by Roy Adkins
In the end it was agreed that Dillon should leave the ship, and so he packed two trunks and was taken to a point along the beach that he calculated was the British advance post: ‘When I ascended the sand hills, I found I had exactly hit upon the right spot. An officer of our Army, who was here on the watch, seeing me, called out in extreme anxiety, “For God’s sake, drop down, Sir, or you are a dead man. Slide down, roll yourself down. You have not the slightest idea of the danger you are in.” Perceiving by his countenance, as well as the agitated tone of his address, that I had unknowingly exposed myself, being in uniform, cocked hat, etc., I slid down instantly as the officer advised.’6 After his narrow escape Dillon moved on to Middelburg, and on his way he noticed that ‘the enemy had cut one of the dykes, and the water was nearly level with the bottom of the tents. In fact, the appearances were anything but agreeable, the worst of all being that the coming in of the sea would spoil the drinkable water.’7 General Monnet had ordered some of the sluices around Flushing to be opened so as to flood the land held by the besiegers, though the British managed to drain some of the sea-water away, following the advice of the peasants. All supplies for the siege were being landed at Veere, in the north-east of Walcheren, and were then transported along the narrow roads to Flushing, but the constant rain and thunderstorms, and now Monnet’s deliberate opening of the sluices, made this work extremely difficult.
Private Wheeler described the efforts that were being made to reduce Flushing:We are going on with the necessary work for the destruction of the town. There is not an idle hand to be found, some are building batteries, digging trenches, filling sand bags, making large wicker baskets, carpenters making platforms, Sailors bringing up guns, Mortars, Howitzers, ammunition, Shot, shell etc. All this work is going on under the beautiful music of all the guns and mortars the garrison can bring to bear on any of our works . . . Two nights ago we were visited by a dreadful Thunder storm, such were the torrents of rain we were washed out of our camp, the barns and houses of two farms gave us shelter for the night. This has slightly hindered our work, but the progress made under so many difficulties is astonishing, every thing is nearly complete, and begins to assume a very formidable appearance.8
On 11 August ten frigates forced their way up the West Scheldt, firing on Flushing and damaging several enemy guns. Marine Lieutenant Robert Fernyhough, in the frigate Statira, took part in the action:If you had seen me . . . you would have taken me for any thing but an officer, for I was as black as a sweep. In the middle of the conflict it became so hot, that I threw off my uniform and neck-cloth, and unbuttoned my shirt collar, consequently, the powder had so completely blackened my shirt and face, that had a soot bag been shaken over me, I could not have been worse. I have scarcely been able to use my right hand since, the skin having been taken off four of my fingers, by the friction of the ropes, in working the guns; for I pulled and hauled as well as my men, not choosing to remain inactive, when the shot were flying about.9
In his official dispatch Strachan reported: ‘The gallant and seamanlike manner in which this squadron was conducted, and their steady and well-directed fire, excited in my breast the warmest sensations of admiration. The army witnessed their exertions with applause . . . No very material accident happened, except by a shell striking L’Aigle, and which fell through her decks into the bread room, where it exploded; one man was killed, and four others wounded; her stern frame is much shattered. ’10 From the roof of a building at Middelburg, Lieutenant Dillon witnessed the frigates forcing their way up the Scheldt and the shell hitting his former ship, the Aigle, after which he encountered some of the tourists:I now became a perfect idler, my time being taken up with sightseeing at Middelburg and its environs. English travellers were arriving daily to witness the exploits of our Army: among the number Alderman Curtis, whom I shall never forget. He paid great attention to gastronomy, and came in a pleasure boat, bringing with him a fine turtle which I believe was presented to Lord Chatham. Among the strangers I was agreeably surprised to meet my friend Lord Yarmouth. These gentlemen were longing to have a view of a siege of a fortified town, and Flushing was considered one of the first order: it was therefore expected that it would not easily surrender. A col. Congreve, with whom I became acquainted, had invented a rocket of destruction, which bore his name. They were in high request on this occasion.11
