instead of a baronetcy, the Order of the Bath, although, for that purpose, it was necessary to make him an extra knight.
What I had noticed in the above interview with Nelson, agreed perfectly with the opinion I formed from all I observed during our subsequent acquaintance. The attainment of public honours, and an ambition to be distinguished above his fellows, were his master passi
ons. His conduct was constantly actuated by these predominant feelings. It will account for the personal gratification he invariably evinced at receiving the many decorative honors presented to him by almost every power in Europe in amity with Great Britain; but, in reference to such distinctions, it may be observed, that if such pre-eminent talents as those of this most extraordinary man could be so cheaply purchased, the English nation, and indeed Europe, situated as she then was, had only to approve and applaud his moderation.
When Nelson quitted the Lively, he went on board the Victory to receive from his gallant Chief, Sir John Jervis, and from his friend, Sir Gilbert Elliot, those congratulations and commendations which he so highly merited.
HOMECOMING
There being little wind on the 15th of February, both fleets, as has been already remarked, remained almost becalmed in sight of each other. That of the enemy appeared in great disorder; the British squadron was concentrated. On the 16th, the British squadron was still off Cape St. Vincent, which, on account of the adverse wind, and the disabled state of the prizes, the squadron could not weather. If they could have passed to the westward of the Cape, it was thought the admiral would have proceeded to Lisbon.
During the day, some movements of the enemy indicating an intention of approaching the British squadron, Sir John, closely attentive to their proceedings, ordered the frigates to assemble round the Victory, to be at hand to act towards the prizes (which, in case of a renewal of hostilities, might embarrass him) in such manner as circumstances might point out.
Various reports were in circulation regarding their disposal in case of another action. Amongst other measures, it was rumoured that it had been suggested to run the four prizes ashore on the coast of Portugal, and to leave the Spanish crews to shift for themselves. All conjecture on this head was, however, removed in the afternoon: finding it not practicable to get round Cape St. Vincent, the admiral made the signal to bear away for Lagos Bay, a few leagues to leeward, where the squadron and the prizes came to anchor in the evening.3
On the 17th, despatches were sent off by land to Lisbon, giving information of the late victory. In the course of the day, intelligence reached Sir John, through an American trader, that a large three-decker, supposed to be the Santissima Trinidad, had been seen off Cape St. Mary’s, in distress, with an English frigate hovering round her. Two frigates were in consequence detached to bring her in, or to destroy her; but although the disabled ship proved to be the ship in question, her crew at length contrived to get her into port.
The 18th of February proved to be calm, but a fine day. The Spanish fleet had now approached Cape St. Vincent, off which they were seen, in number, twenty-two ships of the line, manoeuvring, as well as they were able, to form a line-of-battle.
Arrangements having by this time been made with the Portuguese authorities at Lagos, for the reception of the Spanish prisoners of war, they were landed this day, to the number of about 2,300 men, and commenced their march to the eastward for the Spanish frontier. In the afternoon, a large Spanish frigate that had hugged the shore, under cover of a small headland, forming the western point of the Bay of Lagos, suddenly appeared, almost within shot of the British squadron. The Lively’s signal was made to slip and chace, but the enemy no sooner saw his danger, than he hauled his wind, and, crowding all sail, stood for the Spanish fleet, then drawing off from the land, and the Lively’s signal was annulled. At night, two of the British frigates were chaced into the anchorage of the fleet by one of the enemy’s line-of-battle ships. On Sunday, the 19th of February, Captain Robert Calder, captain of the fleet, came on board the Lively, with the admiral’s despatches, of which he was to be the bearer to England. About noon, the Lively got under way, and the wind having become favorable, and blowing fresh, she soon doubled Cape St. Vincent, seeing nothing of the Spanish fleet, and before night-fall, had left the British squadron far behind.
The Lively lay her course towards England until the 23rd of February, when the wind changed to the eastward. On the 25th, she had got into soundings, but the adverse easterly wind prevented her advancing up the Channel. By the 28th, the Lively had weathered the Scilly Islands, and passed to the northward, between those islands and the Lands End. There being little prospect of any change of wind, and Captain Calder being very impatient to reach London with his good news, he desired Lord Garlies to put him on shore at St. Ive’s, where he landed, giving express orders that no letters, nor any other person except himself and servant should be allowed to land. Some idea was then entertained that the Lively might make for Milford Haven, but our good fortune interposed to defeat this project, which, had it been carried into effect, might have brought the frigate into contact with a French flying squadron, then hovering off the coast of South Wales, and which had landed a body of troops near Fishguard. It was luckily decided to return to the English Channel, where the frigate contrived to contend for some days against a stiff Levanter, until she had got abreast of the Eddystone, when seeing little prospect of any alteration in the wind, and anxious to get on shore, Sir Gilbert Elliot requested Lord Garlies to land him and his party at Plymouth; and, in a few hours after our course was changed, I had the satisfaction (which is only to be felt and understood by those who have been absent long on foreign service) of finding myself once more in old England.
