by Roy Adkins
For the seamen a return from port to blockade duties was often considered the worst, keeping them at sea for months on end in all weathers, but many officers hated protecting convoys of merchant ships even more. Because of the risk of attack from enemy warships and privateers, it had been necessary right from the start of the war to organise civilian ships into convoys, and under an Act of Parliament they were only permitted to set sail under the orders of their naval escort. Few of the people involved liked sailing in convoys. Merchant ship captains felt that they restricted trade and made their crews much more vulnerable to press-gangs, who would often meet homecoming convoys and strip the merchant ships of the best seamen. They also resented being told what to do by the officers of naval escorts, who invariably regarded them as inferior seamen. On the other side, the naval officers considered convoy duty hard and frustrating work with no compensations. They had little prospect of capturing enemy ships, so no expectation of prize money, and they were responsible for the safe passage of slow and unwieldy merchant vessels, crewed by civilians who would not obey orders. The only trading ships the navy respected were the East Indiamen. There was frequent friction between merchant crews and naval escorts, and on occasion this became open hostility.
Every kind of cargo was carried by British convoys, including slaves from Africa bound to plantations in the West Indies, a trade that would become illegal in British ships in 1807. There were mixed feelings in Britain over slavery, and even Nelson opposed those such as William Wilberforce who were in favour of abolition, writing to one Jamaican plantation owner just a few months before Trafalgar:Victory, June 10, 1805.- I ever have been and shall be a firm friend to our present colonial system. I was bred in the good old school, and taught to appreciate the value of our West Indian possessions, and neither in the field nor the Senate shall their just rights be infringed whilst I have an arm to fight in their defence or a tongue to launch my voice against the damnable, cruel doctrine of Wilberforce and his hypocritical allies, and I hope my berth in heaven will be as exalted as his who would certainly cause the murder of all our dear friends and fellow-subjects in the Colonies.18
Lieutenant Frederick Hoffman, who escorted one of the last slave convoys in his sloop the Favourite, was one of those struck by the plight of the slaves in West Africa before they had even set foot on board ship:During the time I was at Bence Island, which was the great mart for slave dealing, forty of those unfortunate beings arrived, most of them half famished. The principal merchant, who was a mulatto, told me that the greater part of them had been pledged for rice, which is the principal food in Africa, that they had not been redeemed at the time appointed, and in consequence had become the property of those who supplied the food. The remainder were those taken prisoners in the skirmishes occasioned by their trespassing on each other’s ground, particularly on the rice patches when the grain was nearly ripe. A black woman offered me her son, a boy about eleven years of age, for a cob - about four-and-sixpence. I gave her the money, and advised her to keep her son. Poor thing! she stared with astonishment, and instantly gave me one of her earrings, which was made of small shells. It was like the widow’s mite, all she had to bestow.19
The convoy eventually sailed to Barbados, taking seven weeks for the journey, during which Hoffman, with ‘some of the officers, visited the Guinea men, and found them orderly and clean, and the slaves healthy’.20 Doubtless the slaves were crowded together below deck, but in itself this may not have seemed unduly inhumane to an officer accustomed to the hammock decks of warships where the seamen were allowed a space only 14 inches wide in which to sling their hammocks - the hammock plan of a warship was very similar to the ‘stowage’ plan for people on a slave ship. Sailors were of course free to move about the ship, whereas the slaves were frequently chained up within their cramped space, often lying on bare boards or the deck itself.
Perhaps the only people who were grateful to be sailing in convoys, because of the protection they provided, were the civilian passengers, especially on the long journeys to and from India. It would be over half a century before the opening of the Suez Canal allowed merchant ships from Britain and Europe to dispense with the journey of several months’ duration round the Cape of Good Hope to India and the East. The Cape was originally Dutch, but had been seized by the British in 1795 and then returned to the Dutch as part of the Peace of Amiens. As soon as war was declared in 1803, the British government had ordered an expedition to recover it, but this was delayed until autumn 1805, when five thousand soldiers under Major-General Sir David Baird set out in sixty transports escorted by a squadron of warships commanded by Commodore Sir Home Riggs Popham.
