March 23 - Came in a most beautiful letter-of-marque of fourteen guns, said to be a very rich and valuable prize to the Pallas, Captain Lord Cochrane.23
In warmer waters off the Azores and the Spanish coast, Cochrane was displaying the same mixture of audacity, initiative, and humanity which had characterised his Mediterranean exploits. On 15 February, the Pallas captured the Spanish merchantman Fortuna, homeward bound for Corunna. In great distress, the rather elderly Spanish captain and his partner came aboard the Pallas. Both men had lost everything when their first ship had been taken by a British cruiser in 1779. They had built up their fortunes slowly and were now about to lose them for the second time. Cochrane consulted his officers, who agreed that each of the two men should be handed five thousand dollars of the cargo which the Fortuna was carrying. As a matter of democracy, Cochrane then ordered the bosun to pipe all hands. Addressing the crew, he described what had happened and his proposal to return the sums of money to the two elderly Spaniards. By this stage of the voyage, the crew were happy to do whatever their golden-fingered commander suggested. They shouted, "Aye, aye, my lord. With all our hearts," and roared out three cheers for their captives.24
Not all the prizes were brought home. On one captured ship Cochrane found some promising bales, which when cut open contained merely a collection of Papal bulls, destined for what he called "the Mexican sin market". They consisted of dispensations for eating meat on Fridays and "indulgences for peccadilloes of all kinds with the price affixed". Supply had exceeded demand, however, and they were being returned to Spain. Since there would be still less demand for them in the sin markets of England, Cochrane ordered his men to throw them overboard.25
By the end of March, the Pallas had sent home four captured vessels with prize crews on board and was herself heavily weighed down by plunder. As the laden frigate prepared to turn for home the sea off the Azores was covered by a low heat-mist, the mastheads of the Pallas standing clear of it. Though Cochrane could see nothing from the quarterdeck, the look-out suddenly called out, reporting the maintopgallant masts of three ships of the line closing upon the Pallas. Cochrane altered course immediately but, as he strained to make out the shapes of the approaching battleships through the bright dazzle of the haze he identified them clearly as French. The weeks of happy plundering had come to an end.
The situation was closely akin to the ultimate fate of the Speedy. While it was true that the Pallas was a frigate rather than a brig, she was no match for a battleship, let alone for three. Moreover, as she altered course, the wind freshened and a heavy sea began to run. The ports were closed across her main-deck guns, which were otherwise under water, and even the guns of the quarterdeck, where Cochrane stood, dipped into the waves as the frigate heeled over in the rising sea. The heavy surges also made it impossible for the three battleships to use their guns at this stage, but they were coming up fast on the Pallas.
To hoist more sail in the face of the storm was contrary to most rules of safety, but it was Cochrane's only chance of getting clear. He ordered the Pallas's hawsers to be got to the mastheads and hove taut, securing the masts as firmly as possible, and then for every stitch of canvas to be spread. The lumbering frigate ploughed into the sea which burst in plumes of spray over her bows as the forecastle plunged underwater and sent the waves sluicing back along the deck as it rose again. But still the battleships were gaining and, looking back, Cochrane logged several yellow flashes of the priming pans as the French gunners tried unavailingly to get a steady aim at their target.
Until there was a lull in the storm, it would be difficult for the French to take advantage of their broadsides, but the battleships drew level with the Pallas one on either bow at a distance of less than half a mile, while the third was more remote. Their guns were in position and they had only to wait for the sea to grow calmer in order to confront Cochrane with the choice of annihilation or surrender. For the time being, the storm was Cochrane's ally as the four ships plunged along with sails taut under the full force of the gale. In the two months of the cruise he had trained his men to perfection to do things which some of them saw little use in. He now ordered them to man the rigging and, at a given signal, to haul down every sail at precisely the same moment. As he gave the signal, the helm of the Pallas was to be put hard over and the frigate turned across the path of the storm. The effect of this manoeuvre, and of the lowering of sails, was that she was "suddenly brought up" and, as Cochrane felt, "shook from stem to stern".
