In the Hour of Victory

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In the Hour of Victory Page 14

by Sam Willis


  He had risen by seniority rather than by repeated shows of dashing behaviour in the face of the enemy, but this was through no fault of his own, nor was it for lack of raw talent. He had contracted malaria as a young man while serving in the West Indies and subsequent recurrent bouts in hot climates had forced him to refuse plum commands that would have brought him into more regular contact with the enemy. The very fact that he was in command of the North Sea fleet in 1797, an uninviting prospect if ever there was one, was a case in point. He had already been offered, and had refused, the enviable Mediterranean command, recommending Jervis in his stead.

  The challenge he now faced was immense, however. The North Sea, particularly around the Dutch Coast, is a unique environment that favours detailed local knowledge and utter commitment. It is characterised by shallow waters, grim weather, cold winds, an iron-grey sea and, in 1797, a relatively small area of operations. If Duncan was ever going to catch de Winter and then keep him in his clutches long enough to inflict a defeat, he would have to think and act quickly and his men would have to follow him without blinking. The political pressure was also intense. Duncan was well-connected and was married to Henrietta Dundas, niece of Henry Dundas, the then Minister of War. The First Lord, Earl Spencer, kindly wrote to him shortly after news of Jervis’s victory at St Vincent had reached England: ‘Sir John Jervis with fifteen of the line has just beat twenty- seven Spaniards and taken four of their best ships; I hope soon to be able to congratulate you upon as brilliant a day.’4

  Duncan’s inexperience was not the only factor likely to prevent that happening. The North Sea command, which stretched all the way from Selsey Bill in Sussex to Cape Wrath in Scotland, was the least favoured theatre. The finest and newest ships were always snapped up by the most prestigious commands and the most dashing commanders. Duncan’s North Sea fleet was a ramshackle collection both of men and ships. Throughout his command his letters are littered with complaints about the seaworthiness of his ships, most of which were old and leaky and a curse for any commander. He needed his men to have confidence in their ships as machines of war before he could begin to rely on those same men to perform in battle.

  What Duncan’s crews did have, however, was a confidence in each other forged, curiously, in the summer months of mutiny. The surviving mutineers’ letters from Duncan’s fleet record their grievances alongside a careful and explicit commitment to serving the navy by defeating the enemy as soon as their complaints were addressed. Mutiny was a shameful act and the British sailors were now desperate to redeem their mutinous conduct through heroic action and to demonstrate their loyalty to their commander, to the navy and to their sovereign. One mutineer’s letter to Duncan read:

  ‘We cannot omit this opportunity to express our gratitude and affection to you, our Commander-in-Chief, for your paternal care, attention and salutary advice in every stage of that unhappy event which has stained the character of the British tar, but which we hope and trust may be redeemed by future bravery and a steady perseverance in their country’s cause. We sincerely wish the enemy may give us an opportunity of manifesting our loyalty to our King, our steady attachment to the Constitution, and our personal regard for the best of Commanders.’5

  On the one hand, therefore, Duncan was inexperienced and the men of the North Sea fleet sailed in rotten ships; on the other, they were bursting for a fight. The Channel fleet had won a great victory over the French at The First of June, the Mediterranean fleet had won a great victory over the Spanish at St Vincent and now it was their turn, the turn of a fleet which had become renowned for nothing but mutiny. All eyes were turned north. The sailors knew it and they were not going to let themselves or anyone else down.

