Please see the [Transcriber’s Notes] at the end of this text.

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The first part, Naval Battles of the World, starts [here], the second part, Naval Battles of America, starts [here].

RETURN OF THE GREEKS FROM SALAMIS.

Naval Battles
of the World.

Great and Decisive
Contests on the Sea;

Causes and Results of
Ocean Victories and Defeats;

Marine Warfare and Armament
in all ages;

with an account of the
Japan-China War,

and the recent
Battle of the Yalu.

The Growth, Power and Management of
OUR NEW NAVY
in its Pride and Glory of Swift Cruiser, Impregnable Battleship, Ponderous
Engine, and Deadly Projectile;

Our Naval Academy, Training Ship, Hospital,
Revenue, Light House, and Life Saving Service.

BY EDWARD SHIPPEN,
OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY.

P. W. ZIEGLER & CO.,
PHILADELPHIA AND CHICAGO

COPYRIGHTED BY
JAMES C. McCURDY.
1883, 1894, 1898.

PREFACE.

This collection is intended to present, in a popular form, an account of many of the important naval battles of all times, as well as of some combats of squadrons and single ships, which are interesting, from the nautical skill and bravery shown in them.

In most instances an endeavor has been made to give, in a concise manner, the causes which led to these encounters, as well as the results obtained.

As this book is not intended for professional men, technicalities have been, as far as possible, avoided. But it is often necessary to use the language and phraseology of those who fought these battles.

In all there has been a desire to give an unbiased account of each battle; and, especially, to make no statement for which authority cannot be found.

A study of naval history is of value, even in the most inland regions, by increasing a practical knowledge of geography, and by creating an interest in the great problems of government, instead of concentrating it upon local affairs. At the time that this volume was first issued, some people wondered why such a publication was necessary. The answer was that it was to inform the people of the great centre and West of the necessity of a navy, by showing them what navies had done and what influence they exercised in the world’s history.

That they are fully aware of this now is also not doubtful, and the probability is that those representatives of the people who oppose a sufficient navy for our country will be frowned down by their own constituents. Commonsense shows that, with our immense seacoast, both on the Atlantic and the Pacific, the navy, in the future, is to be the preponderant branch of our military force.

CONTENTS.

List of Illustrations.

NAVAL BATTLES,
ANCIENT AND MODERN

INTRODUCTION.

The Ancients were full of horror of the mysterious Great Sea, which they deified; believing that man no longer belonged to himself when once embarked, but was liable to be sacrificed at any time to the anger of the Great Sea god; in which case no exertions of his own could be of any avail.

This belief was not calculated to make seamen of ability. Even Homer, who certainly was a great traveler, or voyager, and who had experience of many peoples, gives us but a poor idea of the progress of navigation, especially in the blind gropings and shipwrecks of Ulysses, which he appears to have thought the most natural things to occur.

A recent writer says, “Men had been slow to establish completely their dominion over the sea. They learned very early to build ships. They availed themselves very early of the surprising power which the helm exerts over the movements of a ship; but, during many ages, they found no surer guidance than that which the position of the sun and of the stars afforded. When clouds intervened to deprive them of this uncertain direction, they were helpless. They were thus obliged to keep the land in view, and content themselves with creeping timidly along the coasts. But at length there was discovered a stone which the wise Creator had endowed with strange properties. It was observed that a needle which had been brought in contact with that stone ever afterwards pointed steadfastly to the north. Men saw that with a needle thus influenced they could guide themselves at sea as surely as on land. The Mariner’s compass loosed the bond which held sailors to the coast, and gave them liberty to push out into the sea.”

As regards early attempts at navigation, we must go back, for certain information, to the Egyptians. The expedition of the Argonauts, if not a fable, was an attempt at navigation by simple boatmen, who, in the infancy of the art, drew their little craft safely on shore every night of their coasting voyages. We learn from the Greek writers themselves, that that nation was in ignorance of navigation compared with the Phenicians, and the latter certainly acquired the art from the Egyptians.

We know that naval battles, that is, battles between bodies of men in ships, took place thousands of years before the Christian era. On the walls of very ancient Egyptian tombs are depicted such events, apparently accompanied with much slaughter.

History positively mentions prisoners, under the name of Tokhari, who were vanquished by the Egyptians in a naval battle fought by Rameses III, in the fifteenth century before our era. These Tokhari were thought to be Kelts, and to come from the West. According to some they were navigators who had inherited their skill from their ancestors of the lost Continent, Atlantis.

The Phenicians have often been popularly held to have been the first navigators upon the high seas; but the Carians, who preceded the Pelasgi in the Greek islands, undoubtedly antedated the Phenicians in the control of the sea and extended voyages. It is true that when the Phenicians did begin, they far exceeded their predecessors. Sidon dates from 1837 before Christ, and soon after this date she had an extensive commerce, and made long voyages, some even beyond the Mediterranean.

LINE OF BATTLE.

HOSTILE FRIGATES GRAPPLING.

NAVAL BATTLE, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

To return to the Egyptians. Sesostris had immense fleets 1437 years before Christ, and navigated not only the Mediterranean, but the Red Sea. The Egyptians had invaded, by means of veritable fleets, the country of the Pelasgi. Some of these ancient Egyptian ships were very large. Diodorus mentions one of cedar, built by Sesostris, which was 280 cubits (420 to 478 feet) long.

One built by Ptolemy was 478 feet long, and carried 400 sailors, 4000 rowers, and 3000 soldiers. Many other huge vessels are mentioned. A bas-relief at Thebes represents a naval victory gained by the Egyptians over some Indian nation, in the Red Sea, or the Persian Gulf, probably 1400 years before Christ.

The Egyptian fleet is in a crescent, and seems to be endeavoring to surround the Indian fleet, which, with oars boarded and sails furled, is calmly awaiting the approach of its antagonist. A lion’s head, of some metal, at the prow of each Egyptian galley, shows that ramming was then resorted to. These Egyptian men-of-war were manned by soldiers in helmets, and armed as those of the land forces.

The length of these vessels is conjectured to have been about 120 feet, and the breadth 16 feet. They had high raised poops and forecastles, filled with archers and slingers, while the rest of the fighting men were armed with pikes, javelins, and pole-axes, of most murderous appearance, to be used in boarding. Wooden bulwarks, rising considerably above the main-deck, protected the rowers. Some of the combatants had bronze coats of mail, in addition to helmets of the same, and some carried huge shields, covered, apparently, with tough bull’s hide. These vessels had masts, with a large yard, and a huge square sail. They are said to have been built of acacia, so durable a wood that vessels built of it have lasted a century or more. They appear to have had but one rank of oars; although two or three tiers soon became common. None of the ancient Egyptian, Assyrian, Greek or Roman monuments represent galleys with more than two tiers of oars, except one Roman painting that gives one with three. Yet quinqueremes are spoken of as very common. It is not probable that more than three tiers were used; as seamen have never been able to explain how the greater number of tiers could have been worked; and they have come to the conclusion that scholars have been mistaken, and that the term quinquereme, or five ranks of oars, as translated, meant the arrangement of the oars, or of the men at them, and not the ranks, one above another, as usually understood.

Much learning and controversy has been expended upon this subject, and many essays written, and models and diagrams made, to clear up the matter, without satisfying practical seamen.

The Roman galleys with three rows of oars had the row ports in tiers. These ports were either round or oval, and were called columbaria, from their resemblance to the arrangement of a dove-cote. The lower oars could be taken in, in bad weather, and the ports closed.

The “long ships” or galleys of the ancient Mediterranean maritime nations—which were so called in opposition to the short, high and bulky merchant ships—carried square or triangular sails, often colored. The “long ships” themselves were painted in gay colors, carried flags and banners at different points, and images upon their prows, which were sacred to the tutelary divinities of their country. The “long ships” could make with their oars, judging from descriptions of their voyages, perhaps a hundred miles in a day of twelve hours. In an emergency they could go much faster, for a short time. It is reliably stated that it took a single-decked galley, 130 feet long, with 52 oars, a fourth of an hour to describe a full circle in turning.

Carthage was founded by the Phenicians, 1137 years before our era; and not very long after the Carthaginians colonized Marseilles. Hanno accomplished his periplus, or great voyage round Africa, 800 years B. C., showing immense advance in nautical ability, in which the Greeks were again left far behind. Still later, the Carthaginians discovered the route to the British Islands, and traded there—especially in Cornish tin—while 330 years B. C. Ultima Thule, or Iceland, was discovered by the Marseillais Pitheas. Thus Carthage and her colonies not only freely navigated the Atlantic, but some have thought that they actually reached northern America.

Four hundred and eighty years before the Christian era the Grecian fleet defeated that of the Persians, at Salamis; and the next year another naval battle, that of Mycale (which was fought on the same day as that of Platæa on land), completely discomfited the Persian invaders, and the Greeks then became the aggressors.

Herodotus, who wrote about 450 years B. C., gives accounts of many naval actions, and even describes several different kinds of fighting vessels. He mentions the prophecy of the oracle at Delphi, when “wooden walls” were declared to be the great defence against Xerxes’ huge force—meaning the fleet—just as the “wooden walls of England” were spoken of, up to the time of ironclads. Herodotus says the Greek fleet at the battle of Artemisium, which was fought at the same time as Thermopylæ, consisted of 271 ships, which, by their very skillful handling, defeated the much larger Persian armament, which latter, from its very numbers, was unwieldy.

At Artemisium, the Greeks “brought the sterns of their ships together in a small compass, and turned their prows towards the enemy.” And, although largely outnumbered, fought through the day, and captured thirty of the enemy’s ships. This manner of manœuvring was possible, from the use of oars; and they never fought except in calm weather.

After this, the Greeks, under Alexander, renewed their energies, and his fleet, under the command of Nearchus, explored the coast of India and the Persian Gulf. His fleets principally moved by the oar, although sails were sometimes used by them.

Among other well authenticated naval events of early times, was the defeat of the Carthaginian fleet, by Regulus, in the first Punic war, 335 years B. C. This victory, gained at sea, was the more creditable to the Romans, as they were not naturally a sea-going race, as the nations to the south and east of the Mediterranean were.

When they had rendered these nations tributary, they availed themselves of their nautical knowledge; just as the Austrians of to-day avail themselves of their nautical population upon the Adriatic coast, or the Turks of their Greek subjects, who are sailors.

Of naval battles which exercised any marked influence upon public events, or changed dynasties, or the fate of nations, the first of which we have a full and definite description is the battle of Actium. But before proceeding to describe that most important and memorable engagement, we may look at two or three earlier sea fights which had great results, some details of which have come down to us.

NAVAL BATTLES,
ANCIENT AND MODERN.

I.
SALAMIS. B. C. 480.

This great sea fight took place at the above date, between the fleet of Xerxes and that of the allied Greeks.

Salamis is an island in the Gulf of Ægina, ten miles west of Athens. Its modern name is Kolouri. It is of about thirty square miles surface; mountainous, wooded, and very irregular in shape.

It was in the channel between it and the main land that the great battle was fought.

Xerxes, in the flush of youth, wielding immense power, and having boundless resources in men and money, determined to revenge upon the Greeks the defeat of the Persians, so many of whom had fallen, ten years before, at Marathon. After years of preparation, using all his resources and enlisting tributary powers, he marched northward, in all the pomp and circumstance of war, and laid a bridge of boats at the Hellespont, over which it took seven days for his army to pass. His fleet consisted of over 1200 fighting vessels and transports, and carried 240,000 men.

Previous to the naval battle of which we are about to speak, he lost four hundred of his galleys in a violent storm; but still his fleet was immensely superior in number to that of the Greeks, who had strained every nerve to get together the navies of their independent States. Such leaders as Aristides and Themistocles formed a host in themselves, while the independent Greeks were, man for man and ship for ship, superior to the Persians and their allies. Of the Greek fleet the Athenians composed the right wing; the Spartans the left, opposed respectively to the Phenicians and the Ionians; while the Æginetans and Corinthians, with others, formed the Greek reserve.

The day of the battle was a remarkably fair one, and we are told that, as the sun rose, the Persians, with one accord (both on sea and land, for there was a famous land battle as well on that day), prostrated themselves in worship of the orb of day. This was one of the oldest and greatest forms of worship ever known to man, and it still exists among the Parsees. It must have been a grand sight; for 240,000 men, in a thousand ships, and an immense force on the neighboring land, bowed down at once, in adoration.

The Greeks, with the “canniness” which distinguished them in their dealings with both gods and men, sacrificed to all the gods, and especially to Zeus, or Jupiter, and to Poseidon, or Neptune.

Everything was ready for the contest on both sides. Arms, offensive and defensive, were prepared. They were much the same as had been used for ages, by the Egyptians and others. Grappling irons were placed ready to fasten contending ships together; gangways or planks were arranged to afford sure footing to the boarders, while heavy weights were ready, triced up to the long yards, to be dropped upon the enemy’s deck, crushing his rowers, and perhaps sinking the vessel. Catapults and balistæ (the first throwing large darts and javelins, the second immense rocks) were placed in order, like great guns of modern times. Archers and slingers occupied the poops and forecastles; while, as additional means of offence, the Rhodians carried long spars, fixed obliquely to the prows of their galleys, and reaching beyond their beaks, from which were suspended, by chains, large kettles, filled with live coals and combustibles. A chain at the bottom capsized these on the decks of the enemy, often setting them on fire. Greek fire, inextinguishable by water, is supposed, by many, to have been used thus early; while fire ships were certainly often employed.

Just as the Greeks had concluded their religious ceremonies, one of their triremes, which had been sent in advance to reconnoitre the Persian fleet, was seen returning, hotly pursued by the enemy.

An Athenian trireme, commanded by Ameinas, the brother of the poet Æschylus, dashed forward to her assistance. Upon this Eurybiades, the Greek admiral, seeing that everything was ready, gave the signal for general attack, which was the display of a brightly burnished brazen shield above his vessel. (This, and many other details may be found in Herodotus, but space prevents their insertion here.)

As soon as the shield was displayed the Grecian trumpets sounded the advance, which was made amid great enthusiasm, the mixed fleets, or contingents, from every state and city, vying with each other as to who should be first to strike the enemy. The right wing dashed forward, followed by the whole line, all sweeping down upon the Persians, or Barbarians, as the Greeks called them.

On this occasion the Greeks had a good cause, and were fighting to save their country and its liberties. Undaunted by the numbers of the opposing fleet, they bent to their long oars and came down in fine style. The Athenians became engaged first, then the Æginetans, and then the battle became general. The Greeks had the advantage of being in rapid motion when they struck the Persian fleet, most of which had not, at that critical moment, gathered way. The great effect of a mass in motion is exemplified in the act of a river steamboat running at speed into a wharf; the sharp, frail vessel is seldom much damaged, while cutting deep into a mass of timber, iron and stone. Many of the Persian vessels were sunk at once, and a great gap thereby made in their line. This was filled from their immense reserve, but not until after great panic and confusion, which contributed to the success of the Greeks. The Persian Admiral commanding the left wing, seeing that it was necessary to act promptly in order to effectually succor his people, bore down at full speed upon the flagship of Themistocles, intending to board her. A desperate hand-to-hand struggle ensued, and the vessel of Themistocles was soon in a terrible strait; but many Athenian galleys hastened to his rescue, and the large and magnificent Persian galley was sunk by repeated blows from the sharp beaks of the Greeks, while Ariamenes, the Admiral, was previously slain and thrown overboard. At this same moment the son of the great Darius, revered by all the Asiatics, fell, pierced by a javelin, at which sight the Persians set up a melancholy wailing cry, which the Greeks responded to with shouts of triumph and derision.

Still, the Persians, strong in numbers, renewed and maintained the battle with great fury; but the Athenian fleet cut through the Phenician line, and then, pulling strong with starboard and backing port oars, turned short round and fell upon the Persian left flank and rear.

A universal panic now seized the Asiatics; and in spite of numbers, they broke and fled in disorder—all, that is, except the Dorians, who, led by their brave queen in person, fought for their new ally with desperate valor, in the vain hope of restoring order where all order was lost. The Dorian queen, Artemisia, at last forced to the conviction that the fugitives were not to be rallied, and seeing the waters covered with wreck, and strewn with the floating corpses of her friends and allies, reluctantly gave the signal for retreat.

She was making off in her own galley, when she found herself closely pursued by a Greek vessel, and, to divert his pursuit, as well as to punish one who had behaved badly, she ran her galley full speed into that of a Lycian commander, who had behaved in a cowardly manner during the engagement. The Lycian sank instantly, and the Greek, upon seeing this action, supposed that Artemisia’s galley was a friend, and at once relinquished pursuit; so that this brave woman and able naval commander succeeded in making her escape.

Ten thousand drachmas had been offered for her capture, and this, of course, was lost. Ameinas, who had pursued her, was afterwards named, by general suffrage, one of the “three valiants” who had most distinguished themselves in the hard fought battle against such odds. Polycritus and Eumenes were the two others.

The victory being complete at sea, Aristides, at the head of a large body of Athenians, landed at a point where many of the Persians were. The latter were divided from the main body of Xerxes’ army by a sheet of water, and were slain, almost to a man, by the Greeks, under the very eyes of the Persian monarch and his main army, who could not reach them to afford assistance.

The discomfiture of his fleet rendered Xerxes powerless for the time; and, recognizing the extent of the misfortune which had befallen him, the mighty lord of so many nations, so many tributaries, and so many slaves, rent his robes, and burst into a flood of tears.

Thus ended the great battle of Salamis, which decided the fate of Greece.

The forces of the several independent Greek States returned to their homes, where their arrival was celebrated with great rejoicing, and sacrifices to the gods.

Xerxes, as soon as he realized the extent of the disaster which had befallen him, resolved at once to return with all possible expedition into Asia. His chief counsellor in vain advised him not to be downcast by the defeat of his fleet: “that he had come to fight against the Greeks, not with rafts of wood, but with soldiers and horses.” In spite of this, Xerxes sent the remnant of his fleet to the harbors of Asia Minor, and after a march of forty-five days, amidst great hardship and privation, arrived at the Hellespont with his army. Famine, pestilence and battle had reduced his army from a million or more to about 300,000.

The victory at Salamis terminated the second act of the great Persian expedition. The third, in the following year, was the conclusive land battle of Platæa, and subsequent operations. These secured not only the freedom of Greece and of adjoining European States, but the freedom and independence of the Asiatic Greeks, and their undisturbed possession of the Asiatic coast—an inestimable prize to the victors.

II.
NAVAL BATTLE AT SYRACUSE. B. C. 415.

This battle was not only remarkable for its desperate fighting and bloody character, but for the fact that the complete and overwhelming defeat of the Athenians was the termination of their existence as a naval power.

An Athenian fleet had been despatched to the assistance of the small Greek Republic of Ægesta, near the western end of Sicily, then threatened by Syracuse.

The Athenian fleet numbered one hundred and thirty-four triremes, 25,000 seamen and soldiers, beside transports with 6000 spearmen and a proportionate force of archers and slingers. This considerable armament was designed to coöperate not only in the reduction of Syracuse, the implacable enemy of the Ægestans, but also to endeavor to subdue the whole of the large, rich and beautiful island of Sicily, at that time the granary and vineyard of the Mediterranean.

The Greek fleet drew near its destination in fine order, and approached and entered Syracuse with trumpets sounding and flags displayed, while the soldiers and sailors, accustomed to a long succession of victories, and regarding defeat as impossible, rent the air with glad shouts.

Syracuse is a large and perfect harbor; completely landlocked, and with a narrow entrance. The Sicilians, entirely unprepared to meet the veteran host thus suddenly precipitated upon them, looked upon these demonstrations with gloomy forebodings. Fortunately for their independence, they had wise and brave leaders, while the commander of the great Athenian fleet was wanting in decision of character and in the ability to combine his forces and move quickly; a necessity in such an enterprise as his. It therefore happened that the tables were turned, and the proud invaders were eventually blockaded in the harbor of Syracuse, the people obstructing the narrow entrance so as to prevent escape, while the country swarmed with the levies raised to resist the invaders by land, and to cut them off from all supplies.

In the meantime the Greeks had seized a spot on the shores of the harbor, built a dock yard, and constructed a fortified camp.

Such being the state of affairs, a prompt and energetic movement on the part of the Athenians became necessary to save them from starvation. Nikias, their commander-in-chief, entrusted the fleet to Demosthenes, Menander, and Euthydemus, and prepared to fight a decisive battle.

Taught by recent partial encounters that the beaks of the Syracusan triremes were more powerful and destructive than those of his own vessels, he instructed his captains to avoid ramming as much as possible, and to attack by boarding. His ships were provided with plenty of grappling irons, so that the Sicilians could be secured as soon as they rammed the Greek vessels, when a mass of veteran Greeks was to be thrown on board, and the islanders overcome in a hand-to-hand fight.

When all was ready the fleet of the Athenian triremes, reduced to one hundred and ten in number, but fully manned, moved in three grand divisions. Demosthenes commanded the van division, and made directly for the mouth of the harbor, toward which the Syracusan fleet, only seventy-five in number, was also promptly converging.

The Athenians were cutting away and removing the obstructions at the narrow entrance, when their enemy came down rapidly, and forced them to desist from their labors, and form line of battle. This they did hurriedly, and as well as the narrow limits would permit. They were soon furiously attacked, on both wings at once, by Licanus and Agatharcus, who had moved down close to the shore, the one on the right and the other on the left hand of the harbor. The Syracusans, by this manœuvre, outflanked the Greeks, who, their flanks being turned, were necessarily driven in upon their centre, which point was at this critical moment vigorously attacked by the Corinthians, the faithful allies of the Syracusans. The Corinthian squadron, led by Python, had dashed down the middle of the harbor, and attacked, with loud shouts, as if assured of victory. Great confusion now ensued among the Athenian vessels, caught at a great disadvantage, and in each other’s way. Many of their triremes were at once stove and sunk, and those which remained afloat were so hemmed in by enemies that they could not use their oars. The strong point of the Athenian fleet had consisted in its ability to manœuvre, and they were here deprived of that advantage.

Hundreds of their drowning comrades were calling for assistance, while their countrymen on shore, belonging to the army, witnessed their position with despair, being unable to come to the rescue. Still, the Athenians fought as became their old renown. They often beat off the enemy by sheer force of arms, but without avail. The Syracusans had covered their forecastles with raw bulls’ hides, so that the grappling irons would not hold for boarding; but the Greeks watched for the moment of contact, and before they could recoil, leaped boldly on board the enemy’s triremes, sword in hand. They succeeded thus in capturing some Sicilian vessels; but their own loss was frightful, and, after some hours of most sanguinary contest, Demosthenes, seeing that a continuance of it would annihilate his force, took advantage of a temporary break in the enemy’s line to give the signal for retreat. This was at once begun; at first in good order, but the Syracusans pressing vigorously upon the Athenian rear, soon converted it into a disorderly flight, each trying to secure his own safety.

In this condition the Greeks reached the fortified docks, which they had built during their long stay, the entrance to which was securely guarded by merchant ships, which had huge rocks triced up, called “dolphins,” of sufficient size to sink any vessel upon which they might be dropped. Here the pursuit ended, and the defeated and harassed Athenians hastened to their fortified camp, where their land forces, with loud lamentations, deplored the event of the naval battle, which they had fondly hoped would have set them all at liberty.

The urgent question now was as to the preservation of both forces—and that alone.

That same night Demosthenes proposed that they should man their remaining triremes, reduced to sixty in number, and try again to force a way out of the harbor; alleging that they were still stronger than the enemy, who had also lost a number of ships. Nikias gave consent; but when the sailors were ordered to embark once more, they mutinied and flatly refused to do so; saying that their numbers were too much reduced by battle, sickness, and bad food, and that there were no seamen of experience left to take the helm, or rowers in sufficient numbers for the benches. They also declared that the last had been a soldiers’ battle, and that such were better fought on land. They then set fire to the dock-yard and the fleet, and the Syracusan forces appearing, in the midst of this mutiny, captured both men and ships. Her fleet being thus totally destroyed, Athens never recovered from the disaster, and ceased from that day to be a naval power.

The subsequent events in this connection, though interesting and instructive, do not belong to naval history.

A NORSE GALLEY.

III.
ROMANS AND CARTHAGINIANS.

Carthage, the Phenician colony in Africa, which became so famous and powerful, was very near the site of the modern city of Tunis. It has been a point of interest for twenty centuries. Long after the Phenician sway had passed away, and the Arab and Saracen had become lords of the soil, Louis XI, of France, in the Crusade of 1270, took possession of the site of the ancient city, only to give up his last breath there, and add another to the many legends of the spot. The Spaniards afterwards conquered Tunis and held it for a time; and, in our own day, the French have again repossessed themselves of the country, and may retain it long after the events of our time have passed into history.

As soon as Rome rose to assured power, and began her course of conquest, trouble with the powerful State of Carthage ensued. Their clashing interests soon involved them in war, and Sicily and the Sicilian waters, being necessary to both, soon became their battle ground.

The Carthaginians had obtained a footing in Sicily, by assisting Roman renegades and freebooters of all nations who had taken refuge there. The Romans therefore passed a decree directing the Consul, Appius Claudius, to cross over to Messina and expel the Carthaginians who, from that strong point, controlled the passage of the great thoroughfare, the strait of the same name. Thus commenced the first Punic war. The Romans were almost uniformly successful upon land, but the Carthaginians, deriving nautical skill from their Phenician ancestors, overawed, with their fleet, the whole coast of Sicily, and even made frequent and destructive descents upon the Italian shores themselves.

ROMAN GALLEY AND DRAW-BRIDGE.

CARTHAGINIAN GALLEY.

SMALLER ROMAN GALLEY.

CAPTURE OF THE CARTHAGINIAN FLEET BY THE ROMANS.

The Romans at this time had no ships of war; but they began the construction of a fleet, to cope with their enemy, then the undisputed mistress of the seas.

Just at this time a Carthaginian ship of large size was stranded upon the Italian shores, and served as a model for the Romans, who, with characteristic energy, in a short time put afloat a hundred quinqueremes and twenty triremes. No particular description of these vessels is necessary, as they were the same in general plan as those already spoken of as in use among the Egyptians, Phenicians, and Greeks, for centuries. Able seamen were obtained from neighboring tributary maritime States, and bodies of landsmen were put in training, being exercised at the oar on shore; learning to begin and cease rowing at the signal. For this purpose platforms were erected, and benches placed, as in a galley.

It will here be necessary to give a short account of the Roman naval system, which was now rapidly becoming developed and established. As has been said, they had paid no attention, before this period, to naval affairs; and were only stirred up to do so by the necessity of meeting the Carthaginians upon their own element.

It is true that some authorities say that the first Roman ships of war were built upon the model of those of Antium, after the capture of that city, A. U. C. 417; but the Romans certainly made no figure at sea until the time of the first Punic war.

The Roman ships of war were much longer than their merchant vessels, and were principally driven by oars, while the merchant ships relied almost entirely upon sails.

It is a more difficult problem than one would at first sight suppose, to explain exactly how the oars were arranged in the quadriremes and quinqueremes of which we read. The Roman ships were substantial and heavy, and consequently slow in evolutions, however formidable in line. Augustus, at a much later period, was indebted to a number of fast, light vessels from the Dalmatian coast, for his victory over Antony’s heavy ships.

The ship of the commander of a Roman fleet was distinguished by a red flag, and also carried a light at night. These ships of war had prows armed with a sharp beak, of brass, usually divided into three teeth, or points. They also carried towers of timber, which were erected before an engagement, and whence missiles were discharged. They employed both freemen and slaves as rowers and sailors. The citizens and the allies of the State were obliged to furnish a certain quota of these; and sometimes to provide them with pay and provisions; but the wages of the men were usually provided by the State.

The regular soldiers of the Legions at first fought at sea as well as on land; but when Rome came to maintain a permanent fleet, there was a separate class of soldiers raised for the sea service, like the marines of modern navies. But this service was considered less honorable than that of the Legions, and was often performed by manumitted slaves. The rowers, a still lower class, were occasionally armed and aided in attack and defence, when boarding; but this was not usual.

Before a Roman fleet went to sea it was formally reviewed, like the land army. Prayers were offered to the gods, and victims sacrificed. The auspices were consulted, and if any unlucky omen occurred (such as a person sneezing on the left of the Augur, or swallows alighting on the ships), the voyage was suspended.