The three French battleships, with the wind in their sails, shot past at full speed, quite unprepared for anything of this kind. Indeed, they were several miles farther on before they could shorten sail or trim on the opposite tack. Meanwhile it was the Pallas which spread full sail and again set off in the opposite direction at a speed of more than thirteen knots. But the French captains brought their ships round at last and the chase was resumed grimly. They pursued the frigate for the remainder of the day and the night that followed. But the history of the Speedy was destined to be repeated, in one respect at least. As dawn broke, the three great ships found themselves closing in on a ballasted cask with a lantern bobbing upon it. All around them otherwise, there stretched a vast and empty sea.26
On 3 April, in the Western Approaches, the Pallas was sighted by H.M.S. Brilliant making for Plymouth under full sail. Two days later, as the citizens lined the Hamoaze to satisfy their curiosity, she sailed gracefully in and dropped anchor. As a symbol of victory, and of Cochrane's innate sense of showmanship, three captured candlesticks had been lashed triumphantly to the masthead of the Pallas. They were each five feet tall and made of solid gold.
Cochrane never needed a press gang again. His own share of the prize money from the cruise of the Pallas was said to have been £75,000. If this was the case, even the humblest and most reluctant member of the crew was now likely to have more money in his pocket than he had ever seen in his life before. But there was, as usual, bitterness over Cochrane's rewards. Sir William Young, the admiral commanding at Plymouth, was awarded half of Cochrane's prize money, on the grounds that he had copied out the orders for the sailing of the Pallas after they had come from the Admiralty. He was thus technically in command of the operation.27
Cochrane's anger was kept private for the time being, since he wanted a rapid favour from Admiral Young, leave of absence to stand as a parliamentary candidate in the coming election. One moving spirit in the matter was his scapegrace uncle, Andrew Cochrane-Johnstone, who had frequent occasion to record such journeys as, "On my return to town yesterday, from a visit to my nephew, Lord Cochrane, at Plymouth ..." Cochrane-Johnstone had already bought his seat in parliament for the rotten borough of Grampound, thus enjoying immunity from arrest for his habitual refusal to pay his creditors. But two Members of Parliament in the family would offer opportunities for financial adventure beyond even his dreams.28
Cochrane saw the matter differently. The man who precipitated him into active politics was William Cobbett, the stalwart farmer's son, ex-sergeant-major, and former enemy of revolution who had now turned against the corruption of parliamentary life. Cobbett appealed for an honest man to contest the most corrupt borough in England at the coming election. The borough was Honiton and the man who answered the appeal was Cochrane. The challenge of the impossible was no less invigorating, in its way, than when the Speedy had engaged the Gamo.
Cochrane-Johnstone went to the Admiralty to press for his nephew's leave of absence. Apart from the election there was the matter of what Cobbett euphemistically described as "some business between them", by which the uncle no doubt hoped to induce his nephew to invest part of the prize money in certain "speculations". The three unlikely campaigners in Honiton were, therefore, Cochrane, his devious uncle, and the forthright Radical hero, William Cobbett.29
The Gamo had been easy by comparison. Honitonians regarded their votes as part of their property. A man who wanted them must pay the price. They accused Cobbett and Cochrane of trying to bankru
pt them by destroying the system of electoral bribery. "They tell you/' Cobbett reported, "flatly and plainly, that the money, which they obtain for their votes, is absolutely necessary to enable them to live; that, without it, they could not pay their rents] and that, from election to election, the poor men run up scores at the shops, and are trusted by the shopkeepers expressly upon the credit of the proceeds of the ensuing election.1' They assured him that he and Cochrane "had their hearts", but that the ministerial candidate, Bradshaw, who was paying five guineas a time, had their votes.30
Cochrane left Plymouth and arrived in Honiton on 8 June 1805 for the election hustings. The Naval Chronicle approved of his arrival "in a true seaman-like style, accompanied by two lieutenants and one midshipman in full dress, in one carriage . . . followed by another, containing the boat's crew, new rigged and prepared for action". On the platform, amid rival flags and bunting, he was supported by Cobbett and Cochrane-Johnstone.31
The hustings seemed more like a fair or market while the ministerial candidate, Cavendish Bradshaw, addressed the crowd. Under flat, farmers' hats, the rubicund faces of the electors shone with well-fed enthusiasm. Among these voters and their wives in summer dresses and bonnets, moved the boat's crew of the Pallas and a horde of unenfranchised rustics eager for the fun. Bradshaw spoke briefly and was heard with the respect due to a candidate who paid his way. The crowd cheered dutifully as he sat down.
