by Dean King
The Redoubtable suffered so much from shot received between wind and water, that she sank while in tow of the Swiftsure on the following evening, when the gale came on; and out of a crew originally consisting of more than eight hundred men, only about a hundred and thirty were saved: but she had lost above three hundred in the battle.
It is by no means certain, though highly probable, that Lord Nelson was particularly aimed at by the enemy. There were only two Frenchmen left alive in the mizzen top of the Redoubtable at the time of his Lordship’s being wounded, and by the hands of one of these he fell. These men continued firing at captains Hardy and Adair, Lieutenant Rotely of the marines, and some of the midshipmen on the Victory’s poop, for some time afterwards. At length one of them was killed by a musket ball: and on the other’s then attempting to make his escape from the top down the rigging, Mr. Pollard (midshipman) fired his musket at him, and shot him in the back; when he fell dead from the shrouds, on the Redoubtable’s poop.
The writer of this will not attempt to depict the heartrending sorrow and melancholy gloom, which pervaded the breast and the countenance of every individual on board the Victory when his Lordship’s death became generally known. The anguish felt by all for such a loss, rendered doubly heavy to them, is more easy to be conceived than described: by his lamented fall they were at once deprived of their adored commander, and their friend and patron.
The battle was fought in soundings about sixteen miles to the westward of Cape Trafalgar; and if fortunately there had been more wind in the beginning of the action, it is very probable that Lord Nelson would still have been saved to his country, and that every ship of the line composing the Combined fleets would have been either captured or destroyed: for had the Victory been going fast through the water, she must have dismasted the Redoubtable, and would of course have passed on to attack another ship; consequently his Lordship would not have been so long nor so much exposed to the enemy’s musketry. From the same circumstance of there being but little wind, several of the enemy’s ships made off before the rear and bad sailing ships of the British lines could come up to secure them.
The Victory had no musketry in her tops: as his Lordship had a strong aversion to small arms being placed there, from the danger of their setting fire to the sails; which was exemplified by the destruction of the French ship L’Achille in this battle. It is a species of warfare by which individuals may suffer, and now and then a commander be picked off: but it never can decide the fate of a general engagement; and a circumstance in many respects similar to that of the Victory’s running on board of the Redoubtable, may not occur again in the course of centuries.
The loss sustained by the Victory amounted to fifty-five killed, and a hundred and two wounded; and it is highly honourable to the discipline and established regulations of the ship, that not one casualty from accident occurred on board during the engagement.
In 1806, Beatty was appointed physician to the Greenwich Hospital, where he remained until 1840, two years before his death. In 1807 he published An Authentic Narrative of the Death of Lord Nelson, with the Circumstances preceding, attending, and subsequent to that Event; the Professional Report of his Lordship’s Wound; and several Interesting Anecdotes. A second edition was published the following year.
On October 21, 1805, Nelson effectively ended any threat of a combined French and Spanish fleet being able to spearhead Napoleon’s desired invasion of Great Britain. It was, in fact, the last great fleet action of the age. From this point on, the Royal Navy controlled the seas, except for isolated instances. But on land the case was very different. As Christopher Lloyd observes in his book Lord Cochrane, “Before the end of 1807 the entire coastline from St. Petersburg to Lisbon was under the direct or indirect control of Napoleon. That control which culminated with the occupation of Spain by 100,000 men early in 1808, was not to last long; but at the moment it looked as if Napoleon’s Continental System would succeed in bleeding Britain white” (p. 42). On the water, however, Lloyd noted, “in 1808 Collingwood could write of the Mediterranean that there was ‘nothing but ourselves: it is lamentable to see what a desert the waters are become’” (p. 42).