Fleets about to engage were arranged in a manner similar to armies on land, with centre, right and left wings, and reserve. Sometimes they were arranged in the form of a wedge, or forceps, but most frequently in a half moon. The admiral sailed round the fleet, in a light galley, and exhorted the men, while invocations and sacrifices were again offered. They almost always fought in calm or mild weather, and with furled sails. The red flag was the signal to engage, which they did with trumpets sounding and the crews shouting. The combatants endeavored to disable the enemy by striking off the banks of oars on one side, or by striking the opposing hulls with the beak. They also employed fire-ships, and threw pots of combustibles on board the enemy. Many of Antony’s ships were destroyed by this means. When they returned from a successful engagement the prows of the victors were decorated with laurel wreaths; and it was their custom to tow the captured vessels stern foremost, to signify their utter confusion and helplessness. The admiral was honored with a triumph, after a signal victory, like a General or Consul who had won a decisive land battle; and columns were erected in their honor, which were called Rostral, from being decorated with the beaks of ships.

And now, to return to the imposing fleet which the Romans had equipped against the Carthaginians:—

When all was ready the Romans put to sea; at first clinging to their own shores, and practicing in fleet tactics. They found their vessels dull and unwieldy, and therefore resolved to board the enemy at the first opportunity, and avoid as much as possible all manœuvring. They therefore carried plenty of grappling-irons, and had stages, or gangways, ingeniously arranged upon hinges, which fell on board of the enemy, and afforded secure bridges for boarding. By this means many victories were secured over a people who were much better seamen.

After various partial engagements with the Carthaginian fleet, productive of no definite results, Duilius assumed command of the Roman fleet, and steered for Mylœ, where the Carthaginians, under Hannibal, were lying at anchor.

The latter expected an easy victory, despising the pretensions of the Romans to seamanship, and they accordingly left their anchorage in a straggling way, not even thinking it worth while to form line of battle to engage landsmen.

Their one hundred and thirty quinqueremes approached in detachments, according to their speed, and Hannibal, with about thirty of the fastest, came in contact with the Roman line, while the rest of his fleet was far astern. Attacked on all sides, he soon began to repent of his rashness, and turned to fly—but the “corvi” fell, and the Roman soldiers, advancing over the gangways, put their enemies to the sword. The whole of the Carthaginian van division fell into the Roman hands, without a single ship being lost on the part of the latter. Hannibal had fortunately made his escape in time, in a small boat, and at once proceeded to form the rest of his fleet to resist the Roman shock. He then passed from vessel to vessel, exhorting his men to stand firm; but the novel mode of attack, and its great success, had demoralized the Carthaginians, and they fled before the Roman advance; fifty more of Hannibal’s fleet being captured.

So ended the first great naval engagement between Rome and Carthage; bringing to the former joy and hope of future successes, and to the latter grief and despondency.

Duilius, the Consul, had a rostral column of marble erected in his honor, in the Roman forum, with his statue upon the top.

Hannibal was soon afterward crucified by his own seamen, in their rage and mortification at their shameful defeat.

Slight skirmishes and collisions continued to occur, and both nations became convinced that ultimate success could only be obtained by the one which should obtain complete mastery of the Mediterranean Sea. Both, therefore, made every effort; and the dock-yards were kept busily at work, while provisions, arms, and naval stores were accumulated upon a large scale.

The Romans fitted out three hundred and thirty, the Carthaginians three hundred and fifty quinqueremes; and in the spring of the year 260 B. C., the rivals took the sea, to fight out their quarrel to the bitter end.

The Roman Consuls Manlius and Regulus had their fleet splendidly equipped, and marshaled in divisions, with the first and second Legions on board. Following was a rear division, with more soldiers, which served as a reserve, and as a guard to the rear of the right and left flanks.

Hamilcar, the admiral of the opposing fleet, saw that the Roman rear was hampered by the transports which they were towing, and resolved to try to separate the leading divisions from them; hoping to capture the transports, and then the other divisions in detail; with this intention he formed in four divisions. Three were in line, at right angles to the course the Romans were steering, and the fourth in the order called “forceps.”

The last division was a little in the rear and well to the left of the main body.

Having made his dispositions, Hamilcar passed down the fleet in his barge, and reminded his countrymen of their ancestral renown at sea, and assured them that their former defeat was due, not to the nautical ability of the Romans, but to the rash valor of the Carthaginians against a warlike people not ever to be despised. “Avoid the prows of the Roman galleys,” he continued, “and strike them amidships, or on the quarter. Sink them, or disable their oars, and endeavor to render their military machines, on which they greatly rely, wholly inoperative.” Loud and continuous acclamations proclaimed the good disposition of his men, and Hamilcar forthwith ordered the advance to be sounded, signaling the vessels of the first division—which would be the first to engage—to retreat in apparent disorder when they came down close to the enemy. The Carthaginians obeyed his order to the letter, and, as if terrified by the Roman array, turned in well simulated flight, and were instantly pursued by both columns, which, as Hamilcar had foreseen, drew rapidly away from the rest of the fleet. When they were so far separated as to preclude the possibility of support, the Carthaginians, at a given signal, put about, and attacked with great ardor and resolution, making a desperate effort to force together the two sides of the “forceps” in which the Romans were formed. But these facing outward, and always presenting their prows to the Carthaginians, remained immovable and unbroken. If the Carthaginians succeeded in ramming one, those on each side of the attacked vessel came to her assistance, and thus outnumbered, the Carthaginians did not dare to board.

While the battle was thus progressing in the centre—without decided results—Hanno, who commanded the Carthaginian right wing, instead of engaging the left Roman column in flank, stretched far out to sea, and bore down upon the Roman reserve, which carried the soldiers of the Triarii. The Carthaginian reserve, instead of attacking the Roman right column, as they evidently should have done, also bore down upon the Roman reserve. Thus three distinct and separate engagements were going on at once—all fought most valiantly. Just as the Roman reserve was overpowered, and about to yield, they saw that the Carthaginian centre was in full retreat, chased by the Roman van, while the Roman second division was hastening to the assistance of their sorely pressed reserve. This sight inspired the latter with new courage, and, although they had had many vessels sunk, and a few captured, they continued the fight until the arrival of their friends caused their assailant, Hanno, to hoist the signal for retreat. The Roman third division, embarrassed by its convoy, had been driven back until quite close to the land, and while sharp-pointed, surf-beaten rocks appeared under their sterns, it was attacked on both sides and in front, by the nimble Carthaginians. Vessel by vessel it was falling into the enemy’s hands, when Manlius, seeing its critical condition, relinquished his own pursuit, and hastened to its relief. His presence converted defeat into victory, and insured the complete triumph of the Roman arms; so that, while the Carthaginians scattered in flight, the Romans, towing their prizes stern foremost, as was their custom in victory, entered the harbor of Heraclea.

In this sanguinary and decisive battle thirty of the Carthaginian and twenty-four of the Roman quinqueremes were sent to the bottom, with all on board. Not a single Roman vessel was carried off by the enemy; while the Romans captured sixty-four ships and their crews.

Commodore Parker, of the U. S. Navy, in commenting upon this important naval action, says, “Had Hanno and the commander of the Carthaginian reserve done their duty faithfully and intelligently upon this occasion, the Roman van and centre must have been doubled up and defeated, almost instantly; after which it would have been an easy matter to get possession of the others, with the transports. Thus the Carthaginians would have gained a decisive victory, the effect of which would have been, perhaps, to deter the Romans from again making their appearance in force upon the sea; and then, with such leaders as Hamilcar, Hasdrubal and Hannibal to shape her policy and conduct her armaments, Carthage, instead of Rome, might have been the mistress of the world. Such are the great issues sometimes impending over contending armies and fleets.”

As soon as the Consuls had repaired damages they set sail from Heraclea for Africa, where they disembarked an army under Regulus; and most of the naval force, with the prisoners, then returned home. Regulus, however, soon suffered a defeat, and the Roman fleet had to be despatched to Africa again, in hot haste, to take off the scant remnant of his army. Before taking on board the defeated Legions the fleet had another great naval battle; and captured a Carthaginian fleet of one hundred and fourteen vessels. With the soldiers on board, and their prizes in tow, Marcus Emilius and Servius Fulvius, the Consuls then in command, determined to return to Rome by the south shore of Sicily. This was against the earnest remonstrances of the pilots, or sailing masters, “who wisely argued that, at the dangerous season when, the constellation of Orion being not quite past, and the Dog Star just ready to appear, it were far safer to go North about.”

The Consuls, who had no idea of being advised by mere sailors, were unfortunately not to be shaken in their determination; and so, when Sicily was sighted, a course was shaped from Lylybeum to the promontory of Pachymus. The fleet had accomplished about two-thirds of this distance, and was just opposite a coast where there were no ports, and where the shore was high and rocky, when, with the going down of the sun, the north wind, which had been blowing steadily for several days, suddenly died away, and as the Romans were engaged in furling their flapping sails they observed that they were heavy and wet with the falling dew, the sure precursor of the terrible “Scirocco.” Then the pilots urged the Consuls to pull directly to the southward, that they might have sea room sufficient to prevent them from being driven on shore when the storm should burst upon them. But this, with the dread of the sea natural to men unaccustomed to contend with it, they refused to do; not comprehending that, although their quinqueremes were illy adapted to buffet the waves, anything was better than a lee shore, with no harbor of refuge.

The north wind sprang up again after a little, cheering the hearts of the inexperienced, blew in fitful gusts for an hour or more, then died nearly away, again sprang up, and finally faded out as before. The seamen knew what this portended. “Next came a flash of lightning in the southern sky; then a line of foam upon the southern sea; the roaring of Heaven’s artillery in the air above, and of the breakers on the beach below—and the tempest was upon them!” From this time all order was lost, and the counsels and admonitions of the pilots unheeded. The Roman fleet was completely at the mercy of the hurricane, and the veterans who had borne themselves bravely in many a hard fought battle with their fellow man, now, completely demoralized in the presence of this new danger, behaved more like maniacs than reasonable beings. Some advised one thing, some another; but nothing sensible was done—and when the gale broke, out of four hundred and sixty-four quinqueremes (an immense fleet) three hundred and eighty had been dashed upon the rocks and lost.

The whole coast was covered with fragments of wreck and dead bodies; and that which Rome had been so many years in acquiring, at the cost of so much blood, labor, and treasure, she lost in a few hours, through the want of experienced seamen in command.

During the succeeding Punic wars Rome and Carthage had many another well contested naval engagement.

Adherbal captured ninety-four Roman vessels off Drepanum, but the dogged courage of the Roman was usually successful.

We have few details of these engagements. What the Romans gained in battle was often lost by them in shipwreck; so that, at the end of the first Punic war, which lasted twenty-four years, they had lost seven hundred quinqueremes, and the vanquished Carthaginians only five hundred.

At the time spoken of, when the Romans were fighting the Carthaginians, the former were a free, virtuous and patriotic people. No reverses cast them down; no loss of life discouraged them.

After a lapse of two hundred years, Marcus Brutus and Cassius being dead, and public virtue scoffed at and fast expiring, an arbitrary government was in process of erection upon the ruins of the Republic.

The triumvirate had been dissolved, and Octavius and Antony, at the head of vast armies and fleets, were preparing, on opposite sides of the Gulf of Ambracia, to submit their old quarrel to the arbitrament of the sword. In this emergency Antony’s old officers and soldiers, whom he had so often led to victory, naturally hoped that, assuming the offensive, he would draw out his legions, and, by his ability and superior strategy, force his adversary from the field. But, bewitched by a woman, the greatest captain of the age—now that Cæsar and Pompey were gone—had consented to abandon a faithful and devoted army, and to rely solely upon his fleet; which, equal to that of Octavius in numbers, was far inferior in discipline and drill, and in experience of actual combat.

ROMAN GALLEY.

IV.
ACTIUM. B. C. 31.

Scene VII. Near Actium. Antony’s Camp.

Enter Antony and Canidius.

Ant.

Is it not strange, Canidius,
That from Tarentum and Brundusium
He could so quickly cut the Ionian Sea,
And taken in Toryne? you have heard on’t, sweet?

Cleo.

Celerity is never more admired
Than by the negligent.

Ant.

A good rebuke,
Which might have well becomed the best of men,
To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we
Will fight with him by sea.

Cleo.

By sea! What else?

Canid.

Why will my lord do so?

Ant.

For that he dares us to ’t.

Enob.

So hath my lord dared him to single fight.

Canid.

Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia,
Where Cæsar fought with Pompey: but these offers
Which serve not for his vantage he shakes off;
And so should you.

Enob.

Your ships are not well mann’d;
Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people
Ingrossed by swift impress; in Cæsar’s fleet
Are those that often have ’gainst Pompey fought;
Their ships are yare; yours, heavy; no disgrace
Shall fall you for refusing him at sea,
Being prepared for land.

Ant.

By sea, by sea.

Enob.

Most worthy sir, you therein throw away
The absolute soldiership you have by land;
Distract your army, which doth most consist
Of war-mark’d footmen; leave unexecuted
Your own renowned knowledge; quite forego
The way which promises assurance; and
Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard,
From firm security.

Ant.

I’ll fight at sea.

Cleo.

I have sixty sails, Cæsar none better.

Ant.

Our overplus of shipping will we burn;
And, with the rest full mann’d, from the head of Actium,
Beat the approaching Cæsar. But if we fail,
We then can do ’t at land.

Shakespeare—Antony and Cleopatra.

Philippi, the decisive battle between Octavius and Brutus and Cassius, took place B. C. 42. Octavius, who afterward assumed the name of Augustus, is very differently described by historians. It is said that he did not fight at Philippi; and he is called a coward by some writers, who declare that he was always sick on critical days. Be that as it may, it seems certain that Antony fought that battle, although Octavius got the credit of success with the Roman public, which soon endowed him with every quality which goes to make the title of “August,” which title he was the first to bear; being the favorite of the citizens, much more by reason of his ancestry, and by the judicious bestowal of offices and of money, than by feats of arms.

After their victory at Philippi, Antony and Octavius divided the empire of the world between them. But the two were devoured by an equal ambition; and, although a common danger had for a time lulled their mutual suspicion and dislike, and forced them to act in unison, harmony between them could not long continue. Neither of them wished to share empire, and each was determined that the other, sooner or later, should be forced to renounce power, if not life itself. The repudiation of Octavia the sister of Octavius, by Antony, added increased fuel to the fires of hatred, and we learn from contemporary writers that clear-sighted persons not only foresaw that a death struggle between the two great leaders was only a question of time, but they predicted the result, as Antony, in the midst of feasts and other dissipation, was fast losing that activity of mind and body which had brought him his successes, and had, in former days, gained him the esteem and confidence of Cæsar.

While Antony was placing his laurels and his renown under the feet of an Egyptian queen, the cool and astute Octavius, never losing sight of the end he had in view, turned to his own aggrandizement and elevation, in the estimation of the Roman people, Antony’s disgraceful conduct.

The future Augustus, with the full consent of the Senate, raised fresh legions in Italy, equipped a fleet, and made every preparation for an enterprise upon which was to depend the control of the whole civilized world.

As if Antony had taken pains to furnish his already too powerful rival with the pretexts which should serve as a mask to his ambitious views, the former caused general disgust and indignation at Rome by dismembering the Empire—so to speak—in the interests of Cleopatra, whom he proclaimed Queen of Cyprus, Cilicia, Cœlesyria, Arabia and Judea; while he gave to the two sons whom he had had by her the title of “King of Kings.” This insane defiance of the susceptibility and pride of the Republic was one of the principal causes of Antony’s destruction. People ceased to fear him when they learned that he had become habitually intemperate; and they no longer saw in him a redoubtable and successful Roman general, but an Eastern Satrap, plunged in pleasure and debauchery.

Octavius, affecting rather contempt than anger at Antony’s proceedings, declared war against Cleopatra only, and seemed to regard Antony as already deprived of the power and majesty which he had sullied in committing them to the hands of the Egyptian queen.

Octavius could only raise on the Italian peninsula, then exhausted by civil war, 80,000 legionaries, with 12,000 cavalry, and two hundred and fifty ships—a small force to oppose to the five hundred ships and 120,000 men of Antony, without counting the allied troops which his rival was able to bring against him. But, more active and daring than Antony, he had, with astonishing celerity, collected his forces, and crossed the Ionian Sea, while Antony was lingering in Samos, and indulging in all sorts of debasing pleasures, with little thought devoted to preparation for the inevitable and momentous struggle.

At last the imminence of the danger awoke him to the realities surrounding him, and he brought forward his powerful fleet, anchoring it near the promontory of Actium, in Epirus, ready to oppose the advance of Octavius.

His ships were double in number those of the Romans, well armed and equipped, but heavy, and badly manned, so that their manœuvres did not compare in celerity with those of the western fleet.

Although Octavius had fewer ships and fewer men, those which he had were Romans; and he was fighting, ostensibly, to vindicate the wounded pride and honor of his country, which had been trampled under foot by Antony and a stranger queen.

The generals of Antony united in imploring him not to confide his destiny to the uncertainty of winds and waves, but to give battle on shore, where, they answered for it, victory would perch upon their banners. But Antony remained deaf to their supplications, and Cleopatra, who had joined him with seventy Egyptian ships, also preferred to fight a naval battle; it is said, in order that, if her lover was vanquished, she herself could more easily escape.

Boldly searching for Antony, the Roman fleet came in contact with his, near the promontory of Actium.

On opposite shores of the bay partly formed by that promontory lay the two armies, spectators of a conflict which was to decide their fate, but in which they were not to join.

The wind and weather were both favorable, but the two fleets remained for a long time opposite to each other, as if hesitating to begin the struggle, the issue of which was fraught with such momentous consequences.

Antony had confided the command of his left wing to Cœlius; the centre to Marcus Octavius and Marcus Inteius; while he himself, with Valerius Publicola, assumed command of the right wing.

The fleet of Octavius was commanded by Agrippa, to whom all the glory of the victory is due. Octavius and his admiral at first regarded with surprise and uneasiness the immobility of the enemy, who were ensconced in the arm of the sea, which sheet of water contained many shoals and reefs, and therefore, if the enemy remained there, deprived Octavius of the advantage to be derived from the rapidity of manœuvre of his vessels.

BATTLE OF ACTIUM.

But Antony’s officers, eager to show their prowess, proceeded to get their left wing under way, and moved to the attack of Octavius’ right. The latter, taking advantage of this false move, made a retrograde movement, and endeavored to draw out the whole opposing force from their commanding position unto the high sea, where the Romans would have room to manœuvre, and thereby successfully assail Antony’s heavier vessels.

At this moment the scene was grand. The flashing of arms, and glinting of the sun upon polished casques, the streaming flags, and thousands of oars simultaneously put in motion, gave life and animation; while the blare of the brazen trumpets and the shouts of the myriads of combatants were echoed from the shores by the cheers and cries of two large armies, each encouraging its own fleet, and inciting them to the greater exertion.

Cleopatra’s large and magnificent galley hovered in the rear of the fleet, with the purple sails furled, and the poop occupied by herself and her ladies, surrounded by all the splendor of the Egyptian court.

Thinking, as we have said, that Octavius’ fleet fled before them, Antony and his commanders abandoned their advantageous position, and followed Agrippa out to sea.

Once there, the Roman fleet quickly put about, in good order, and a terrible battle at once began—Roman disputing with Roman the empire of the world.

At last an able movement of Agrippa caused Antony’s centre to give way; but despite the disorder which resulted, the action was steadily maintained, the losses on each side being about equal, and victory undecided.

The force of Agrippa made up by celerity of movement for the greater number of Antony’s fleet, and the battle was at its height, when, suddenly, Cleopatra, panic-stricken by the noise and dreadful carnage, gave a signal for retreat, hoisted her purple sails, and, with the whole Egyptian contingent, retreated rapidly, leaving a great gap in the line of battle. Some were sunk by the beaks of their pursuers, but the majority made their escape, and were soon far from the scene.

This shameful action should have opened Antony’s eyes, and have stimulated him—being even yet superior in numbers—to repair by renewed exertions the defection of the beautiful queen. But his movements seemed to be controlled by her’s, and, forgetting his own honor, his former glory, his empire, and his duty as commander, as a soldier and as a man, he abandoned the brave seamen and soldiers who were fighting for him, and took a fast, light vessel, and followed the woman who had been his ruin, and at whose shrine he was about to offer as a sacrifice the dishonor of Cæsar’s greatest lieutenant.

It is said that for some time he sat upon the deck, his head bowed between his hands, and wrapped in his own thoughts. But he only regained sufficient command of himself to resolve to protect the cause of his ruin. He therefore continued his flight to the promontory of Tenaros; and then soon after learned of the entire defeat of his fleet.

Even after being thus shamefully abandoned by their commander, his troops and sailors had for a long time; maintained the combat; but bad weather coming on they at last surrendered, after a loss of five thousand killed, and having three hundred ships captured, with their crews.

For a long time the land forces of Antony could not believe in his defection, and looked for him to reappear, and, at their head, redeem the fortunes of the sea fight. Indeed, for many days after the victory they declined the overtures of Octavius. But at last, despairing of Antony’s return, their general, with his principal officers and the troops, passed under the banners of Octavius. This event left him the undisputed master of the world.

Upon his return to Rome he was decreed a three days’ triumph, and he now assumed in public the imperial powers which he had long virtually possessed.

The shocking death of both Antony and Cleopatra, by suicide, hardly belongs to the account of Actium, although the direct consequence of the overwhelming defeat there sustained.

THE PTOLEMY PHILOPATER—405 B. C.
(Constructed by Ptolemy Philopater, of Egypt, after a Greek Model.)

V.
LEPANTO. A. D. 1571.

Sixteen hundred years after Actium another great naval battle took place upon the coast of Greece. It was of momentous importance, as it is not too much to say that it decided the future fate and sovereignty of at least the eastern part of Europe.

Before we speak of Lepanto, however, it may be well to glance at naval events for two or three centuries previous to the eventful year 1571.

After the Republic of Venice had become strong, their first great sea fight was with the Saracens, then a terror to all the Christian nations of the Mediterranean. The Venetians, at the solicitation of the Emperor Theodosius, coöperated with the Greeks against their implacable enemy. The hostile fleets met at Crotona, in the Gulf of Taranto, where the Greeks fled at the first onset of the Saracens, leaving their Venetian allies to fight against vastly superior numbers. In spite of their courage and constancy, which maintained the unequal fight for many hours, the Venetians were defeated, and lost nearly every one of the sixty ships which they took into the fight.

Twenty-five years afterwards the Venetian fleet met the Saracens again, almost in the very spot of their former discomfiture, and obtained a splendid victory; and their naval fights continued, almost without intermission, and with varying fortunes; the Venetians, on the whole, holding their own.

On February 13th, 1353, there was a remarkable naval fight between the allied fleets of Venice, Aragon, and Constantinople, and the Genoese fleet, under the command of the redoubtable Paganino Doria. The Genoese were victorious.

In spite of the successful achievements of Doria, which should have brought him the respect and support of his countrymen, he was supplanted by his bitter foe, Antonio Grimaldi, who was put in command of the fleet. He was, not long after, defeated by the allied fleets of Spain and Venice, with tremendous loss. Grimaldi, thereupon, fell out of favor; and the next year the Genoese were obliged to again place Doria in command of their fleet, with which he gained a great victory over the Venetians at Porto Longo, capturing the whole of their fleet.

Peace between the two Republics was then made, and continued until 1378, when war was again declared. Victor Pisani, in command of the fleet of Venice, had a successful battle with the Genoese off Actium, the scene of the wonderful fight just before the commencement of the Christian era.

In 1379 Pisani was forced by the Venetian Senate, against his own judgment, to fight a far superior Genoese fleet, under Luciano Doria, off Pola, in the Adriatic. The Venetian fleet was almost annihilated, and Pisani, on his return, was loaded with chains, and thrown into a dungeon. The Genoese, after burning several Venetian towns upon the Adriatic, appeared off Venice, entered the lagoon, took Chioggia, and filled the Venetians with consternation and terror. The people flocked to the Piazza San Marco, in thousands, and demanded that Pisani be restored to the command of the fleet. The authorities were at their wits’ ends, and consented, while Pisani, with true patriotism, condoned his wrongs and ill treatment, and applied himself at once to the work of organization. After unheard of exertions he succeeded in discomfiting the enemy, and Venice was saved.

Pisani afterwards made a cruise in command of the fleet on the Asiatic coast, but, worn out by hard service and his former ill treatment, he died soon after his return, to the common sorrow and remorse of all Venetians.

The Turks took Constantinople in 1453, and the contests between them and the Venetians continued with even greater bitterness; and after the capture of Cyprus by the Moslems, and the fitting out by the Sultan Selim of an immense and powerful fleet, it became evident to the western world that some supreme effort should be put forth to curb the advance of the Turkish power.

Let us now glance at the state of affairs about the time of Lepanto.

The latter part of the 16th century was a stirring and eventful period in the world’s history.

Charles V had resigned his empire to that sullen bigot, his son, Philip II.

About the same time Moscow was being burned by the Tartars; the Russians having been the abject subjects of the Tartars but a few years before.

Prussia, so powerful to-day, was then a small hereditary duchy, Lutheran in religion, and still a fief of Poland. The Poles were then a much more powerful nation than the Russians.

The States of the north, Sweden and Denmark, were very strong, and made their influence felt in all Europe. Tycho Brahe, the subject of the latter, was then a young man.

Portugal, from her brilliant maritime discoveries, had extended relations with Japan, China, India and Brazil; and had rendered Lisbon the market of the world, usurping the place of Antwerp. Her decline was, however, soon to follow.

Soon after Lepanto, Holland, driven to despairing effort by the tyranny of Philip, revolted, and William of Orange became Stadtholder. He was succeeded by Maurice, whose efforts to secure independence were so ably seconded by Elizabeth of England, as to draw down upon the latter nation the vengeance of Philip, shown later in the despatch of his grand Armada, but a very few years after the event of Lepanto.

The Church of England had been established, and Elizabeth was enjoying her splendid reign. Sir Walter Raleigh, Drake, and other heroes of the sea were then young men.

Florence was about to enjoy her highest distinction as the home of learning and art, under Cosmo de Medici, and Pius V was Pope; one of the greatest that ever occupied the Papal throne.

Rodolph, of Hapsburg, had had his fierce struggle with the Turks, by land; but Austria then had no naval force.

In France the weak and bloody Charles IX was upon the throne, and the massacre of Saint Bartholomew was close at hand.

And now, to come to the great event of Lepanto, which decided the question of supremacy between Christianity and Islamism.

The Turks had captured Cyprus; possessed almost irresistible power, and everything looked very dark for Christendom.

But in spite of the connivance of Charles IX in their advance, who by this base conduct preluded the great crime of his reign; in spite of the calculated inaction of England; the timidity of Austria; the exhaustion of Poland, after a long war with still barbarous Muscovy, the genius of Christianity took a fresh flight, and the star of the west once more rose in the ascendant.

The honor of being the head of the effort at resistance to the encroaching Turkish power, and of victorious reprisals, belongs especially to Pope Pius V, a simple monk who had been exalted to the Pontifical throne; a zealous and austere priest, of a disposition naturally violent, which had been subdued by experience, foresight, and real greatness of soul.

This Pontiff, upon the first menace of the Turks against Cyprus, bestirred himself to form a league of several Christian States.

A crusade was no longer possible, from the condition of Europe, which was divided by religious schism, and by the ambition of princes. But, if the Pope could no longer send the whole of Europe to a holy war, such as was condemned by Luther as unjust and inhuman, he could at least, as a temporal prince, take his part in active operations.

Not even the coolness and calculated slowness of Philip of Spain—the Monarch from whom he had a right to expect the most assistance—could arrest the zeal of the ardent and generous Pontiff, who saw that the time had come for Christendom to conquer or submit.

Philip II, who was without mercy for the Mahomedans still scattered throughout his dominions, nevertheless hesitated to enter upon a struggle with the Turks; and above all did he dislike to defend Venice against them—so much did he envy the latter her rich commerce.

