Probably like many others I have always thought of
privateers in the Age of Fighting Sail as preying on enemy merchant shipping on
commercial routes in open ocean, far from land. My perception has however been
changed by an 1889 book, “Betwixt the
Forelands”, by the Victorian maritime author W. Clark Russell, in which he deals
with the naval history of the English Channel from the Middle Ages onwards. At
its narrowest, this strait between the English and French coasts is only some twenty
miles wide, and domination of it was always a key objective of British naval policy.
It was – and is – one of the busiest commercial waterways in the world,
offering access to Northern Europe from the Central Atlantic. Clark Russell’s
book highlights the fact that, though Britannia might rule the waves and dominate
the Channel, the prize of rich commercial pickings was always an inducement for
French privateers in light craft to dart out, seize their prizes and retire quickly
to the cover of their well-defended home ports. The story of one such foray
tells just how savage these encounters could be.
 |
| Close action action in the Narrow Seas
“British
brig attacking a French lugger” by Thomas Buttersworth (1768-1842)
|
Tensions between Britain and Revolutionary France had
escalated through 1792. Following the execution of the French King Louis XVI on
21st January 1793 Britain expelled the French ambassador and on 1
February France responded by declaring war on Great Britain. The period of the
Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, which were to last until 1815, with a break
of only a few months, had begun. Within days of the declaration the crew of a
British merchant ship, the Glory, was
to be one of the first victims of the war at sea, and indeed at its most cruel.
Under a Captain Benson she had just cleared
the South Foreland and its White Cliffs, just north-east of Dover, when a
French privateer bore down upon her. An attempt to flee failed and the French
vessel sent a boat across with fifteen armed men. What followed was atrocious. According
to Clark Russell Benson was “seized,
bound hand and foot, and lashed down upon a chest. His crew was clapt in irons,
plundered of every article, and insulted by every injurious terms the Johnnies
could lay their tongues to” (It is notable that in this period the French
were referred to as ”Johnnies”).
 |
| Sir Samuel Hood |
The French were now preparing to run their prize back home –
Calais was twenty miles away, the great base at Dunkirk just twice that – but
now retribution arrived in the form of the 32-gun frigate HMS Juno, en-route to the Mediterranean and commanded by the future
Vice-Admiral Samuel Hood (1762 – 1814), a cousin of the more renowned admiral
of the same name. There could be no contest, no hope of escape, and the French
surrendered without further ado.
It is what followed which was perhaps most interesting, and I
quote below from the statement made by the Glory’s
Captain Benson, as repeated by Clark Russell:
After his ship had been boarded and his crew put in irons
Benson claimed that the Frenchmen “led me
down to my cabin, where they placed me on my back, and lashed me to my chest by
my neck, arms and legs, with my head hanging over. I was in the most excruciating
pain for four hours and a half. In this helpless condition the cowardly
miscreants (they disgrace even the name of Frenchmen) snapped a pistol at my
head, and another made a thrust at me with a cutlass, which fortunately went off
at an oblique direction through my coat and jacket.” Worse was to follow. “They cut off my dog’s head, they said, for the
purpose of representing the fate of the whole crew when we got to France.”
As the Juno drew
near the French released their prisoners – it would have been unwise for the
French to be found with their captives so cruelly trussed up. Benson was however
little inclined to forgive and forget and, as he remarked, “It is difficult at all times to keep the passions within a due state
of subordination.” He accordingly snatched a cutlass from the hand of the French
seaman who untied him and “I almost at
one stroke severed his left hand from his body; when, fearing for the further
effects of my frenzy, he jumped out of the cabin window and was drowned. Another
followed his example. And jumped off the taffrail, and the (French) captain,
dreading the just vengeance which was awaiting him, took a pistol and shot
himself through the head.”
 |
| Thomas Buttersworth - a Royal Navy brig chasing a privateer |
Benson’s “frenzy”
was still unsatisfied: “I was not yet
reduced to reason and, before the Juno’s crew could overpower me, had cut and
lacerated three more of the Frenchmen so dreadfully that they were now entirely
covered with blood, and now lie in the hospital without any hope of recovery.”
It is possible that today Benson would be hauled before a
court to answer for violation of the Human Rights of his persecutors. His era was however a more robust one and he
ends his statement: “Those only who
suffer can feel, and, though the more moderate part of mankind my blame me for
rashness, my own heart acquits me of any deliberate or unprovoked act of
cruelty.”
This small, vicious, action was one of the first of the new
conflict. Hundreds more lay ahead in a then-unimaginable twenty-two years of
war.
Britannia's Spartan
Six-inch breech loading guns represented the cutting edge of naval technology in the early 1880s. In my novel Britannia’s Spartan they are seen in use on both British and Japanese ships. The splendid woodcut below shows Japanese crews managing just such a weapon in the war of 1895 against China.
Download a free copy of Britannia’s Eventide
To thank subscribers to the Dawlish Chronicles mailing list, a free, downloadable, copy of a new short story, Britannia's Eventide has been sent to them as an e-mail attachment.
No comments:
Post a Comment