We landed on Sunday, the 5th of March. Being the messengers of such glorious news as the defeat of the Spanish grand fleet, the rumour of which, it was concluded, would have already reached Plymouth, we anticipated a most joyful reception. We expected, on our reaching the shore, that the Lively’s arrival would have been hailed with the customary congratulations and rejoicings; but the people who received us, did not even enquire whence she came. Not a word nor a sign of welcome met our landing. Captain Calder had kept his good news so secret, that not a whisper of it had reached Plymouth, where, not a little to our surprise, we saw nothing but long faces and desponding looks in all classes.
We were not, however, long in learning the cause of this appearance and behaviour. Before we could tell them our gratifying intelligence, they announced to us the news (which had reached them that morning from the metropolis) of the shutting up of the National Bank of England, and the general suspension of cash payments. The union of the Spanish with the French fleets, they added, was considered as certain. Some flying squadrons of the latter were then known to be in the Irish channel, and the usual alarm of invasion universally prevailed. Nothing but England’s disgrace and downfall was foretold and talked of throughout the kingdom.
After listening to these discouraging details for some time, we availed ourselves of the first favorable opening to relieve them of some of their apprehensions. Immediate invasion, we said, was not to be looked for. Sir John Jervis had retarded, if not entirely defeated that measure; and we then made known the particulars of the glorious Battle of St. Valentine’s day. For some time they would scarcely give our statements credit; and even when at length the fact was forced on their belief, such was the panic then prevailing that we could only collect at Plymouth, from the admiral, the general, and other friends, fifteen guineas in gold, towards enabling the viceroy, and his party of six individuals, and their servants, to pay their travelling expenses to the metropolis.
I cannot better conclude these anecdotes than by recording a conversation which I had with Nelson on the very next occasion of my seeing him. After the battle of St. Vincent, it is well known that he was actively employed in the bombardment of Cadiz, and subsequently detached on a special service to Santa Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe, where he met with the injury which caused him the loss of his right arm. He had returned to England, and was still suffering severely from the effects of the amputation, when I was allowed to see him. This was just before the victory of Camperdown [October 11, 1797] and intelligence of interest was hourly expected to arrive from Admiral Duncan’s fleet. One of the first questions which Nelson put to me, was whether I had been at the Admiralty. I told him there was a rumour that
the British fleet had been seen engaged with that of Holland. He started up in his peculiar energetic manner, notwithstanding Lady Nelson’s attempts to quiet him, and stretching out his unwounded arm—“Drinkwater,” said he, “I would give this other arm to be with Duncan at this moment”; so unconquerable was the spirit of the man, and so intense his eagerness to give every instant of his life to the service of his country.
The Battle of Cape St. Vincent represented sea warfare on a grand scale. Steel’s Naval Chronologist of the War records that the British had 73 men killed and 223 wounded, while the enemy had, in just the four ships taken, 261 killed and 342 wounded, and in all some 5,000 killed, wounded, and captured. Admiral Jervis was created an earl (St. Vincent) and awarded an annual pension of £3,000. Vice-Admiral Thompson and Rear-Admiral Parker were created barronets. Nelson was invested with the Order of the Bath.
At the other end of the scale, Jacob Nagle is about to engage in warfare almost of a personal nature. The western coastal waters of Spain and Portugal are virtually lawless, that is until the Netley, a happy and somewhat rapacious British schooner commanded by Captain Francis Bond, arrives.
1 George, Viscount Garlies, was the Scottish captain of HMS Lively. In 1806, he succeeded his father as Earl of Galloway and was promoted to rear admiral in 1810.
2 I have since often heard Commodore Nelson’s conduct, in the above transaction, variously commented on. According to the strict rules of discipline, some persons say the Captain should not have quitted the British line-of-battle without orders. The strength of Sir John Jervis’s squadron lay in its compactness, and the loss of one ship, from any cause, where the numbers opposed to each other were so disproportionate, might have defeated the British admiral’s maneuvers, and even have endangered the safety of the whole. Others have remarked, and apparently with good grounds, that when Nelson saw the necessity of some immediate and bold measure to disconcert the enemy, and had decided on the step he took, he should not have gone alone, but have taken with his own seventy-four, all the ships in his rear; and if we may judge from results, and the success of one ship, there can be no doubt that the attack of the Captain, supported by two or three others, must have been more effective, and the victory of the day would, in that case, have been more complete. In these comments there seems to be reason and good sense; but in warfare, circumstances must often arise which baffle principles, and customary modes of proceeding. Nelson, no doubt, saw the conduct of the Spanish admiral in its true light: his decision and boldness astonished and confounded the enemy, who were thus taken by surprise, and unprepared for such singular resolution. The measure succeeded, and to this movement, hazardous as it was, may chiefly be attributed the success of the day.