The first power asked to join the league against Selim, he only finally consented upon being given by the Pope the revenues of the church throughout his vast realm, for as long as the war should last. But even this gilded bait became the source of delay, the avaricious and cunning monarch deferring preparations, and multiplying obstacles to the undertaking, so as to profit as long as possible from the rich revenue derived from that source.

Thus it happened that, by his delay, in spite of the coalition, and of the allied fleet, equal in number and superior in condition and discipline to that of the Turks, the Island of Cyprus was captured, after stubborn sieges of its two capitals, Nicosia and Famagousta, without any assistance from the rest of Christendom.

Famagousta was captured after a very prolonged and obstinate defence, which had been conducted at the expense of fifty thousand lives to the Turks, who had made six general assaults. Finally the city was allowed to capitulate on honorable terms. Mustapha, the same fierce Moslem general who had conducted the siege of Malta, requested four of the principal Venetian leaders to meet him at his quarters. Here a short and angry conference ensued, when, in violation of the terms of the capitulation, Mustapha ordered three of them to instant execution. But he reserved Bragadino, who had held the supreme command during the siege, and ordered him to have his ears cut off, and to be set to work to carry earth to repair the works. After a few days of this humiliation Mustapha caused him to be flayed alive, in the public market place. This horrible sentence was not only carried into effect, but his skin was stuffed and suspended from the yard arm of Mustapha’s galley; and, with this shocking trophy thus displayed, he returned to Constantinople. Here he was rewarded by Selim for the capture of Cyprus. These terrible events added fuel to the flame of revenge which the Venetians felt, and were, of course, additional incentives to their allies.

The capture of Cyprus, and the disgraceful events following it, aroused the indignation of all Europe. The iron yoke of the Turk, with his following hosts of Asiatic robbers and cut-throats, owing to the delay in relief, extended over the whole of the large, rich and populous island.

Pius V, in terrible grief at these events, and full of foreboding for the future, made himself heard throughout Europe; and with renewed ardor he insisted upon carrying out the treaty of alliance already made, the assembly of the allied fleet, and upon vengeance upon the Ottomans, since succor for Cyprus would arrive too late.

The greatest mark of his terrible earnestness was the assembling of a Pontifical fleet and army—a thing unheard of at that time. The Pope gave the command to a member of the very ancient Roman family of Colonna.

In the latter part of 1571, five months after the capture of Cyprus, the Christian armament appeared upon the Mediterranean, consisting of galleys to the number of two hundred, with galleasses, transports and other vessels, carrying fifty thousand soldiers. Then immediately followed the most important event of the sixteenth century.

The Christian fleet made rendezvous at Messina; whence Sebastian Veniero, the Venetian admiral, would have sailed at once, and have sought the enemy without delay, so much did he fear for the Venetian possessions in the Adriatic, from the rapid advance of the Ottomans.

But Don John, the supreme commander, with a prudence worthy of an older and less fiery man, would not move until he was strengthened by every possible reinforcement, as he wished to use every means in his power to avoid a defeat which must be a final and crushing one to the side which should lose. He was certain that the great resources of the Ottoman empire would, on this supreme occasion, be strained to the utmost to equip their greatest armament. During this delay the Pope proclaimed a jubilee—granting indulgences to all engaged in the expedition—such as had formerly been given to the deliverers of the Holy Sepulchre.

On September 16th, the magnificent armament, unrivaled since the days of imperial Rome, put to sea from Messina. They were baffled by rough seas and head winds on the Calabrian coast, and made slow progress. The commander had sent a small squadron in advance, for intelligence. They returned with the news that the Turks were still in the Adriatic, with a powerful fleet, and had committed fearful ravages upon the Venetian territories. The fleet then steered for Corfu, and reached there on September 26th, seeing for themselves traces of the enemy in smoking towns and farms, and deserted fields and vineyards. The islanders welcomed them, and furnished what they could of needed supplies.

Don John seems to have had his own plans: but he now called a council, because courtesy required that he should consult the commanders of the Allies—and because he had promised Philip to do so—the latter fearing his fiery and impetuous disposition.

The opinions were divided—as is always the case in councils of war. Those who had had personal experience of Turkish naval prowess appeared to shrink from encountering so formidable an armament, and would have confined the operations of the Christian fleet to besieging some city belonging to the Moslems. Even Doria, the old sea-dog, whose life had been spent in fighting the infidel, thought it was not advisable to attack the enemy in his present position, surrounded as he was by friendly shores, whence he could obtain aid and reinforcement. He wished to attack Navarino, and thus draw the enemy from the gulf where he was anchored, and force him to give battle in the open sea. But, strange to say (for a proverb has it that councils of war never fight), the majority took a different view, and said that the object of the expedition was to destroy the Ottoman fleet, and that a better opportunity could not present itself than when they were shut in a gulf, from which, if defeated, they could not escape.

The most influential of the council held these views: among them the Marquis of Santa Cruz, Cardona, the commander of the Sicilian squadron, Barberigo, second in command of the Venetians, Grand Commander Requesens, Colonna, and young Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma—the nephew of Don John, who was seeing his first service now, but who was to become, in time, the greatest captain of his age.

Thus supported in his judgment, the young commander-in-chief resolved to give the Turks battle in the position they had chosen. But he was delayed by weather, and other causes, and the enemy were not actually met until October 7th.

The Ottoman fleet, two hundred strong, rowed by Christian slaves, and accompanied by numbers of transports, was moored in a gulf upon the Albanian coast, while the Christian fleet, seeking its enemy, came down from the north, led by the galleys of the Venetian contingent.

As the time of conflict approached, the commander-in-chief, Don John, rose superior to the timid counsels of the generals of Philip II, who accompanied him, and who were, in a manner, charged with his safety.

Don John, of Austria, was the natural son of Charles V, but was fully recognized, not only by his father, but by Philip, his legitimate brother, who originally intended him for high ecclesiastical dignities. But Don John early showed great predilection for the profession of arms, and was conspicuous during the revolt of the Moors of Grenada. In 1570, when only twenty-six years old, he received the supreme command of the Spanish fleet; and his ability and success justified an appointment which was due to favoritism.

After Lepanto he conquered Tunis, and the idea was entertained of founding a Christian kingdom there, for him; but the jealousy of his arbitrary and suspicious brother prevented this. He then received the governorship of the Low Countries, succeeding the notorious and bloody Duke of Alva, and he there died, in his camp at Namur, in 1578, aged thirty-three. It is said that he was about to undertake an expedition to deliver Mary Stuart, at the time of his death, which was attributed by some to poison.

Don John was one of the remarkable soldiers of his time. Generous, frank, humane, he was beloved by both soldiers and citizens. He was a fine horseman, handsome, well made, and graceful.

Don John’s principal force, in ships and fighting men, was Italian; for, besides the twelve galleys of the Pope, and those of Genoa, Savoy, and other Italian States and cities, many were contributed by rich and generous Italian private citizens. The greater number, however, were Venetian; this State contributing one hundred and six “royal galleys” and six galleasses. The galleasses were large ships, rather dull as sailers, but carrying forty or fifty pieces of cannon.

Among the complement of the Venetians were many Greeks—either refugees from the Morea, or recruited in Candia, Corfu, and other islands, then subject to the Venetian power. In keeping with the jealous policy of Venice, none of these subjects had any maritime command or military rank; but they fought valiantly under the flag of St. Marc, which lost in the battle its chief admiral and fifteen captains.

The Spaniards had about eighty galleys; but had also a number of brigantines, and vessels of small size—and were better manned than the Venetians—so that Don John drafted several thousand men from the other Italian ships, and from those of Spain, to make good the Venetian complement. Veniero, the Venetian Admiral, took great offence at this, and much trouble arose from it, but the imminence of the conflict and the importance of the result to Venice prevented him from withdrawing his force, as he at first threatened to do.

The total number of men on board the allied fleet was eighty thousand. The galleys, impelled principally by oars, required a large number of rowers. Of the 29,000 soldiers embarked, 19,000 were sent by Spain. They were good troops, officered by men of reputation, and most of them illustrious, not only for family, but for military achievement. It was so also with the Venetian officers, as it should have been—for her very existence was at stake, unless the Turks were defeated.

Don John himself arranged the order of battle; and, standing erect in a fast pulling boat, clad in his armor, and bearing in his hand a crucifix, he pulled round the fleet, exhorting the Allies, by voice and gesture, to make a common cause, and without reference to the flags they bore, to act as one nationality in the face of the common foe.

He then returned to his own galley, where a staff of young Castilian and Sardinian nobles awaited him, and unfurled the great banner of the League, presented by the Pope, and bearing the arms of Spain, Venice and the Pope, bound together by an endless chain.

The Real, or Admiral’s galley of Don John, was of great size, and had been built in Barcelona, at that time famous for naval architecture. Her stern was highly decorated with emblems and historical devices, while her interior was furnished most luxuriously. But, most of all, she excelled in strength and speed, and right well did she do her part when exposed to the actual test of battle.

Lepanto was fought on Sunday. The weather was beautiful, and the sun shone in splendor upon the peculiarly clear blue water of those seas.

The sight on that morning must have been surpassingly grand. The beautiful galleys, with their numerous oars dashing the water into foam; gaudy pennons streaming from the picturesque lateen yards; gaily painted hulls, decorated with shields and armorial insignia; culverins mounted at the prows, with matches smoking; the decks filled with men in polished armor and gay plumes, and armed with sword and spear, matchlock and arquebus, cross-bow and petronel. Shouts of command and of enthusiasm went up amid a brandishing of weapons, while an occasional hush occurred when the holy fathers of the church gave absolution to those who were about to meet the fierce infidel.

More than half the ships carried at their mast-heads the Lion of St. Marc, which waved over the sturdy sea-dogs of Venice, while other divisions showed the red and yellow of Spain, the white, with crossed keys and triple mitre of the Pope, or the varied ensigns of the Italian cities.

On the other side were the Turks, with their numerous and powerful galleys, mostly pulled by Christian slaves, who were driven by cruel blows to put forth their utmost strength against their co-religionists; for in every galley, Turkish or Christian, where slaves worked the oars, there extended between the benches of the rowers, fore and aft, a raised walk, on which two or three boatswains, with long rods, walked back and forth, dealing heavy blows upon those who were not thought to be doing their utmost at the oars. The slaves were shackled to the benches when they rowed; and never left them, day or night. Their food and clothing were scanty, and the filth about them was seldom cleared away, except by the rain from heaven, or the seas, which sometimes washed on board. The fighting men of the galleys were mostly on the fore-deck, and on outside galleries, or platforms above the gunwales.

The Turks had the wild music which they love to encourage their fighting men, kettle-drums and pipes, cymbals and trumpets. The horse-tails of the Pashas streamed from the poops of their galleys, as with loud cries they appealed to Allah to deliver the Christian dogs once more into their hands. And there was every reason to suppose that their wish would be fulfilled, for they had the stronger force, and carried with them the prestige of former victories won over the best efforts of the Christians.

THE BATTLE.

On the morning of the memorable 7th of October the Christian fleet weighed anchor for Lepanto, at two hours before dawn. The wind was light, but adverse, and oars had to be used. At sunrise they came up with a group of rocky islets which form the northern cape of the Gulf of Lepanto. The rowers labored hard at the oars, while all others strained their eyes for the first glimpse of the great Moslem fleet. At length they were descried from the masthead of the Real, and almost at the same moment by Andrew Doria, who commanded on the right.

BATTLE OF LEPANTO.

Don John ordered his pennon to be displayed, unfurled the banner of the Christian League, and fired a gun, the preconcerted signal for battle.

This was answered by an exultant shout from all the ships.

The principal captains now came on board the Real, to receive their final orders; and a few, even then, doubted the propriety of fighting, but Don John sternly said, “Gentlemen, this is the time for battle, and not for counsel!” and the armada was at once deployed in fighting array, according to orders previously issued.

When ready for battle the Christian force had a front of three miles. On the extreme right was Doria, whose name was justly held in terror by the Moslem, with sixty-four galleys. In the centre, consisting of sixty-three galleys, was Don John, supported on one side by Colonna, and on the other by Veniero. In his rear was the Grand Commander Requesens, his former tutor in military matters. The left wing was commanded by Barberigo, a Venetian noble, who was to keep his vessels as near the Ætolian coast as the rocks and shoals would permit, to prevent his wing being turned by the enemy.

The reserve, of thirty-five galleys, was commanded by the Marquis of Santa Cruz, a man of known courage and conduct, who had orders to act in any quarter where he thought his aid most needed.

The smaller craft took little part in the battle, the action being fought almost entirely by the galleys.

Each commander was to take space enough for manœuvring, yet to keep so close as to prevent the enemy from piercing the line. Each was to single out his adversary, close with him, and board as soon as possible.

Don John had the beak of his galley cut away; so little did he rely upon an instrument once, and for so long, considered formidable.

By this time galleys mounted guns upon their prows, and beaks were beginning to fall out of use. It is said that many commanders of the allies followed Don John’s example.

The Ottoman fleet weighed and came out to the battle. But they came on slowly, as the wind had suddenly shifted and was now against them, while, as the day advanced, the sun, which had been in the faces of the Allies, shone in those of the Moslem; and both these natural phenomena were hailed by the Christians as an evidence of divine interposition.

The Turkish armament proved to be even greater in number than had been anticipated by the Christians, consisting of nearly two hundred and fifty “royal galleys,” most of them of the largest class; and a number of smaller vessels in the rear, which, however, like the similar ones of the Allies, do not appear to have come much into action.

The number of the Turks, including rowers, is said to have been 120,000. As we have said, the rowers were principally Christian slaves, with some blacks and criminals.

As was usual with the Turks, their order of battle was crescentic, and, being more numerous than the Allies, they occupied a wider space than the straight alignment of the Christians.

As their formidable and magnificent array advanced, the moving sun shone upon gaudy paint and gilded prows, thousands of pennons, polished cimeters and head pieces, and the jeweled turbans of the Pachas, and other chief men.

In the centre of their long line, and opposite to Don John, was a huge galley, bearing the Turkish commander, Ali Pasha.

His fleet was commanded on the right by the Viceroy of Egypt, a wary but courageous leader. His left was led by Uluch Ali, a Calabrian renegade and Dey of Algiers, noted as a successful corsair, who had made more Christian slaves than all the rest beside.

Ali was, like Don John, young and ambitious, and had refused to listen to any counsels looking toward declining battle on that day. Selim had sent him to fight, and he was determined to do so; although the prudent Viceroy of Egypt expressed some doubts of success.

Ali found the Christian fleet more numerous than he had supposed, and at first he did not perceive their left wing, which was hidden by the Ætolian shore.

When he saw the Christian line in its full extent, it is said that he faltered for a moment, but only for a moment, for he at once urged on the rowers to close with the enemy, and spoke of the prospects of the engagement, to those about him, in confident terms.

It is said that Ali was of humane disposition, and that he promised the Christian slaves that, if by their exertions he won the day, they should all have their freedom.

As he drew near the Allies, Ali changed his order of battle, separating his wings from the centre, to correspond to the Christian formation. He also fired a challenge gun, before he came within shot. This was answered by Don John, and a second one was promptly replied to from the Christian flag-ship.

The fleets now rapidly neared each other. Men held their breath, and nerved themselves for the death grapple, and a perfect silence reigned, broken only by the plash of the huge oars, while the light breeze rippled the smiling blue waters.

Just about noon this beautiful scene, a perfect pageant, was broken in upon by the fierce yells of the Turks, the war cry with which they were accustomed to join battle.

At this moment, as if by contrast, every fighting man of the Christians fell upon his knee, as did Don John himself, and prayed the Almighty to be with his own that day. Absolution was then given by the priests, which were in each ship, and the men stood up, braced for the contest.

When the foremost Turkish vessels had come within cannon shot, they opened fire; and this ran along their line as they advanced, without cessation. The Christian kettle-drums and trumpets sounded in reply, with a general discharge of all the guns which would bear.

Don John had caused the galleasses, the large, high, unwieldy war ships, to be towed about half a mile ahead of his fleet, where they could intercept the advance of the Turks.

As the latter came abreast of them, the galleasses delivered their broadsides, with terrible effect. Ali caused his galleys to diverge, and pass these vessels, which were so high and formidable that the Turks did not attempt to board them.

Their heavy guns caused some damage and confusion in the Pacha’s line of battle, but this appears to have been the only part they took in the engagement, as they were too unwieldy to be brought up again.

The real action began on the Allies’ left wing, which the Viceroy of Egypt was very desirous of turning. But the Venetian admiral, to prevent that very thing, had closed well in with the coast. The Viceroy, however, better acquainted with the soundings, saw that there was room for him to pass, and dashed by, thereby doubling up his enemy. Thus placed between two fires, the Christian left fought at very great disadvantage. Many galleys were soon sunk, and several more were captured by the Turks.

Barberigo, dashing into the heat of the fight, was wounded in the eye, by an arrow, and was borne below. But his Venetians continued the fight with unabated courage and fury, fighting for revenge, as well as for glory.

On the extreme Christian right a similar movement was attempted by Uluch Ali. With superior numbers he attempted to turn that wing; but here he met that experienced and valiant seaman, Andrew Doria, who foresaw the movement of Uluch, and promptly defeated it. The two best seamen of the Mediterranean were here brought face to face. Doria, to prevent being surrounded, extended his line so far to the right that Don John was obliged to caution him not to expose the centre. Indeed, he seriously weakened his own line, and the experienced Uluch instantly detecting it, dashed down, sank several galleys, and captured the great “Capitana,” of Malta. While the battle thus opened badly for the Allies, on both wings, Don John led his division forward; at first with indifferent success. His own chief object was to encounter Ali Pasha, and the Turkish commander was also intent upon meeting him.

Their respective galleys were easily distinguished, from their size and rich decoration, besides displaying, the one the great Ottoman standard, the other the holy banner of the League.

The Ottoman standard was held to be very sacred. It was emblazoned in gold, with texts from the Koran, and had the name of Allah repeated 28,900 times. The Sultans had passed it from father to son, ever since the formation of the dynasty, and it was never seen unless the Grand Signior or his lieutenant was in the field.

Both commanders urged forward their galleys, which soon shot ahead of the lines, and the two closed with a fearful shock, so powerful that the Pacha’s, which was the largest, was thrown upon that of his antagonist so far that the prow reached the fourth bench of Don John’s rowers.

As soon as those on board the two vessels recovered from the shock, the carnage commenced.

Don John had three hundred Spanish arquebusiers, the flower of the infantry. Ali had three hundred picked janizaries, and was followed by a small vessel with two hundred more. He had also one hundred archers on board; the bow being still much in use among the Turks.

The Pasha opened a terrible fire, which was returned with even greater spirit by the Spaniards. The latter had bulwarks, which the Mussulmen had not; and so the crowded janizaries presented an easy mark. Still, they filled up the gaps from the reserve in the small vessel, and the Spaniards wasted away under their fire. For a long time it was doubtful to which side victory would incline.

This conflict was now complicated by the entrance of others. The bravest on each side came to the aid of the two commanders, and each leader at times found himself assailed by several enemies. They never lost sight of each other, however, and after beating off lesser assailants, returned to the single combat.

The fight was now general, and the movements of both fleets obscured by clouds of smoke. Separate detachments desperately engaged each other, without regard to what was going on in other quarters; and there were few of the combinations and manœuvers of a great naval battle.

The galleys grappled each other, and soldiers, sailors and galley slaves fought, hand to hand, boarding and repelling boarders, in turn.

There was enormous loss of life; the decks being encumbered with the dead, and in some ships every man on board was either killed or wounded. The blood flowed in torrents out of the scuppers, and the waters of the gulf were stained for miles. Wrecks of vessels encumbered the sea, with hulls shattered, masts gone, and thousands of wounded and drowning clinging to spars, and crying vainly for help.

As we have already seen, Barberigo, with the Christian left wing, was early in sore distress; Barberigo himself being mortally wounded, his line turned, and several of his galleys being sunk or captured. But the Venetians, in sheer despair, increased their efforts, and succeeded in driving off their enemies. In turn they became the assailants, and boarded Turk after Turk, putting the crews to the sword. They were led to the assault by a Capuchin friar, crucifix in hand—as were many other crews.

In some cases the Christian galley slaves of the Turkish vessels broke their chains and joined their countrymen against their Moslem masters.

The galley of the Viceroy of Egypt was sunk, and he himself was killed by John Contarini, the Venetians having no mercy for even a drowning Turkish enemy. The death of their commander spread dismay among his followers, and that division fled before the Venetians. Those nearest the land ran on shore, escaping, and leaving their vessels to be captured, and many perished before they could gain the land. Barberigo lived to hear the news, and giving thanks, expired in the moment of victory.

All this time the combat between the two commanders-in-chief had been going on, with an incessant blaze of great guns and musketry, making a cloud of smoke, riven by flame. Both parties fought with stubborn courage. Twice the Spaniards had boarded, and twice had been repulsed with severe loss. The enemy was continually reinforced, in spite of the loss inflicted by the steady fire of the Spanish arquebusiers. Occasionally interrupted, they always returned to each other; and both commanders exposed themselves as fully as any soldier, there being no honorable place of safety. Don John was slightly wounded in the foot, but would not have it dressed. A third time his trumpets summoned the boarders, and the Spaniards again boldly boarded the great Turkish galley. They were met by Ali, at the head of his janizaries; but the Ottoman leader was just then knocked senseless by a musket ball, and his chosen troops, though fighting well, missed his voice and presence. After a short but furious struggle they threw down their arms. Under a heap of slain the body of Ali was found. Life was not extinct, but he would at once have been dispatched had he not told the soldiers who discovered him where his money and jewels were to be found. In their haste to secure these, they left him lying upon the deck. Just then a galley slave, who had been liberated and armed, severed the head of Ali from his body, and carried it to Don John, on board his galley. Don John was shocked at the sight, and, after a glance of horror and pity, ordered it to be thrown into the sea. This was not done, however, but, in revenge for Bragadino, it was placed upon a pike, while the crescent banner was hauled down, and the cross run up in its place. The sight of the sacred banner flying on board the captured flag-ship was welcomed by the Christian fleet with shouts of victory, which rose above the din of battle. The intelligence of the death of Ali was soon passed along the line, cheering the Allies, and disheartening the Turks, whose exertions diminished and whose fire slackened.

They were too far off to seek the shore, as their comrades on the right had done, and they had either to fight or surrender. Most of them preferred the latter, and their vessels were now carried by boarding, or sunk by the Allies; and in four hours the centre of the Moslem fleet, like their right wing, had been annihilated.

On the right of the Allies, however, Uluch Ali, the redoubted Algerine, had cut Doria’s weakened line, and inflicted great damage and loss, and would have done more but for the arrival of the reserve, under the Marquis Santa Cruz. He had already assisted Don John when assailed by overwhelming numbers, and had enabled him again to attack Ali.

Santa Cruz, seeing the critical condition of Doria, pushed forward to his relief, supported by the Sicilian squadron. Dashing into the midst of the mêlée, the two commanders fell like a thunder-bolt upon the Algerine galleys, few of which attempted to withstand the shock; and in their haste to avoid it, they were caught again by Doria and his Genoese.

Beset on all sides, Uluch Ali was compelled to abandon his prizes and seek safety in flight. He cut adrift his great prize, the Maltese “Capitana,” which he had attached by a hawser to the stern of his own vessel, and on board of which three hundred corpses attested the desperate character of her defence.

As tidings reached him of the defeat of the centre, and of the death of Ali Pasha, he felt that retreat alone was left for him, with as many of his own ships as he could save from capture. His contingent comprised the best vessels in the Turkish fleet, with crews in perfect discipline and hardened to the sea, having always been corsairs, and accustomed to scour the Mediterranean at all seasons.

Making signal for retreat, the Algerine made off, under all the sail the battle had left him, and urged forward also by the exertions of his Christian galley slaves, smarting under the blows of his enraged comites.

Doria and Santa Cruz followed swiftly in his wake, but he managed to distance them, and to carry off with him many of his ships. Don John himself joined in the chase, having disposed of his own assailants, and they finally managed to drive a few of the Algerine vessels upon the rocks of a headland; but their crews in great part escaped. Uluch’s escape was due to the fact that the rowers of the Christian fleet had taken part in the battle, and while many were killed or wounded, the remainder were much exhausted, while the Algerine galley slaves, chained to their benches, and passive during much of the fight, were comparatively fresh.

As already stated, the battle lasted more than four hours, and before it was over the sky showed signs of a coming storm. Don John reconnoitred the scene of action before seeking a shelter for himself and his numerous prizes. Several vessels were found to be too much damaged for further service, and as these were mostly prizes, he ordered everything of value to be removed from them and the hulls burned.

He then led his victorious fleet to the neighboring haven of Petala, which was accessible and secure. Before he reached there the storm had begun, while the late scene of battle was lighted up by the blazing wrecks, throwing up streams of fire and showers of sparks.

The young commander-in-chief was now congratulated upon his signal victory, by his companions in arms.

Officers and men recounted the various events of the day, and natural exultation was mingled with gloom as they gained certain tidings of the loss of friends who had bought this great success with their blood.

The loss of life had indeed been very great; greater by far than in any modern sea fight. It is supposed that the Turks suffered most heavily, but their loss was never known. It has been estimated at 25,000 killed and drowned, and 5000 prisoners. It was, indeed, a crushing blow to them.

To the victors great pleasure was given by the fact that at least 12,000 Christian slaves, who had been (some of them for many years) chained to the oars of the Turkish galleys, were made free. Many of them were hopelessly broken in health; but tears streamed down their haggard cheeks at the prospect of dying in their own land and among their own people.

The losses of the Allies, though very great, were as nothing compared to that of the Moslem. About one thousand Romans and two thousand Spaniards were killed, while the Venetians and Sicilians lost about five thousand. This disparity of loss has been attributed to the superiority of the Christians in the use of firearms. The Turks still clung to the bow, and a large proportion of their fighting men were thus armed. The Turks, moreover, were the vanquished party, and, as is generally the case, suffered terribly in the pursuit. Their great armada was almost annihilated, not more than forty of their galleys escaping. One hundred and thirty were actually taken, and divided among the conquerors; the remainder were either sunk or burned. The Allies had about fifteen galleys sunk, and had many much damaged; but their vessels were much better constructed and stronger than those of the Turks, whom they also excelled in nautical evolutions.

An immense booty of gold, jewels and brocades was found on board the prizes; it being said that Ali Pasha’s ship alone contained 170,000 gold sequins, or nearly $400,000, a very large sum for those days.

The number of persons of rank and consideration who embarked in the expedition was very great, both among the Christians and the Moslem, and many of these were slain. The second in command of the Venetian force, the commander-in-chief of the Turkish fleet, and the commander of his right wing, all fell in the battle. Many a high-born Christian cavalier closed at Lepanto a long career of honorable service. On the other hand many dated the commencement of their success in arms from that day. Among these was Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma, who became a great general, and whom we shall hear of again, in connection with the Spanish Armada. Although only a few years younger than his kinsman, Don John, he was making his first campaign as a private adventurer. During the battle the galley in which he was embarked was lying, yard arm and yard arm, alongside a Turkish galley, with which she was hotly engaged. In the midst of the fight Farnese sprang on board the enemy, hewing down with his Andrea Ferrara all who opposed him, thus opening a path for his comrades, who poured in, one after another, and after a bloody contest, captured the vessel. As Farnese’s galley lay just astern of that of Don John, the latter witnessed, with great pride and delight, the gallant deed of his nephew. Another youth was at Lepanto, who, though then unknown, was destined to win greater laurels than those of the battle field. This was Miguel de Cervantes, then twenty-four years of age, and serving as a common soldier. He had been ill of a fever, but on the morning of the battle insisted on taking a very exposed post. Here he was wounded twice in the chest, and once in the left hand, from which he lost its use. The right hand served to write one of the most remarkable books ever known, Don Quixote; and Cervantes always said that, for all his wounds, he would not have missed the glory of being present on that memorable day.

A fierce storm raged for twenty-four hours after the battle of Lepanto, but the fleet rode in safety at Petala; and it remained there four days, during which Don John visited the different vessels, providing for their repairs and for the wounded, and distributing honors among those who had earned them. His kindly and generous disposition was not only shown to his own people, but to the Turkish prisoners. Among these were two young sons of Ali, the Moslem commander-in-chief. They had not been on board his galley, and to their affliction at his death was now added the doom of imprisonment.

