Gibraltar
Page 7
Marie-Antoinette, Queen of France and wife of Louis XVI, commented to her mother: ‘The public complains greatly that Monsieur d’Orvilliers, with forces far superior to those of the English, wasn’t able to engage them in battle, nor prevent any of their merchant ships from returning to port. This will have cost a great deal of money to do nothing, and I still don’t see any sign of peace being negotiated this year.’ A month later, in mid-October, she said: ‘Our fleet was not able to engage the English and has done nothing at all; it is a wasted campaign that has cost a lot of money. What is most distressing is that the sickness got into the ships and wreaked havoc.’26
In Britain, inertia and inaction had preserved the precious ships and seamen, but not the reputation of Admiral Hardy. It had also highlighted the weakness of the Royal Navy. The French and Spanish plans might have failed on this occasion, but the British people still lived in fear of invasion and would continue to do so until the end of the war. In the short term, though, the threat was removed. With the invasion plan shelved, the Spanish fleet returned to Cadiz from Brest at the end of the year, causing the Annual Register to comment: ‘Thus ended the expectations of the enemy, and the apprehensions of Great Britain. Never had perhaps so great a naval force been assembled on the seas. Never any by which less was done, or, except by sickness, less suffered.’27
CHAPTER FOUR
FIREPOWER
An invasion of Britain was now out of the question. Instead, Spain’s revised strategy was to concentrate on tightening the blockade of Gibraltar and get ready to attack. While the failed invasion had been a joint Spanish and French affair, the Spaniards were on their own when besieging Gibraltar. Such was the massive scale of reinforcement of their fortifications along the Lines that anxiety grew on Gibraltar, and many grumbled at the failure of Governor Eliott to take any action. The widespread feeling was that a bombardment by the Spaniards must surely be imminent, and the northern part of the town would be especially vulnerable. At the start of September 1779, Mrs Green was one of those voicing criticisms, especially about Admiral Duff: ‘Most people now begin to think we ought to take some notice of our neighbours, as they continue to work on very briskly and are very busy at Fort Negro, Fort St Philip and Fort Barbara. Our Admiral and his small squadron remain perfectly quiet. Many town vessels go out – and are very active!’1 Spilsbury simply noted: ‘The Admiral continues to live on shore.’2 Thirty-four-year-old John Spilsbury from Willington in Derbyshire, described as ‘a brave and attentive officer, and a kind and humane man’,3 was a captain in the 12th Regiment and kept a journal throughout the siege, which is now curated by the Garrison Library. It is full of short and pithy remarks, often highly critical, such as these few words about Duff, who should have been on board his flagship, ready to react.
The size of the Spanish camp was increasing with the arrival of more and more troops, and working parties were constantly seen on the Lines. A mass of equipment was being brought in by sea and landed close to the Orange Grove, in the north-eastern part of the Bay, depicted as an idyll only a few years before by Francis Carter:
Half way between Carteia [ruins of an ancient Roman town] and the Spanish lines, runs into the sea a little river, collected from different springs ... on its pleasant banks several Spaniards have established themselves, and planted gardens of orange-trees, sweet canes, pomegranates, and evergreens; the eternal bloom of the oranges, and the advantage of angling in a river full of fish, induced a gentleman of the garrison to erect a little hut of canes, under the shade of an enormous walnut, where the officers find beds, and the little requisites for passing an agreeable day in this amiable spot.4
It now looked very different from Captain Horsbrugh’s viewpoint at Willis’s battery:
several covered carts went into Sta. Barbara [fort], and numbers of others uncovered passing to and from the landing place. The last convoy must have brought them a large supply, for the beach was crowded with all kinds of things, amongst which I could plainly see a number of guns lying on skids and a vast quantity of gun carriages. Two guns were mounted in front of the Guardhouse, a little to the west of Fort Negro to protect the bay at the Orange Grove and the landing place.5
Overlooking the bay, Fort Negro was situated at Point Mala, between Fort St Philip and the Orange Grove.