  The Coercion

  The strategic situation in the autumn of 1797 was relatively straightforward. The Dutch fleet was in the Texel and Duncan was in Yarmouth. Henry Trollope was patrolling the Dutch coast but the threat of a combined Franco-Dutch invasion had long since passed. The campaigning season was over. Bitter winds regularly howled from north and west. It was so cold that there was snow on Dartmoor, hundreds of miles to the warmer south and west. And yet de Winter started to feel the irresistible force of politics. Members of the Batavian Committee for Foreign Affairs agreed that their navy should be sent to sea to lure Duncan out and to defeat him. It would be a demonstration of Batavian strategic independence from France, an important counter to the dishonour of the surrender at Saldanha Bay and an affirmation of Dutch identity. It would be a conscious hark back to the glory days when the Dutch had repeatedly defeated the British at sea and their empire had grown fat on the fruits of maritime trade. De Winter, who had measured the competence of his men and had found them wanting, knew that battle with the British was madness. On 6 October, however, the weather finally turned and the Dutch were blessed – or perhaps cursed – with a brief window of south-easterly winds that allowed them to leave the Texel. Two days later, the British lugger Speculator, sent direct from Trollope off the Dutch coast to Duncan in Yarmouth, flew a signal that, at first, seemed impossible. The Dutch, it appeared, were at sea with 16 of the line, five frigates and five brigs.

  The Dispatches

  A. Duncan to E. Nepean, 12 October 1797

  Duncan’s first dispatch is one of the most powerful of this collection. He wrote it on board his flagship the very moment that firing ceased, and he would still have been surrounded by the chaos of battle, ears ringing from cannon shot, clothes damp from sweat and sea spray. We know from other sources that he was one of only two men left unhurt on his quarterdeck, and it is worth remembering that this was only his second fleet battle and his first for 17 years. He writes with adrenaline coursing through his body, with his heart pumping too fast. He forces himself to sit at his desk and write even as he is desperate to attend to everything else that demands his attention in the aftermath of battle. The words do not keep to any rigid line; they gush across the page. Duncan can barely control his quill. He has to go back to the letter and cram more words in between lines. He simply cannot contain himself or delay telling the Admiralty of his victory. He is confident that people will want to know his news before the detail of it is certain.

  He is clearly overjoyed at the victory as much as he is relieved to be alive. The details are minimal. The letter is classic Duncan, the expression of a man of deeds and not words. He is, however, careful to explain how he passed through the enemy line, something that he is clearly proud of, something that tells of aggression, commitment and tactical nous. There is a nod to the tenacity of his opponents and the courage of his men in his description of the severity of the action. He mentions that nothing is yet decided, that a possibility even exists of renewing the action. He is not prepared to wait until he knows if he can destroy the remaining Dutchmen, which would make his victory greater, his achievement yet more impressive. He won’t even spare the time to cross out one of the repeated ‘at’s.

  Duncan fits more words into his letter in an attempt to make it more comprehensible.

  It is a fiery, energetic letter, full of personality. It is written by a likeable man bursting with pleasure; by a man who knew that the reputation of the navy desperately needed a victory after the shame of the mutinies; and by a man who was proud to have provided it. It is also a curious letter because it fails to describe the action but simply places the author at its location. That immediacy makes it startlingly modern. Not only does it say ‘Look at what I have done’ but also ‘Look at what I am doing’. This is not a proper battle report as much as a hastily scribbled postcard, an 18th-century battle Tweet.

  VENERABLE OFF THE COAST OF HOLLAND 12 OCT (BY LOG) 1797

  3 PM CAMPERDOWN ESE 8 MILES – WIND NBE

  Sir

  I have the pleasure to acquaint you for the information of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty – that at at [sic] 9 o’clock ½ past 12, passed through their line & commenced the action, which has been very severe – however, the admiral ship is dismasted and struck, as have sev
eral others, and one is on fire – I have just hauled off from the shore to get my ships refitted they having suffered much in masts & rigging – and shall renew the action and try to distroy the rest if possible –

  I am Sir,

  your most obedient humble servant

  Adam Duncan

  P.S. I shall send Captain Harisfaye with particulars the moment I can spare him –

  EVAN NEPEAN ESQR

  Admiral A. Duncan to E. Nepean, 13 October 1797

  Duncan provides much more detail in his next letter, written the following day and still off the coast of Holland. He describes how he set a trap for de Winter by placing his fleet in between de Winter’s estimated position and his home port. He makes careful reference to the behaviour of Vice-Admiral Onslow, who led the lee division. This is important because the British fleet did not attack as one body but in two separate divisions, one to windward and one to leeward; the attack at Camperdown, which was at right angles to the enemy line, was therefore almost identical to that which was later made famous at Trafalgar.