William Henry Dillon
An Unequal Match
1807–1808
WHEN WE LAST HEARD from Midshipman William Dillon, he was engaged in the bloody lower-deck action of the Glorious First of June. He spent much of the next eight years on the West Indies station. From 1803 to 1807, Dillon was held in captivity by the French, after being detained while under a flag of truce off Holland. Now he returns to face the morass of government and Navy bureaucracy, all the more difficult to navigate as he was unlawfully detained and thus not necessarily considered by the British to be, technically, a prisoner of war. But Dillon perseveres in rallying as much influence at the Admiralty as he possibly can, primarily through Admiral Gambler, on whose ship Dillon served at the Glorious First of June (see page 12).
Finally, twenty-seven years old and entering the prime of his career, he anxiously returns to action, albeit with a somewhat disadvantageous commission.
SEPTEMBER 1807–JANUARY 1808
MY ARRIVAL IN LONDON was a new era in my existence. I lost no time in presenting myself to the Hon. Mr. Pole, the Secretary to the Admiralty, first of all delivering to him the secret information I had received in Paris relating to a certain number of troops collected in the neighbourhood of Brest, which were intended to be landed on the coast of Ireland. Our conversation was a long one, during which I acquainted him that I had ascertained while in Paris that the French Government had obtained our private naval signals. He admitted the fact, and remarked that, when he had taken office, the private signals were kept in an outer room, open to any person who chose to enter it. Consequently they found their way to our enemies. “However” said he, “I have altered all that. They are now secure.” He then desired me to call on Lord Mulgrave, the then First Lord of the Admiralty, about 12 o’clock. He would, he said, apprize his Lordship of my return to England, and ensure my being received.
I accordingly presented myself at the hour mentioned. My audience was a gracious one, but very cold. Many subjects were discussed, particularly the detention of Capt. Wright in the Temple, where he terminated his existence.1 His Lordship positively assured me that, if our Government could have ascertained the real facts of his case, a French officer would have been similarly treated by us. But all inquiries led to nothing certain. Some years afterwards Sir Sidney Smith visited the Temple and devoted much time in trying to find out the fate of that officer, who had served under him and become his personal friend. But all his exertions failed.
His Lordship made many inquiries about Mr. Temple’s escape,2 and I stated what little I knew of it. He then assured me that he had been dismissed the Navy—the Board could not sanction such conduct. The most extraordinary thing was, after what had passed between Lord Mulgrave and me about him, he was the first person I met upon coming out of the Admiralty. He made his bow and offered his hand. In doing so he had mistaken his man, as I turned my back upon him and passed by without acknowledgment. With Lord Mulgrave I left a memorial, stating what I suffered during my captivity, and my loss of promotion. He admitted that I had very strong claims on my country. I could not help mentioning the interest my friend Gambier took in my advancement. He was then before Copenhagen in command of the British fleet. “When he returns,” said I, “your Lordship will hear more of me than I can state myself.” As I was retiring his Lordship invited me to dine with him on the 24th.
My next duty was to present myself at the Transport Board. The Secretary, Mr. McLeay’s, reception I shall never forget. He greeted me with the warmth of an old friend. “Welcome to England,” he said. “I wish you joy! We have had trouble enough about you, and I’m heartily glad to see you at last. Your trial has been a severe one. Let us hope all will be right in good time.” When I was requested to attend the Board, I was very kindly received, Capt. Sir. Rupert George3 of the Navy being the chairma
n. I was overloaded with questions, and replied to them as far as my abilities would admit. They acknowledged that my confined position at Verdun would not admit of my communicating any intelligence of consequence. They expressed a proper feeling in behalf of our unfortunate countrymen, prisoners of war and those detained in France, at the same time frankly declaring that our government had done its best to effect an exchange; but all had failed. They cordially congratulated me upon my having obtained mine, and, after a very interesting conversation relating to our political position, I retired.