The civilians on Gibraltar were scared, expecting their homes and businesses to be destroyed any day, and so several applied for permission to erect wooden huts in the south, away from the Spanish artillery, where they began to move their possessions to safety. Mrs Green followed their example and shifted valuable furniture and various goods to her other home. ‘I have also divided our stores and livestock between this house [in town] and the Mount,’ she wrote, ‘as it may be very likely I and the female part of our family will be under the necessity of being out there, in case the Enemy should fire upon the north part of the Garrison.’6
It felt as if the Spanish forces were being allowed to act unchecked, but Governor Eliott was a highly skilled military man, who was not inclined to act prematurely without careful analysis. He was watching and waiting. Like Mrs Green, his family had a long association with Gibraltar – decades earlier his uncle, Major-General Roger Elliott, had also held the post of governor.7 Roger Elliott died in 1714, and three years later George Augustus Eliott was born at Stobs, just south of Hawick in the Scottish Borders, the youngest son of the large family of Sir Gilbert Eliott and his wife Eleanora. Educated at Leiden University in Holland, Eliott then attended a French military college and served in the Prussian army, before returning to England for further training at Woolwich. He received a commission as a field engineer and at the same time joined the 2nd Horse Grenadier Guards, probably through the assistance of another uncle who was its colonel. A distinguished military career followed, and in 1743 he was wounded at the Battle of Dettingen, in which George II led his troops into battle, the last time a British monarch did so. Eliott was again wounded two years later, at the Battle of Fontenoy, now in Belgium, which was the last occasion a French king (Louis XV) led an army into battle.8
One family member described Eliott as ‘tall and good-looking, of a lively, genial disposition, and highly educated. He spoke and wrote French and German both fluently and correctly, and was a lover of books.’9 In London in 1748, he married Anne Pollexfen Drake, the favourite sister of Sir Francis Henry Drake. She had two other brothers, and, no doubt in order to perpetuate the famous name of Sir Francis Drake in case any of them died, they all bore that name. Francis William and Francis Samuel were both in the Royal Navy, while another brother, Francis Duncombe, died in infancy. Anne also had a younger sister, Sophia.
Eliott subsequently became aide-de-camp to George II and left the Horse Guards after being selected to raise and train the 1st Regiment of Light Horse. His service in the Seven Years’ War included fighting at Minden. Under George III, he was second-in-command in an expedition to Cuba, where the capture of Havana netted him substantial prize-money. In 1772, Eliott’s beloved wife Anne died, and two years later he became commander-in-chief in Ireland, but asked to be recalled straightaway, unhappy at the petty interference.10 Instead, at the age of fifty-eight in 1776, he was appointed governor of Gibraltar, little suspecting that three years later he would be in the thick of a siege.
Among the soldiers and officers of the garrison, feelings towards Eliott were divided. Mrs Green’s views were ambivalent, no doubt through loyalty towards her husband, Colonel William Green, who tended to clash with him. On the other hand, he was rated highly by Mrs Catherine Upton, known as Kitty to her husband John, who was a lieutenant in the 72nd Regiment: ‘Of all men living, General Eliott is the most likely to keep possession of Gibraltar. Though he is formed for great actions, he attends, with unwearied assiduity, to the minutiae of what relates to his important trust! He is, I think, take him, all in all, a most excellent character.’ She summed him up in a few lines of verse:
Firm as this Rock is
ELIOTT’s steady soul,
Watchful he guards, and wisely guides the whole.
