Kitabı oku: «A Short History of H.M.S. Victory»

History of H.M.S. “Victory.”

The “Salvador del Mundo” striking to the “Victory” at St. Vincent.

EVERY Englishman, we imagine, knows that the “Victory” was the ship which bore Lord Nelson’s flag, and on board of which he received his death wound in the moment of triumph over the combined fleets of France and Spain, off Cape Trafalgar; but as very few are aware of her numerous and distinguished services, extending over many years, and preceding that sad yet glorious climax, this memoir of her career has been drawn up, with the hope of making her history from her launch to the present time better known; and that the hundreds who yearly visit her may carry away a record of their visit, to remind them of the classic ground they have been treading, and recall to their recollections some of the splendid deeds of the past, which gained for England the proud title of “Mistress of the Seas.”

There have been “Victory’s” in the English navy ever since the year 1570, and as each successive ship, from old age or misfortune, has disappeared from the list, another has soon after appeared to take her place.

The ship immediately preceding the existing “Victory,” was, like her, a first-rate three-decker, carrying 110 guns, and was accounted the finest ship in the service. In 1744 she was the flagship of Admiral Sir J. Balchen, a venerable officer of 75 years of age, who had been called from the honourable retirement of Greenwich Hospital to command a fleet destined to relieve Sir Charles Hardy, then blockaded in Lisbon by a superior French force, under the Count de Rochambault. On returning from the successful performance of this service, the fleet was dispersed in the chops of the Channel by a tremendous gale, on October 4th. The rest of the ships, though much shattered, gained the anchorage of Spithead in safety, but the “Victory” was never more heard of, though from the evidence of fishermen of the island of Alderney, she was believed to have run on to the Caskets, some dangerous rocks lying off that island, where her gallant crew of about a thousand perished to a man.

In 1765, on the 7th May, was launched from Chatham Dockyard the present “Victory” which had been built from designs of Sir Thomas Slade, then surveyor of the navy.

Her principal dimensions are as follows:—

Her armament was in 1778—

In 1793 she had four 32-pr. carronades substituted on upper deck, and six 18-pr. carronades added on the poop, making her total number of guns at this time 110. The six last were subsequently removed, as at Trafalgar she had no guns on the poop. In 1803, two 68-pr. carronades were placed on the forecastle, instead of two 32-pr., when the weight of her broadside fired from 52 guns was 1160 pounds. It may here be mentioned, for the sake of comparison, that the weight of the broadside of the Monarch, a modern ironclad, carrying but six guns,¹ is 2515 lbs., or more than twice that of the “Victory.”

As it happened, in 1765 England was at peace with all the world, so the “Victory” lay quietly at her moorings at Chatham for 13 years, but in 1778, when war with France became imminent, she was commissioned by Captain Sir J. Lindsey on 15th March, and on Admiral Hon. Augustus Keppel being appointed to the command of the Channel Fleet he selected her as his flagship, and she was sent round to Portsmouth, where, on May 16th, she hoisted his flag. On the 7th June Keppel sailed from St. Helen’s, with 21 sail of the line, 3 frigates, and 3 sloops, having Sir Robert Harland and Sir Hugh Palliser as his Vice-Admirals. His position was a peculiar and delicate one, as war was not yet declared, though all chance of peace being maintained was at an end, but it was known that large and rich fleets of merchantmen from our East and West Indian possessions were on their way home, and it was unadvisable to allow any French frigates to cruise at large and carry intelligence of their whereabouts to Brest; besides this, Admiral Byron with a small squadron was on the point of sailing to reinforce our fleet on the American coast, and Keppel was expected to cover his path. Under these circumstances, when two French frigates hove in sight on the 17th June, Keppel determined to detain them; one, the Licorne, submitted after firing one broadside, but the other, the Belle-Poule, attempted to escape, was pursued, and after a long chase, brought to action by the Arethusa, Captain Marshall. The two frigates were nearly equal in force, and after one of the most desperate contests on record, the fight terminated by the Belle-Poule drifting amongst the rocks of her own coast, leaving the Arethusa a dismantled hulk, to be found by the Valiant, and towed home. This action is perpetuated in the well-known sea song, the “Saucy Arethusa.”

From the Licorne, Keppel learnt the unexpected and unpleasant intelligence that the French fleet in Brest amounted to 32 sail of the line and 12 frigates; as his own only numbered 21, prudence dictated a return for reinforcement, and he very unwillingly turned his back on France, anchoring at St. Helen’s on the 27th of June, and detaining another French frigate, the Pallas, on his way.