Chatham’s turtle was duly cooked and eaten, and news of this, as well as Chatham’s reputation, reached Paris, where it was mockingly said that ‘his countrymen reproached him with being occupied almost exclusively about his health and his turtle-soup, instead of troubling himself with details of the expedition placed under his command’.12
On the day that the frigates attacked Flushing, Monnet ordered more of the surrounding area to be flooded by sea-water, and a worried Strachan wrote in his dispatch that ‘the enemy has cut the dyke to the right of the town, and the island is likely to be inundated. I have ordered Rear-admiral Otway to send the Monmouth and Agincourt to England for water . . . and earnestly entreat that other means may be adopted for supplying the army and navy from England, as I apprehend all the water in this island will be spoiled by the inundation, and that there is not more in the other islands than is necessary for the subsistence of the inhabitants.’13
Now that the gun batteries were ready, Seaman William Robinson related that ‘a summons was sent in for the town of Flushing to surrender; to this the commandant [Monnet] sent in a negative, unless compelled by the force of arms: a second message was then sent, requesting that the women and children might be sent away, as the intention was to bombard the town, and it would be desirable that their lives should not become the sacrifice; and the commandant’s reply was, that he would not allow any person to leave the town’.14 As the flooding was getting worse, threatening some of the gun batteries, the decision was taken to begin the bombardment of Flushing from the newly constructed batteries and from a flotilla of gunboats and brigs under Captain George Cockburn situated above Flushing and another flotilla under Captain Edward Owen situated below. Gunner Richardson of the Caesar reported what happened in his journal: ‘Sunday, August 13.—While the good people in Old England were this day offering up their prayers to the Almighty God of peace, we here were serving the devil by destroying each other as fast as we could; for at half-past one in the afternoon, our batteries being all ready, began to fire on the town of Flushing, and a tremendous roar (such as has seldom been in battle) was kept up with shot, shells, rockets, and musketry, enough to tear the place in pieces.’15
Thomas Howell of the 71st Highlanders and a veteran of the Corunna retreat, was shocked by the result:I was stunned and bewildered by the noise; the bursting of bombs and falling of chimneys, all adding to the incessant roar of the artillery. The smoke of the burning houses and guns, formed altogether, a scene not to be remembered but with horror, which was increased, at every cessation from firing (which was very short), by the piercing shrieks of the inhabitants, the wailings of distress, and howling of dogs. The impression was such as can never be effaced. After night fell, the firing ceased, save from the mortar batteries. The noise was not so dreadful: the eye was now the sense that conveyed horror to the mind. The enemy had set fire to Old Flushing, whilst the New Town was kept burning by the shells and rockets. The dark flare of the burning, the reflection on the water and sky, made all the space, as far as the eye could reach, appear an abyss of fire. The faint tracks of the bombs, and luminous train of the rockets, darting towards, and falling into the flames, conveyed an idea to my mind so appalling, that I turned away and shuddered.16
The French advance posts were attacked during the night, forcing them to be abandoned. In their retreat, the French set fire to the old town, but the intense smoke the next day hid from view the British gun batteries, especially those manned by the seamen, and allowed them to bombard Flushing even more vigorously. According to Captain Harry Ross-Lewin of the 32nd Regiment, the seamen proved formidable artillerymen: ‘A strong division of
sailors was landed, when we appeared before Flushing, to assist in the erection of batteries. Their station was on the extreme right [west]; they threw up a considerable work, armed with twenty-four pounders, and their fire from it soon became so incessant as to excite general astonishment.’17 At times, the sailors were rather too enthusiastic and impeded the assault, as Seaman Robinson observed: ‘I will here remark, that on one of the sallies made by the enemy out of the gates of the town, the soldiers and small-arms-men from the ships, were employed in engaging them, and the small-arms-men being seamen, with an impetuosity not to be controlled, they rushed on the enemy with such rapidity, while the military were waiting the word of command, that they actually drove the enemy within the gates of the town, with the loss of very few lives . . . Several times during the conflict, the soldiers would have fired on the enemy, but could not, for fear of killing our seamen.’18
