by Sam Willis
Duncan enclosed with his second, more detailed description of the battle, this breakdown of his fleet,
The fleet is clearly divided into two divisions, one to larboard, the ‘lee’ division, and the other to starboard, the ‘weather’ division. Each division is led by its own commander, consists of eight ships and has its own ‘repeaters’ attached to it. These last were ships that, stationed some distance away and parallel to the line of battle, repeated commanding officers’ signals, thereby reducing, but by no means eliminating, the problems of communication up and down the line of battle. Flags were used to signal during the day, but often their colours were difficult to make out in fog, mist, rain, poor light or glaring sun.
Notice the size of the ships, measured by the number of their guns. All are armed on two decks. They are, therefore, relatively small compared with the giants that fought at The Glorious First of June or at the Battle of St Vincent. In the line of battle at The First of June no ships were armed with fewer than 74 guns and only one was at St Vincent; in Duncan’s fleet more than half of the ships have fewer than 74 guns. At The First of June seven ships were armed with 90 guns or more and at St Vincent six; in this fleet no ships have more than 74 guns. However, the ships of the North Sea fleet were lightly armed and had shallow draughts for a very good reason: they were specifically selected for warfare in the shallow waters, shoals and sandbanks off the Dutch coast.
The Dutch fleet also consisted of small warships and they had even shallower draughts, but the British retained one huge advantage that is not revealed by this list. The given number of guns disguises a significant fact, the type of guns. The British ships were all armed with carronades, a type of cannon designed to be hugely destructive over a very short range, and they sailed into battle at Camperdown armed with 86 of them. The Dutch had none.
Notice also the differing sizes of the ships: there are 74-gunners, 60-gunners and 50-gunners. Such variety made it hard both to achieve and retain cohesion. Station keeping was challenging since ships of different sizes sailed at different speeds even under similar sail plans. It was extremely difficult to get such a fleet into a compact order and then keep them there, however talented the fleet commander. It is not surprising, therefore, that Duncan’s order to form a line at 09.30 on the morning that the Dutch were sighted was never enacted, nor is it fair to criticise the British fleet for that failure. A significant part of the reason for Duncan’s pell-mell attack was that he had no choice. He simply couldn’t get his fleet into a compact formation.
Another important factor was the age of these ships. The newest purpose-built warship in the fleet was the appropriately named Veteran, already a decade old. The oldest ships were the Triumph and the Russell, both 33 years old, while Onslow’s flagship the Monarch was only a year younger. The global demands of the maritime war in 1797 rendered Britain so lacking in warships that Duncan’s fleet also included four hastily converted East Indiamen, the 64-gunners Monmouth, Agincourt, Ardent and Lancaster. Two other ships were 50-gunners, an obsolete class of ship that had been withdrawn from all respectable lines of battle years before and were therefore not considered ships ‘of the line’.
The age and poor condition of the ships available to Duncan resulted in a high turnover of those actually available at any one time because they were constantly rotating to and from port to be patched up. On the day of the battle, Duncan was even worried that his flagship could not be kept free from the leaks that constantly threatened to flood the bilge. The list is important, therefore, because it is markedly different from the order of sailing that Duncan had issued just four days previously and which included three ships which were not at the battle and left out one, the Adamant, which was. Such uncertainty made it very difficult for Duncan to plan, and even more difficult for him to rely on his captains. By no means was his fleet formed of men who had forged a close-knit brotherhood through constant contact with each other and with their commander-in-chief.
There is another important factor here conspicuous by its absence. Where was the Russian fleet? Duncan had received Russian help from the summer of 1795 in the form of a nominally powerful, though practically weak, Russian squadron of 12 ships of the line and six frigates. Their absence is indicative of the poor cooperation between the British and the Russians. The latter refused to acknowledge Duncan’s overall command or to salute his flag and they came and went at will from their bases in the Baltic. With their ships ill-disciplined and dirty, it is unclear exactly how much help they would have been in battle, but it remains significant that they were not there. Nevertheless, five years after the battle, they put in a claim for a share of the prize money on the basis that they were then allied with the British. The claim irritated everyone and was roundly ignored.