On the 10th of July, war being now declared, he again sailed, with 25 sail of the line, and was joined off Plymouth by 5 more, making his total force 30 of the line and 4 frigates; with these he now proceeded in search of the French Admiral D’Orvilliers, who, with 32 ships of the line and many frigates, had left Brest a few days before, hearing that the expected British merchant fleets were at hand. The object of the French was, of course, the capture of these rich prizes, and they naturally wished to avoid a meeting with the British men-of-war before this was accomplished. On the other hand, the English longed for the battle, as the shortest and safest mode of saving their convoys. So when the two fleets sighted one another on the 23rd, the French, being to windward, did their best to avoid an engagement, and held their wind; on which Keppel finding he had no chance of overtaking them if he kept his line of battle, hoisted the signal for a general chase, and kept it flying.

Thus for four days were both fleets working to windward, during which, two French line of battle ships were cut off, but from their superior sailing escaped capture. Keppel hoped that D’Orvilliers would bear up to their rescue, but the wily Frenchman knew that if he did, he would have to give up all hopes of his prize, and preferred that his stray vessels should trust to their heels, which as we have seen, bore them in good stead on this occasion. However, this made the two fleets numerically equal, and, on the forenoon of July 27th, being then some 100 miles west of Ushant, the joy in the British fleet was excessive, when they found that a shift of wind brought them into such a position that an engagement was inevitable. The French still tried to evade the fight, and put about on the other tack, bringing the heads of the two lines pointed in nearly opposite directions, and in this way the British van, commanded by Sir R. Harland, came in action with the French centre, and standing on until close to their line, ran along it to leeward. The rest of the fleet followed, taking their positions in the line as quickly as they could, the “Victory” being in about the centre.

It will be seen by this, that the fleets, after once meeting, were parting each moment, and at the end of about two hours, their respective rears were clear of one another. Keppel then did his best to renew the battle, but from the French practice of aiming at the spars, his ships were so crippled that the “Victory,” and some four others, were alone able to wear after the enemy. Under these circumstances, and hoping to bring the enemy to action again next day, as they also were much scattered and disabled, the English Admiral got his ships together and repaired damages. Unfortunately, the wind came fair for Brest in the night, and the French, having succeeded in concealing their movements, by stationing their frigates to show misleading lights, ran for, and gained that port. Their mast heads only were visible in the morning, and Keppel, after chasing for two hours, found it hopeless and gave up the pursuit.

Thus, for want of the manœuvre of “breaking the line,” which Rodney, under precisely similar circumstances, so successfully practised four years later, this engagement had no results beyond that of saving the convoys, one of which passed the scene of action the very next day. The “Victory” had, at one time, six enemy’s ships on her, and was much cut up in hull and rigging; her loss was 11 killed and 24 wounded, being the largest number rendered hors de combat in any one ship of the British fleet, save one, the Formidable. The total loss was 113 killed and 373 wounded. The French loss was never correctly ascertained, but, as it was the English custom to fire at the hulls, it was probably much more severe. Keppel returned to port, and after refitting, again sailed from Plymouth on the 23rd August, but never again met the enemy, and eventually arrived at Portsmouth on the 28th of October.

This is the history of a ship, and not of the times, so we have strictly nothing to do with subsequent events that arose out of this engagement; but, as they created great excitement, perhaps a short account of the sequel may not be altogether out of place. At this period of our history, the British public expected some tangible proofs of our naval superiority whenever our fleets met an equal enemy, in the shape of ships captured or destroyed; and the indecisive results of the action of the 27th July, gave rise to a multitude of paragraphs in the newspapers, commenting on the conduct of the different Admirals, especially that of the Commander-in-Chief, and Sir Hugh Palliser, and attributing blame to one or the other, as their fancy, or rather their politics dictated: the principals themselves (who were both members of the House of Commons, but of opposite parties), in exculpating themselves, became involved in mutual recriminations, and finally Sir Hugh Palliser preferred charges against Admiral Keppel, for, in a few words not doing his best to “burn, sink, and destroy.” Suffice it to say, that a Court Martial to try Admiral Keppel met at Portsmouth on January 7th, 1779, and sat at the Governor’s house, by special Act of Parliament, on account of the bad health of the accused, until February 11th, when it honourably acquitted him, and declared the charges “malicious and ill-founded.” Keppel, by his former victories and frank condescending manners, had long rendered himself the idol of the navy and people, and the first disappointment felt at the meagre results of his engagement had been succeeded by a strong popular reaction in his favour, when it was understood that he would be placed on his trial. The news of his acquittal was received throughout the country with an extraordinary burst of joy. On the sentence being made known, a signal gun was fired at Portsmouth, upon which the ships at Spithead immediately cheered and saluted, and a fleet of Indiamen, lying at the Mother Bank, fired 19 vollies. Nor were they behind hand on shore in manifesting their delight; the bells of Portsmouth church rang for the day, the late prisoner was escorted from the court by a vast crowd, attended by some of the most illustrious in the land; and such was his popularity, that not only Portsmouth, but other towns were illuminated, and the inhabitants rejoiced in the most frantic way, as if for a great national deliverance.