Alike he hates the Sycophant and Slave,
And gives his Favours only to the Brave.11
Horsbrugh, in a letter to his wife Peggy, wrote a first-hand account of the governor:
General Eliott continues to behave to me with great politeness, and I have the happiness to think no part of my behaviour has hitherto displeased him. He is a man of real worth, strict honor, steady and sincere in his friendship when he professes it, which he never does on a short acquaintance. In duty he expects a punctual and immediate compliance and constant attention to it. He is every morning on horseback by break of day, never misses the Parade, and from that time I generally ride with him till breakfast.12
One of the inhabitants was also full of admiration, rating him as ‘a most able commander and excellent officer; he is ever vigilant and attentive to the great charge with which he is entrusted, the care of the important fortress; he rises at the dawn of day, and immediately rides round all the walls, takes notice of the several guards, and observes whether that due order is preserved throughout, so essential to the security of the place.’13
Since the end of August, the engineers had been hard at work on a new battery of five guns constructed at a height of some 900 feet. It was going to be called the Superior Battery, but was changed at Eliott’s suggestion to Green’s Lodge. On 11 September it was ready for use, which was the final piece of work that enabled Eliott to consider the garrison sufficiently prepared for their first attack against the Spaniards. According to Horsbrugh, he met with senior officers that same day: ‘General Eliott (our Governor) called a Council of War, consisting of Lieutenant General Boyd (Lieutenant Governor), Major General La Motte (commander of the Hanoverian Brigade), Colonel Ross (Lieutenant Colonel of the 39th Regiment), Colonel Green (Chief Engineer), Colonel Godwin (Commander of Artillery), Admiral Duff (Commander of the squadron) and Sir Thomas Rich (captain in the navy).’14 The purpose of this highly secret meeting was to plan an attack on the Spanish working parties and fortifications, and Eliott gave out his orders:
Captain [Vaughan] Lloyd with his Company, the Captain of Artillery with his picquet and the additionals of the 39th Regiment, to assemble on the artillery parade tomorrow morning at gun firing. The above detachment are to man the several batteries from Greens Lodge to Queen Charlottes inclusive, and are to begin to fire on the Enemy’s works at half an hour after six o’clock, or as soon after as the batteries are ready. Captain Lloyd will point out the objects to be fired at and will make a signal for the whole to begin. He may make use of what mortars he [finds] most expedient for the service.15
Mrs Green had no idea what had been discussed, but noted in her diary that evening: ‘the Colonel ordered his horses at gun fire the next morning, as indeed he does almost every morning’.16 He was up very early on the 12th and rode up to the batteries at the north end of the Rock. Shortly afterwards, a terrific bombardment was unleashed.
Battles between armies on land used relatively light artillery that could be transported to a battlefield and was manoeuvrable during the action. Sieges were different. Strongholds were armed with larger, heavier cannons and mortars, and for any chance of success, the besiegers had to use similar artillery. Gibraltar was fortified with mortars, howitzers and long guns or cannons, all supplied from Britain. Mortars had short barrels with a large-diameter bore and were set on wooden frames or blocks called mortar beds. They lobbed ammunition in a high arc, enabling shells to fly over an obstacle such as a wall or rampart to the target behind. To achieve a high trajectory, mortar barrels were generally fixed at an angle of 45 degrees, while the range or distance over which they fired depended on the amount of gunpowder. The reinforced breech or closed end of the barrel was set into the bed, which absorbed the downwards thrust of the recoil.
A howitzer was a hybrid, with a large-diameter barrel that was longer than a mortar, but shorter than a cannon. Howitzers were used mainly for firing shells and were mounted on gun carriages. They were designed to fire ammunition upwards, but not so high as mortars, and they could also fire horizontally. Mortars and howitzers were identified by the diameter of the bore – 8-inch howitzers, 13-inch mortars, and so on.17
Although the term ‘gun’ covered all kinds of artillery, more often it referred to a cannon, while ‘long gun’ was specifically a cannon. Fired horizontally from wooden gun carriages, cannons were identified by the weight of shot, so a 24-pounder fired cannonballs (‘round shot’ or ‘shot’) weighing 24 pounds. They had much longer barrels and used a bigger charge of gunpowder than mortars and howitzers, allowing a more accurate shot and a longer range. The gunpowder was brought from England in barrels and kegs of various sizes, usually of oak. Gunpowder was not a chemical compound, but a mixture of sulphur, saltpetre and charcoal, which over time tended to separate and deteriorate, a process accelerated by jolting during transportation. A more serious problem was dampness, which rendered it useless, though in what was a hazardous operation it could be ‘repaired’ by being dried out and mixed with good powder.