Despite its deficiencies, however, this was a fleet that could boast an unusual number of noteworthy captains. Henry Trollope, the man to whom Duncan had entrusted the blockade of the Dutch coast whilst the main fleet recovered in Yarmouth, was an officer of undoubted professional ability. By 1797 he had already been in the navy for 26 years, having entered just before the outbreak of the previous war, the War of American Independence. He was renowned for his reliability, energy and particularly his commitment to gunnery improvement.
John Knight of the Montagu was another man of vast experience who, by 1797, had been in the navy for 39 years. He was noted for his skill as a surveyor, which had been nurtured and used by Howe to great effect on the North American coast during the American War. A great number of Knight’s published charts survive. He was easily the most experienced of Duncan’s officers in terms of fleet battle, having fought at the battles of Martinique (1780), the Chesapeake (1781), St Kitts (1782) and the crowning achievement of the American war, the Battle of the Saints (1782). His reputation was such that, during the American War, he had been made personally responsible for the education of Prince William Henry, the future King William IV, who was serving as a midshipman in the Barfleur, the flagship of Samuel Hood in which Knight served as Hood’s flag captain.
Vice-Admiral Richard Onslow was another man of immense experience. It is unclear exactly when he joined the navy but by 1758, 41 years before the Battle of Camperdown, he was already a Fourth Lieutenant. He had some experience of fleet warfare, the defence of St Lucia in 1778 being the highlight of his career, and he had a great deal of experience of strategic fleet operations in the American War. He was unflamboyant and dependable. Little personal material survives but one of the most revealing things about Onslow was written in his will: he explicitly ordered no more than £20 to be spent on his funeral ‘to prevent any unnecessary ostentation; the funeral of a brave and honest sailor costs a much less sum’.7 Onslow was a good man to have serving under you.
In contrast to these experienced officers was William Hotham, the nephew of the more famous Admiral William Hotham. This William Hotham was, in comparison to his fellow captains, startlingly new to the service, having joined the navy only 11 years before. He had served under Nelson at the siege of Bastia in 1795 but was otherwise very green, albeit with the finest possible patronage. He was a competent naval officer and a career of glittering promise was cut short by poor health but he still reached the rank of admiral. This was to be his only fleet battle.
The captain of the Director was none other than William Bligh, the man who had won infamy on the Bounty in 1789. When mutineers had set him adrift in the middle of the Pacific in a 23-foot launch with 18 crew, he had reached Kupang in Timor two months later after a 3,500-mile voyage, having lost only one man. Bligh had been honourably acquitted of responsibility for the mutiny at his court martial, although his presence in a small, elderly ship in the North Sea fleet suggests that his reputation had by no means recovered. We know, however, that he acted with great courage and resolution during the mutiny at the Nore when he did everything he could to protect his men from the Admiralty’s wrath. Bligh had joined the navy in 1761 as a ship’s boy and had steadily risen through the ranks in the
following 36 years. He became renowned for his ability as a sailor and navigator, and was personally chosen by Captain James Cook to serve as the Master of the Resolution on Cook’s third and final voyage of discovery. Two years after his return from the Pacific, Bligh fought at the Battle of the Dogger Bank in 1781, a vicious drawn engagement with the Dutch during the American War. Bligh was, therefore, unique in this fleet, and very rare in the Navy as a whole, because he already had experience of fighting the Dutch. He went on to make Vice-Admiral of the Blue in 1814, 53 years after joining the Navy. That is some career.
James Walker of the Monmouth was another man with a mixed reputation. He had already served for 21 years and had experienced fleet battle at two of the most significant and largest engagements of the previous war, the Chesapeake (1781) and the Saints (1782). Earlier in 1797, however, he had been court martialled and dismissed from the service for convoying vulnerable British merchantmen back from Spain without specific orders to do so. This curious event probably had more to do with Britain’s political relationship with Spain than Walker’s sense of professional duty, but it is significant that Walker had only just been reinstated into the service when the Battle of Camperdown was fought. In fact, although he is listed here as the ship’s captain, his appointment was so new that it was not actually confirmed until 17 October, a week after the battle.