When Cochrane rose, tall and impressive in his captain's royal blue and gold, the voters waited to see what he could offer them. They heard a cool, restrained speech against naval corruption. Some began to shift impatiently. Voices urged him to "spend his money sailor-fashion". He replied that he would stand "on patriotic principles", and there was shocked silence. Patriotism was appealed to like this by men who were not prepared to pay their way. The hecklers reminded him that he could not take a man's vote for nothing, any more than he would expect to take his cattle or barley.32
There was a welcome diversion when Cochrane sat down, and Bradshaw and Cobbett got up, shouting abuse at one another. Whether it was the boat's crew of the Pallas or Bradshaw's men who struck the first blow, the excitement spread, the crowd erupting as a struggling, brawling mob. In this Hogarthian melee, men who were first aboard enemy ships gave a good account of themselves in the streets of Honiton. While Bradshaw and Cobbett bawled their insults, the words "windbag" and "libeller" clear above the tumult, Cochrane rose and roared at his men for order. But when peace was restored, the hustings were deserted, the bunting trampled, the political debate over. Cochrane was urged to canvass "independent voters", but it was a discouraging process. One such independent soul grinned up eagerly at him, when approached, and whispered, "You need not ask me, my lord, who I votes for. I always votes for Mister Most." When reproached for such cynicism, the Honitonians replied that Members of Parliament "took care to get well-paid", and the voters "had a right to do the same if they could". But while they reprimanded Cochrane, the electors jeered Cobbett, adapting the cry, "Bread and cheese, and no empty cupboard", so that the streets of Honiton echoed to, "Bread and cheese, and no empty Cobbett!"
It is a tribute to Cochrane's personal appeal that, though he lost, some people actually voted for him. The rest took their five guineas from Bradshaw and elected him. But after this, a crier appeared in the streets, ringing his handbell and chanting, "All those who voted for Lord Cochrane may repair to his agent, J. Townshend, Esquire, and receive ten pounds ten." The ballot was not secret and the names of these voters were known. Bradshaw's supporters were dumbfounded. To bribe one's men beforehand was common enough: to reward men afterwards, without warning, was another matter. Worse still, Bradshaw's voters had actually lost money by electing him.34
The young man whom the electors had dismissed as a political simpleton drove out of Honiton on the Plymouth road. He left behind him a constituency in which even the most corrupt men now felt that they had, somehow, had the worst of the encounter.
Some, of course, comforted themselves by regarding his Quixotic gesture as a mere spiting of enemies. They were wrong. It was part of a calculated strategy to set him at the centre of British politics. As the Pallas put to sea again, and he reflected on the lessons of the campaign, his reforming zeal in respect of the Royal Navy grew to embrace the entire political and electoral system of Great Britain. He decided to stand for parliament again at the next opportunity, as an "independent" candidate and a sympathiser with parliamentary reform.