[Several passages omitted. He visits his stepmother at Brompton, and meets Mr. Loveden, the member for Shaftesbury and his father’s executor. He decides that Lady Dillon—and Brompton—are a little too dull and “out of the swim” for him: so he returns to his London hotel. Then in an ill moment for himself, he calls on Mr. Voller, “my old friend whose wife I had met in Boulogne,” only to find him recently deceased. But “Mrs. V.” insists on renewing the intimacy, and very evidently lays siege to his affections. Many of these references are erased, but it is clear that during this period he succumbed and reached an “arrangement” with the lady, whereby he was to marry her when he obtained post rank. Thereafter they spent much time in each other’s company]4
At Lord Mulgrave’s table I met many men of rank and fashion. I was seated next to Lord Palmerston, who had just commenced his political career. Sir Richard Bickerton5 managed the naval affairs in Gambier’s absence. Many questions were made to me by the company when they knew that I had just returned from Verdun. Sir Richard in particular failed not in inquisitiveness, and in conclusion remarked, “You don’t appear the worse for your detention in France.” I replied that I should feel sincere regret if any friend of mine underwent the same trials I had endured. He then drew in, without any further remarks.
I next applied to Lord Keith to interpose at the Admiralty in my behalf, as it was by being the bearer of his despatches that I was detained by the enemy. His Lordship instantly replied that my case gave me a claim upon the government, and I ought to be employed without the assistance of any influence. I next went to the Board of Agriculture, where I was informed by Mr. Arthur Young6 that Lord Carrington had been the principal means of getting me exchanged. His Lordship had rendered some very essential service to Sir Rupert George, the Chairman of the Transport Office, but that Board could do nothing in my favour until a proposal came from France. When my application arrived, requesting to be exchanged for Capt. Soleil, it was instantly granted. He advised me to lose no time in seeing his Lordship, who had been sincerely attached to my father. Mr. Young persuaded me to stay and dine with him, and the kind attentions I experienced from this gentleman and his family I can never forget.
When I went to Hampstead, I did not fail to call upon your worthy father7 and mother. Nothing could exceed the warmth of their reception. Your father more than once repeated, in terms highly gratifying to me, how much he approved of my conduct towards my father. Then, alluding to the Irish estate,8 he remarked that it had been disposed of for less than one sixteenth part of its value—not very pleasant information for me: but the deed was done, and I could not recover what was lost.
The next gentleman who expressed great anxiety to entertain me was Mr. Falconer, my friend the major’s brother. The latter’s case was certainly a hard one. He was on his way home from India, as aide de camp to General Sir David Baird. When captured by an enemy’s privateer, the major went on board the Frenchman to be answerable for his general’s person, who was allowed to remain in the Indiaman. One of our cruizers shortly afterwards recaptured the ship, and Sir David arrived safe in England. But the privateer escaped, and Falconer was sent to Verdun, where he remained many years, to the serious injury of his advancement in the Army.
Gradually I was allowed more leisure, and the sudden appearance of my old messmate Dr. Grey was a sort of relief to me, as I wanted a friend to consult. He had just left his ship, fully determined not to go to sea again. When he accompanied Capt. Brenton to England, it was understood that Grey was to go with him as his surgeon. He had done so, to the serious annoyance of his wife. Capt. Brenton, who had been appointed to the command of a fine frigate, was sent to the Mediterranean, Grey accompanying him. Brenton’s ship, while watching Toulon, was one day surrounded by several of the enemy’s frigates and nearly taken: but a gallant defence and clever maneuvers cleared him of the danger. That event shook Grey’s nerves, and he succeeded in quitting the ship, to retire upon his half pay, to resume practice on shore, Mrs. Grey having a fair dowry.