John Williamson of the Agincourt was yet another man with a mixed reputation. He had been Third Lieutenant of the Resolution on Captain James Cook’s third and final voyage of exploration in the Pacific. When Cook was murdered on a beach by a mob of Hawaiian tribesmen in 1779, Williamson had been in charge of the ship’s launch. Cook, realising that the tribesmen were aggressive, had gestured for Williamson to bring the launch to the beach but Williamson misunderstood the gesture and took her further out to sea. With no escape, Cook was clubbed and stabbed to death on the shoreline along with four of his marines. Some witnesses blamed Williamson directly for Cook’s death. Williamson would obviously have known William Bligh, who had been the Resolution’s sailing master.
There are, therefore, two significant themes to this series of brief biographies. First, many of Duncan’s captains had already enjoyed extraordinarily long careers that simply could not be matched by the majority of the Dutch captains and, second, a significant number of British captains had mixed reputations. The North Sea fleet not only included some rag-tag ships but also some rag-tag men.
A. Duncan to E. Nepean, 15 October 1797
Two days after Duncan wrote his first detailed description of the battle, he was back in British waters, off Orfordness, and he wrote again to the Admiralty, describing some of the difficulties that his damaged fleet had suffered after the battle. We know from his previous dispatches that the British fleet had been severely disabled and that the wind had continued to blow towards the Dutch shoreline after the battle. Making ground to windward was the most demanding of all points of sailing and a ship’s windward capability was the first to suffer when her rig became damaged. Duncan, therefore, had been in real danger of losing a number of his ships after the battle. He describes how the Venerable, which went into battle leaking, was now in such a state that her men could only keep her free of water by working constantly at the pumps. Nor were the British ships the only ones to suffer. The captured Delft, the replica of which is now being built in Rotterdam, sank on the same day that Duncan wrote this letter and the 74-gun Dutch prize Jupiter did not arrive back until 23 October, a full eight days later.
VENERABLE, OFF ORFORDNESS,
15th OCTOBER 1797
Monarch Powerful Lancaster Bealiueu
Sir,
In addition to my letter of the 13th instant, giving the particulars of the action of the 11h and which I have not been able to send away until this day, have to acquaint you for the information of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty that from the wind continuing to blow on the Dutch Coast the ships have had great difficulty in keeping off the shore and which has unavoidably separated us. On Friday last the wind blew strong from WSW to WNW – which continued till Saturday morning when it shifted to North – Made the signal to Wear; stood to the Westward and fortunately anchored here last evening, the Venerable being so very leaky, that with all her Pumps going we could but just keep her free. This morning I observed the ships named in the margin at anchor near us – Three near the Kentish Knock and three in Hosley Bay. The wind is at NW and much against the disabled ships. I have therefore sent the Lancaster and Beauliueu out to render them assistance.
Sir Thomas Williams in the Endymion who joined me the day after the action – I also sent in shore to keep by and assist the disabled ships, and am informed he fell in with a Dutch Ship of the Line off the Texel, in the night, and had engaged her, but have not heard the particulars.
I beg leave to suggest to their Lordships whether it would not be proper to order any ships that may be in port to the assistance of the disabled ships. I shall proceed to the Nore with such ships as I can get together. Herewith I transmit you a Copy of an Order given to Captain White of the Vestal and am
Sir
Your most obedient humble servant
Adam Duncan
P.S. I request their Lordships will be pleased to give directions for accomodating the wounded.
EVAN NEPEAN ESQ.
Thomas Williams of the 40-gun Endymion frigate had indeed engaged a Dutch ship the day after the main action but had been unable to take her. Williams found the 74-gun Brutus anchored close inshore and, in spite of the major discrepancy in size between the two, fell on her. But the captain of the Brutus had chosen his position well and the Endymion was forced to withdraw. The next day she sailed in company with the 40-gun frigate Beaulieu to renew the action but the captain of the Brutus had managed to take his ship safely into the harbour at Goree. She was one of seven Dutch ships that escaped. The Endymion is not listed in Duncan’s Order of Battle (p. 134) because she joined the fleet the day after the battle and was immediately sent after the escaping Dutch ships.