Admiral Keppel was requested to retain the command of the fleet, but refused, and was succeeded by Sir Charles Hardy, who hoisted his flag in the “Victory,” on the 19th March, 1779. Sir Charles found himself with 37 ships of the line, which seems a large force, but the accounts of the day state that a number of them were very badly manned; however that may be, after sailing on June 16th, he was cruising off Ushant on August 20th, when intelligence reached him that the French and Spanish fleets had effected a junction at Cadiz, and were then off Plymouth; he learnt also that they consisted of 67 sail of the line, besides more than 30 frigates, and smaller vessels. Sir Charles made sail after them, and sighted them on 1st September, off Scilly, when finding that his information as to their force was correct, and reflecting that the safety of the country would in a great measure depend on him should the enemy attempt a landing, he retired to Spithead. This is, we believe, the only time that the “Victory” was ever forced to show her stern to an enemy.

The combined fleets, after making a great show, and indulging in a parade off Plymouth, quitted the Channel without attempting any enterprise. The British Admiral cruised till the end of the year, when the “Victory” returned to Portsmouth with her division, and, being placed in dock, was coppered for the first time. In the spring, whilst preparing to take the sea again, Sir C. Hardy was seized with an apoplectic fit, and died on 14th May, 1780.

Admiral Geary then hoisted his flag in the “Victory,” on 24th May, on succeeding to the command of the Channel fleet, and sailed early in June, with 29 line-of-battle ships, 14 of them three-deckers. He stationed himself off Brest, which he watched for three months, his object being to prevent the French from getting out, and joining the Spaniards fitting in Cadiz; when, having over 2500 sick on board his fleet, he returned to Spithead on the 18th August. He captured a valuable convoy of merchantmen during his cruise, but did not have a chance of measuring his strength with the enemy. Feeling his health failing, Admiral Geary resigned his command, and the “Victory” struck his flag on the 28th August.

Vice-Admiral Darby, who was on board the Britannia, then took command of the Channel fleet, and the “Victory” flew the flag of Rear-Admiral Drake, the 3rd in seniority, but only for one cruise, as being afflicted with severe attacks of gout, this officer resigned his post on 29th December.

The “Victory” was next destined to be the flagship of a squadron fitting for service in the North Sea, under Vice-Admiral Hyde Parker, who hoisted his flag in her on March 20th, 1781, at Portsmouth. On May 20th, she sailed for the Downs, with five other ships; but a few days after her arrival at that anchorage, Admiral Parker shifted his flag to the Fortitude, a 74, as being better adapted for cruising in the narrow seas to which he was bound, and the “Victory,” returning to Spithead, hoisted the broad pendant of Commodore Elliott, and bore it for one cruise with the fleet, in which nothing of importance took place.

In September of the same year, Rear-Admiral Kempenfelt, hoisted his flag as fourth Admiral of Channel fleet and cruised with it for two months; but in December he was detached in command of a squadron of 12 sail of the line and 5 frigates, to attempt to intercept M. de Guichen, who had sailed from Brest, with a convoy, carrying troops and laden with warlike stores intended for the Count de Grasse in the West Indies.

Early on the 12th December, when 40 leagues west of Ushant, the look out frigate, Tisiphone, Captain James Saumarez, made the signal for an enemy’s fleet, and boldly crowded all sail to close them. In a short time, when the day was fully broke, Kempenfelt found to his disgust, that the enemy was much stronger than he had been led to expect, as he could count 19 line of battle ships amongst the crowd of ships to leeward of him; he therefore decided to watch his opportunity before attacking; and, after sailing along with, and to windward of the French fleet for a few hours, his patience was rewarded by perceiving that the van and centre, with most of the men-of-war, were separated by a slight gap from the rear. He at once made a dash for the opening, and, while with the “Victory” and some others, he engaged the rear of the French centre, and prevented their returning to the rescue, his other vessels passed to leeward and captured the whole of that division of the convoy—15 ships—sinking four frigates that rashly, but most gallantly, endeavoured to protect them.