Don John sent for them, and they prostrated themselves before him on the deck; but he raised and embraced them, and said all he could to console them, ordering them to be treated with the consideration due to their rank. He also assigned them quarters, and gave them rich apparel and a sumptuous table. A letter came from their sister, Fatima, soliciting the freedom of her brothers and appealing to Don John’s well known humanity. He had already sent a courier to Constantinople, to convey the assurance of their safety. As was the custom then, Fatima had sent with her letter presents of enormous value.

In the division of the spoils and slaves, the young Turkish princes had been assigned to the Pope, but Don John succeeded in procuring their liberation. Unfortunately, the elder, who was about seventeen, died at Naples; but the younger, who was only thirteen, was sent home with his attendants, and with him were sent the presents received from Fatima, on the ground that the young commander-in-chief only granted free favors.

Don John also made friends with the testy old Venetian admiral, Veniero, with whom he had had a serious difficulty before the battle.

Veniero afterwards became Doge—the third of his family to reach that eminence—which office he held until his death.

Before leaving Petala a council was held, to decide upon the next operation of the fleet. Some were for an immediate attack upon Constantinople; while others considered the fleet in no condition for such an enterprise, and recommended that it be disbanded, go into winter quarters, and renew operations in the spring.

Some agreed with Don John, that, before disbanding, they should do something more. An attack upon Santa Maura was determined on; but on reconnoitering, it was found to be too strong to be captured otherwise than by siege.

A division of spoils among the Allies then took place. One-half of the captured vessels, and of the artillery and small arms, was set apart for the King of Spain. The other half was divided between the Pope and the Republic of Venice; while the money and rich goods were distributed among the officers and crews.

The fleet then dispersed; and Don John proceeded to Messina, where great joy was felt, and immense fêtes awaited him; for he had been gone from them only six weeks, and had, in the meantime, won the greatest battle of modern times. The whole population flocked to the water side to welcome the victorious fleet, which came back not without scars, but bearing the consecrated banner still proudly aloft. In their rear were the battered prizes, with their flags trailing ignominiously in the water. There were music, garlands of flowers, triumphal arches, salvos of artillery, a gorgeous canopy, and a Te Deum in the Cathedral. A grand banquet followed, when Don John was presented with 30,000 crowns by the city, which also voted him a colossal statue in bronze. Don John accepted the money, but only for the sick and wounded; and his own share of booty from Ali’s galley he ordered to be distributed among his own crew.

The news of Lepanto caused a great sensation throughout Christendom, as the Turks had been considered invincible at sea. Upon the receipt of the intelligence the Sultan Selim covered his head with dust, and refused food for three days—while all Christendom was repeating, after the sovereign Pontiff, “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.”

In Venice, which might be said to have gained a new lease of life from the results of the battle, there were ceremonial rejoicings, and, by public decree, the 7th of October was set apart forever as a national anniversary.

In Naples the joy was great, as their coasts had been so often desolated by Ottoman cruisers, and their people carried off as slaves. So, when Santa Cruz returned he was welcomed as a deliverer from bondage.

But even greater honors were paid to Colonna, in Rome. He was borne in stately procession, and trophies were carried after him, with the captives following, quite in the style of the old Roman triumphs.

Of course, the rejoicing in Spain did not fall short of that in the other countries concerned.

The great Ottoman standard, the greatest trophy of the battle, was deposited in the Escorial, where it was afterwards destroyed by fire.

When the victory was announced to Philip he was at prayer, which he did not interrupt, and he pretended to receive the intelligence very coolly. But he ordered illuminations and masses; and commanded Titian, who was then in Madrid, and ninety years of age, to paint the “Victory of the League,” still in the Museum of Madrid.

The Pope made every effort, by special ambassadors, to have the King press the war, and to extend the alliance against the Turks.

But Philip was lukewarm, even cold, and said that, for his part, he feared the Turks less than he did the Christian dissenters of Belgium, England, and the Low Countries.

It has been said that Charles V would have followed his victory to the gates of Constantinople, but the Duke of Alva thought that, Don John’s force being a mixed one, he would not have succeeded unless supported by the united force of Christendom, so great was the Moslem power at that time.

The battle lost the Turks no territory, but broke the charm of invincibility which they had possessed. Venice gained confidence, and the Ottomans never again took the initiative against that State—while those who have most carefully studied the history of the Ottoman Empire date its decline from the battle of Lepanto.

THE ENGLISH FLEET FOLLOWING THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.
(From the Tapestry in the House of Lords, destroyed in the fire at the Houses of Parliament.)

VI.
THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA. A. D. 1588.

Armada signifies, in Spanish, a Sea Army; and Philip the Second named the great fleet which he sent forth in 1588 “invincible,” because he thought that it must prevail against the forces of the heretic Hollanders and English, who excited his disgust and anger much more than the Moslem enemies with whom we have seen him last engaged.

Philip II, son of Charles V, was born at Valladolid, in 1527, and, by the abdication of his father, became King of Spain in 1556. His first wife was Maria, of Portugal, and his second was Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII.

Philip was the most powerful prince of his time. Spain, Naples, Sicily, the Milanais, Franche Comté, the Low Countries, Tunis, Oran, the Cape Verdes, Canaries, and a great part of the Americas owned his sway.

Always a fanatic, as he advanced in years the extermination of heretics became his one passion. He sent the pitiless Duke of Alva to the Low Countries, where, however, all his cruelties and persecutions could not prevent the spread of the Reformed religion. Fortunately for England, as we shall see, the Low Countries secured their independence in 1581.

In Spain, Philip was employing the Inquisition against Moors and heretics; and executions were depopulating the Peninsula and ruining the country. It was only by serious insurrections that the Milanese resisted the establishment of the Inquisition there; but to make up for that, and for his loss of the Low Countries, Philip had made the conquest of Portugal, and had extended to that country the practices of Spain.

Elizabeth of England had not only established heretical practices in her realm, but had executed Mary Stuart, and also added to her offences, in his eyes, by sending sympathy and assistance to the persecuted Flemings.

Brooding over these things, in his secret, silent way, Philip determined to invade England, reëstablish Catholicism, and avenge the Queen of Scots.

To this end he devoted some years to the assembling of the most tremendous fleet which the world, up to that time, had seen.

The Spanish nobility were encouraged to join in this new crusade, and responded to the invitation in crowds. The ships, collectively, were to carry more than three thousand guns. A Vicar-General of the Inquisition was to accompany the fleet, and establish the Inquisition in England; and it has been affirmed that complete sets of instruments of torture were also taken.

The Duke of Parma, with a large army, was to join the Armada from Belgium, and insure the conquest. This, we shall see, was prevented by the noble and faithful conduct of Holland, which, in spite of legitimate cause of complaint against England, in the recent design of the Earl of Leicester, came nobly to the rescue, and blockaded Parma, so that he and his troops were rendered unavailable. But for this, and some mistakes of the naval commanders, in all probability English history would have been very different. Many reports of the expedition had reached England, but just about the time it was ready Elizabeth’s fears had been lulled by the prospect of successful negotiations, and many of her advisers thought the threatened expedition would never approach English shores.

Elizabeth, fortunately for England, had revived the navy, as well as the merchant service, which had been so greatly neglected between the death of her father and her own accession.

The wealthier nobles and citizens, encouraged by the queen, built many men-of-war, and the Royal navy was soon able to take the sea with 20,000 fighting men.

The prudence and foresight of the queen in these measures was rewarded by the success of her seamen in disposing of a force such as had hardly ever been arrayed against any country, by sea. Philip, “who from his closet in Madrid aspired to govern the world,” and who hated Protestantism with so great a hatred that he declared “if his own son was a heretic he would carry wood to burn him,” had good and devoted soldiers to carry out his views. The Duke of Alva was inconceivably cold-blooded and cruel, yet he was a man of great ability. No more perfect chevalier and enlightened soldier existed than the young Don John, whose career was so short; and the famous Duke of Parma, the greatest general of the day, was to command the army of invasion; while the Duke of Medina Sidonia, one of the highest grandees of Spain, was a most gallant soldier. He was no seaman, and was surrounded by a staff of soldiers, or else there might have been a different story to tell of Philip’s Armada. But that does not detract from the Duke’s personal devotion and gallantry; and the expedition was accompanied by hundreds of officers of like personal character.

In regard to the Armada and its destination, Philip at first preserved the secrecy which was so consonant with his nature; but at last, when publicity could no longer be avoided, he had every dock-yard and arsenal in his dominions resounding with the hum and noise of a busy multitude, working day and night, to provide the means necessary to accomplish his purpose. New ships were built, and old ones repaired; while immense quantities of military stores were forwarded to the Netherlands, a convenient base of supplies for the invaders.

The New World was then pouring its treasures into Philip’s coffers, the product of the enslavement of whole nations, and this immense wealth Philip poured out in turn, lavishly, to accomplish his darling ambition, which was the subjection of all that remained free in the Old World.

“Rendezvous for the shipment of seamen were opened in every seaport town; while throughout Philip’s vast dominions there was not a hamlet so insignificant, or a cottage so lowly, but that the recruiting sergeant made his way to it, in his eagerness to raise troops for the grand army, which, blessed by the Pope, and led by the famous Duke of Parma, was destined, it was confidently believed, to march in triumph through the streets of London, and, by one sweeping auto-da-fé, extirpate heresy from that accursed land which every Spanish Catholic was taught to regard as the stronghold of the devil.”

“Volunteers of every degree, and from every corner of Europe, hastened to enlist under the banner of Castile. Of these, many were religious bigots, impelled to the crusade against English heretics by fanatic zeal; a few, men of exalted character, not unknown to fame; but by far the greater number, needy adventurers, seeking for spoil. At length, in April, 1588, after nearly three years of preparation, the army of invasion, 60,000 strong, was concentrated at Dunkirk and Nieuport, where large, flat-bottomed transports were built, ready for its reception.

“But still the Armada, that was to convoy the transports, and cover the landing of the troops on their arrival in England, loitered in Lisbon, waiting for a favorable wind. Toward the end of May it moved out of the Tagus by detachments, and passing the dangerous shoals called the Cachopos in safety, took its departure from Cape Roca, the westernmost point of Portugal, and of the continent of Europe, on June 1st, sailing due north, with a light southwesterly breeze. The fleet consisted in all of one hundred and thirty-two vessels, carrying 3165 guns, 21,639 soldiers, 8745 seamen, and 2088 galley slaves; and its aggregate burden was not less than 65,000 tons.”

The San Martin, a vessel of fifty guns, belonging to the contingent furnished by Portugal, carried the flag of the commander-in-chief, the Duke de Medina Sidonia, already mentioned.

This great Armada was very unwieldy, and contained many dull sailers, so that, making its way at the average rate of only about thirteen miles a day, it passed the Berlingas, crept by Figuera, Oporto and Vigo, and finally lay becalmed off Cape Finisterre. Up to this time the winds, if baffling, had been moderate, the weather pleasant, and the sea smooth as glass. But now the Spanish fleet was assailed by a tempest, which might be called fearful, even in the stormy Bay of Biscay.

Blowing at first fitfully, and in heavy squalls, it by nightfall settled into a steady gale from west-northwest, driving before it a tremendous sea, the surges of which broke with a roar distinctly heard above the fierce howling of the wind. Yet, though the sea ran high, it was not irregular, and the Armada, under snug canvas, was making good weather of it, when, a little after midnight, the wind shifted very suddenly to northeast, blowing with the violence of a tornado, and taking every ship under square sail flat aback. Some of the vessels, gathering sternboard, lost their rudders, which were in that day very insecure; some, thrown on their beam-ends, were forced to cut away their masts and throw overboard their guns; while all lost sails and top-hamper, and not a few the upper deck cabins, at that time so lofty.

When day broke the spectacle was presented of a whole fleet helplessly adrift upon the ocean. Many of the largest and finest vessels were lying in the trough of the sea, which every now and then made a clean breach over them, each time carrying off some of the crews. Among the fleet was a huge Portuguese galley, the Diana, which had been knocked down by the shift of wind, lost her masts and oars, and was lying on her side, gradually filling with water, and fast settling by the stern. The rest of the vessels were powerless to assist her, and she soon sank before their eyes, carrying down every soul belonging to her, including, of course, the poor galley slaves chained to her oars.

Then, to add to the horrors of storm and shipwreck, a mutiny broke out among the rowers of the galley Vasana (a motley crew of Turkish and Moorish prisoners and Christian felons), who had been long watching for an opportunity to secure their freedom; and now, seeing their galley to windward of all the vessels of the Armada, with the exception of the Capitana galley, which was a mile away from them, they judged the occasion favorable for the accomplishment of their purpose. Led by a Welshman, named David Gwynne, the mutinous galley-slaves attacked the sailors and soldiers of the Vasana, and as they exceeded them in number, and the free men had no time to seize their arms, while the slaves were armed with stilettoes made of all kinds of metal, and carefully concealed for such an occasion, they quite easily prevailed. The captain of the Capitana, seeing that something was wrong on board the Vasana, ran down as close to her as the heavy sea would permit, and, finding her already in possession of the Welshman and his fellow galley-slaves, poured a broadside into her, which cut her up terribly, and filled her decks with more killed and wounded men. At this critical moment, while engaged with an enemy without, the crew of the Capitana found themselves threatened with a greater danger from within. Their own slaves now rose, broke their chains, and took part in the engagement. It is not known whether they had any previous knowledge of an attempt on board the Vasana, or whether it was the effect of example. At any rate, they rushed upon their late masters and oppressors with such weapons as they had concealed, or could seize at the moment, and attacked them with desperate and irresistible fury and resolution. The struggle, in the midst of the gale, for the possession of the Capitana, was furious but brief. It ended in the triumph of the galley-slaves, who, like their fellows on board the Vasana, spared no rank nor age. The massacre was soon over, and the bodies thrown into the water; and the gale soon after abating, the galleys were run into Bayonne, where, Motley says, Gwynne was graciously received by Henry of Navarre. The crippled Armada, having lost three of its finest galleys, managed to creep into the different ports on the northern shore of Spain.

Once more they all made rendezvous at Corunna, and after a month spent in repairs, sailed again, on July 22d, for Calais Roads.

With fair winds and fine weather, the Spanish fleet struck soundings in the English channel on July 28th, and the following day, in the afternoon, were in sight of the Lizard, whence they were seen and recognized, and soon, by bonfires, and other preconcerted signals, all England knew that the long threatened danger was close at hand; and, without faltering, one and all prepared to meet it.

The most of the English fleet was in Plymouth at the time. Many of the principal officers were on shore, playing at bowls, and otherwise amusing themselves, and the wind was blowing directly into the harbor, preventing the fleet from pulling to sea. But the commander-in-chief, Lord Howard of Effingham, was equal to the emergency; summoning all to instant exertion; and before daylight the following morning sixty-seven of his best ships had been, with extreme labor and difficulty, towed and kedged into deep water, and, commanded by such men as Drake, Frobisher, and Hawkins, were off the Eddystone, keeping a sharp lookout for the Spaniards. Every hour additional vessels were joining the English fleet.

During the whole forenoon the wind was very light, and the weather thick; but towards evening a fine south-west wind set in, and the mist rising, the two fleets discovered each other.

The Armada, in a half-moon, and in complete battle array, was so compactly drawn up that its flanking vessels were distributed but seven miles from each other; and all were bearing steadily up channel. The Spanish guns were so numerous, and so much heavier in calibre than anything the English carried, that the Lord High Admiral saw at once that the force at his command could not successfully confront the enemy. He therefore permitted them to pass without firing a shot; but hung closely upon their rear, in hopes of cutting off any vessels which might chance to fall astern of the others. It was not until the next day, Sunday, July 31st, that an opportunity offered for attacking to advantage. Then, “sending a pinnace, called the Defiance, before him, to denounce war against the enemy, by the discharge of all her guns,” Howard at once opened fire from his own ship, the Royal Oak, upon a large galleon, commanded by Don Alphonso de Leyva, which he took to be the flag-ship of the Spanish commander-in-chief.

In the meantime, the combined squadrons of Drake, Frobisher and Hawkins opened furiously upon the fleet of Biscay, or of northern Spain, which, consisting of fourteen vessels, and carrying 302 guns, was commanded by Vice-admiral Recalde, an officer of great experience. This squadron had been formed into a rear guard, in expectation of just such an attack.

Recalde maintained the unequal fight for some hours, and with great obstinacy; all the while endeavoring to get within small-arm range of the English, which he knew would be fatal to them, as he had a large force of arquebusiers embarked in his division.

But his wary antagonists, whose vessels, “light, weatherly and nimble, sailed six feet to the Spaniards’ two, and tacked twice to their once,” evaded every effort to close, and keeping at long range, inflicted much damage upon their enemy without receiving any themselves.

At length, seeing how matters stood, the Duke Medina Sidonia signaled to Recalde to join the main body of the fleet; and, hoisting the Royal standard of Spain at his main, drew out his whole force in order of battle, and endeavored to bring on a general engagement. This Howard prudently avoided, and so the Spaniards had to keep on their course again, up channel, and “maintain a running fight of it;” the English now, as before, hanging on their rear, and receiving constant reinforcements from their seaport towns, in full view of which, as the Armada hugged the English shore, Howard, with his gallant ships and men, was passing.

In these days London alone sent forth fifty armed ships.

The night which followed was one fraught with disaster to the Spaniards. The gunner of the Santa Anna, a Fleming by birth, who had been reprimanded by his captain for some neglect of duty, in revenge laid a train to the magazine, and blew up all the after part of the vessel, with more than half her officers and crew.

The vessel nearest the Santa Anna hurried to her assistance, and was engaged in rescuing the survivors, when, in the darkness and confusion, two galleys fell foul of the flagship of the Andalusian squadron, and carried away her foremast close to the deck, so that she dropped astern of the Armada, and, the night being very dark, was soon lost sight of by her friends, and assailed by her vigilant foes.

Being well manned, and carrying fifty guns, she maintained her defence until daylight, when, finding the English hemming her in on all sides, Don Pedro de Valdez, the Admiral, struck his flag to Drake, in the Revenge, much to the chagrin of Frobisher and Hawkins, who had hoped to make prize of her themselves.

Don Pedro, who was courteously received by Drake, remained on board the Revenge until the 10th of August; so that he was an eye witness of all the subsequent events, and of the final discomfiture of his countrymen.

Drake sent the captain of the Santa Anna, “a prisoner, to Dartmouth, and left the money on board the prize, to be plundered by his men.”

All the following day was spent by the Duke in rearranging his fleet; and after the vessels were in the stations assigned them, each captain had written orders not to leave that station, under penalty of death.

In this new order the rear guard was increased to forty-three vessels, and placed under the command of Don Alphonso de Leyva, who had orders to avoid skirmishing as much as possible, but to lose no opportunity of bringing on a general engagement, or decisive battle.

On the 2d of August, at daylight, the wind shifted to the northeast, whereupon the Spanish, being to windward, bore down upon the English under full sail. But the latter also squared away, and having the advantage of greater speed, refused, as before, to allow their enemy to close with them; so the engagement was without result, there being little loss on the part of the Spaniards, while the only Englishman killed was a Mr. Cock, who was bravely fighting the enemy in a small vessel of his own.

Towards evening the wind backed to the west again, and the Armada once more continued its course toward Calais.

On the 3d of August there was a suspension of hostilities, and the Lord High Admiral received a supply of powder and ball, and a reinforcement of ships, and intended to attack the enemy in the middle of the night, but was prevented by a calm.

On the 4th, however, a straggler from the Spanish fleet was made prize of by the English.

This brought on a sharp engagement between the Spanish rear guard and the English advance, under Frobisher, which would have resulted in Frobisher’s capture had not Howard himself gone to the rescue, in the “Ark-Royal, followed by the Lion, the Bear, the Bull, the Elizabeth, and a great number of smaller vessels.” The fighting was for some time severe, but as soon as Frobisher was relieved, Howard, observing that the Duke was approaching, with the main body of the Spanish fleet, prudently gave the order to retire. It was, indeed, high time, for the Ark-Royal was so badly crippled that she had to be towed out of action.

The Lord High Admiral afterwards knighted Lord Thomas Howard, Lord Sheffield, Townsend, Hawkins and Frobisher, for their gallantry on this occasion; but a convincing proof that the English had the worst of it in the encounter is the determination of a council of war “not to make any further attempt upon the enemy until they should be arrived in the Straits of Dover, where the Lord Henry Seymour and Sir William Winter were lying in wait for them.”

So the Armada kept on its way, unmolested, and with a fair wind, past Hastings and Dungeness, until it got to the north of the Varne, an extensive shoal in the Channel.

Then it left the English coast, and hauled up for Calais Road, where it anchored on the afternoon of Saturday, August 6th, close in to shore, with the Castle bearing from the centre of the fleet due east.

The English followed, and anchored two miles outside. Strengthened by the accession of Seymour’s and Winter’s squadron, they now numbered one hundred and forty sail—many of them large ships, but the majority small.

Every day since he had been in the Channel the Spanish commander-in-chief had despatched a messenger to the French coast, to proceed by land, and warn the Duke of Parma of the approach of the Armada, and to impress upon him the necessity of his being ready to make his descent upon England the moment the fleet reached Calais; and especially he desired Parma to send him, at once, pilots for the French and Flemish coasts, which those in the fleet had no knowledge of. To his bitter disappointment, on reaching Calais he found no preparation of any kind, and none of his requests complied with. All that night, and all day of August 7th, the vast Armada lay idly at anchor, vainly watching for the coming of Parma’s army, and not knowing that its egress from Nieuport and Dunkirk was a simple impossibility, since the fleets of Holland and Zealand were in full possession of all the narrow channels between Nieuport and Hils Banks and the Flemish shore; and Parma had not a single vessel of war to oppose to them.

On the evening of the 7th the appearance of the weather caused great anxiety to the seamen of the Armada, the sun setting in a dense bank of clouds, and they realized, much more fully than the soldiers on board, the insecurity of their anchorage; as a northwest gale, likely to rise at any moment, would drive them upon the treacherous quicksands of the French coast.

While this apprehension was troubling the seamen of the Armada, the English were fearful least Parma’s transports, eluding the vigilance of the Dutch cruisers, should suddenly heave in sight. But, as the evening drew on, and they observed the threatening sky, and heard the increasing surf upon the shore, both of which boded a storm, they became reassured. A little before midnight of the 7th, the weather being very thick, and a strong current setting towards the Spanish fleet, the English prepared to send in among them eight fire-ships, which they had prepared as soon as they found the enemy anchored close together. The English captains Young and Prowse towed them in, directing their course, and firing them with great coolness and judgment. A great panic resulted among the Spaniards, for they knew that the English had in their service an Italian, who, three years before, had created great havoc and destruction at Antwerp, by ingenious floating torpedoes or mines, and they no sooner saw the fire-ships, “all alight with flame, from their keelsons to their mast-heads,” and bearing down upon them, than they imagined Giannibelli and his infernal machines in their midst. Shouts of “we are lost!” passed through the fleet, but in the midst of the panic the Duke de Medina Sidonia (who had been warned by Philip to be on his guard lest the dreaded Drake should burn his vessels) maintained his composure. He at once made the signal agreed upon, to cut cables and stand clear of the danger; and the Armada was soon under sail, and out of harm’s way from fire. But the fright and confusion had been so great that, next morning, when the Duke wished to rally his fleet and return to his anchorage, many ships were out of signal distance, some far at sea, and others among the shoals of the coast of Flanders.

The 8th of August dawned with squally, southwest weather, and the English observed some of the Spanish vessels to be crippled, and drifting to leeward, while the San Lorenzo, flag-ship of the squadron of galleasses (the class of large vessels which had contributed so much to the victory of Lepanto), was endeavoring to get into the harbor of Calais. Her rudder was gone, and, although her rowers were endeavoring to keep her in the narrow channel leading to the town, she yawed widely across it, and finally grounded on a sand bank near the town. In this position she was attacked by the boats of the English fleet, and after a stubborn resistance, in which many fell on both sides, was boarded and carried. The Govenor of Calais claimed her as of right pertaining to him, and the English, just then not caring to quarrel with the French, gave her up to him, but not before they had plundered her.

The boat expedition no sooner returned, than Howard bore up for the Armada, the bulk of which was then off Gravelines, sailing in double Echelon, with flanks protected “by the three remaining galleasses, and the great galleons of Portugal.” The Duke Medina Sidonia at once hauled by the wind, with signal flying for close action, and the Royal standard at his fore. But the English had speed, handiness, and the weather gauge in their favor, and were enabled, as before, to choose their own distance, and after a desultory fight of six hours, the Duke (finding he was losing men, and had three of his best ships sunk, as many more put hors-de-combat, and having exhausted his shot, without a chance of bringing Howard within boarding distance, or of Parma’s coming out to join him) telegraphed to the fleet “to make its way to Spain, north about the British Isles,” and then himself kept away for the North Sea.

The sands of Zealand threatened him on one hand, and the hardy English seamen on the other; and with these odds against him, the proud Spaniard had no resource left but to retreat.

That night it blew a strong breeze from the north, and the next day some of the Spanish vessels were in great danger from the Dutch shoals, but a shift of wind saved them.

The English kept close after them until August 12th, when, being themselves short of provisions and ammunition, they came by the wind, and stood back for their own shores, where, of course, the intelligence they brought caused great joy, after the narrow escape from invasion.

An intelligent officer, Commodore Foxhall A. Parker, United States Navy, commenting upon these actions, says, “it has been asserted that Medina Sidonia so dreaded the passage around the grim Hebrides that he was upon the point of surrender to Howard, when he last approached him, but was dissuaded from doing so by the Ecclesiastics on board his vessel; but this story, as well as one told by the Spanish soldiers who were taken prisoners in the fight of August 8th, and who wished to curry favor with their captors, that this fight ‘far exceeded the battle of Lepanto,’ may be safely classed with the marvelous relations of the ‘intelligent contraband,’ and the ‘reliable gentleman just from Richmond,’ so often brought to the front during the great civil war in America. Why, indeed, should the Duke have surrendered to a force unable to fire a shot at him, and which, had it ventured within boarding distance of the Armada, must have inevitably fallen into his hands? Was not the Saint Matthew, when assailed in a sorely crippled condition by a whole squadron, defended for two long hours? And did not several Spanish vessels, refusing to strike when they were in a sinking condition, go down with their colors flying? Was, then, the Commander-in-chief less courageous than his subordinates? Let the truth be told. Medina Sidonia, from his want of experience at sea, was utterly disqualified to command the great fleet entrusted to his care; but Spain possessed no braver man than he.”

The history of the Armada, after Howard left it, is one of shipwreck and disaster. Many of its vessels foundered at sea, and many more were lost on the rocky coasts of Scotland and Ireland; and the crews of some, who managed to reach the land, were massacred by the savage inhabitants of the west of Ireland.

Few of the leaders lived to return to their native land, and there was hardly a family in Spain that was not in mourning.

Upon learning of the disaster Philip affected great calmness, and merely remarked, “I did not send my fleet to combat the tempest, and I thank God, who has made me able to repair this loss.”

But, in spite of that, his disappointment was terrible, and in his fierce and savage resentment at the depression of his people he cut short all mourning by proclamation. A merchant of Lisbon, who imprudently allowed himself to express some joy at the defeat of the conqueror of his nation, was hanged by order of Philip—so that, as Motley says, “men were reminded that one could neither laugh nor cry in Spanish dominions.”

In other parts of Europe great joy was felt, for both England and the Continent were delivered from the nightmare of universal empire and the Inquisition. Well might England rejoice, and proceed to build up a more powerful navy.

The Spanish marine was irretrievably wrecked, and never again rose to its former position; and the loss of the preponderance of Spain in European affairs began at this time.

The commander first selected for the Armada, Alvaro de Bazan, a fine seaman, died just before it left Lisbon. He would, no doubt, have handled it better than Medina Sidonia; and he certainly would have attacked the wind-bound English fleet in Plymouth, in spite of orders, and if he had done so would probably have destroyed it.