By early morning seven battleships under the command of Rear-Admiral Strachan moved towards Flushing, but his flagship, the St Domingo, came too close and grounded, as did the Blake, which was following. Marine Captain Thomas Marmaduke Wybourn was on board the Blake, under Captain Edward Codrington, and he described the dangerous situation in a letter to his sisters:Sir R. Strachan formed the desperate resolution of attacking by Sea (he is the bravest fellow in the world). We had lain just out of reach of Shot since the 11th & yesterday the signal was given to prepare for battle, at Sea; we & the other Flagship52 got within Pistol shot of the Walls - the havoc we made was shocking, when to our consternation we both struck the Ground, all the other Ships passed by further off, seeing the danger; for three hours & a half we were thus left to ourselves, the batteries cutting us to pieces and no alternative but to wait the Tide rising. We all thought there could be no possibility of escaping. We on the poop, which is the roof of the Capt’s Cabin, were in such a line with the Guns, that it is amazing any of us escaped; almost the first shot killed my best Sergeant, a fine fellow, it took off both thighs, left Arm & right hand, the poor fellow called out to me, but I could not bear to look at him. Fortunately he died in half an hour, under amputation . . . The Troops & all our Fleet were spectators of the danger the two Admirals only were in . . . By the blessing of God, we lost but 13 men killed & wounded. The Shot actually flew about us at all angles, & it is a miracle how so many could pass among us with so little effect; 150 shot struck the Ship in the main Mast and the other masts & rigging cut to pieces - one shot carried 30 of my Muskets with it & shivered them to atoms. We have learnt since, that so destructive was our fire before we got aground that the French could not stand at their Guns - the ‘Blake’ killed 87 at the first Volley. But when they saw our situation, & that we could not fire, they rattled and peppered us finely. About an hour before we floated, we got about 7 Guns (out of 46) tobear, & these, with the ‘San Domingo’s’ few guns who had swung towards the Shore, kept them in check - & by half past one, we made sail from this Perilous position, happy enough.19
The bombardment from land and sea continued until four in the afternoon, when Chatham ordered a cease-fire. After being in so much danger, Captain Codrington confessed to his wife that ‘to us it was a worse battle than that of Trafalgar, because we were in so very perilous a situation and the particular object [target] of the enemy . . . There are but two killed and nine wounded, although there are six wounds in the mainmast and several warm shot sticking in parts of the hull.’20 Writing from Walmer in Kent, where she was passing the summer, Mrs Jane Codrington hopefully asked: ‘Will your wounds in the masts require your coming here or your going to Portsmouth?’21, adding: ‘I hope the two sailors’ wives on board Blake behaved properly in action.’22
By now fires were raging out of control in the town, but the French rejected the cease-fire, and so the firing resumed, lasting all evening and through the night. Private Wheeler was awestruck:The Bombardment continued all day, and increased at night. This night [14th] I was on picquet, it was beautiful and fine, one half of Flushing was in flames, the Fleet and the whole of the Batterys were at it pel mel. At midnight, when on sentry, I often counted fifteen shells and twelve rockets at one time hovering over and descending in to the devoted town. The roaring of guns and mortars, the hissing of Rockets, shot and shells, the chiming of the church bells, the French sentries calling at intervals ‘Alls well,’ [they were actually calling out ‘sentinelles’] the noise of the people trying to extinguish the fires, but above all, the heart rending cries of the poor women and children, beggars decription.23
Seaman Robert Stafford Clover on board the bomb vessel Thunder had trouble finding words to convey the scene: ‘At 8 o’clock a sight presented itself to the spectator, not often to be seen in modern times. Fifteen or sixteen shells flying like so many flaming meteors through the air, all up at once, and this repeated as often as the Mortars could be loaded, the shells also that we, and the other Bombs were throwing, the terrible carronading of the Gun Boats and the Congreve Rockets streaming liquid fire through the sky all combined to form a scene better to be imagined than described.’24
