The Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars saw very large numbers
of battles at sea between small numbers of ships, but few in which entire
squadrons engaged and yet fewer fleet actions on the scale of the Nile,
Camperdown or Trafalgar. On one occasion however a medium-sized Royal Navy
squadron escaped from a confrontation which, due to the disparity of forces,
could have ended in annihilation. That it did not reflected the cool head and
tactical mastery of the British commander, Admiral Lord William Cornwallis
(1744 – 1819).
Cornwallis had come to prominence in 1782, in the four-day
Battle of the Saintes, as captain of the “74” ship-of-the-line Canada. He had already engaged, and
defeated, a similarly sized French ship, the Hector, when he saw the opportunity to close with the enemy flagship,
the massive 104-gun Ville de Paris.
Despite the disparity in size, Cornwallis continued his attack for two hours
and though the larger vessel’s position proved to be hopeless, the French
Admiral de Grasse (1723 –1788) saw it
as a point of honour not to strike his flag to anybody but an enemy admiral. He
only surrendered when Admiral Sir Samuel Hood (1724-1816) came up in the Barfleur, by which stage only de Grasse
himself and two other men were alive and unwounded on the upper deck. He stated
after the battle that Cornwallis’s Canada
had done him more harm than all the rest of the Royal Navy force together.
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Battle of the Saintes, 1782 - major fleet action with ships-of-the-line
This is where Cornwallis came to prominence
|
On 7th June 1795 Cornwallis, in his flagship Royal Sovereign, was cruising on
blockade duty off Belle Isle, on the southern coast of Brittany, with five “sail-of-the-line”
and two frigates. A French convoy of merchantmen under escort of three ships-of-the-line
and six frigates. In the subsequent action, in which the French escorts beat an
ignominious retreat, eight merchantmen were captured. Cornwallis remained on
station thereafter and just over a week later, on 16th June, one of
his frigates signalled sighting of the French fleet – a huge force consisting
of thirteen sail-of-the-line, several frigates, two brigs and a cutter. Retreat
was now the better part of valour and Cornwallis decided – correctly – to
decline combat. The wind at first falling and afterwards coming round to the
north, the enemy's ships were enabled to get to windward, and the next morning
by daylight – in calm conditions, they were seen mooring on both quarters of
the British squadron. Cornwallis’s force was now potentially the meat in the
sandwich.
During the preceding day and through the night Cornwallis had
led the retreating ships in the Royal
Sovereign, so as to be able to take advantage of any favourable opportunity
that might present itself in the night for altering course and escaping unseen
by the enemy. With daylight however he changed his disposition, ordering his
two slowest-sailing ships, the Brunswick
and the Bellerophon, to lead, and the
more nimble Mars and Triumph to form the rear. He himself, in
Royal Sovereign, formed a connecting
link, ready to come to the assistance of any of his squadron that might need
support. It was now in the power of the French admiral to engage closely, and
at about nine in the morning a line-of-battle ship and a frigate opened fire on
the Mars. From this time an almost constant
cannonade was kept up, the French ships firing at a distance as they came up –
and making no attempt to close and board – and Mars, Triumph and Royal Sovereign returning fire, thereby
protecting the slow-sailing Brunswick
and Bellerophon. These latter two
vessels were now making every effort to increase speed, lightening themselves
by cutting away their anchors and boats, throwing some of their ballast overboard
and crowding on all sail. This inconclusive chase continued through the day and
into the afternoon. Only then did the close upon the rear ship, the Mars. Four of the French ships of the
line bore down on her. Had they concentrated their fire and laid themselves
alongside, the outcome would have been fatal for her. At this critical juncture
a ruse already underway was to change the situation completely.
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| Beaufort, an admiral in later life |
In the early morning Cornwallis had called by signal for a
boat from the frigate HMS Phaeton.
The young officer who came across to get instructions to bring back to his
captain would later be Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort (1774 –1857), creator of
the Beaufort Scale for indicating wind force. He was met on Royal Sovereign's deck by Cornwallis,
who told him: "Stop, sir; listen: go
back immediately and tell your captain to go ahead of the squadron a long way,
and, when far enough off, to make the signals for seeing first one or two
strange sail, then more, and then a fleet; in short, to humbug those fellows
astern. He will understand me. Go."
The Phaeton sailed
well, but was not until three o'clock in the afternoon that she was
sufficiently far ahead to signal back with credibility that initially one, then
two, five, new sail had been sighted. She followed this up by signalling an
even larger British force was approaching. It was known that the French had
copies of the Royal Navy’s tabular signals, and Phaeton hoisted a signal to draw on the fictitious squadron. She
then turned to sail back towards Cornwallis’s force, as if guiding the
newcomers on. By sheer chance three small vessels were actually just visible
over the horizon. Wholly taken in by the ruse, and apparently faced with the
possibility of action with a larger force, the French broke off the action and
retreated. Cornwallis’s entire force escaped without loss of a single ship.
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How the battle might have developed had the French exploited their numerical advantage -
Philippe-Jacques de Loutherbourg's painting of the "Glorious First of June" battle 1794
|
One cannot but wonder if poor French morale in the aftermath
of the brutal culling of the French naval officer-corps during the Revolution
did not play a significant role. Defeat and failure could well be rewarded with
the guillotine, and officers who still remained in service were likely to be
highly risk-averse – as shown by the unwillingness to close, even when the
British force was outnumbered. Cornwallis, by contrast, had command of a
superbly confident and professional force. In his later report he gave special
credit to the seamen and marines of the Mars
and Triumph, which had the brunt of the French fire. He stated
that, "instead of being cast down at
seeing thirty sail of the enemy's ships attacking our little squadron, they
were in the highest spirits imaginable, and although circumstanced as we were,
we had no great reason to complain of the conduct of the enemy, yet our men
could not help repeatedly expressing their contempt of them. Could common
prudence have allowed me to let loose their valour I hardly know what might not
have been accomplished by such men."
Cornwallis himself had given an example of calm resolution,
shaving, dressing and powdering his hair during the morning chase according to
his normal routine. He apparently to his flag captain that he had been in
similar situations before, and knew very well what they, the French, would do.
What followed was to prove him correct in his evaluation of
the enemy.
Britannia’s Wolf is available as an
audio book
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The first book in the Dawlish Chronicles series is now available as an
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