Philip had disregarded the advice of Parma and Santa Cruz, experienced soldiers, to secure a point in Flanders, before attacking England; and he erred in binding down Medina Sidonia not to take the initiative and attack the English fleet until he had been joined by Parma’s transports.

We may add a few words concerning Philip II. He survived the loss of his Armada ten years; having succeeded in making his memory thoroughly odious. Philip was gifted with high capacity, but was sombre, inflexible and bloody minded. He was at the same time vindictive, pusillanimous and cruel; full of joy at an auto-da-fè, while he trembled during a battle. To sanguinary fanaticism he added violence of temper almost bestial in its exhibition. He was close and deceptive in politics—always covering himself and his designs with the mask of religion. He seemed, indeed, not to have a human heart in his breast; and yet he had a taste for the fine arts—loving painting, but even better, architecture, in which latter he was learned. He finished the Escorial and beautified Madrid, which he made the capital of Spain.

Besides the foregoing his sole pleasure was the chase; while, unlike his father, he was generous to those who served him, and very sober in living and simple in dress.

A SPANISH GALLEASS OF THE 16TH CENTURY.

EVENTS SUCCEEDING THE ARMADA.—SIR FRANCIS DRAKE IN CENTRAL AMERICA.

VII.
SOME NAVAL EVENTS OF ELIZABETH’S TIME, SUCCEEDING THE ARMADA.

The signal discomfiture of the Armada caused, in England, an enthusiastic passion for enterprises against Spain; and this was fostered by the unusual good fortune of English adventurers, especially in their attacks upon the commerce and colonies of the Spanish.

Don Antonio, of Portugal, having advanced a claim to the crown of that country, then held by Spain, an expedition was undertaken, in England, to conquer that country for him. Nearly 20,000 volunteers enlisted, and ships were hired and arms and provisions provided by the adventurers. The frugal Queen only contributed to the enterprise some £60,000 and six of her ships. Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Norris were at the head of it, and if they had not allowed themselves to be drawn off from the main object of their enterprise to attack a Spanish fleet, fitting at the Groyne for another invasion of England, it is quite probable that Lisbon would have been taken by a coup-de-main. In consequence of their delay Lisbon was too strongly defended, and the English fleet was obliged to retire. After taking and burning Vigo they returned to England, having lost more than half their number by sickness, famine, fatigue, and wounds. This was, indeed, usually the case with the maritime adventurers of that day, the losses from illness alone being perfectly frightful.

As this expedition was returning another was going out, under the Earl of Cumberland, all the ships, except one man-of-war sent by the Queen, being equipped at his own expense. Cumberland went to the Terceras and took many Spanish prizes, but the richest one, a galleon, was lost on the Cornish coast, in the attempt to reach England. Attempting to seize the Islands, Cumberland met with a bloody repulse, losing nearly half his men, and a great mortality seizing upon the survivors, left him hardly men enough to steer his ships back into a home harbor.

But all these maritime expeditions, whether successful or not, had a good effect in keeping the Spaniards in check, as well as in keeping up the spirit and nautical ability of the English.

At a later period, when Elizabeth was assisting Henri Quatre, in France, against the Duke of Parma and the League, she employed her naval power very freely against Philip, and endeavored at all times to intercept his West Indian treasure ships, the source of that greatness which rendered him so formidable to all his neighbors.

Among other operations she sent Lord Thomas Howard, with a squadron of seven ships, upon this service. But Philip, informed of her intentions, fitted out a great fleet of fifty-five sail, and despatched them to escort home the fleet of galleons from the West Indies.

The Queen’s seven ships, commanded by Howard, were the Defiance, the Revenge, the Nonpareil, Bonaventure, Lion, Foresight, and Crane. They are said to have been miserably fitted out. Howard went to the Azores, and anchoring at Flores, there waited six months for the approach of the treasure ships, which were inconceivably slow and deliberate in their passages. In the meantime Don Alphonso Bassano, the commander of the Spanish escort fleet, hearing of the small English force at Flores, determined to attack it. The English squadron was at the time unprepared, beside having much sickness on board. Howard put to sea hurriedly, leaving many men on shore, and was attacked by the whole Spanish fleet. The brunt of the engagement which followed was principally borne by the Revenge, commanded by Sir Richard Grenville. The fight began about three o’clock in the afternoon, and continued until after daylight the next morning.

The Revenge was laid on board at one and the same time by the St. Philip, of 1500 tons and 78 guns, and four others of the Spanish men-of-war of the largest size, and filled with soldiers. The enemy boarded no less than fifteen times during the night, and were as often repulsed, although they continually shifted their vessels, and boarded with fresh men. The gallant Grenville was wounded early in the action, but refused to quit the deck. About midnight, however, he was wounded by a musket ball, which passed through his body. He was then carried below to have his wound dressed, but while under the surgeon’s hands, was again wounded in the head, and the surgeon was killed by his side while attending to his wounds.

The gallant crew held out till daylight, by which time the ship was a mere wreck, and out of an original crew of 103, forty were killed, and almost all the rest wounded. The ammunition was expended in the long and constant firing, and most of their small arms were broken and useless. In this condition nothing remained but surrender. But Sir Richard proposed to trust to the mercy of God, rather than that of the Spaniards, and to destroy themselves with the ship, rather than yield. The master gunner and many of the seamen agreed to this, but others opposed it, and obliged Grenville to surrender as a prisoner. They refused to strike, however, until they were promised their liberty, and the Spaniards assenting, the ship was at last surrendered.

This was the first English man-of-war that the Spaniards had ever taken, but she was not doomed to be exhibited as a trophy, for she foundered a few days afterward, with two hundred of the Spanish prize crew which had been placed on board of her. It is said that it cost the Spaniards a thousand lives to capture the Revenge.

Sir Richard Grenville was carried on board the Spanish admiral’s ship, where he died, two days after, impressing his enemies very much by his extraordinary behavior and courage. His last words were: “Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind; for I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for his country, queen, religion and honor. My soul willingly departing from this body, leaving behind the everlasting fame of having behaved as every valiant soldier is in his duty bound to do.”

In the meantime the treasure ships had been detained so long at Havana, for fear of the English cruisers, that they were obliged to sail at an improper season, and most of them were lost at sea before they reached Spanish harbors.

In 1592 an expedition under Sir Martin Frobisher, consisting of two men-of-war belonging to the Queen, and others fitted by Frobisher and Sir Walter Raleigh, made a cruise on the coast of Spain, and took many Spanish ships. Among them was a carrack, called Madre de Dios, of which a description is given, and which must have been a most extraordinary vessel, more like a floating castle or tower than a ship. “She had seven decks, of 165 feet from stem to stern, was of 1600 tons burden, manned with 600 men, and carried thirty-two brass guns. Her cargo was valued at £150,000 on her arrival in England, besides what the officers and seamen had plundered her of when taken.” This was an immense sum for those times, and an extraordinary booty to be taken in a single ship.

The Queen’s adventure in this cruise was only two ships, one of which, the least of the two, was at the taking of the carrack Madre de Dios; in virtue of which she assumed power over the whole of the valuable cargo, taking what portion of it she pleased, and making the rest of the adventurers submit to her pleasure in the matter. She is said to have dealt with them rather indifferently, taking the lion’s share.

In 1594 the brave and skillful Admiral Sir Martin Frobisher was lost to his country. He had been sent with the Vanguard, Rainbow, Dreadnought, and Acquittance, to aid the French in the attack upon Brest, which important naval station was then held by the Spaniards. The Admiral entered the harbor with his ships, and attacked the forts most vigorously. But the place was well defended, and the attacking party suffered serious loss. At length the forts surrendered, and the garrison was put to the sword.

Sir Martin Frobisher was wounded in the hip by a grape shot, and died soon after he had brought his squadron safely home.

The accounts of the English naval enterprises of the latter part of Elizabeth’s reign read like romance. These enterprises, often entirely of a private nature, though sanctioned by the State, were a curious mixture of chivalrous search for glory and of the grasping love of lucre of a freebooter or pirate.

In 1594 Richard Hawkins, son of the celebrated navigator, Sir John, made an unsuccessful raid upon the Spanish possessions in the South Seas, by way of the Straits of Magellan. And in the same year James Lancaster was sent by some London merchants to South America, with a squadron, and took thirty-nine Spanish ships. He also attacked and captured, against great odds, the very rich city of Pernambuco, destroying his boats after his men had landed, so as to force them to fight or to be slaughtered. He returned safely to England, with an immense booty.

In 1595, Sir Walter Raleigh took a fleet in search of the gold mines of Guiana, and ascended the Oronoco in boats. He suffered immense loss in battle and by disease, and found nothing of what he went in search for. His account of his adventures is most marvelous, and has long been known to be drawn principally from his imagination.

In the same year, Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, with six men-of-war of the Queen’s and twenty others, proceeded on an expedition against the Spanish settlements in Central America. They first attacked Porto Rico, where they were repulsed with very serious loss, and Hawkins soon after died. Drake then resolved to go to Nombre de Dios, on the Isthmus of Darien, whence he made an attempt to cross the isthmus to Panama. But the resistance of the Spaniards, coupled with the difficulties of the region and the climate, all proved too great even for this seasoned adventurer, and the exposure, vexation and disappointment so worked upon him that he died. Sir Thomas Baskerville took command of the expedition, and after an indecisive fight with a Spanish fleet, returned home empty-handed.

Philip II being known to be making preparations for another invasion of England, a powerful English fleet was equipped at Plymouth, consisting of one hundred and seventy vessels, seventeen of which were first-rate men-of-war. Twenty ships were added to these by the Hollanders. This fleet was commanded by the High Admiral, Lord Effingham, while Elizabeth’s favorite, the Earl of Essex, commanded the troops embarked. Many of the first men of England were either commanders or serving as volunteers.

The fleet sailed from Plymouth on the first of June, 1596, with a fair wind, with orders to rendezvous off Cadiz. Fast vessels sent in advance intercepted all traders, and the fleet found the Spaniards unsuspicious of any attack, and the port full of men-of-war and richly laden merchantmen.

After a fruitless attack at St. Sebastians, it was resolved to take the fleet into the bay and attack the Spanish shipping. The Admiral did not look upon this plan with much favor, conceiving it to be rash, but at last it was determined upon, so much to Essex’s joy that he is said to have thrown overboard his richly jeweled cap, on hearing the decision of the council of war. His joy was much moderated when he heard that Effingham had orders from the Queen not to allow him to lead in the attack, as he was not to be exposed. Sir Walter Raleigh and Lord Thomas Howard were appointed to lead, but when the fight began Essex forgot his orders, and pressed into the thickest of the fire. The English had great incentives to do well. The nobles were emulous for glory, while all were incited by the prospect of great plunder, and by animosity against their old enemy, the Spaniards. The English fleet attacked with such ardor that the Spaniards were soon obliged to slip their cables, and, retreating to the bottom of the bay, run on shore. Essex landed his men, and carried the city, sword in hand. After the place was taken, he is said to have stopped the slaughter usual on such occasions, and to have treated his prisoners with great humanity.

The English fell into a great amount of plunder, but a much richer booty was lost by the burning of the fleet and the merchantmen, which was ordered by the Spanish Admiral, the Duke de Medina Sidonia. Thus was immense loss caused to Spain, not to speak of the humiliation of that proud nation at seeing one of her principal cities in the hands of the hated heretics.

In 1597 Spain was busy collecting ships and troops at Ferrol, for the purpose of a descent upon Ireland. Elizabeth at once put the Earl of Essex in command of a fleet, with Sir W. Raleigh, Lord Thomas Howard and Lord Mountjoy, as commanders, while many of the first nobility embarked as volunteers.

This fleet sailed from Plymouth on the 9th of July, but the very next day encountered a severe storm, which damaged and scattered it. After reassembling and refitting, the project of going to attack Ferrol was given up, and it was determined to endeavor to capture the great annual treasure fleet from the Spanish Indies.

In that age, from the unwieldiness of these great galleons and from imperfect navigation, these fleets had stated courses and seasons for going and returning. They had also certain ports where they touched for water and provisions, rendered necessary by the immense time they consumed in their voyages. The Azores was one of these points, and Essex determined to go there, and to take the port of Fayal, as a preliminary step to capturing the fleet. But the English ships becoming separated on the passage, Raleigh and his squadron arrived alone. Seeing the Spaniards at work fortifying, he at once attacked and took the place. Essex, upon his arrival, was much incensed at being robbed of the glory he so much coveted, and but for Howard, would have cashiered Raleigh and his officers. Sir Walter having made due amends, the matter was arranged, and dispositions were made for intercepting the galleons. Sir William Monson was stationed off the islands, in observation, and in due time made the appointed signal that the Spaniards were in sight. These, however (owing, as Monson says, in his memoirs, to Essex’s want of seamanship), almost all managed to get into the secure and strong port of Angra. Only three were taken, but these were of such value as to defray the whole cost of the expedition.

“HENRY GRACE DE DIEU.”—“The Great Harry.”
(Built by Henry VII of England.)

VIII.
NAVAL ACTIONS OF THE WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND HOLLAND. A.D. 1652-3.

In 1652 the Dutch naval power was without a rival in the world. The sea seemed to be their proper element, and their fleets of war and commerce penetrated to every part of the globe. Their colonial possessions were only inferior to those of Spain, and their wealth, energy and valor gave every promise of their extension.

England had better home harbors, and a finer geographical position; a more numerous population, and almost equal maritime resources; and it was a natural and cherished idea of the English Republicans to form the Commonwealth and the United Provinces of Holland into one powerful Protestant State, which should be able to resist all the other powers. The advantages of such a union were easily to be seen, but the splendid conception was opposed by commercial jealousies and by dynastic interests.

William, the second Prince of Orange of that name, had married a daughter of Charles the First, so that in addition to a princely antipathy to Commonwealths, an alliance of this kind would have interfered with a possible succession of his wife and children to the English throne.

William was exceedingly popular with the masses, and so long as he lived the two States remained on bad terms. He even refused to extend to the agents of Parliament the protection of the Dutch law, and they were constantly insulted, and one lost his life at the hands of a mob, it was said, by the machinations of Montrose. No redress could be obtained.

Holland’s recent successes, especially at sea, against Spain and the Barbary States, had made her very confident in her maritime power. England was then much exhausted, from internal dissension, and Holland was anxious to be considered mistress of the Narrow Seas, a right which England had long claimed, and which the Dutch had always firmly disputed.

The Prince of Orange died rather suddenly, leaving his heir yet unborn, and the Democratic party, which comprised the most liberal and enlightened of the Dutch people, seized the opportunity to abolish the office of Stadtholder, and restore a pure Republic. After their success in this it was thought and hoped that at least a close alliance, offensive and defensive, might be formed between the two Republican States. An ambassador was sent from England to Holland for that purpose, but the negotiation lagged. The “High Mightinesses” who now ruled Holland offered a counter-proposition. Delays followed, and St. John, the English envoy, whose time was limited to a certain fixed date, had his pride hurt by the delay. The Dutch, on their side, thought it arrogant and menacing in the English Parliament to have set a time for their action and its agent’s return. The exiled court was then at the Hague, and the exiled cavaliers frequently made St. John feel their presence. Then, again, Holland may have wished to see the result of the invasion of Scotland, and, after long delays, St. John left Holland, more inclined for war than peace.

The Dutch statesmen saw their mistake after the battle of Worcester had firmly established the English commonwealth, and now endeavored to renew negotiations. But new troubles prevented an understanding. Dutch privateers had continued to injure English commerce; while still more insuperable difficulties arose from the passage by the English Parliament of the Navigation Act. At that time, in addition to being great traders, the Dutch were great fishermen. Rotterdam and Amsterdam were the exchanges of Europe, and immense fortunes were made by the ship owners of these ports. Under the Stuarts England had neglected the merchant marine, and afforded a fine field to the Dutch traders, but the Navigation Act, in declaring that no goods the produce of Asia, Africa or America, should be imported into England, except in vessels either belonging to that commonwealth or to the countries from which the goods were imported, put a period, so far as the British Islands, their colonies and dependencies were concerned, to a very lucrative branch of Dutch enterprise.

The new Dutch ambassador endeavored to have this law of exclusion repealed at once; and while urging the point, hinted that his country then was fitting out a powerful fleet for the protection of their trade. This hint was taken as a menace, and Parliament ordered its sea captains to exact all the honors due the red cross flag which had been claimed by England in the Narrow Seas since Saxon times. This order soon made much trouble. An English Commodore, Young, falling in with a Dutch fleet returning from the Mediterranean, sent to request the Admiral in command of the convoy to lower his flag. The Dutch officer refused to comply with this demand, so unexpectedly made, without consultation with his superiors. Young then fired into his ship, and a sharp action ensued; but the English being stronger, and the Dutch taken by surprise, the latter were obliged to strike.

To avenge this insult to their flag, the States General fitted out a fleet of forty-two sail, and placed it under the command of Van Tromp, with instructions to use his discretion in resisting the English claim to supremacy. He was, however, positively required to repel, on all occasions, and at all hazards, attacks upon the commerce of the Republic of Holland, and to properly support the dignity of its flag. Tromp, who had genius as well as courage and skill, was well suited to carry out these orders. This celebrated naval commander was born at Briel, in 1597, and died in 1653. He served on a frigate commanded by his father when only eleven years old, his father being killed in an action with the French, and the son made prisoner. He rose rapidly in the Dutch navy, and was a Vice Admiral at the age of forty, when he totally defeated a Spanish fleet, superior in numbers and weight of metal. This success not only made him very popular at home, but caused him to be made a French noble. We shall see in the following pages how Tromp died. He was buried at Delft, where a splendid monument was raised to him.

When Tromp was put in command of this fleet war had not been declared, and the Dutch ambassador was still in England when Tromp and his fleet suddenly appeared in the Downs. Bourne, who was stationed off Dover with part of the English fleet, at once sent a messenger to Blake, who was off Rye with another division of ships. Upon receipt of the intelligence Blake at once made all sail for the Downs. This wonderful man, one of the greatest names in English naval history, was fifty years old before he became a sailor; and yet, upon being appointed a “General at Sea,” he performed some of the greatest exploits, and won some of the greatest victories recorded in naval annals. Blake found Tromp in and about Dover Roads. When the English were still about ten miles off Tromp weighed and stood out to sea, without lowering his flag. This, under the regulations then existing, was an act of defiance. Blake fired a gun, to call attention to the omission, but no answer was returned. To a second and a third gun, Tromp replied by a single shot, keeping his flag flying. Stretching over to the other side of the Straits, he then received some communication from a ketch which met him, and, as if she had brought imperative orders, he soon came round and made toward Blake; his own ship, the Brederode, taking the van.

Blake felt that, in spite of a want of any declaration of war, Tromp had received orders to offer battle, and at once proceeded to prepare for it.

Tromp was superior in force, his numbers being greater. This was partly made up for by the fact that the English carried more guns in proportion, and larger crews, but many of their men were landsmen.

When the fleets had approached within musket shot, Blake, affecting not to notice the menacing attitude of the Dutch, stood toward the Brederode, to remonstrate concerning the lack of honors, in not lowering the flag.

The Dutch ship sent a broadside into the James, Blake’s flag-ship, and stopped all remonstrance short. Blake was at this moment in his cabin, with some officers, and the fire smashed the windows and damaged the stern. Blake coolly observed, “Well! it is not civil in Van Tromp to take my flag-ship for a brothel, and break my windows.” As he spoke, another broadside came from the Brederode. At this he called to those on deck to return the fire, and the action at once began.

Few of the English officers in high command had then any experience of warfare at sea, and Vice Admiral Penn was the only one who had received a regular naval education.

The Council, in giving Blake chief command at sea, had left the selection of two vice admirals to himself; and to these posts he had, with Cromwell’s approval, named Penn and Bourne. Penn sailed on board the Triumph, of 68 guns, taking young Robert Blake, the nephew of the admiral, as his lieutenant. Bourne was on board the St. Andrew, 60. Not supposing hostilities likely to occur while the Dutch ambassador was still in England, Penn was on leave, and there was not a practical seaman left in high command in the English fleet.

The battle began about four in the afternoon, with a rapid exchange of broadsides. On the part of the English no line appears to have been formed; the ships grappled as they happened to meet. The James, a ship of fifty guns and 260 men, seems to have borne the brunt of the action. She received 70 shots in the hull, lost all her masts, and was completely dismantled as to her battery, by the Dutch fire. She was exposed to a storm of shot for four hours, and had several of her officers killed or wounded. In spite of great loss her men stood well up to their unaccustomed work, and their energies were aroused afresh, just before nightfall, by the arrival of Bourne and his division, which attacked the enemy’s rear. This additional force came just in time, and Van Tromp withdrew at dark, after a drawn battle. Blake was too much disabled to follow, and spent the night in repairs. At daylight no enemy was in sight, and the English found themselves unopposed upon the Narrow Seas.

Two Dutch ships had been taken, one of which soon sank, and the other, of 30 guns, was manned for immediate service. For such a well contested affair the loss in killed and wounded had been surprisingly small.

This sudden encounter, without any declaration of war, caused profound feeling in both countries. The Dutch ambassador insisted that Van Tromp was the assailed, and only stood on the defensive, and that, with his force, he could have destroyed the English if he had chosen. The English mob was so indignant that the ambassador had to be protected by a military guard; and, after long and angry debate and negotiation, took his leave.

Blake continued to patrol the Channel, with undisputed sway, harassing the Dutch trade and making many captures. The Dutch merchantmen were forced to abandon the route by the Channel, and to go north about; or else land their goods and tranship them, at great expense, through France. The English Council not only fitted out the captured Dutch ships, but added more men-of-war and some fire-ships to their fleet; while the seamen’s wages were raised, and a large number enrolled in the service of the State.

In the meantime the Dutch, a people of vast resources and inflexible spirit, were not idle. But Blake, who was the chief authority in naval matters, caused the English Council to raise the English navy to 250 sail and fourteen fire-ships. While squadrons were sent to the western part of the Channel, to the Baltic, and to the Straits of Gibraltar, one hundred and seventy sail, of all classes, as well as the fire-ships, were to be placed under Blake’s immediate orders, to fight the enemy.

The full number of vessels so authorized was never fitted out; but in a month from the fight off Dover the Admiral had one hundred and five ships, carrying near 4000 guns, under his immediate command. The great difficulty was in obtaining men to man the ships; and, to make up for the scarcity of seamen, two regiments of foot were taken bodily on board the fleet—and from that time marines, as a distinct corps, have formed part of the equipment of English men-of-war.

In the meantime the Dutch were urging their preparations, and their dock-yards at the Texel, the Maas, and on the Zuyder Zee, were at work day and night. They laid the keels of sixty men-of-war, intended to be larger and more perfect than had ever been seen in the North Sea. Merchantmen of size were fitted as men-of-war, and all able seamen lured into service by high pay and the hope of prize money. In a few weeks Van Tromp found himself in command of one hundred and twenty sail, of all classes.

It had become necessary for England to send to the Baltic for supplies of hemp, tar and spars, and it required a strong fleet to convoy these vessels safely home. Another fleet was detailed to intercept the rich Dutch merchant fleets from the East Indies and elsewhere, as well as to break up the great herring fishery, which the hardy and industrious Hollanders had monopolized, and in which their vessels were employed by the thousand. The spring fleet of herring vessels, numbering 600, was now coming home from the neighborhood of the North British islands, and as Tromp showed no immediate intention of putting to sea, Blake himself went to the North, leaving Sir George Ascue, his second in command, in the Channel, to keep a lookout for Van Tromp.

Blake sailed in the Resolution, with sixty ships, leaving Dover Road on the 21st of June, and about the time he had passed the Frith of Forth, Van Tromp appeared in the Downs with over one hundred men of war and ten fire-ships. Ascue was compelled to shelter his division under the guns of Dover Castle, and the whole south of England was at the mercy of Van Tromp. Couriers were sent by land, in hot haste, to intercept Blake on the Scotch coast, and recall him from his ill-judged cruise. But before they found him he had met the Dutch herring fleet, escorted by twelve men of war, and captured 600 of the “busses,” with their freight. This was not done, however, without a most gallant fight by the twelve Dutch men-of-war, which lasted three hours, against overwhelming odds, ending in the sinking of three and the capture of the others. Blake let the fishing boats go, after warning them never to fish again among the British islands. For his conduct in thus restoring their all to these poor people he was afterwards much blamed by many in England.

Meantime, in the South, hurried preparations were made to meet Van Tromp. But the latter was detained in mid-channel by a calm, and when the wind sprung up, it blew from the land with such force that the Dutch fleet could not approach, and his intention of crushing Ascue was foiled. With the same strong wind Van Tromp, therefore, returned to the Texel, where an immense fleet of merchant vessels were waiting for him to escort them clear of all danger from English cruisers. This duty he accomplished, and then followed Blake to the North. Blake’s fleet had suffered much from bad weather, and was now scattered among the roads and havens of the Orkneys, for repairs. But on hearing that his enemy was approaching, Blake hastily re-assembled his ships and prepared for the encounter.

Towards evening on the 5th of August the fleets came in sight of each other, about half way between the Orkney and the Shetland islands. Both leaders were confident, and both anxious to engage. But while preparations were being made a fierce gale burst upon them, which damaged and destroyed many of the ships of both fleets, but particularly those of Van Tromp, so that he was obliged to make his way home with much loss, followed by Blake, who ravaged and insulted the Dutch coast with impunity. Thence he returned to the Downs, and gathered his fleet once more about him.

In the meantime Ascue and De Ruyter, Van Tromp’s second in command, had had a drawn battle, and the States General of Holland, undaunted by recent reverses, were refitting another large fleet for service in the Channel.

The failure of Van Tromp to accomplish anything with the powerful fleet provided him, caused great tumult in Holland. The Dutch had been so long accustomed to victory at sea that the mob became ungovernable. Van Tromp was insulted upon his return, and resigning his command, retired to private life. De Witt, a renowned statesman, as well as an Admiral, was called to the command of the fleet. De Ruyter now wished to resign his command, pleading long service, advancing years, and failing health. But his countrymen would not listen to his retiring, and insisted upon his once more leading them, as of old, to glory and victory.

When the fleet was ready for sea, De Witt joined De Ruyter, and assumed the supreme command.

To oppose this new danger Blake summoned Ascue and his squadron from Plymouth, and the two hostile fleets were soon at sea, and searching for each other, to have a renewed trial of strength.

Blake had sixty-eight ships of various force, and was superior to the Dutch fleet both in number of vessels and in guns.

While cruising about the Channel in search of the Dutch, Blake fell in with the fleet of the Duke de Vendome, which was fresh from a victorious engagement with the Spanish fleet. The French fleet was intended to relieve Dunkirk, then besieged and closely pressed by the Spaniards. The town was in extremity, but the disaster to the Spanish fleet had left the sea open to France, and Vendome at once ordered a relief squadron to Calais Road, to take on board men, arms, stores and fresh provisions.

At this time privateers from Dunkirk and from Brest preyed, as they had always done, more or less, upon English commerce, and English cruisers often retaliated, but there was no formal declaration of war between France and England.

As soon as Blake learned of Vendome’s doings at Calais, without awaiting instructions or reporting his intentions, he stood for the Roads, and found there seven men of war, a small frigate, six fire-ships, and a number of transports with men and provisions on board, all ready to sail. Such an accession would enable Dunkirk to hold out indefinitely.

English interests, both commercial and political, required the downfall of this stronghold of privateers. The Council of State was convinced that if the place was taken by the Spaniards they might be induced to cede their conquest to Great Britain, as was, indeed, afterwards done. Blake knew the public feeling in England, and was certain that if he struck a successful blow at the French force, he would not be held responsible for any trouble it might occasion with the French Government. Only he must take care to succeed.

He, therefore, in spite of Vendome’s protest, attacked the force anchored at Calais, and in a few hours had the whole—war-ships, fire-ships and transports, Admiral, officers and men—safe under the guns at Dover Castle.

Dunkirk could do nothing but surrender to the Archduke Leopold, and the seizure of Vendome’s squadron in time of peace remained a monument of Blake’s bold conception and rapid execution, as well as an illustration of the extreme powers which he exercised at sea, independent of the Council of State.