It was essential to reclaim the naval base at the tip of South Africa, because merchant ships on the vital east-west trade route were so vulnerable, even when travelling in a convoy. In April 1805, a few months before Popham’s expedition set sail, one such convoy of East Indiamen left Portsmouth. Mrs Mary Sherwood and her husband Henry, an army officer, were late embarking in H.C.S.41 Devonshire and could only hire one of the least desirable cabins, which she graphically described:No woman who has not made a voyage in such a cabin as this can possibly know what real inconveniences are. The cabin was in the centre of the ship, which is so far good, as there is less motion there than at either end. In our cabin was a porthole, but it was hardly ever open; a great gun ran through it, the mouth of which faced the porthole. Our hammock was slung over this gun, and was so near the top of the cabin that one could hardly sit up in bed. When the pumps were at work the bilge water ran through this miserable place, this worse than a dog-kennel, and, to finish the horrors of it, it was only separated by a canvas partition from the place in which the soldiers sat and, I believe, slept and dressed . . . [the cabin] was just the width of one gun, with room for a small table and single chair. Our cot, slung cross-ways over the gun, as I have said, could not swing, there not being height sufficient. In entering the cabin . . . we were forced to stoop under the cot, there not being one foot from the head or the foot of the cot from the partition. The ship was so light on the water that she heeled over with the wind so much we could not open our port, and we had no scuttle [air vent]. We were therefore also in constant darkness. The water from the pump ran through this delectable cabin, and I as a young sailor, and otherwise not in the very best situation for encountering all these disagreeables, was violently sick for days and days.21
Mary Sherwood was eventually able to cope with the motion of the ship and the hardships of life on board, but after three months the convoy was spotted in the Indian Ocean by French warships:In a very short time after the enemy had been seen, one of the strangers lay to, whilst the other two came down, and, passing close to our rear, hoisted French colours almost before we had time to form our conjectures of what they were. The colours were no sooner up than they began to fire, and at the same crisis all hands were engaged on board our ship to clear for action. Every cabin which had been erected between the last gun and the forepart of the ship was torn down, ours of course amongst the rest, and everything we possessed thrown in heaps into the hold or trampled under foot. All the women without respect of person were tumbled after the furniture of the cabins into the same dismal hole at the very bottom of the ship, and the guns prepared in the shortest possible time to return the compliment which the enemy had already paid us. One of the enemy’s ships was a seventy-four, or eighty gun, the other a large frigate. They were commanded by Admiral Linois.22
Nearly three years earlier the French Rear-Admiral Charles Alexandre Linois had sailed from Brest to India and had become notorious in menacing merchant shipping belonging to the British. Accompanied by the frigate Belle Poule, Linois in the warship Marengo had recently captured the East Indiaman Brunswick off Ceylon. He next sailed southwards to escape from a superior British force that he learned was out looking for him. This was part of the squadron of Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Pellew, who was now in command of the East Indies. For political reasons, though, Rear-Admiral Tho
mas Troubridge was on his way to take over the eastern half of this command, much to the anger of Pellew. What Linois did not realise was that Troubridge was sailing in the Blenheim, an old battleship that was accompanying the convoy of East Indiamen in which Mary Sherwood was sailing. Troubridge described how the French, on 6 August 1805, suddenly appeared out of the fog: ‘I fell in with Mon’r Linois . . . in very thick squally weather, and just at the close of day exchanged a few shots with him, I fancy he thought we were all Indiamen, for the moment he made the Blenheim out through the haze, he bore away . . . I trust I shall yet have the good fortune to fall in with him when unencumber’d with convoy . . . This convoy has given me much trouble to drag them on.’23 Unlike Troubridge, Mary Sherwood found the whole encounter extremely frightening:At the commencement of the contest the Devonshire was one of those nearest to the enemy, and their shot passed through our rigging, but, as we advanced, the seventy-four fell back and the battle became unequal. One of the Indiamen singled out the frigate, and would have fought her, but after some broadsides the French showed a disposition to withdraw, and it seemed to us that they had been quite as much surprised at meeting us as we had been at seeing them. Linois did not show his usual spirit at this time. It was quite dark when the contest ceased and we poor women were set at liberty.24
The convoy was not safe yet, however, and at daylight the French reappeared:It was suspected that the frigate had met with some damage, and that she was changing her masts; the third ship, which was a merchantman [the captured Brunswick], was not in their company. Several times they bore down as if to attack, but always stopped out of reach of our guns. Our admiral followed by some Indiamen, made a show of pursuing them, but did not go far . . . at day-light [the following day] they were no longer to be seen, and we sent on board different ships of the fleet to ascertain what damage had been done. The rigging of the Hope and of the Cumberland had been much cut, a Mr. Cook on board the Blenheim was killed, a man of the 67th had lost his life on board the Ganges, and a sergeant of our regiment had lost both his legs on board the Dorsetshire. From that time we saw no more of the French, but we afterwards ascertained that we had made Linois suffer so severely that he was glad to get away. The man-of-war was the Marengo, eighty guns, and the frigate the Belle Poule, of forty.25