Monarch’s List of Officers, and Men Wounded, in action with the Dutch Fleet, 11th of October 1797
This document is one of the gems of this era’s naval history. It is a list of the men wounded on board the Monarch, Vice-Admiral Onslow’s flagship. It is important because it is so rare. Surgeons’ journals of any type from the Age of Sail are scarce but those kept by surgeons who witnessed fleet battle are even more so. This list gives the name of the sailor, his rank, described here as ‘quality’, the nature of his wounds and the name of the hospital ship to which he was sent.
A note on ‘Quality’:
LM – Landsman: An unskilled deckhand.
Ab – Able Seaman: A skilled seaman.
Ordy / Oy – Ordinary Seaman: A trainee seaman with some experience.
Boatsn – Boatswain: Warrant officer responsible for sails, rigging and ground tackle.
Bon Mte – Boatswain’s Mate: A petty officer assisting the boatswain.
Msr Mate – Master’s Mate: A petty officer assisting the Master.
Midsh – Midshipman: A young gentleman training to be a commissioned officer.
qr. mast. – Quartermaster: A petty officer assisting the master to handle the ship.
qr. msr mate – Quartermaster’s Mate: A petty officer assisting the Quartermaster.
qr. gunnr - Quartergunner: A petty officer assisting the gunner.
Carps Crew – Carpenter’s crew
Yeon Sheets – Yeoman of the sheets: A petty officer working under the boatswain responsible for the ship’s stores.
Privte – Marine Private: A soldier of the Royal Marines.
One hundred and three sailors, from a complement which we know to have been 599 (p. 134), are injured, at just over 17 per cent of the crew a relatively high proportion for a British warship in battle. By comparison, the 102 sailors wounded aboard HMS Victory at Trafalgar represented only 12 per cent of her registered complement while HMS Temeraire recorded 76 wo
unded at the same battle out of a complement of 720 men, a fraction over 10 per cent. Even HMS Brunswick, so shattered in her fierce engagement with the Vengeur at The Glorious First of June (p. 69), suffered no more than 114 wounded or a little over 20 per cent of her reduced complement of 552. We know that 622 British sailors were wounded at Camperdown and so the Monarch’s figures represent approximately one sixth of the entire British casualties. In comparison with the unreciprocated slaughter at St Vincent, the British paid heavily for their victory at Camperdown.
The types of injuries are revealing. Many sailors have suffered from ‘splinters’. The wooden walls of the largest warships in this period were a full three feet thick and it was quite rare for a cannon ball to penetrate right through a ship’s hull. Rather, the ball embedded itself in the hull or even bounced off, back into the sea. The impact, however, tore off vicious daggers of timber that cut flesh to the bone and shattered limbs.
The next problem that the surgeon encountered was that these ‘splinters’, which came from the inside of the ship’s hull, were often encrusted with the filth of hundreds of men living together. Bacteria of one type or another mixed with salt water in the wounds. In an age without antisepsis such a wound could quickly mortify and become fatal. These wounds, therefore, were by no means minor injuries but required careful management if the patient was to recover.
The fact that so many of the wounds are from splinters, with only the occasional wound caused by a musket ball, suggests that the ship was only ever engaged in a gunnery duel. A boarding action, either defensive or offensive, would have returned an entirely different list of injuries: we would see more chopping and stabbing wounds to arms, neck and torso caused by tomahawks and cutlasses as well as deep puncture wounds from pikes.
Several amputations are recorded in this list. The Royal Navy had a particularly good record with amputation, though the survival rate depended greatly on which limb was being amputated and the exact location of the amputation. We know, for example, that lower limbs posed a much greater risk to the patient than upper limbs and that the death-rate of mid-thigh amputees was between 40 and 50 per cent, of below-the-knee amputees between 30 and 35 per cent and of foot amputees 25 per cent. Thomas Pedder, whose thumb was amputated, no doubt survived to tell the tale, though it is doubtful whether he would have resumed his job as a member of the carpenter’s crew: just try using a hammer without your thumb.