The prizes safely bestowed, he sailed again at once, in quest of De Witt and De Ruyter. On Sept. 28th Admiral Penn, in the James, came in sight of the Dutch off the North Foreland. He at once signaled to Blake, who, in his turn, transmitted to his vanguard the order to “bear in among them as soon as the fleet was up.” “Blake was always ready for action; he trusted in God and kept his powder dry.” De Witt was not really in condition for battle, for his ships were not in good order, and his men were very discontented. The brave and experienced Ruyter urged him to avoid a battle at that time; but his pride prevented him from listening to the suggestion; and he resolved to fight at a disadvantage rather than afford the world the spectacle of a Dutch admiral retreating before any number of the presumptuous islanders. His preparations for battle were hastily made, much confusion prevailing in the fleet.

BATTLE OFF THE NORTH FORELAND.

De Ruyter, always foremost in fight, led the van upon this occasion; De Witt the main body, and De Wilde the rear. Evertz, another distinguished Dutch admiral, was stationed with a reserve, to send succor where it should be most needed.

Just before the battle opened De Witt sent a despatch boat round the fleet, to enjoin the captains to do their duty on this great day. But it is well known that apathy, intrigue and discontent ruled on every Dutch deck, and in almost every cabin; and no good could result from such an appeal at the eleventh hour.

The Brederode, Tromp’s old flag-ship, was in the fleet, but the admiral appointed in Tromp’s place thought it not prudent to remain among Tromp’s devoted followers, and just before the action commenced his flag was removed to a huge Indiaman. Several other ships, besides the Brederode, resented the disgrace of their favorite leader, and either disputed the new admiral’s orders, or obeyed them without the zeal which is essential to victory. Hoping that success would restore loyalty, De Witt hove his topsails to the mast, and formed line.

By four in the afternoon the English line was also formed and well up, the only order issued from the Resolution being “to attack, but hold their fire until close in with the enemy.” Then the whole of the English van bore down upon the Dutch, who kept up an intermittent and harmless fire as it approached. Just then the Dutch line tacked, and the two fleets came into almost instant collision. They were so close together that an unusual number of shots told, and the crash of the first broadside was terrific; the roar of artillery continuing incessantly for more than an hour.

After that the action became less furious, and there were pauses in the storm of battle. The Dutch ships fell off to a greater distance, and, as a breeze arose the clouds of powder smoke partially cleared away. But, although the Dutch fell back, they fell back fighting, and with their faces to the enemy; and, with their usual obstinate valor they continued the battle until night fell upon the scene of slaughter. The Dutch had lost most men, while the English had suffered most severely in masts and rigging. It was thought by experienced commanders, in both fleets, that De Witt would have been completely defeated and broken had he not drawn off at nightfall.

Ruyter had, as usual, commanded his important division with consummate skill and bravery. He lost a large proportion of the crew of his own ship, and his masts and rigging were almost destroyed, and the hull seriously shattered. De Witt himself, by his courage and conduct during the battle, atoned in part for his rashness in fighting such an enemy in the then condition of his fleet. But, in spite of their efforts, the Dutch had the worst of it. Two of their ships foundered in the first shock of battle; and two others were boarded and taken, one of them being the Rear Admiral’s flag-ship. As has been seen, the loss of life in the Dutch fleet was great, and this, in addition to the general disaffection, caused about twenty of De Witt’s captains to take advantage of the darkness, withdraw their ships from the main fleet, and make for Zealand, where they carried the first news of disaster.

As many of the Dutch fleet remained in sight, and kept their lights burning during the night, Blake naturally assumed that they would fight again at daylight. Every one, therefore, on board the English fleet was engaged in repairing damages, in securing prisoners, caring for the wounded and burying the dead.

At daylight the whole fleet bore down for the Dutch position, and, from the attitude of the latter, it seemed likely that the bloody work of the previous day would begin again.

De Witt wished to fight; but a change of counsel took place before the fleets got within cannon shot of each other. Evertz and De Ruyter’s opinion prevailed, and it was decided to collect the scattered ships, to gain one of their own ports, repair, refit, and re-man the ships, and await the orders of the States General.

Blake, in his disabled state, could not prevent them from carrying out this decision; and was obliged to content himself with petty raids upon the Dutch coasts, such as Tromp had inflicted upon the English in the preceding year.

The news of this action was received in London and throughout England with great exultation. It was the first great naval action fought by the English since the days of Elizabeth. England had come off victorious against the best seamen and most experienced admirals of the world. Tromp, Evertz, and Ruyter had been regarded as invincible sea commanders; yet now a land officer, with but three years’ experience of the sea, with soldiers and landsmen, had successfully withstood the attacks of veteran sailors who had swept the great navies of Spain from the face of the ocean.

Blake took his place at once among the highest of living Admirals.

Parliament wished at once to release the ships hired from the merchant service, and to reduce the fortifications about Deal and Sandown.

This Blake replied to by a demand for thirty new frigates, but such was the momentary confidence and security felt that he did not obtain them. Vendome’s renewed complaints were treated with haughty indifference, and the Council dreamed of a “mare clausum,” the dominion of the Narrow Seas, and the exclusion of the Dutch from all the valuable fisheries.

They little understood the resources and determination of the people with whom they had to deal.

1652-3.

And now we shall see how sturdy Van Tromp came to the fore again.

De Witt’s return with his discomfited fleet was the signal for great disorders in Holland. The enemies of the Orange party did not hesitate to accuse him of rashness, cowardice and treason. The sailors of the fleet, who had been almost mutinous before the battle, really became so after it.

Even on board his own flag-ship De Witt was not entirely free from danger. He had, before sailing, executed some seamen for mutiny, and excited much silent rage thereby; but when he came back unsuccessful, the popular passions were aroused, and he was mobbed as soon as he landed, in Flushing; his proud heart being almost broken by the insult from a people he had served so long and well, he fell sick, and relinquished his command. Ruyter shared some of his unpopularity, but was persuaded to continue in his command.

Having so often triumphed at sea, the Dutch could not understand that their reverses were not the result of gross misconduct in their sea generals; and they now remembered that, if Tromp’s success in the early part of the war had not been very great, he had not, at least, suffered defeat, and they felt that the elements, and not man, had destroyed the powerful fleet which he had lost.

His reputation became once more the first in Holland, while personal feeling and his past training peculiarly fitted him to meet the English.

The States General were ready to reverse their decision when they found him necessary, and this was confirmed when they found that the King of Denmark, alarmed by the sudden growth of England’s maritime power, was making interest with leading Dutch statesmen, not only for a vigorous renewal of hostilities, but also for the restoration of Tromp to his offices and honors.

The most eminent of his rivals in naval ability and in political influence were, upon his restoration, appointed to serve under him as Vice and Rear Admirals. These were De Witt, Ruyter, Evertz and Floritz. De Witt, completely mortified and disgusted, excused himself on the plea of ill health; and Ruyter joined the fleet as second in command.

The Danish King now refused to allow the English ships, which had been sent to the Baltic for the naval stores so necessary to the fleet, to return through the Sound or the Belts, and thus proved a new enemy for the Commonwealth to deal with.

As the term for which Blake had been appointed sole General and Admiral of the fleet had expired, he requested the appointment of two colleagues, as he considered the coast command of England equally important with that of the cruising fleet.

Colonel Deane and General Monk were accordingly so commissioned, both these officers being in the land service, and at that time actively employed in Scotland.

Winter had now set in, and Blake distributed the fleet, some for convoy duty, and some for repairs. The Dutch were hard at work in their dock-yards, and Blake, with a reduced force, cruised from port to port of the Channel, not expecting the enemy to appear at sea before the return of fine weather. In this he had greatly mistaken the energy and influence of Tromp, who, in an incredibly short time, fitted out and manned a vast fleet; and while the English squadrons were dispersed in various directions, suddenly appeared off the Goodwins with more than one hundred sail of the line, frigates and fire-ships. His plan was bold and well conceived. Coming suddenly into the Downs with this large force, he intended to close up the Thames, cut off reinforcements preparing there, and then to fall upon Blake’s division, and either capture it or drive it westward out of the Channel; then, with the coast at his mercy, he could dictate terms to the Commonwealth. At that time a winter cruise or campaign was hardly thought possible; but Tromp relied upon a swift and daring blow to finish the war in a few days.

Blake was then in the Triumph, and the first intimation he had of Tromp’s being at sea was from his own look-out ships. On the 9th of December the two fleets were in presence of each other, between Calais and Dover; and the English Admiral then learned that Tromp was in command, and accordingly prepared himself for serious work.

A council of war was held on board the Triumph. Blake declared his intention to fight, even without his detached squadrons, rather than leave the coast exposed to the incursions of the great and uncrippled Dutch fleet.

All that December day the two Admirals worked for the weather gage. The succeeding night was long, cold and stormy, and the ships were unable to keep well together. At daylight of the 10th the manœuvres for the weather gage were renewed, the two flag-ships, the Brederode and the Triumph, both drawing toward the Nase, and by three in the afternoon the fleets were quite near each other, off that headland of Essex.

Tromp being most anxious to engage, made a sudden effort to get alongside the English Admiral. The latter’s ship, however, by a skillful evolution, passed under the Brederode’s bows to the weather gage. In passing the two ships exchanged broadsides, and the battle opened. Blake’s ship was closely followed by the Garland, and missing the Triumph, Tromp ran afoul of this second ship, and carried away her bowsprit and head. The Garland and the Brederode then engaged, the English ship, though much lighter, fighting bravely until joined by the Bonaventure, 30, when the two together rather overmatched the Brederode. Tromp, by every possible appeal, encouraged his men; but his position was becoming very precarious, when Evertz, seeing him in such straits, attacked the Bonaventure, placing that small ship between the two Dutch flag-ships. The four ships were all grappled together, and it was more than an hour before the weight of metal obliged the two English ships to yield. After they had suffered great loss the Dutch boarded and captured them. Of the other English ships the Triumph, the Vanguard and the Victory bore the brunt of the action. In spite of being surrounded by enemies, and suffering severely in men, hull, masts and rigging, they all came out of the desperate encounter uncaptured. Night came early at that season, and the fleets were about separating, when Blake heard of the capture of the Garland and Bonaventure, and he at once attempted their recapture. This brought on a more destructive conflict than the previous one. Blake was surrounded by the Dutch ships, and the Triumph was three times boarded, and the assailants as often repulsed. She was reduced to a wreck, and with difficulty kept afloat, and had it not been for the Sapphire and the Vanguard, which stood by him with extraordinary courage and devotion, the English Admiral must have succumbed. Thick fog and darkness at last interposed and enabled Blake to draw off his ships toward Dover Roads.

The next morning there was a dense fog, and the Dutch were not to be seen. His disabled vessels required a shelter, and the English Admiral, therefore, resolved to run into the Thames, and there repair damages, ascertain the enemy’s intentions, and wait the recall and concentration of his scattered squadrons.

In the action off the Nase the Dutch had had much the best of it, but had lost many men, and one of their ships had blown up, every soul on board of her perishing. Tromp’s and Ruyter’s ships were both unfitted for further service, and many others were crippled; but they were the victors, and once more masters of the Channel.

Blake offered to resign, but the Council would not hear of this, and only seemed intent upon weeding out of the fleet those captains who had not shown sufficient zeal and courage. Several were broken after proper inquiry, among others, Blake’s own brother, who was reported as guilty of neglect of duty.

More vessels were concentrated and placed under Blake’s orders, and the effective force of the navy raised to 30,000 men.

While reforms, renovations and recruitments were being carried on under Blake’s own eye, Tromp sailed up and down the Channel with a broom at his masthead, typical of his having swept the Narrow Seas; and the States General proclaimed a state of blockade of the British Islands.

Caricatures and ballads were circulated in the Dutch cities, all bearing upon the late naval event. The fear that Tromp would seize the Channel islands, and the certainty that he had effectually cut off commerce, hastened the preparations of the English for a second winter campaign; and, on the 8th of February, 1653, Blake, still in the Triumph, sailed, at the head of some sixty men-of-war and frigates, having Monk and Deane with 1200 soldiers from the army on board. Penn, the father of the Quaker proprietor of Pennsylvania, was the vice admiral, and Lawson the rear admiral.

In the Straits of Dover he was joined by the Portsmouth squadron, of twenty sail; and with this addition to his strength, Blake resolved to seek the Dutch fleet, and once more give battle.

Tromp had gone to the southward, to meet a large fleet of Dutch traders which had collected near Rochelle, with the intention of convoying them home. Here intelligence reached him that the English were about to quit the Thames with a large fleet, and he hoped to be able to return in time to block it up in the river mouth, and to keep the Portsmouth squadron from effecting a junction with the main body. But Blake had stolen a march upon the Dutch Admiral, and when the latter came up with Cape la Hogue, he was surprised to find a force equal to his own prepared to dispute the passage of the seas so lately swept by his broom. He, however, accepted battle eagerly, for he was confident of victory.

THE BATTLE OFF PORTLAND.

Day was just breaking, on the morning of the 18th of February, 1653, when the Dutch van was made out from the masthead of the Triumph. Blake was on deck at once, and a grand spectacle he must have had, as the sun rose, showing the heaving wintry sea covered with ships, their sails and pendants lighted up by the early rays. There were seventy-three Dutch ships of war, convoying more than three hundred merchant ships. Owing to the darkness the ships had not seen each other until only three or four miles apart. The English flag-ships happened to be all within hailing distance of each other, but General Monk was some miles astern, in the Vanguard, and the bulk of the English fleet about five miles astern of Admiral Blake when the Dutchmen hove in sight.

Tromp, with his seaman’s eye, saw his advantage, and at once availed himself of it.

With the wind in his favor he might have forced his way by, and carried his convoy to the Scheldt in safety, returning at his leisure to give battle. But he chose to play a bolder game, and fancying that his enemy’s vanguard of some twenty ships could not resist the weight of his attack, he sent his fleet of traders to windward, out of range, with orders to await there the issue of the engagement.

This great battle was fought under circumstances which lent it thrilling interest. Both nations had had time to collect their best fleets, and the largest and finest vessels they had were there arrayed against each other, commanded by the most renowned Admirals. Blake, Deane, Penn and Lawson were on one side; Tromp, De Ruyter, Evertz, Swers, Floritz and De Wilde, all great names, on the other.

The fleets were nearly equal in strength, and their relative merits had to be determined on that day. Even the common seamen on each side felt that this was the decisive battle.

At the outset the Dutch had the wind, and therefore, the advantage of position. They were also well up together, and when they opened on the English vanguard it seemed almost impossible for only about twenty ships to withstand the crash of so many heavy broadsides.

As usual, the Triumph was the first of the English to engage, and the Brederode, ever in the van, was ready to meet her, reserving her fire until within musket shot, when her broadside would have most deadly effect. With a strong favoring breeze Tromp shot by the Triumph, pouring a fearful broadside into her as he passed; and then, tacking, gave her a second and more destructive one, leaving her with decks strewed with killed and wounded, and torn canvas, stranded rigging, and tottering masts. After this the two Admirals parted for the day, for Penn came dashing up, in the Speaker, followed by other vessels, to cover Blake from some part of the circle of fire which threatened him with destruction.

As the other divisions of the English fleet came up the battle became general. On both sides the wreck and destruction was awful. In less than one hour after the first shot was fired almost every ship engaged had received serious damage. At one moment an English crew was to be seen boarding a Dutch man-of-war, and the next they would be driven back, and their own vessel boarded in turn by the doughty Hollanders. Here might be seen a ship completely wrapped in flames; there one foundering, with all her men, their cries for help unheeded by either friend or foe; perhaps elsewhere occurred a fearful explosion, which sent ship and crew into the air together, and added fresh volume to the lurid cloud which hung over the scene.

Cotemporary writers say that the tremendous roar of artillery could be heard along the shores of the Channel, from Boulogne on the one side to Portland Bill on the other.

About midday Monk succeeded in arriving up with his division, and the contest was now entirely upon equal terms. De Ruyter, as ever, in the forefront of battle, added, if possible, to his already well earned renown. Early in the day he singled out and engaged the Prosperous, a hired ship of forty guns, commanded by a Captain Barker. The English ship maintained so steady a fire, in response, that De Ruyter, impatient, and wishing to finish her and pass on to fresh combats, called away his boarders, ran his ship alongside the Prosperous, and the Dutchmen gallantly boarded, leaping down on her deck, sword and pistol in hand. But, to their surprise, they were driven back again in a very few minutes. Not satisfied with forcing back his assailants, Barker threatened De Ruyter in return; but the brave old Dutchman, singing out, “Come lads! that was nothing! at them again!” led them to a second and more successful boarding. Barker and his officers were unable to resist this renewed assault, and were soon prisoners. At this very moment Blake, with several vessels, came up to their assistance. The prize was recovered, and Ruyter himself was surrounded by the English. Vice Admiral Evertz and Captains Swers and Krink hastened, in their turn, to relieve Ruyter from his dangerous position, and the battle soon raged with extraordinary violence around this new centre. Penn’s ship, the Speaker, was so shattered as to be unfit for further service, and when night put an end to the first day’s engagement he was despatched to the Isle of Wight, for the ships left at that station.

The Dutch Captain Cruik, in the Ostrich, was very conspicuous in this day’s engagement. Like a true sailor, he fought till he had not a spar showing above his bulwarks, and his deck was literally covered with the dead and wounded of his devoted crew. At last he was boarded by the English; but, as the ship appeared to be sinking, and her officers and crew were nearly all killed or wounded, the boarders made hasty plunder of her valuables and left her to her fate. De Wilde offered his aid to bring her off; but suddenly it fell calm, and not having a particle of sail spread, the attempt to tow her off failed, and she was again abandoned. Next morning Blake found her floating about, without a living soul on board, and the unburied corpses lying just as they had fallen; occasionally, under a more than ordinarily heavy roll, showing a startling movement.

Captain Swers, afterward a most distinguished Dutch Admiral, was taken prisoner. He had gone to the assistance of Captain De Port, who was being roughly handled by two English frigates, and the four ships were immediately locked together. De Port’s ship had several shots between wind and water, and began to fill. He himself was severely wounded by a large splinter; nevertheless, as he lay on his back, in great agony, he waved his sword, and shouted words of encouragement to his men, until ship and crew all went down into the deep together.

The Dutch had always been noted for close fire, but on this occasion the English fire proved quite as deadly and regular. Swer’s ship foundered from shot holes, himself and those of the officers and crew left being taken on board the frigates, and their lives thus preserved.

Toward dusk of the second day Blake felt himself in a sufficiently strong position to be able to send some of his best sailing ships with orders to gain the wind, and if possible prevent the escape of the vast fleet of rich traders which had remained hove to, awaiting the issue of the action. Tromp saw the movement, and at once divined the cause, so he fell back, with a great part of his fleet, to cover his convoy. This movement put an end to that day’s action; for, seeing their Admiral make sail and leave the enemy, some of the Dutch Captains made sail, and, under the cover of night, were soon far away. Blake remained on the scene of action, but with his men too much exhausted, and his vessels too much damaged, to permit of a chase in a mid-winter night.

Both sides had shown the most devoted valor and untiring zeal. The Dutch had had eight large ships either taken or destroyed. During the battle the Prosperous, the Oak, the Assistance, the Sampson, and several other English ships had been boarded and taken, although most of them were afterward recaptured. The Sampson was so damaged that her Captain, Button, and his officers and men, were taken out of her, and she was allowed to sink.

The flag-ship Triumph suffered most severely. Her Captain, Andrew Ball, was killed, as was the Admiral’s secretary, Sparrow, who was shot down at his side, and nearly half her crew were killed. Blake himself was wounded in the thigh; and the same ball which lamed him for life tore away a part of Deane’s buff coat.

The Dutch loss was never ascertained, but it was very heavy, for some of their ships had nearly all the men killed or wounded; and the appearance of their gun-decks, spattered with blood and brains, shocked even the callous captors.

At night Blake sent many of his wounded on shore, where preparations were made for them, all classes turning out to relieve and succor them. Collections of money and clothing were made in all the South and West of England, and the miserable provision made at that day for the sick and wounded was supplemented by the spontaneous gifts of the people.

Blake’s own wound, which was not really dangerous at first, required repose and proper treatment, but he would not go on shore.

At night the fleets lay close together, never losing sight of each other’s lights during the whole of the long winter’s night. During these dark hours all hands were employed in stopping leaks, repairing sails, and getting gun tackle in readiness to renew the contest in the morning.

A dead calm had succeeded to the fresh breeze which was blowing when the battle began; and if it continued the Dutch could have no choice as to renewing the fight. But at daylight a light breeze sprang up, and Tromp, anxious to take home his convoy in safety, disposed his men of war in the form of a crescent, with the traders in the centre, and crowding all sail, stood directly up Channel. Blake followed in pursuit, with all his available ships. It was noon, however, before the Triumph came within gunshot of the rearmost Dutch ship, and it was two in the afternoon before the main body came up with them, off Dungeness.

Seeing that he would be compelled to fight, Tromp ordered his convoy to make the best of their way to the nearest Dutch port, keeping close along Calais and Dunkirk, for protection; and then he turned upon his pursuers, like a lion at bay.

The battle was renewed with great fury. De Ruyter again performed miracles of courage and conduct, but the fortune of war was against him. After some hours his own ship became unmanageable, and would have fallen into the enemy’s hands but for Tromp, who saw his danger, and sent a ship to extricate him. With great difficulty this was accomplished. An hour or two later Tromp began to haul off towards Boulogne, but it was not until night fell again that the hostile fleets separated once more.

That night proved bitterly cold, but unusually clear, for winter, so that the English fleet was enabled to keep the Dutch lights in sight. On this day just closed Blake had captured or destroyed five of his enemy’s ships, and, in consequence of the recent reforms, had not had occasion to complain of the want of courage, steadiness or promptness of a single commanding officer. In the Dutch fleet Tromp had to contend against want of concert, party bitterness and personal envy in many of his captains. At the close of this day’s fighting several of the latter sent word on board the Brederode that they were out of powder, and Tromp was compelled to send them away in the night, so as to prevent cowardice and treason from spreading to the other ships. To conceal his true motive he pretended to give them orders to take a new position, to windward of the convoy, to protect them from the light craft of the English, which were hovering about.

But when day dawned Blake saw at a glance that the Dutch fleet was considerably reduced in numbers, and inferred that a squadron had been despatched during the night to cover the convoy; and he at once sent a squadron of fleet sailers after them, while he himself bore down once more on his reduced but unconquered enemy. Tromp met him with undaunted courage, and, as usual, fought desperately. But the most he could now hope for, with his reduced fleet, was to occupy Blake until his richly laden convoy could reach a friendly port. But even this seemed doubtful. After the first shock of this day’s renewed fighting he felt that he would be able to afford them but small protection; and he sent Captain Van Ness to the merchant fleet, with orders to crowd all sail for Calais Road. As the fight went on he again sent another officer to hurry them in, or else the English frigates would soon be among them. But the wind was blowing from the French coast, and Van Ness’ most energetic efforts were insufficient to carry the confused mass of traders near enough to the Roads to be out of danger. More than half the men-of-war and frigates of the Dutch fleet had been scattered, taken, or sunk, by this time, and many of the captains who were left had, contrary to Tromp’s orders, retreated upon the flying convoy. Confusion now reigned, and as the English came up, the merchantmen, in their alarm, either ran foul of each other and knocked themselves to pieces, or fell into the enemy’s hands.

Still engaged with the retreating Dutch men-of-war, Blake arrived on the scene in the afternoon, and finding some of the merchant ships actually throwing themselves into his way, he began to suspect that it was done to lure him to make captures and give the discomfited fleet time to rally. He accordingly gave strict orders that every man-of-war still in condition to follow and fight should press on after the main body of the enemy, leaving the traders to be either picked up by the frigates detailed for the purpose, or driven where they could be captured after the Dutch fleet was swept from the Channel. At last darkness put an end to the chase. Tromp ran in and anchored the remnant of his fleet under the French shore, about four miles from Calais. They were in number about one-half what he had sailed with; and all of them more or less damaged.

Blake’s pilots all agreed that Tromp could not, as the winds and tides then were, come out to sea again, in order to get home. He, therefore, anchored his fleet also, and set to repair damages. The night was dark and a gale was blowing, and ships’ lights could not be seen at any distance. At daylight the sea was clear where so many ships had been at anchor at sunset. Tromp had slipped away toward Dunkirk; and afterward succeeded in entering the various ports of Zealand.

Blake felt that it would not be well for him to follow the enemy into the flats and shallows of his own coast, and so he stood over for England. The bad weather continuing, he carried his fleet and the prizes into Stoke Bay, whence he reported his success to Parliament.

During these successive days of fighting there had been great loss of life. Seven Dutch captains were killed, and three taken prisoners. Three English captains were killed, and Blake himself, Rear-Admiral Lawson, and many other distinguished officers wounded. The total loss on each side was never published. A day of thanksgiving was appointed in England, and provision made by public subscription, as well as by the State, for the widows and children of those who had fallen.

Blake took no rest, in spite of his wound, but refitted and revictualed his ships, intending to strike a blow at the Brest privateers.

But in April he received information that the equally indefatigable Tromp was making great efforts to equip another fleet. He at once proceeded off the Texel, with about one hundred sail. In the Texel he saw many men-of-war, but Tromp himself had already gone out to the Northward, to convoy in an expected fleet of traders from Spain and the Levant. By good seamanship he brought them safe home, but not by the Channel which he had formerly brushed down with his broom.

Then came Cromwell’s assumption of supreme power; and political events of magnitude usurped, in English minds, the Dutch war, and all other matters.

Blake’s opinions were known to be unfavorable to the extreme practices of the Protector, and when the Dutch heard of the revolution which had occurred in London, by means of the army, they jumped to the conclusion that their redoubtable naval enemy would no longer carry on the war with the same energy. But in this they were deceived. Blake was loyal to his country and her welfare, before all, and told his captains that “it was not for them to mind affairs of State, but to keep foreigners from fooling us.” Though he suspected Cromwell, and abhorred military rule, he had patriotism enough not to deprive his country of such services as he could render, because it had allowed itself to submit, in an irregular way, to a power not of his choosing.

It was fortunate that he took this resolution promptly, for Tromp, Evertz, Ruyter and De Witt, under the impression that the English fleet was divided by political discord, sailed for Dover Road, with one hundred and thirty ships, manned in haste, took some prizes, and began firing upon the town.

The English fleet was then in three divisions. Deane and Monk, sailing together, in the Resolution, had under their orders thirty-eight sail, carrying 1440 guns, and about 6000 men; Penn had thirty-three sail, with 1200 guns, and 5000 men; and Lawson had thirty-four ships, with 1200 guns, and about 5000 men. The Dutch had a few more ships than the English, but were about equal in guns and men.

When Tromp thus suddenly reappeared, Blake was at the North, with a small fleet, but couriers rode overland, day and night, to apprise him that the Dutch were again in the Channel, and had fired upon Dover.

He made all sail for the South as soon as he heard this important news, having a favoring breeze, and burning with anxiety to join the main fleet before a battle took place.

But on the 2d of June, before he arrived, the hostile fleets sighted each other near the Gable, and were soon in collision. Lawson was in advance of the English fleet, and broke through the Dutch line about midday, separating Ruyter’s division from the rest, and engaging it heavily before the main body on either side could get up.

In about an hour Tromp came to Ruyter’s relief, and the action then became general. One of the first shots which struck the Resolution killed General Deane, and Monk threw his cloak over the mangled body, and called to his men to avenge his death. For some hours the Dutch fought with reckless courage, and when night fell both fleets had sustained great damage and loss, but nothing was decided. All that night, while the hostile fleets lay to, near each other, repairing damages, Blake was carrying every possible stitch of sail, to reach the fleet. He was, of course, unaware of the day’s events, of the death of his friend and comrade, Deane, and of the doubtful position of the English fleet. The officers and men who had been engaged on the English side watched anxiously for signs of the coming of their great leader, but when the summer morning dawned no trace of his sails could be seen on the northern horizon. Tromp was unaware that Blake was expected that day, as he believed him to be too far North to be recalled. He, therefore, spent the whole morning in manœuvres for the weather gage. A calm put a stop to this at about noon, and then the great guns opened again on both sides, and the battle was renewed with great energy, but neither side seemed to have any decided advantage. If there was any it was upon the side of the Dutch. But early in the afternoon Blake managed to draw near, with a light air, and his thundering broadsides upon the flank and rear of the Hollanders put new life into the harassed and flagging English. Young Blake was the first of the English reinforcement to engage the enemy, and, as if to announce the arrival of the great captain upon the scene, he broke through the Dutch line, belching forth death from both batteries, and greeted with tremendous cheers from the English ships.