After this skirmish the convoy had a relatively easy passage to Madras, and Linois headed towards the Cape of Good Hope, where he waited for the Brunswick and the frigate Atalante to join him. The Brunswick came into the bay in a storm in mid-September and was totally wrecked after running aground. A few days later the Atalante arrived, and then ran aground in another fierce storm six weeks later. Repairs were impossible, and the crew of the Atalante was distributed between the Marengo and the Belle Poule, with 160 seamen left behind at the Dutch colony. On 9 November Linois headed into the Atlantic in order to cruise along the western African coast. Among the men transferred from the Atalante to the Belle Poule was the French naval officer Louis Garneray, and he noted the reasoning behind Linois’s decision: ‘As the slave trade was then flourishing, we put to sea, in the hope that the English slave ships would provide us with fine catches. We sailed along the entire west coast of Africa. Our crews, exhausted and badly rewarded by the insignificant and infrequent prizes that we had taken, complained bitterly, all the more so because they knew that the corsairs of India had resumed their privateering with astonishing success.’26
Popham’s expedition to recapture the Cape of Good Hope arrived at the beginning of 1806 and just missed Linois. Thomas Howell, a soldier with the 71st Highlanders, said that ‘it was early in the morning [of 4 January], when we first beheld the land about the Cape of Good Hope. We soon after could distinguish a hill, called the Sugar Loaf; and next reached a low island, called Robben [Robin] Island. We anchored in Table Bay, and were disembarked next day.’27 Marine Lieutenant Robert Fernyhough described the difficulties in landing:We now made preparations for our debarkation, fired guns, and hoisted English colours; a broad hint to the enemy of our errand, which was quickly taken, for the town appeared in great confusion. We saw a party of cavalry, riding in various directions. As soon as we were close enough in, the General and Commodore went in a boat to reconnoitre the place, where they intended to disembark the troops. Accordingly at daylight, the first, or Highland brigade, consisting of the 71st, 72nd, and 93rd regiments, were ready in the boats, but unfortunately it came on to blow fresh, causing a tremendous surf, which rendered it utterly impossible for the troops to land . . . In the morning of the 6th of January, a very heavy surf still running, created a good deal of anxiety on the part of the commanders, but abating a little towards evening, the General was determined at all events to attempt another landing, further down the bay, at a place called Lospord’s Bay, which was effected, but not without some difficulty.28
Even at this new landing place, there were many casualties, as Fernyhough related:Forty-one privates of the 93rd regiment were lost in the surf. The 72nd regiment was first put on shore, and it behaved nobly. Whilst our brave comrades were landing, we observed a party of the enemy’s cavalry and riflemen advance from behind one of the hills, near the beach, and commenced a smart fire upon them; but as soon as the Highlanders got sight of the enemy, they rapidly advanced, opened a fire upon them, which did much execution,
Map of the Cape of Good Hope
and they speedily retreated . . . Their main body, consisting of about five thousand men, including Hottentots, was encamped behind the mountains, six or seven miles off, and intended to give us battle next evening. We were disembarking all that evening, until the middle of the next day, January the 7th; an order then came from the General for the marine battalion, with some artillery, to re-embark, and land higher up the bay, to cut off the enemy’s retreat.29
This next phase was even more difficult, according to Fernyhough:It is astonishing to me, how we did land through such a tremendous surf, for this was the very place where the first brigade attempted to do so on the 5th, and were obliged to return on board . . .The nearest point we could get to the shore, was forty or fifty yards, so that we were obliged to wade that distance, up to the middle, before we could reach it. I was completely ducked, for in getting out of the boat, a sea came, and dashed me over head, and I thought I should have been obliged to swim for it, but another wave set me on my legs again; I then took to my heels, and ran till I got safely beyond the reach of the sea . . .The Diadem, Leda frigate, and gun-brig, covered our landing; and just as we were leaving the boats, some of the enemy advanced down the hill, towards us, but the gun-brig opened a fire of grape shot among them, killed two, and the rest retreated. Another part of the enemy, during our debarkation, attempted to get a piece of cannon upon an eminence, but a well-directed fire from our ships completely baffled the attempts; so effectually had the squadron covered our landing.30
The Dutch took up a position between the coast and Cape Town, and the British troops followed and prepared to attack, but they had to wait until the artillery arrived, which was dragged up by seamen from the warships, as Lieutenant Samuel Walters of the Raisonable described:We did not reach the Army till noon with the Artillery cannon owing to the extreme difficulty of the country to the drawing [of ] Artillery. Seamen on this service drop’d down from their drag ropes almost lifeless - our water all expended - and gain’d a little strength, and came running to join their shipmates. Most of the enemy’s cavalry kept on the Heights during the action. The flank companies of the respective Regiments were sent after them, and a smart action took place . . . Our kill’d and wounded about two hundred, that of the enemy double the number.31
While the British seamen were helping to haul artillery in place, the Dutch artillery was assisted by the crew of the Atalante, who had been left behind by Linois. To no avail. The Dutch were forced to retreat to a natural stronghold, leaving the road to Cape Town clear. The next day, 9 January, the British set out for their main objective, as Walters recounted: ‘At daylight the Army set forward for Ca
pe Town, and at 3 p.m. halted near the lines. A Flag of Truce was sent out from the town to offer terms and treat for a capitulation, and was acceded to the following day, by which the Dutch were to give up to us Cape Town, Citadel, Forts, and lines, all the ships in Table Bay, all public buildings and stores, &c. &c., all Naval and Military men to be sent to Holland at the expense of the British Government, all French in the Colony to quit it.’32