Early on 15 August the French surrendered. In his journal Gunner Richardson wrote: ‘The bombardment continued more than thirty-four hours (except an interval of three), when on the 15th, at three in the morning, it surrendered, although the commander-in-chief, General Monnet, had declared that he would be buried in its ruins first. However, it was said that he surrendered only at the intercession of the inhabitants, to save the town from destruction.’25 Richardson remarked that the townspeople ‘represent General Monnet as a tyrant, and that when the women solicited him to surrender in order to save the town from destruction, he ordered the soldiers to fire on them; but of the second in command [Osten] they spoke in high terms’.26 Napoleon thought that Monnet surrendered to the British to avoid justice at home: ‘The general who commanded Flushing did not defend it as long as he ought to have done. He had made a large fortune by the smugglers (as there was another depot of them there) and had been guilty of some malpractices, for which he was afraid of being brought to a court-martial, and I believe he was glad to get away.’27
The destruction of buildings at Flushing was terrible, as were the civilian casualties, and everyone who visited the wrecked town was shocked by what they saw, including Gunner Richardson:It has suffered much, many of its noble buildings being in ruins, and nearly four thousand troops and inhabitants slain. A church, said to be built in memory of Bonaparte when he visited this place, was in such a blaze that the very bells were melted, on the day and very near the hour of his nativity. Our loss was nearly as follows: The Navy, 9 killed and 55 wounded; the Army, 103 killed and 443 wounded . . . The town was in a miserable state from the effects of the bombardment, hardly a house escaped injury, and many totally destroyed; their fine Stadthouse is burnt down, and so was a fine elegant church. In looking at the ruins of it I got close to the mouth of a pit, nearly full of both sexes who lost their lives in the siege; the uppermost was a female of bulky size, and I was told that a number of people of both sexes were in the church when it fell, and were buried under its ruins, and this is very probable, as the bombardment began on a Sunday.28
Seaman Robinson also touched on the fate of women and children: ‘The sight was melancholy and distressing to behold. There was scarcely a street but in which the greater part of the houses were knocked down, with women and children buried under their ruins. Some were dug out scarcely alive and much mutilated, whilst others found a ready grave amidst the devastation. One third of the town was completely destroyed, and other parts much damaged; even the church did not escape, it received much injury by catching fire.’29 Lieutenant William Dillon hurried from Middelburg to see Flushing and was likewise appalled by the devastation. When it suddenly began to rain, he took shelter in a wooden shed: ‘Here I was accosted by a French artillery blacksmith, who had been at work in his department. I obtained more information from him than from any of the better-classed individuals. He was extremely intelligent, and stated that the author
ities had been expecting our attack six weeks earlier. Preparations for defence had been made in all directions, but as our ships did not appear it was conceived to have been a false alarm.’30 A few days later Dillon secured a passage home.
Three days after the surrender of Flushing the French-Dutch garrison of just over 5800 men was marched across Walcheren to embark on ships that were to take them as prisoners-of-war to England. Shortly afterwards large numbers of soldiers on the island of Walcheren fell severely ill, and among them was Thomas Howell of the 71st Highlanders, who like most others attributed his sudden illness to the bad atmosphere:The wet and fatigue of the last few days had made me ill. I was scarce able to stand, yet I did not report myself sick. I thought it would wear off. Next night I was upon guard. The night was clear and chill; a thin white vapour seemed to extend around as far as I could see; the only parts free from it were the sand heights. It covered the low place where we lay, and was such as you see early in the morning, before the sun is risen, but more dense. I felt very uncomfortable in it; my two hours I thought never would expire; I could not breathe with freedom. Next morning I was in a burning fever, at times; at other times, trembling and chilled with cold: I was unfit to rise, or walk upon my feet. The surgeon told me, I had taken the country disorder. I was sent to the hospital; my disease was the same as that of which hundreds were dying. My spirits never left me; a ray of hope would break in upon me, the moment I got ease, between the attacks of this most severe malady.31