By four o’clock the battle was over, and the retreat of the Dutch began. Tromp fought with the energy of despair; but nothing could withstand the onset of such a force, led by Blake himself.

The Brederode boarded Penn’s flag-ship, the James, but the attack was repulsed by Penn’s crew, who, in turn, boarded the Brederode, and would probably have captured that ship had not Tromp, resolved not to fall into his enemy’s hands alive, thrown a match into the magazine, and caused an explosion, which sent the upper deck and the gallant boarders upon it into the air, the planks shivered into splinters, and the men horribly scorched and mutilated.

Most strange to relate, Tromp himself was but little hurt; but a report of his death spreading, many of his captains, thinking all was lost, bore up and fled. De Ruyter and De Witt exerted themselves in vain to stem the tide of disorder and defeat. Tromp, after his marvelous escape, left the wrecked Brederode for a fast sailing frigate, and passed through his fleet, encouraging those who stood fast, and threatening the waverers, while he fired upon some who fled the scene.

But it was too late. The day was lost, and the brave old man had at last, reluctantly, to give the order for retreat.

Just then a fresh gale sprang up, but the English fleet pressed sail after them, sank some ships, captured others, and were only made to cease by darkness coming on.

Favored by the darkness, Tromp anchored in Ostend Road, and next day escaped, with the remnant of his fleet, into Weilingen.

The news of this great defeat threw the United Provinces into a dangerous ferment. The mob rose in many towns, and committed great excesses. The Admirals offered to resign; and they all declared that they would go to sea no more with such an organized fleet as they then possessed. De Witt openly acknowledged that the English were, for the present, masters of the sea.

The naval power of Holland was indeed, for the time, completely broken; and the final battle of the war, hazarded and lost two months later, was an expiring effort, made with crippled resources, and under circumstances of the greatest discouragement.

The English fleet, though it kept the sea, was scarcely in better condition than that of their enemy. Blake kept the Dutch coast blockaded, nevertheless, while their commerce was intercepted and their fisheries idle. In doing this his fleet suffered from bad and scanty provisions, which brought on much sickness. Blake himself fell ill, and had to be taken on shore, more dead than alive, leaving to Monk, Penn and Lawson the carrying out of his plans.

One more blow, and all was over. In the temporary absence of the English blockading fleet, the Dutch squadrons at Weilingen and the Texel put to sea, and effected a junction. But their shattered fleet was felt to be unfit to cope with their powerful opponents, and when they met the English fleet, they endeavored to avoid a battle. But Penn and Lawson pressed sail to come up with them, and some fighting had already taken place, when night came on, and stopped it.

Next day a heavy gale prevented a renewal of the action; but on the next the fleets once more met.

During the close fighting which ensued the aged and able Van Tromp received a musket ball through the heart, and fell upon his own quarter-deck,—an appropriate death for the gallant but unfortunate veteran.

At his death his fleet fled; the English pursuing without mercy, for the ruthless Monk was now in command, and had ordered his captains to give no quarter. They made no prisoners; and the end of the engagement was rather a massacre than a battle.

Immediately after this the humbled States General sued for peace.

IX.
FRENCH AND DUTCH IN THE MEDITERRANEAN. A.D. 1676.

In the latter part of 1674 Messina and a part of Sicily revolted against the Spaniards, and Louis XIV resolved to sustain the insurrection, in pursuance of his political designs. In consequence, Duquesne, who had just been named General of the Naval Forces, sailed from Toulon, on January 29th, 1675, with eight ships-of-war, bound for the Sicilian coast.

Before we detail his operations there, it may be of interest to give some sketch of this very remarkable man.

Abraham, Marquis Duquesne, one of the greatest seamen France ever produced, was born in Dieppe, an important seaport in the north of France. He entered the navy early, and soon rose to the command of a ship, in which he joined in the recapture of some of the French islands from the Spaniards, for which service he was reported most favorably to the great Richelieu. During these operations he learned of the death of his father, in action with the Spaniards, and Duquesne seems ever after to have entertained the greatest dislike for this nation, causing them to feel the effects of his resentment on numberless occasions. In 1638 he, under circumstances of great difficulty and danger, rescued from under the guns of St. Sebastian several French vessels which had been stranded there. The same year, at the battle of Gattari, Duquesne decided the victory by blowing up the Spanish admiral’s flag-ship, by means of a fire-vessel.

The next year he served on the Biscayan coast, and, at Santona, was dangerously wounded in the jaw by a bullet, while boarding a Spanish galleon.

During 1641 he served against Spain in the Mediterranean, was constantly engaged, and again wounded. In succeeding years he was actively employed, at Cape de Gatte, and at Carthagena, and was again wounded.

Already a veteran, Duquesne was obliged, by the neglect into which the French navy fell after Richelieu’s death, to take service under the Swedes, then engaged in a naval war with Denmark. Queen Christina, who knew his merit, received him cordially, and made him a vice-admiral.

In this capacity he was engaged in the naval battle of 1644, under Fleming and Torstensen, against the old king, Christian IV, of Denmark. He also served in other naval battles, in the north, under Admiral Wrangel.

Peace being concluded between Denmark and Sweden, Duquesne left the service of the latter State, and returned to his own country; and, in 1645, was again actively employed against Spain, and was again wounded.

In 1647, being then a capitaine de vaisseau, he was sent to Sweden to purchase four vessels of the line for the French navy. After this he had command of Dunkirk, in French Flanders, for five years.

In 1653 occurred the naval operations of the Duke de Vendome, about the mouth of the Gironde, in consequence of the civil war of the Fronde. The French navy had at this time so decreased that the Duke, in summoning Duquesne from the North Sea to his assistance, was obliged to ask the latter to man and equip some of the vessels at his own expense.

On his way down the Channel to join the Duke, Duquesne met an English squadron, which summoned him to lower his flag, a token of submission at that time imposed upon all foreigners by the English, if within Ushant or even Finisterre. To this demand Duquesne returned a haughty refusal, whereupon a very close and murderous engagement took place, which resulted in the English, although quite equal in guns to the French, being put to flight.

On arriving off the Gironde a Spanish squadron, operating in connection with the insurgents, attempted to bar his progress; but he drove them off, and succeeded in joining the Duke, and greatly assisted in the reduction of Bordeaux and all Guienne.

In recognition of his services Anne of Austria bestowed upon Duquesne a chateau and estate in Brittany, with a promise of reimbursement for his expenses in fitting out his squadron.

The peace of 1659 relegated Duquesne to civil life; but Colbert, during this cessation of arms, had the wisdom to imitate Richelieu in fostering and rebuilding the navy of France, so that, when war broke out between France and Holland, in 1672, the former was able at once to send to sea a formidable fleet

During this year Duquesne held a high command in the great naval battles in the North Sea; particularly those off Southwood, where Vice Admiral d’Estrées was opposed to the Dutch Admiral Benkaërt; as well as the two battles where the combined French and English fleets, under Prince Rupert, Admiral Spragge, and d’Estrées, fought the Hollanders under Ruyter, Cornelis, Tromp and Benkaërt.

England suddenly made peace with Holland, but France continued the war, with the alliance of Spain, Germany, and the two Sicilies; and it is at this point that we take up Duquesne’s battles with the Dutch fleet.

When he sailed from Toulon, in January, 1675, he had on board the Duke de Vivonne, General of the Galleys of France, who had been named Viceroy of Sicily. He had in charge a convoy, also, with a great store of wheat and other provisions for Messina.

On February 11th, in sight of the Sicilian coast, Duquesne and Vivonne were attacked by a Spanish fleet of twenty men-of-war and seventeen galleys, commanded by Don Melchoir de la Cueva. Duquesne sustained the attack of this large force with such vigor and determination that he gave time for the Chevalier de Valbelle to arrive from Messina with a considerable reinforcement, when, in his turn taking the offensive, he drove off the Spanish fleet, pursued it until it took refuge in Naples, and then triumphantly entered Messina with his convoy.

He soon after, in concert with Vivonne, captured the town of Agosta; after which Duquesne was sent back to France, with the greater part of the fleet, to bring back to Sicily munitions of war and reinforcements, then much needed at Messina.

On his arrival at Toulon, Duquesne learned that the great Dutch naval commander, Ruyter, had entered the Mediterranean, to operate in conjunction with the Spanish fleet. He was placed in command of a very considerable fleet, to enable him to measure his forces with those of the redoubtable Hollander who had been so successful against the English and others. Duquesne was then sixty-four years of age, and Ruyter was near seventy.

The Dutch Admiral had risen from the lowest origin to be the Admiral of Holland. This was the result of his own great ability and bravery; and he was so much the favorite of the Dutch government and people that, although he begged to be excused from further service, on account of age, nothing would satisfy them but that he should make this one important campaign. Duquesne sailed again, from Toulon, on the 17th of December, 1675, with a fleet of twenty ships-of-the-line, and six fire-ships, bound for Messina.

As soon as the veteran Ruyter heard that he had put to sea, he hastened to meet him. Some days before this an English trader had met the illustrious Admiral of Holland off Melazzo, about twenty-five miles from Messina. The Englishman inquired what he was doing in those parts, and Ruyter replied that “he was waiting for the brave Admiral Duquesne.”

The hostile fleets met on the 16th of January, 1676, off the Lipari Islands, between Salino and Stromboli, under the very shadow of the ever active volcano.

The whole day was passed in reconnoitring each other’s strength, and in manœuvring; and during the whole succeeding night the fleets were working for the weather gage. Each commander had a true respect for the courage and ability of his opponent; and each knew that he must expect an exceptionally vigorous attack.

On the morning of the 8th, at daylight, Duquesne, who had obtained the advantage of the wind, crowded sail down upon the Dutch fleet, which lay about two leagues to leeward.

The French were in three divisions. Their van was commanded by Preuilly d’Humières; the rear by Gabaret l’ainé, both excellent officers; the centre was under the command of Duquesne himself, who had his flag in the Saint Esprit, and was immediately supported by the Chevalier de Valbelle, in the Pompeux, and that splendid sailor, Tourville, in the Sceptre.

The Dutch fleet, which comprised twenty-four ships-of-the-line, two flutes, and four fire-ships, was also divided into three. Their van was commanded by Verschoor, their rear by De Haan, and the centre by Ruyter himself.

The French came down in such a beautiful line that Ruyter himself showed and expressed a sailor’s admiration for the skill and discretion shown. The French van opened fire at about nine in the morning, and both fleets immediately engaged. The battle, as may be supposed from the character of the officers, was a most obstinate and well contested one, and continued for seven hours, with very varying fortunes. At the termination each side claimed a victory; but the advantage was clearly with Duquesne, for the Dutch fleet, which was there to bar his passage, was so much injured that Ruyter could not prevent Duquesne from entering Messina with his fleet; which he did, on the following day, without molestation from the Dutch.

In the course of the battle Ruyter’s flag-ship, the Concordia, and Duquesne’s flag-ship, the Saint Esprit, had an encounter, which lasted until the Concordia declined further battle, after so sharp and murderous an engagement that Ruyter said it was the hottest fight he had ever been in in his life; and no one was a better judge.

But this battle of the Lipari Islands was only the prelude to a still more desperate and important one.

The active and enterprising Duquesne, having refitted at Messina, sailed from that port again, with two objects in view. The first was to protect important convoys of stores and provisions expected from France; and the second to protect the town of Agosta from an expected attack by the Dutch fleet.

Ruyter, hearing that Duquesne was again at sea, went straight to meet him, with his fleet reinforced by a Spanish squadron, under the command of Don Francisco de la Cerda.

The rival Admirals made each other out on the 21st of April, and the next day the fleets met off Agosta, which is some fifteen miles to the northward of Syracuse.

Duquesne had now thirty sail-of-the-line, and eight fire-ships. Ruyter had twenty-nine sail, nine galleys, and four fire-ships.

On this occasion the French Admiral had entrusted the command of his van to Almeiras, his rear to Commodore Gabaret l’ainé, and himself commanded the centre.

Ruyter, in this battle, preferred to command the van himself, and not the centre, as was usual for the Commander-in-chief.

The Spanish ships he put in the centre of his line of battle, and Vice-admiral de Haan in command of his rear division.

At about two in the afternoon Ruyter, with the van division, attacked that of Almeiras, which sustained his vigorous assault with great steadiness. Unfortunately, however, Almeiras was soon killed by a cannon-ball, and wavering and indecision at once showed itself in his division; but the Chevalier de Valbelle coming up, and assuming command, the temporary confusion ceased, and the division conducted itself well. Just then Duquesne came down to the assistance of his van; and the battle became general all along the line, the firing of the two well drilled and well appointed fleets being described as unusually sharp and terrible.

The two Admirals’ ships, the Saint Esprit and the Concordia, met once more, and a most obstinate and destructive fight ensued. For a long time it was doubtful which would have the advantage. At last the Concordia suddenly and unexpectedly slacked her fire; then it ceased, and she wore ship, and made sail in retreat. Ruyter had been badly wounded, his left foot being carried off, and his right leg broken in two places, while, in falling, he had injured his head severely.

Even after he fell he continued to exhort those about him to fight courageously, but, disheartened by the strong resistance of the French, and by the desperate wounds of their beloved Commander-in-Chief, the Dutch van, from that moment, ceased their fire and ran to leeward, leaving their centre and rear still heavily engaged.

Vice Admiral de Haan was true to his reputation as a superior sea officer, and made desperate efforts to retrieve the fortunes of the day, but the victory was with the French, and De Haan was glad to be able to withdraw his fleet, at nightfall, and to take refuge in the convenient port of Syracuse.

Duquesne remained off the port all night, his battle lanterns burning, and the next day took every means to provoke the Dutch to come out and renew the battle, but without effect.

This ended the naval battle of Ætna, or Mount Gibel.

Ruyter died seven days after the battle.

On the 28th of May Vivonne, the Viceroy of Sicily, came out of Messina with Duquesne, in his flag-ship, the Saint Esprit, with the intention of attacking the combined fleets of Holland and Spain, which were then together, and lying in Palermo. They arrived off that city on the 31st, and next day the Spanish and Dutch fleets came out. But it was not until the second of June that a decisive battle was fought. It was decided in a comparatively short time, for no less than twelve of the Dutch and Spanish ships, set on fire by the fire-ships of Duquesne, blew up, destroying, besides their officers and crews, Admiral de Haan, Don Diégo d’Ibarra, Don Francisco de la Cerda, Flores, and other admirals and principal officers.

The French loss in this last engagement was comparatively insignificant.

Upon his return from this engagement Duquesne met the “Concordia,” which had left Syracuse with the remains of Ruyter, which she was carrying back to Holland. Giving the ship free passage, he saluted the remains of the illustrious seaman in an appropriate manner. Louis XIV, in learning of Ruyter’s death, ordered all of his forts and batteries (in sight of which the Dutch ship passed while bearing his remains) to salute. This was considered very remarkable, for Ruyter was a Protestant, which, in that day, was considered worse, in France, than being a political enemy.

Still more remarkable, Duquesne was a Protestant, and when it came to recompensing him for his long and arduous and distinguished services, Louis XIV required him to renounce the Protestant faith, promising him a Marshal’s baton, and other honors. Duquesne simply replied that, if he was a Protestant, his services were Catholic. He received the domain of Du Bouchet, and afterwards a Marquisate, but never was really in favor with Louis.

It may be of interest to some to continue the history of this great French sailor.

He continued to serve at sea, though an old man; and among some other exploits of his of this date, was the burning of some Spanish vessels in the very port of Barcelona.

After the peace of Nimeguen he kept very quiet, and seldom went to court, an unusual thing in those days, especially for those who had such claims as Duquesne.

In 1682 he was sent with a fleet to Algiers, which city he bombarded for several days, with great effect, but was compelled, by bad weather, to return and winter at Toulon.

In June, 1683, he reappeared before Algiers, completely reducing the place by his fire, so that the population rose up against the Dey. All the French slaves were given up, but Mezzo Morto, who had succeeded to the Dey, who had been put to death by the insurgents, renewed the defence, when the bombardment was continued by Duquesne, to such an extent that it rendered the Algerines harmless for a long time, by destroying all their vessels and naval stores.

Two years after this Duquesne commanded the French fleet which bombarded Genoa, and, at different times, inflicted so much damage that the Doge and four Senators were obliged to come to Versailles, to beg pardon, in person, from the King. It was on this occasion that the Doge was asked what he found most surprising in Versailles, and answered “that it was to find himself there.”

The Genoese expedition was Duquesne’s last service. He had been sixty years in actual service, a time only rivaled by Doria. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes distressed the veteran beyond measure. He alone, of all the Protestants of France, was excepted from proscription, and enabled to retain his rank and honors. But his children and friends, his relatives and co-religionists, were banished from their homes; and this had a most depressing effect upon the Admiral, and, no doubt, hastened his death.

He died at Paris, on February 2, 1688, aged seventy-eight years. With his last words he implored his eldest son not to serve against his country, as many of the exiled Huguenots were then doing. So great was the feeling at the time of his death, that his remains were privately buried, his son’s request to have them sent to him in Switzerland being refused; but he erected a tablet to his memory.

This was in great contrast with the splendid obsequies and the tomb given by Holland to his adversary, Ruyter.

Louis XVI afterwards tried to make reparation for this treatment of such a great French naval hero, by placing Duquesne’s portrait in the royal apartments at Versailles. In 1844 the City of Dieppe erected a bronze statue in his honor, and one of the large vessels of the French navy is generally called “Duquesne.”

A CARAVEL OF THE TIME OF COLUMBUS.

X.
BATTLE OF CAPE LA HAGUE. A. D. 1692.

La Hague, or La Hougue, is in the Department of the Manche, in the north of France. It is to the westward of Cherbourg and on the same peninsula. It is often confounded with La Hogue, another cape to the eastward of Cherbourg; and the battle which took place off this point in 1692, and which gave such a fatal blow to the naval power of Louis XIV, is generally called, in the histories, La Hogue.

Louis XIV, having seen the failure of the expedition which he had prepared to attack Ireland, with a view to the re-establishment of James II, resolved, if possible, to strike a vital blow at England in another manner. He, therefore, prepared an armament which was to protect and take part in a descent upon the territory of England, herself the hereditary enemy of France.

The French King reckoned not only upon the number and force of his fleet, but also upon the revulsion in public opinion which seemed to have taken place in England, in regard to King William. Many eminent persons, among others the famous Duke of Marlborough, were known to have opened secret relations with James II; and that Prince had reason to count upon many adherents in the English fleet, which he had for a long time commanded, previous to his accession. Among others, he is said to have depended upon Admiral Russel and Rear Admiral Carter.

Louis XIV, confident in the ultimate result of all his designs, laid down the plan of a naval expedition, by which he would be enabled to land a force of 30,000 men, fully equipped, upon the English coast.

Tourville was ordered to the command of the French fleet. Aimé Hilarion de Cottentin, Count de Tourville, was born at the Chateau of Tourville, in Normandy, in 1642. He entered the Order of Malta while still a boy, and at the age of eighteen began to serve in the galleys of the Order, where he soon made a reputation, so much so that he was called to court, and given the grade of Capitaine de Vaisseau. He served under the Duke de Beaufort, at the relief of Candia, then besieged by the Turks; and afterward distinguished himself in the war with Holland; and still later, distinguished himself at the relief of Messina, which had revolted against the Spanish rule.

The following year he took part in Duquesne’s brilliant expedition against the Algerines and Tripolitans, when the Corsairs received the most crushing blows which had ever been dealt to them, up to that time.

In 1684 he participated in the bombardment of Genoa, and four years after, in a successful cruise against the Dutch. In the same year he inflicted a severe bombardment upon Algiers.

In 1689, being now an Admiral, he commanded a fleet which, in connection with one under D’Estrées, was to support the cause of James II. This combined fleet succeeded in landing some few men and some munitions of war in Ireland, but, on the whole, the operation was a failure. While in command of the French fleet, in the year following, he had a battle with the Anglo-Dutch fleet, off the Isle of Wight, which was a most inglorious affair for the English, their Admiral, the Earl of Torrington, behaving with great want of spirit. The result was that Tourville captured and burned many of the English ships, not losing one himself. The sturdy Dutchmen made a good fight, and came off much better than their English allies.

In 1692, as above stated, Tourville was ordered to the fleet fitted for a descent on England; and now we shall take up the account of the battle once more.

The bulk of Tourville’s fleet was in Brest, and as the spring opened he received orders to sail from that port, enter the Channel, and attack the English fleet, no matter in what force they might be found, before they could be reinforced by the Dutch fleet, which was preparing to join them.

The French King and his ministers had convinced themselves that, in the event of a collision, a very large part of the English fleet would go over to the side of the Allies of James II.

All these projects and all these hopes were brought to naught, however, by head winds and bad weather, which detained Tourville in Brest harbor for more than a month, while the two squadrons from Rochefort and Toulon, which should have reinforced him, were prevented by the same bad weather from joining him in time.

Tourville, supposing that the same winds which had prevented his leaving Brest had facilitated the junction of the Allies, requested the permission of the Minister of Marine to remain in Brest until his expected reinforcements had joined him.

Pontchartrain, at that time minister, and exercising an enormous influence over the King, ordered him to fight the English fleet, whether he was strong or weak—“fort ou faible.” The minister added, “It does not become you to discuss the King’s orders. Your duty is to execute them, and to sail for the Channel at once. Send me word whether you intend to do so; and, if not, the King will place in command of the fleet some one who is more obedient and less cautious.”

This was certainly a most insolent and improper manner for the minister—who was, by the way, profoundly ignorant of naval matters—to address the greatest seaman which France, up to that time, had produced.

But Pontchartrain was noted for his arrogant and overbearing official manners. Tourville having at this time complained of the bad quality of the powder supplied him, and reporting that it could not be depended upon, a subordinate of the Ministry of Marine was deputed to reply to him that “if he found the powder did not carry far enough, he had only to approach his enemy a little nearer.” There seems to be absolutely something grotesque and ridiculous in such words, addressed in such a way, to such a man, had it not been for the sad termination of the action into which he was driven, against his own professional convictions.

Tourville put to sea with about fifty-six ships, in place of seventy-eight which had been promised him. He had hardly got to sea before Louis XIV received information that the Jacobite plot had completely failed, and that it was reported that Marlborough and several other persons of distinction had been arrested; and that the Dutch and English fleets had effected a junction.

The King at once sent orders, in great haste, to despatch fast-sailing corvettes to seek for Tourville, and to warn him not to go into the Channel before he had been joined by the squadrons expected from the southern ports. This was just what Tourville had asked for, when he received such an unmerited rebuke from Pontchartrain.

Unfortunately, none of the vessels despatched for the purpose found him, and he pressed on into the Channel.

On the 19th of May, at daylight, between Barfleur and La Hague, he found himself in the presence of the Allied fleet, the most powerful that, up to that time, had ever taken the sea. It consisted of ninety-nine ships, thirty-six of which were Dutch. Seventy-eight of these vessels were of more than fifty guns. Admiral Russel’s flag was flying on board the Britannia, of 100 guns; his Vice-Admiral was Sir Ralph Delaval, in the Royal Sovereign, 100; and the Rear-Admiral, Sir Cloudesley Shovel, in the London, 100. There were three other 100-gun ships in the English fleet. The second division, or “Blue Squadron” of the English fleet was commanded by Admiral Sir John Ashby, in the Victory, 100; Vice-Admiral George Rooke, in the Windsor Castle, 90, and Rear-Admiral Richard Carter. The Dutch fleet was commanded by Admiral Allemonde.

The total number of guns carried by these ninety-nine ships was 6998; and they were manned by nearly 41,000 men.

To oppose this great force Tourville had, as we have said, sixty-three vessels, including seven which had joined him from Rochefort; and about 3500 guns, with a little less than twenty thousand men.

When they made each other out the French fleet bore west of the Allies, and it was quite hazy, so that neither could tell upon which tack their opponent was. But soon after sunrise the haze dispersed, and the French were found to be upon the starboard tack, the same as the van and centre of the Allies, and forming their line. At 8 A.M. the Allied line was formed, the Dutch in the van, Admiral Russel in the centre, and Sir John Ashby in the rear.

Tourville, at sight of the Allies, and making out their force and numbers, called a council of war on board his flag-ship, the Soleil Royal. All his officers of any rank or experience advised him to avoid a battle against such odds. By 9 A.M. the French fleet had stretched nearly as far to the southward as the Allied fleet; the wind continued light from the southwest, and the French fleet could with ease have avoided or delayed an engagement. But Tourville exhibited to his officers the orders he had received—written orders from the king himself—and at the sight of these no more was to be said, and at about half past ten A.M. the French fleet, to the astonishment of the English, made all sail, and bore down to the attack. It was certainly an act of temerity, for the division of Admiral Russel himself would have been not a bad match for the French.

Tourville, with his division, steered straight for that of Russel. The latter did not avail himself of the advantage of firing as his adversaries approached, but allowed Tourville to come down in silence and choose his own distance; at the same time he ordered the Dutch fleet to tack to the northward. In doing so a Dutch vessel fired at Tourville, and the whole line at once took it up. Tourville at first had evidently intended to bear down and cut through the English line; and had he done this the probability is that the English centre would have been seriously damaged before the rear or van could have approached to its assistance, as the light wind dwindled to a calm as soon as the heavy firing commenced. In bringing to when he did, the French Admiral relinquished this advantage.

The engagement which now followed was terribly destructive, especially in the centre. The English especially attacked the Soleil Royal, on which Tourville showed the Admiral’s Standard of France. At times she had to sustain the fire of five or six ships at once. She was finally so cut up in sails, rigging, and spars, that she had to be towed out of action. It is said that the English excelled the French in rapidity of fire, delivering three broadsides to two of the French.

During the fight between the centre divisions the English rear division cut in two a French division commanded by Admiral Pannetier, and turned the flank of the French rear. This would have been most disastrous for the latter had not the greater part of Ashby’s division pursued four or five vessels of Pannetier, in place of turning again upon the mass of the French. Gabaret, the French rear commander, was thus enabled to hold his own against the rest of Ashby’s division, while a portion of his ships went to the relief of Tourville, who was sore beset, as we have seen. Coëtlogon, who commanded the succoring ships, was an old friend and comrade of Tourville’s, and he determined to save his chief or to die with him. He made so vigorous an attack that he not only extricated the Soleil Royal, but even made Russel’s division, strong as it was, temporarily give way.

A dense fog now came on, and firing ceased, as they could not distinguish friend from foe, the ships drifting together, with the tide. Gabaret, with the ships of the rear division which were left him, profited by the respite, to fall in astern of Tourville’s line, and they then anchored. Russel’s division not doing so immediately, drifted off to some distance.

The killed and wounded in this day’s fight were very numerous, on both sides. The English ship Eagle, a 70, lost seventy men killed and one hundred and fifty wounded. Among the English killed was Rear-Admiral Carter, whom the French always insisted had promised James II to abandon William, while he was revealing to the latter the French plans against him.

Ashby’s ships having now abandoned the pursuit of Pannetier’s, that Admiral joined Tourville, and a brisk fire was once more opened. Happily for the French, it was just then impossible for Russel to come up, owing to lack of wind and a strong tide, or the French fleet must have been crushed, as it lay between him and Ashby.

The Dutch division had been held in check by the French van division, owing to the ability with which its Commander, d’Amfreville, had preserved the weather gage. Possibly, also, the Dutch did not fight with their whole heart for those who, as they said, had sacrificed them off Beachy Head, some years before.

Night was now coming on, and Admiral Ashby, becoming uneasy at his separation from the rest of the fleet, determined to rejoin Russel. To do this he had to pass through the French fleet, and succeeded in doing so, with some loss.

The French fleet having anchored to stem the flood tide were soon left far to the westward by the English, who kept under way. On the morning of the 20th the bulk of the French vessels were seen nine or ten miles to the westward, and a general chase ensued.