I now demanded of the Transport Office whether they would sanction my claim for the lodging money which the government had authorized the officers of the Navy to draw whilst prisoners of war. In reply, they advised me to write to them officially for the said allowance. On that occasion Capt. Bowen,9 with whom I had sailed under Ad. Sir H. Christian, being one of the commissioners, came down and kindly told me how to act, remarking that I was fully entitled to it. I accordingly sent in my application, which they forwarded to the Admiralty. In the course of a few days I received an answer refusing the lodging money! Our government had, in the first instance, after having failed in establishing a regular cartel for the exchange of prisoners, ordered the senior naval officer at Verdun to draw for lodging money, every officer being allowed so much a day according to his rank. I as a lieutenant was allowed one shilling per diem. Consequently I had nearly five years’ payment due—upwards of £80! My application not being acknowledged gave me a shock, which I confess was not an agreeable one. I had hitherto formed such an favourable opinion of the government that I never would allow anyone to abuse its liberality. I had several times risked imbroiling myself in a duel when I heard illiberal words said against it. But now I could not help remarking that, if the French government had not prevented that lodging money’s being distributed, I should have received it. But as my official application had been refused, our government was sanctioning the oppressive act of the enemy.10 I in consequence again wrote to the Admiralty, pointing out in strong terms the injustice of the measure. But Grey urged me not to send it. “You are applying for employment,” said he. “Take care not to give offence, or they may turn their backs on you. Make your mind up to lose the money. It is a most shabby act, but you had better submit than make them your enemies.” I followed his advice, and remained silent.
From my Agent (Mr. Ommanney) I received some confidential information relating to a very fine sloop of war about to be launched, it being his opinion that if I applied I should be appointed to the command of her. I lost no time in sending in my application accordingly.
Meanwhile, I accepted an invitation from Mrs. V. to accompany her to Portsmouth, and I found myself again at that celebrated naval station. With her I visited Winchester, where I met several French officers, prisoners of war. They were very anxious to hear my reports of Verdun, but as I could not make any flattering statements of what I had undergone there, I was not a very welcome guest. On my return to Portsmouth, I met my friend Capt. Manby, then in command of a frigate, the Thalia. He did all, and said all, that an officer in his position could after my unfortunate captivity, and assured me that he had represented in the strongest terms at headquarters the unjustifiable act visited upon me by the French government.
Just as we were on our return to London, Mrs. V. heard of the arrival from Sicily of the wife of the late Lord Nelson’s steward to the Bronte estate, Mrs. Graeffer. She sought her out, and offered to take her to Lady Hamilton’s at Merton. Mrs. V. had a son and daughter with her, also a niece. Therefore, instead of returning by mail, it was arranged that the hotel keeper should supply us with a private carriage that would hold six, which was to take us to Merton instead of London. We left Portsmouth that evening, and were the next morning, by 7 o’clock, at the place mentioned. From Lady Hamilton, although only partially known to her previous to my captivity, I experienced a hearty welcome. I examined all the curiosities of the gallant Nelson’s residence, and in a co
uple of days returned to Town,11 taking up my residence at Brompton.
Weeks passed on, but I heard nothing of an appointment, and my spirits began to feel the effects of disappointment. However, one satisfaction attended me. The change of scene from Verdun to England and the change of diet produced wonders in my health. I found my strength recovering daily. Port wine quite renovated me. But the arrival in town of Admiral Gambier, who was created a peer for the capturing of the Copenhagen fleet, was for me an event of the utmost consequence, and my hopes began to revive, as I had placed the fullest reliance upon his powerful influence in my favour. So soon as his Lordship had re-established himself in his official situation at the Admiralty, I called, and was received with all those expressions that convinced me of my possessing in him a friend. He invited me to dinner and presented me to Lady Gambier, who also let drop many words highly gratifying from such a virtuous and distinguished character. After I had dined, he desired me to renew my visits at breakfast, whenever I wanted his assistance, at the same time assuring me that he would take care to let Lord Mulgrave know all about me. I could only await patiently the result of his Lordship’s influence in my behalf.
The year came to a close, and I was still waiting anxiously the result of his interest: and I occasionally renewed my application at the Admiralty for employment. I went to breakfast one morning with his Lordship, who received me with his usual kindness, but I could not help noticing his extreme taciturnity. Scarcely a word escaped from his lips. Therefore, conceiving that his mind was occupied with matters of more importance than my presence, I was in the act of retiring when he desired me to wait. Lady Gambier instantly withdrew. When we were alone, the following conversation ensued.