Gunpowder captured from the Spaniards was found to be inferior to British gunpowder, possibly due to its method of manufacture. Later scientific research would establish the ideal proportions as 75 per cent saltpetre, 15 per cent charcoal and 10 per cent sulphur. Without saltpetre, the sulphur ignited easily and set the charcoal alight, but if starved of oxygen (as in a gun barrel) the burning charcoal fizzled out. When saltpetre was added, forming gunpowder, the heat from the initial burning broke down the saltpetre, releasing oxygen, which generated more burning, more heat and more oxygen, until all the sulphur and charcoal were consumed or the saltpetre was exhausted. At the same time, a cloud of smoke and gas rapidly formed, building up a tremendous pressure that could fire a cannonball from the barrel of a gun. The amount of gunpowder needed in any particular situation was established by trial and error.
No artillery was consistently accurate because it was all smooth bore, with the ammunition fitting loosely within the smooth inner surface of the barrel. The direction of spin of a cannonball or shell was random, determined by which side of the bore it touched when fired towards its target, so that it might hit the target squarely, pass either side or land in front or beyond. Guns of all types were made from cast iron or from an alloy of copper and tin – what was then called ‘brass’. Brass guns were easier to cast and were less brittle, so they did not need such thick-walled barrels as the heavier iron guns, though they had a tendency to warp or droop when overheated, making them unserviceable. When damaged, brass guns could be melted down and the metal reused, but useless iron guns were scrapped. Even so, iron guns were cheaper and more durable, though there was a danger of them exploding without warning if they became too hot.
All types of artillery were muzzle-loading, and the first step in firing was to place loose powder or a paper cartridge of powder down the mouth (muzzle) of the gun and ram it home. The artillerymen manufactured cartridges in workshops (laboratories) using specially made cartridge paper – the forerunner of the paper used by artists. The powder was followed by a wad of worn-out rope (called junk and therefore a ‘junk wad’), though hay and straw could be used. The ammunition, such as a cannonball or shell, was loaded next and rammed home, along with another wad if it was likely to roll out before firing.
On the upper side of the breech of the gun, a small vent or touch-hole gave direct access to the gunpowder or cartridge. If a cartridge was used, a wire rod was inserted into the vent to break the paper and expose the gunpowder. The vent itself was then filled with gunpowder and ignited by a slow match of smouldering twisted cord, which set off the gunpowder within the gun barrel. The resulting explosion fired the ammunition, with the guns belching great clouds of white smoke and producing an acrid, throat-catching, sulphurous smell like a mixture of rotten eggs and wood smoke. The clothing of the gunners reeked with the stench, and the n
oisy, filthy work left them deaf and blackened from the pervasive soot and smuts.
The first bombardment of the Spanish Lines by Gibraltar’s batteries on 12 September 1779, almost three months after the start of the siege, was a significant occasion. Early in the morning, after the Spaniards had paraded their men for work as usual at the Lines, orders were given for Green’s Lodge battery and Queen Charlotte’s battery (near the castle), as well as those at Willis’s, to open fire. It was an event treated with due ceremony, and from this moment Samuel Ancell, a twenty-three-year-old soldier with the 58th Regiment, started to compile a daily journal. Born in Wapping, near London, he was described as 5 feet 8 inches tall and of fair complexion. He was an engraver, probably associated with the printing trade, and, unusually for a rank-and-file soldier, he was well educated. His journal was written as a series of letters to a brother, which may have been a literary device for publication.
Of this first bombardment, Ancell wrote: ‘An officer’s lady, whom curiosity had excited to our batteries, was encouraged to discharge the first gun, and having taken a lighted match, (with an intrepidity not peculiar to the sex), Gen. Eliott pronounced in a true heroic style, “Britons strike home”, and immediately every battery and angle bellowed with rage, and foamed with destruction.’18 The woman responsible was Jane Frances Skinner, just sixteen years old, who had recently married Lieutenant Thomas Skinner of the Royal Engineers. She was the eldest of six children, all born on Gibraltar to Sarah and Barry Power, and her father was a vintner. The first shot towards the Spanish Lines was therefore fired by a native Gibraltarian, and the choice of Mrs Skinner was no accident, because her husband was the grandson of Lieutenant-General William Skinner, who knew Gibraltar intimately and – at the age of seventy-nine – was Britain’s Chief Engineer.19