During the rest of 1805, the Pallas was assigned to convoy duty between Portsmouth and Quebec. On the first crossing, it was discovered that during the Honiton election someone in the dockyard had removed the valuable copper bolts securing the ship's compass and had replaced them with iron. In consequence, the compass would never work accurately and the Pallas owed her escape from disaster to a sudden clearing of fog on the Canadian coast. On the long weeks of the crossing Cochrane also had ample experience of the difficulties of keeping a convoy together. The frigate displayed a lamp at night for the other ships to follow but merchant captains preferred to rely on the blaze of light in the stern windows of other vessels ahead of them. This led to confusion from time to time as some of the slower, laden merchantmen got the wrong course and were separated from the convoy.35
Cochrane had devised a powerful and distinctive convoy lamp which would shine like a beacon from the frigate and guide the convoy by its unambiguous glare. He offered the idea to the Admiralty who rejected it. Soon afterwards, however, their Lordships announced a competition with a prize of fifty pounds for the best design for such a convoy lamp. Knowing that it would be useless to enter the idea under his own name, Cochrane persuaded his agent, Brooks, to put it forward as his own entry. It won the competition. With some satisfaction, its inventor then revealed his true identity. In consequence, he wrote, "not a lamp was ever ordered, and the merchantmen were left to the mercy of the privateers as before". Lord St Vincent might have gone, but Cochrane recognised that his true enemies were the "administrative powers of the Admiralty". These were the secretaries and the civil servants, the placemen and their hirelings, who survived wars and treaties, ministers and changes of government, alike. They had recognised their adversary from the start and were assiduously plotting his downfall.36
By the time that Cochrane returned from convoy duty at the end of the year, Trafalgar was over and the great pageant of Nelson's burial was in preparation. Napoleon, having failed to gain command of the Dover straits for the necessary six hours had turned to the conquest of Austria. His success at Ulm, despite the British victory at Trafalgar, had proved a final insupportable blow to Pitt. His face a sickly yellow and haggard by mortal illness, the great Prime Minister had entered the last weeks of his life.
In the new year of 1806, the Pallas under Cochrane's command was sent with Admiral Thornborough's squadron to patrol the Bay of Biscay. This assignment was intended to keep him as much under the control of his superiors as possible. Happily, the Admiralty's intentions were frustrated by Thornborough who, knowing that he would have a half-share in all Cochrane's prizes, gave the Pallas considerable freedom. The frigate now boasted a special weapon, devised by her captain. This was an 18-oar galley, designed by Cochrane and built for him by the Deal boatbuilders at his own expense. When lowered for action, this craft had a formidable turn of speed and was, of course, not dependent on favourable winds.
The first nuisance-raids of the Pallas were among the islands of the Biscay coast between Les Sables d'Olonne and La Rochelle. The French fishing fleets were rounded up and boarded. Since the fishermen were poor and he had no quarrel with them, Cochrane allowed them to keep their boats but insisted on taking their catch so that it should not reach the hands, and stomachs, of England's enemies. However, he paid them the cost of the fish out of his own pocket.
Moving inshore, towards the port of Les Sables, he ordered out the galley and took a French merchantman loaded with casks of wine, which were gratefully received aboard the Pall
as. By this time, the rumours of his activities had spread along the coast of the Vendue, so that at the first sight of the frigate and her galley, French merchant captains ran their ships on to the sandy beaches and abandoned them, to avoid being captured. Cochrane sent his men after them, carrying the war literally on to enemy soil. With two prize vessels already accompanying him, he noticed a brig anchored just off the harbour mouth of Les Sables. The boats of the Pallas were lowered and made towards the prize under the very eyes of the local inhabitants on the harbour mole. It was growing dark but the Sablais and their local militia ran for their muskets and opened fire on the boats of the Pallas. Cochrane gave an order from the quarterdeck and there was a long flicker of flame, as the first broadside thundered from the open ports. The shells burst widely in the town and the local musketeers, accepting the inevitable, ceased fire. Cochrane remained off the town all night, bringing the Pallas inshore the next morning to collect another brig which had been run on the sands near the mole. There was nothing for it but to send the boat crew ashore to bring her off. Once again the Sablais assembled but a single shot from the Pallas, booming across the surf, was enough to dissuade them from action. The men of the frigate landed and brought off their new prize while the citizens, whose armed republic was supposed to be the terror of Europe, watched with sheepish self-consciousness.37
The prizes of March 1806 were not in themselves of much consequence, but Cochrane's value in terms of propaganda was incalculable. News of his raids was briefly and rarely reported in England but the effect of them in France was significant. Paris might echo to the triumphs of Ulm and Austerlitz, the battle honours of Wagram and Jena might embellish the standards of Napoleon's legions, but on the Biscay coast men wondered why it was, if France was the conqueror of Europe, that their coastal trade was mercilessly harried and that along the sandy beaches of the Vendee merchant captains ran their vessels ashore indiscriminately at the sight of a solitary frigate and her fast-moving galley.
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