  Duncan describes capturing the Dutch admiral but fails to mention that de Winter was the only man left alive on his quarterdeck. Duncan is also rather nonchalant about the significance of his capture: de Winter was the only Dutch admiral ever to have surrendered to an enemy in battle and Duncan had, in fact, actually captured three Dutch flag-officers: Admiral de Winter, Vice-Admiral Reuter and Rear-Admiral Meures. Duncan does, however, provide more information about the location of the battle and how, at one stage, they were no more than five miles from land. We know from other sources that the guns’ smoke was visible from the coastline at Den Helder, a reminder of how close the shallow-drafted Dutch ships came to escaping.

  The scale of the victory remains unclear. Duncan is still unaware that seven of the 11 Dutch ships of the line and 11 Dutch ships in all have been captured or that 540 Dutch sailors are dead and 620 wounded and that no less than 3,775 prisoners have been taken. In short, Duncan had no idea that he had achieved a quite extraordinary victory, for no British fleet had hitherto so completely defeated another of similar size.

  VENERABLE AT SEA 13TH OCTOBER 1797.

  OFF THE COAST OF HOLLAND.

  Sir,

  Be pleased to acquaint the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, that judging it of consequence their Lordships should have as early information as possible of the defeat of the Dutch Fleet under the command of Admiral De Winter, I dispatched the Rose cutter at 3 PM on the 12th instant with a short letter to you immediately after the Action was ended. I have now further to acquaint you for their Lordships information, that in the night of the 10th instant, after I had sent away my letter to you of that date, I placed my Squadron in such situation as to prevent the Enemy from returning to the Texel, without my falling in with them. At 9 o’clock in the morning of the 11th I got sight of Captain Trollope’s Squadron with signals flying for an Enemy to Leeward; I immediately bore up and made the signal for a general Chace, and soon got sight of them, forming in a Line on the Larboard Tack to receive us, the wind at N.W. As we approached near, made the signal for the Squadron to shorten sail in order to connect them; soon after saw the land between Camperdown and Egmont about 9 miles to Leeward of the Enemy, and finding there was no time to be lost, in making the attack, made the signal to bear up, break the Enemy’s Line and engage them to Leeward, each Ship her opponent, by which I got between them and the Land; whither they were fast approaching – My signals were obeyed with great promptitude and Vice Admiral Onslow in the Monarch bore down on the Enemy’s Rear in the most gallant manner, his Division following his example and the Action commenced about 40 minutes past 12 o’clock: the Venerable soon got thro’ the Enemy’s Line and I began a close Action with my Division on their Van, which lasted near two hours and a half, when I observed all the Dutch Admirals Ships masts come by the board; she was however defended for some time in a most gallant manner, but being overpressed by numbers struck her Colours, and Admiral De Winter was soon brought onboard the Venerable. On looking around me, I observed the Vice Admiral’s Ship also dismasted and had surrendered to Vice Admiral Onslow – and that many others had also struck. My attention was so much taken up by finding we were in 9 fathoms water and not farther than 5 miles from the Land, and also in getting the disabled Ships’ heads off shore, that I was not able to distinguish the number of Ships captured, and the wind having been constantly on the Land since, we unavoidably have been much dispersed so that I have not been able to gain an exact account of them, but there are eight or nine taken possession of; more of them had struck, but taking advantage of the night coming on, and being so near their own Coast, succeeded in getting off, and some of them were seen going into the Texel the next morning.

  It is with the greatest pleasure and satisfaction I make known to their Lordships the very gallant behaviour of Vice Admiral Onslow, the Captains, Officers, Seamen and Marines of the Squadron who all appeared actuated with the truly British Spirit, at least those that I had the opportunity of seeing.

  One of the Enemy’s Ships caught fire in the Action and drove very near the Venerable, but I have the pleasure to say it was extinguished and she is one of the Ships in our possession. – The Squadron has suffered much in their Masts, Yards and Rigging, and many of them have lost a number of Men; however in no proportion to that of the Enemy; the carnage onboard their two Admirals Ships has been beyond all description, they have lost no less than Two hundred and fifty men each, killed and wounded: and here I have to lament the loss of Captain Burges of His Majesty’s Ship the Ardent, who brought that ship into Action in a most gallant and masterly manner, but was unfortunately soon after killed. – however the Ship continued the Action close, until quite disabled – The Public have lost a good and gallant Officer in Captain Burges, and I with others a sincere friend. Captain Trollope’s exertions and active good conduct, in keeping sight of the Enemy’s Fleet until I came up, is truly meritorious, and I trust will meet a just reward.

  I send this by Captn Fairfax who was slightly wounded, by whose able advice I profited much during the Action; and who will give their Lordships any further particulars they may wish to know.

  As most of the Squadron are much disabled, and several of the Prizes dismasted, I shall make the best of my way to the Nore with them; and purpose leaving a Frigate on my Rendezvous, to collect such ships, as may have been sent thither, in order to form a Squadron, and watch the further purposes of the enemy in the Texel.

  I herewith transmit you a List of killed and wounded onboard such of the Squadron as I have been able to collect, a List of the Enemys Fleet opposed to my Squadron, and my Line of Battle on the day of action. I am, Sir,

  Your most obedient, humble servant

  Adam Duncan

  EVAN NEPEAN ESQRE

  Duncan has freely named his gallant officers here – Onslow, Burges, Trollope and Fairfax – and he is careful to acknowledge the ‘truly British Spirit’ of everyone in his squadron. A marked omission is any mention of the suspect behaviour of Captain John Williamson of the Agincourt, who was later court martialled for negligence, evidenced by his abject failure to engage the enemy at any stage. He was found guilty, demoted to the bottom of the post captains’ list and denied any chance of further service at sea.

  Duncan’s claim that ‘My signals were obeyed with great promptitude’ also gives a rather unrealistic view of events because other evidence suggests that many of his captains understood none of his tactical intentions. Captain John Inglis of the Belliqueux, a fiery Scot, was so exasperated by Duncan’s signalling that he cried, ‘Damn … Up wi’ the hel-lem and gang into the middle o’ it’.6 A study of Duncan’s log shows that he made no less than 44 signals between 06.15 and 11.49, when the fleets finally clashed, enough to confuse any captain.

  It is also important to realise that Duncan’s attack in two squadrons at the centre and rear of the enemy was by no means deliberate, but the result of his cancelling an original order to form int
o a line of battle. Seeing that time was too limited to complete the formation of a line, Duncan simply ordered his captains to engage their opposite number and break through the enemy line. Receiving no further orders regarding their formation, the ships necessarily remained roughly in their pre-existing sailing order of two divisions advancing at right angles to the scattered Dutch line. In the midst of all this, an erroneous signal to concentrate on the enemy centre was flown on the Venerable but no annulling signal was hoisted. Onslow, and some others, believed that Duncan’s plan had changed again and that he now intended to invert the line. The result was that the British fleet concentrated on the rear of the Dutch in spite of, rather than because of, Duncan’s intentions. There is also no mention of the numerous examples of friendly fire; we know that the Agincourt fired into the Monmouth, and the Lancaster into the Isis. This dispatch, in short, offers a clinical, and false, view of a battle that was in fact riddled with confusion.

  The man Duncan sent back with the dispatches was the injured William George Fairfax, his flag captain. Fairfax had served with Duncan throughout the difficult summer and had been a particular help during the mutinies. He was knighted for his service at Camperdown.

  The British Order of Battle, 11 October 1797

 

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