Thus far no French ships had been taken, and only one or two destroyed. Tourville gathered most of his vessels, except eight or ten which had made for Brest, when chased off the day before, and finding many of them much injured, ordered them to endeavor to reach any port they could, in Normandy or Brittany. In the unfortified places they were at once stranded, and as much of their armament and stores were saved as possible. Some fifteen of their finest ships, in this position, were soon afterward burned by the English, and it was this which pointed out more forcibly to the French government the necessity of a military port either at La Hague or Cherbourg, as had been repeatedly urged by Colbert and Vauban.

Had the English understood the intricate navigation about the Channel Islands and Saint Malo as well as the French did, there is no doubt that they would have secured some of the French ships as trophies. As it was, not one was brought in to an English port.

The moral effect of a victory remained the same, however, rendering William III more firm upon his throne, while the hopes of James II were completely dissipated.

Louis XIV, the real author of the defeat suffered by his fleet, wrote to Tourville the following singular letter:—

“I have had so much joy in learning that, with forty-four of my ships, you have fought, for a whole day, ninety of my enemies, that I feel no sorrow for the great loss which I have suffered.”

This letter was intended, no doubt, to soothe the wounded feelings of Tourville. Indeed, Louis seems to have taken upon himself the whole responsibility of the defeat, as he should have done.

The following year he bestowed upon Tourville, in company with the Duke de Villars, Marquis de Boufflers, the Duke de Noailles, and Catinat, the baton of a Marshal of France.

XI.
BENBOW. A. D. 1702.

For some reason Benbow has always been considered the typical seaman of the latter part of the 17th century, a distinction which he appears to owe to his honesty and bravery, together with the fact that he was almost always actively employed in the service of King William III, with whom he was a favorite. He was born in 1650, and entered the navy as a midshipman in the reign of James II.

Queen Anne ascended the English throne on the 8th of March, 1702, and on the 2d of May declared war against France.

In September, 1701, Vice-Admiral Benbow had sailed to the West Indies with a squadron of ten sail of third- and fourth-rate ships, under orders to detain the Spanish galleons, which were to make their yearly voyage home, with treasure and valuables.

Admiral Chateau Renaud also sailed from Brest, with the same destination, with fourteen sail-of-the-line and sixteen frigates, to meet the galleons and escort them to Cadiz. Benbow was very active in the West Indies, not only in protecting English trade, but in combating the plans of Chateau Renaud, of which he had managed to become informed.

On the 19th of August, 1702, in the evening, Benbow, with his small squadron, being off Santa Martha, fell in with ten sail of French ships, under Admiral Du Casse. His squadron, consisting of four ships, each mounting sixty or seventy guns, one large Dutch ship, another full of troops, and the remainder chiefly small vessels, were running down close in shore, under their topsails.

Benbow immediately gave chase; but his ships being very much separated, he was under the necessity of waiting their arrival up before commencing an attack upon the French. At about four o’clock in the afternoon, his ships being up, the engagement began.

The British squadron consisted of the Breda, of 70 guns, Benbow’s flag-ship, one sixty-four, one fifty-four, and four forty-eight-gun ships.

Benbow’s intention seems to have been to overtake the leading French ship, and as soon as his second astern was abreast of this ship, to have commenced the action. If these were disabled, the rest would have fallen an easy prey; but the Falmouth, 48, disobeyed his orders, and, being in the rear, closed with and engaged the Dutch ship. The Windsor, 48, and Defiance, 64, also engaged the ships nearest to them, but after an interchange of broadsides, hauled off, and stood out of gunshot, in a most cowardly manner. The brunt of the action thus fell upon the Breda, the flag-ship, which was opposed to the two sternmost French line-of-battle ships, by which she was seriously cut up and disabled.

The fight lasted until night fell, and Benbow continued the pursuit of the enemy until the next morning, but at daybreak he found he had only the Ruby, 48, near him, the rest of his ships being five miles astern.

At 2 P.M. on the 20th, the sea breeze having set in, the French formed line and made sail on their way, followed by the Breda and two other English ships; the remaining four making no effort to join in the pursuit of their enemy. The ships with Benbow could only annoy the enemy’s rear, but he continued to follow them, under every disadvantage, for the next two days. At 2 A.M. of the 24th the Breda was enabled, by a change in the wind, to pass close to the sternmost French ship, and a smart action ensued. Benbow, in person, boarded the French ship three times, in doing which he received a severe wound in the face and another in the arm; and shortly afterward the gallant Admiral had his right leg shattered by a chain-shot, and was carried below; but he insisted upon being again taken on deck, and there he remained, lying in his cot and continuing to give orders as to the engagement.

The Breda’s immediate opponent was in a short time reduced to a mere wreck, having lost her fore-top-mast, main yard and mizzen-mast, and having her hull completely riddled by shot. Soon after daylight Benbow observed the other French ships bearing down to her assistance; and at the same time he had the extreme mortification of seeing the Windsor, Pendennis, Greenwich and Defiance, of his own squadron, actually bearing up, and running away to leeward, in despite of his signal, then flying, for “close action.”

The French, observing the dastardly conduct of Benbow’s captains, steered for the Breda, and opened fire upon that ship, which shot away some of her spars, and otherwise considerably damaged her. They then sent fresh hands on board the Breda’s late opponent, and taking her in tow, made sail and went away, without any attempt on the part of the English ships to prevent it.

One of Benbow’s lieutenants, at this time expressing his sympathy on the loss of the Admiral’s leg, the brave man replied, “I am sorry for it too; but I had rather lost them both than have seen this dishonor brought upon the English nation. But do you hear,” he continued, “if another shot should take me off, behave like brave men, and fight it out!”

In spite of his condition and that of his flag-ship, Benbow determined still to follow the enemy, so he communicated with his captains, and ordered them to keep their stations in the line, “and behave like men.” Upon this Captain Kirkby, of the Defiance, came on board the flag-ship, and told the Admiral “that he had better desist; that the French were very strong, and from what was passed he might guess he could make nothing of it.” Upon sending for the captains of the other ships, to his great disgust, surprise, and chagrin, he found they coincided in opinion with Kirkby; and although at that time the English squadron possessed advantages of both strength and position, the gallant Benbow had to yield, give up the pursuit, and proceed with his squadron to Jamaica, where he died of his wounds, on November 4th, at the age of fifty-two.

Before his death a court-martial assembled, to try Captain Kirkby on charges of cowardice, disobedience of orders and neglect of duty, and these charges having been most clearly proven, he was justly sentenced to be shot. Captain Constable, of the Windsor, was tried on the same charges, but cowardice not being proved, he was only cashiered. Wade, of the Greenwich, was tried for like offences, which were proven, as well as drunkenness, and he was shot. Wade and Kirkby were both shot to death on board the Bristol, at Plymouth, on the 16th of April, 1703. Captain Hudson, of the Pendennis, died before his trial came on, and the other two captains were cleared by the court-martial. Altogether, this was one of the most disgraceful affairs that ever happened in the British navy.

Shortly before his death Benbow received the following letter from his late adversary, Admiral Du Casse, which speaks for itself:—

“Carthagena, August 22d, 1702.

“Sir: I had little hopes on Monday last but to have supped in your cabin, but it pleased God to order it otherwise; I am thankful for it. As for those cowardly captains who deserted you, hang them up, for by —— they deserve it. Yours, Du Casse.”

The galleons which poor Benbow was to intercept did not finally escape. They succeeded in crossing the Atlantic, under convoy of the French fleet, and put into Vigo. Admiral Sir George Rooke was off Cadiz, with the English fleet, and as soon as he heard of the arrival of the galleons and their escort at Vigo, sailed for that place. Arriving off that bay he sent in a boat to obtain intelligence respecting the force and disposition of the French and Spanish ships.

This being determined, it was considered that the whole fleet could not act, in the bay, upon the enemy’s ships; but, on the contrary, that they would only impede each other. It was therefore arranged that fifteen English and ten Dutch men-of-war (acting with them), and a number of fire-ships, should be sent in to destroy the Franco-Spanish fleet. The frigates and bomb vessels were to follow this detachment, and the larger ships were to come in afterward, if their services should be required. Some troops were to be landed at the same time, and attack a fort at the south of the harbor. All the English and Dutch flag officers went in the attacking squadron, leaving their heavy flag-ships outside. Vice-Admiral Hopson led the van, followed by the Dutch Vice-Admiral Van der Goes. Sir George Rooke himself, Rear-Admiral Sir Stafford Fairborne, and the Dutch Admirals Callemburg and Wassenaer, commanded the centre; while Rear-Admiral Graydon and Vice-Admiral Pieterson brought up the rear, with the mortar vessels and fire-ships. Seldom has it happened that so few vessels should have so many officers of high rank in command, but it was done to give eclat, and to ensure the success of a difficult undertaking.

On the 12th of October, in the morning, the attacking squadron got under way, and made sail for the harbor, the entrance to which is very narrow, and was protected by a strong boom, composed of masts and yards, secured to anchors dropped in mid-channel, and the ends attached to two of the largest French ships, the Espérance and the Bourbon.

Within the boom five ships of from sixty to seventy guns were moored, with their broadsides bearing upon the mouth of the harbor.

The van division of the attacking fleet had hardly reached within gunshot of the batteries when the wind died away, and they were obliged to anchor. But a strong breeze soon sprang up, and Vice-Admiral Hopson cut his cable, and, crowding all sail, bore down upon the boom. The velocity acquired by his ship, the Torbay, broke the boom, and he at once found himself between the two large French ships. Owing to a flaw of wind, the other ships could not just then follow, but Admiral Van der Goes and the remainder of the squadron soon found a way through the passage Hopson had made, and the Bourbon was captured.

In the meantime the Torbay was in great danger, from a fire-ship, and owed her preservation to a rather singular circumstance.

The fire-ship was a French merchant ship, which had on board a large cargo of snuff, which, in the hurry of preparing her for a fire-ship, had not been removed. When the fire reached the snuff it was so deadened that the Torbay was saved from otherwise certain destruction. This ship, however, suffered very severely, as she had no less than one hundred and fifteen killed and drowned and very many wounded, including her captain. Her masts and rigging were so injured by fire that Admiral Hopson had to shift his flag to another ship.

The English ships, Association and Barfleur, then attacked the batteries on both sides of the harbor, with great success, and the French Admiral, finding that the English land forces, which had attacked at the same time, had gained possession of a part of the town of Vigo, and that more English ships were coming in, gave orders for setting fire to the shipping. Before this order could be carried into effect, however, a great many ships were taken possession of by the English and Dutch.

There were burned or destroyed seven ships, carrying 334 guns and over 2000 men, while the English took four ships of 284 guns and 1800 men, and the Dutch, six ships of 342 guns and over 2000 men. This was the French loss.

Three Spanish men-of-war, carrying about 180 guns, were destroyed, and of fifteen galleons found there, and which had really caused poor Benbow’s death and this important naval battle, four were taken by the English, five by the Dutch, and four destroyed. The gold and silver on board this fleet was computed at twenty millions of pieces of eight (dollars); fourteen millions of which had been removed previous to the attack, the remainder being either taken or sunk in the galleons. Merchandise of nearly equal value was taken or destroyed, besides much plate belonging to individuals.

The capture and destruction of this fleet was a severe blow to the French and Spaniards, and was accomplished with a very small loss to the fleet of the Allies, if we except the Torbay. Hopson was adequately rewarded for his gallantry.

Sir George Rooke, in leaving Vigo Bay, after this event, entrusted to Sir Cloudesley Shovel the fitting out of the prizes, and the rescuing of treasure from the sunken galleons. He also recovered the Dartmouth, an English 50-gun ship, which had been captured in the previous war; and took out of the French ships which were lying aground many very fine brass guns. Every ship which he could not bring away was completely destroyed.

NORMAN SHIP OF THE 14TH CENTURY.

XII.
BYNG AND LA GALISSONIÈRE. A.D. 1756.

Admiral the Hon. John Byng, was the fourth son of Viscount Torrington, and upon entering the British navy, served under his father, who was a very distinguished officer.

In 1745 Byng, then a Rear-Admiral, commanded a squadron on the coast of Scotland, which prevented supplies from being thrown into that country, from France, and did much to defeat the designs of the young Pretender, the grandson of James II.

War between England and France was formally declared in 1756, but long before that, it had been known that the French were equipping an expedition at the port of Toulon, which was intended for the capture of Minorca, then in possession of the English. The French, to cover their real design, gave out that it was intended for a descent upon England. Although warned, the Ministry of George the Second showed blind incredulity in regard to the designs of the French upon Minorca. When their eyes were at last opened to the true state of affairs, it was too late, and the British Cabinet then acted with foolish haste and precipitation. The French had thrown a large body of troops into the island and obtained complete possession of it, with the exception of Fort St. Philip, at Port Mahon, which still held out.

Byng was advanced to the rank of full Admiral, and appointed to the command of the expedition intended for the relief of Fort Philip, which was blockaded by sea and besieged by land. The fleet with which he was provided, instead of being of a character fit to obtain command of the Mediterranean, consisted of ten sail-of-the-line only, and these wretchedly fitted out. Unaccountable negligence was also observable in manning this fleet; for, being ordered to convey a reinforcement of troops to Gibraltar and Minorca, the marines of the ships were ordered to be landed, to make room for the troops, and thus the proper complement of each ship was much reduced.

The fleet should have sailed early in the year, but delay followed delay, and Byng’s remonstrances were unheeded. The crews of the ships were left incomplete, although they might have been filled by drafts from vessels lying in home ports.

The expedition finally sailed from England on the 10th of April, 1756, having on board the troops alluded to above and thirty or forty officers whose regiments were in garrison in Minorca.

Even at this time, from the instructions given to Byng, the English ministry did not seem fully to believe that Minorca was to be found in possession of the French, as Byng was directed to detach a portion of his squadron, under Rear-Admiral West, to America, in case he should learn, on arriving at Gibraltar, that the French fleet had passed out of the Straits into the Atlantic. Byng arrived at Gibraltar on May 2d, after a stormy passage, and here all uncertainty in regard to the motions of the French was relieved. A French armament, commanded by M. de la Galissonière, with thirteen ships-of-the-line, and transports conveying 15,000 troops, had taken full possession of the island, from which Byng’s informant, Captain Edgecomb, had retired upon their landing. This intelligence the Admiral despatched to England, accompanied by remarks little likely to win the favor of those who then misdirected the naval affairs of England. “Byng’s admonitory tone irritated their Lordships excessively, and undoubtedly led them thus early to take measures to transfer any blame from themselves to the officer who could presume to complain of their fatal tardiness in then attempting to defeat the enemy’s designs.”

At daybreak, on May 19th, the English fleet arrived in sight of Minorca, and reconnoitred Port Mahon, with a view of endeavoring to communicate with General Blakeney, in command of Fort St. Philip, and the fleet stood in shore. But the appearance of the French fleet soon changed the nature of the British Admiral’s movements. Galissonière’s well appointed fleet stood down, and towards night were within a few miles, when they tacked to obtain the weather gage, and Byng tacked his fleet to preserve it. They both continued working to windward all night, with light variable winds, and at day-break, on May 20th, were not visible to each other, as it was very hazy. Soon, however, the French fleet was discovered to leeward, but at so great a distance that it was two in the afternoon before Byng considered it necessary to form his line of battle.

The French had twelve sail-of-the-line and five frigates, carrying 976 guns and 9500 men. Byng had thirteen sail-of-the-line (having been reinforced at Gibraltar), four frigates and a sloop-of-war, carrying 948 guns and 7000 men.

About three o’clock Byng made signal for his ships to approach and engage the enemy in an oblique direction, so as to avoid exposing them to a raking fire as they approached the French line, which was lying waiting for them, with main-top-sails aback. The signal was to bear away two points, but Admiral West, who was leading, misinterpreted the signal, bore away seven points, and brought the French to action in a manner which it would have been well for the Commander-in-chief to have followed; for had West’s mode of attack been generally adopted in the British fleet, it would have saved Byng’s life as well as some disgrace to the British navy. Byng shortly bore up to the support of his Rear-admiral, but the Intrepid, the last ship of the leading division, soon had her fore-top-mast shot away, and in an entirely unaccountable manner, threw all the ships astern of her into confusion. Such a loss, with the wind on her quarter, ought not to have occasioned any trouble, as the other ships could pass her to leeward. The next ships luffed up, to pass her to windward, but, in fact, did not pass her at all, remaining on her weather quarter, nor did several other of the rear ships, including Byng’s flag-ship, the Ramillies, of 90 guns. This ship did not get into action at all, although her crew wasted much ammunition by firing while completely out of gunshot. In this she was imitated by four other heavy ships. The division of Admiral West, who was really in action, suffered a good deal, and would probably have fallen into the hands of the French, if the latter had not, after about three hours’ cannonading, filled, and made sail out of action.

After this partial and rather disgraceful affair Byng returned to Gibraltar, leaving the English garrison of Fort Philip to its fate.

The French account of the action was the first to reach England. It claimed decided advantage for the French, and stated that the English had appeared unwilling to fight; that the engagement was not general; and that, on the next morning, to the surprise of the French Admiral, the English fleet had disappeared. Most of this was true; indeed, all of it, except West’s gallant fight.

Immense indignation was excited in England by this news; and this excitement was fostered by many in authority.

Without waiting for Byng’s despatches, the Admiralty appointed Sir Edward Hawke and Admiral Saunders to supersede Byng and West, directing Hawke to place them both under arrest, and send them home prisoners, to England. This feverish and unusual haste had the effect upon the public mind of a condemnation of Byng. Hawke and Saunders reached Gibraltar on the 3d of July; and Byng, West, and other officers arrested, reached England on the 26th of that month.

Byng was immediately placed in close confinement, and his younger brother, who had hastened to see him, was so struck by the abuse of the Admiral in every town he passed through that at sight of him he was taken suddenly ill, and died in convulsions. Byng had been burned in effigy in all the large towns, before he arrived in England; and his place in the country was mobbed, and the house with difficulty saved from destruction.

The streets and shops were filled with caricatures and libelous ballads, abusing the ministry, as well as Byng; the ministry being held responsible popularly for not having sent an efficient fleet sooner.

Such public excitement and universal condemnation, upon slight knowledge of the facts, was most unusual, and most unjust to the Admiral, who had faults enough to answer for.

From Portsmouth he was sent to Greenwich, to await trial. Here he was again in close confinement, and an impression was sought to be conveyed to the public that he desired to make his escape.

But Byng always manifested a desire to be put upon his trial, and seemed, to the last, confident of an honorable acquittal.

In December he was taken back to Portsmouth, with the same parade of guards as when he had been brought up.

The Court-martial to try him assembled at Portsmouth, on board the St. George, on the 28th of December, 1756, and sat every succeeding day, except Sunday, until the 27th of the following month.

The charges against him were seventeen in number, but the court ignored most of them, and only imputed blame to Byng in that, during the engagement, he did not do his utmost to “take, seize and destroy” the ships of the French, and to assist such of his chief officers as were engaged.

The prisoner’s conduct fell under a part of an Article of War providing for such offence; and the court had no other alternative than to pass sentence of death upon the unfortunate Admiral, as provided in the Article.

But as all evidence showed that he did not lack personal courage, the court refused to find him guilty of “cowardice or disaffection,” and earnestly recommended him to mercy.

In a letter to the Admiralty, signed by every member of the court, they say, “we cannot help laying the distress of our minds before your Lordships, in finding ourselves under the necessity of condemning a man to death from the great severity of the 12th Article of War, part of which he falls under, and which admits of no mitigation, even if the crime should be committed by an error of judgment; and therefore, for our own conscience’s sake, we pray your Lordships, in the most earnest manner, to recommend him to his Majesty’s clemency.”

This the Lords of the Admiralty did not do, but simply requested the King to submit the case to the twelve judges, as to whether the sentence was a legal one. There had been no question of its legality. The judges declared the sentence legal.

On the very same day they did so, the Lords of the Admiralty, at the head of whom was Lord Temple, signed a warrant for carrying the sentence into execution, on February 28th.

Admiral Forbes, one of the Board of Admiralty, refused to sign it; and the sentence was generally considered by naval officers cruel in the extreme. Admiral West demanded a revision of the 12th Article, and declared he would resign unless it was abrogated. Wm. Pitt characterized it as unjustly severe, but it was only modified twenty-two years afterwards, by inserting, after the word death, “or to inflict such other punishment as the nature and degree of the offence shall be found to deserve.”

As Byng was a member of the House of Commons it was necessary to expel him before execution, and this led to a long and acrimonious debate as to an appeal to the throne for mercy. Nothing was done, however. Byng’s political enemies were too strong for his friends, among whom was Mr. Fox, and pardon was no longer hoped for. In the meantime the execution had been postponed, but was finally ordered for the 14th of March. This decision was met by Byng almost with cheerfulness, as he was to be relieved from imprisonment, indignities and protracted anxiety, which had lasted for seven months.

The sentence was carried into effect on the day appointed, on board the Monarch, in Portsmouth Harbor. About noon, having taken leave of two friends and a clergyman who had attended him, Byng walked out of the state cabin on to the quarter-deck, where two files of marines were drawn up to execute the sentence. He advanced with a firm and deliberate step, and composed and resolute countenance, and wished to suffer with his face uncovered; but his friends represented that perhaps his look might intimidate the marines, and prevent them from taking proper aim. So he allowed a handkerchief to be tied over his eyes, and kneeling on a cushion, dropped his handkerchief as a signal for the marines to fire. Five balls passed through his body, and he dropped dead instantly. The time consumed from the moment he left the cabin until his body was in its coffin was just three minutes.

He left a paper containing a solemn protest against the malice and persecution he had encountered, and saying that he felt justice would ultimately be done his memory. He also declared that he had done his duty, to the best of his judgment, and that he forgave his enemies.

Byng had not been a popular officer; something of a martinet, he was cold and haughty in manner, but no one had ever accused him of want of personal courage, any more than his gallant father. He was opinionated, and self-willed, and it was shown on his trial that, if he had listened to the sensible and seamanlike suggestions of Gardner, the captain of his flag-ship, the result of his engagement with Galissonière might have been different, and have prevented him from taking refuge under the decision of a Council-of-war partly composed of the land officers, passengers in the fleet, which had much hurt the pride of the navy. It was by advice of this Council that he withdrew from Minorca.

Byng’s execution, in spite of his manifest lack of criminality, was an opprobrium to the ministers of two administrations, for he was denounced and persecuted as a coward and traitor under that of the Duke of Newcastle and Lord Anson, while the Duke of Devonshire and Lord Temple sanctioned his death.

The court which tried him expressly acquitted him of cowardice and treachery, and complained of the severity of the law which awarded the punishment of death on a secondary charge, recommending him to mercy.

The famous Voltaire remarked that the English had just shot an Admiral “pour encourager les autres.”

VENETIAN GALLEY OF THE 16TH CENTURY.
(A specimen of the Venetian Fleet at the Battle of Lepanto.)

XIII.
SIR EDWARD HAWKE AND CONFLANS. A. D. 1759.

It may be of interest to have some account of the successor of the ill-fated Admiral Byng, in the command of the fleet in the Mediterranean.

Sir Edward Hawke, who was born in 1705, and died in 1781, was the son of a barrister. He entered the Navy early, and in 1733 had risen to the command of a ship. In an engagement with the French, off Toulon, in 1744, he broke from the line of battle to engage a vessel of the enemy; and, although he caused her to strike her colors, he was dismissed from the service for the breach of discipline. He was, however, restored almost immediately, by the King’s command, and in 1747 made a Rear-Admiral. In October of that year he was sent with a squadron to intercept a large fleet of French merchant vessels bound to the West Indies, under convoy of nine men-of-war, and many transports filled with troops. Coming up with them off Isle d’Aix, he succeeded, after a severe struggle, in capturing six of the men-of-war, but darkness coming on most of the convoy escaped. The delay of the French expedition, caused by this action, contributed very materially to the capture of Cape Breton. In consequence of his success, Hawke was made a Knight Commander of the Bath; and soon after became Member of Parliament for Bristol.

In 1748 he was made a Vice-Admiral, and in 1755 an Admiral; and the following year succeeded Admiral Byng—but much too late to succor Minorca.

Hawke had no opportunity of again distinguishing himself until 1759, when he was in command of the squadron blockading Brest. Having been driven by stress of weather into Torbay, he sailed from thence to resume his station off Brest, on the 14th of November, and on the same day Admiral Conflans put to sea with a strong fleet-though not equal to that of Hawke.

The latter conjectured that the French had gone to Quiberon Bay, to attack an English squadron cruising there, and he pressed sail in that direction. Owing to strong head winds it was the 20th before he arrived off Belleisle. When that island bore about east, the French fleet was discovered. The weather was thick, and it was blowing a very fresh gale of wind from the northwest, with a heavy sea.

Hawke made all haste to get his ships together, and then sent one of them in to make the land, and ascertain the exact position. Soon after the weather cleared, and the French fleet was seen, crowding sail to get away; and Hawke ordered a part of his fleet in chase, and followed with the rest. The fresh gale rendered it impossible for either fleet to carry much sail. Early in the afternoon the leading English ships caught up with the French rear, and a very animated action ensued. The French Rear-Admiral, Verger, in the Formidable, 80, was set upon by five or six ships at once, and was obliged to surrender, after having had two hundred men killed. The English Magnanime, 74, Captain Lord Howe, soon became closely engaged with the Thesée, 74; but the latter being disabled, dropped astern, and was engaged by the Torbay, while Howe pushed on in search of a fresh opponent, which he found in the Héros, 74. Captain de Kersaint, of the Thesée, imagining from a slight lull in the wind that he could fight his lower deck guns, unfortunately tried the hazardous experiment, and commenced firing at the Torbay. Captain Keppel, of the latter ship, followed de Kersaint’s example, and narrowly escaped the same fate. A heavy squall struck the Thesée, and she filled and went down; and out of her crew of 800 men only twenty were saved by the British boats. The Torbay shipped a great deal of water, but, by great exertions, was preserved. The Superbe, a French 70-gun ship, also capsized and sank, from the same cause. At 5 P.M. the Héros surrendered to Howe, and anchored, but the sea ran so high that they could not lower a boat to take possession of her. The night came on very dark, and exceedingly tempestuous, and, being among the rocks and shoals of a treacherous coast, and without pilots, it was considered prudent to discontinue the chase, and anchor. During the night the Resolution, 74, drove on shore, and was totally wrecked, with the loss of most of her crew.

At daybreak of the next day the Héros was discovered aground, and the flag-ship of Conflans, the Soleil Royal, dismasted. Shortly after being discovered she cut her cables, and also went on shore. The Essex, a 64, was ordered to stand in and destroy her, but that ship got on a sand bank and was wrecked; her crew, however, being saved. The two French vessels which were on shore were finally set on fire, and destroyed. Seven or eight others, by their knowledge of the coast, had got to the mouth of the river Vilaine, and by means of taking out their guns, crossed the bar, and reached a place of security.

In effecting all this damage and loss upon the enemy’s fleet, the loss in killed and wounded among the English must have been severe. But in those days they were not very particular in reporting such things. For his success, under exceptional difficulties and dangers, Sir Edward Hawke received the thanks of Parliament, and a pension of two thousand pounds per annum.

In 1765 he was appointed Vice-Admiral of Great Britain, and First Lord of the Admiralty; and in 1776 was raised to the peerage, under the title of Baron Hawke of Towton.

BUCENTORO
(Barge of the Doges, used annually, on Ascension Day, in the Ceremony of “Venice Wedding the Adriatic.”)

DE GRASSE AND RODNEY. A. D. 1782.

Francis Joseph Paul, Count de Grasse, Marquis de Grasse-Tilly, Count de Bar, and Lieutenant-General of the marine forces of France, was born in 1723, of a noble Provençal family, and was destined from childhood to enter the order of Malta. At eleven years of age he went to sea in the galleys of the Order, and made several cruises in the Levant. In 1740 the young sailor entered the French naval service, and in 1747 was serving in the frigate Emerald, in the squadron of La Jonquiere, which was convoying to Pondichery twenty-five ships of the French East India Company. The squadron, which consisted of six ships-of-the-line and six frigates, was met off Cape Finisterre, by a fleet of seventeen English ships, commanded by Anson. After a vigorous resistance most of the French ships were captured, and De Grasse was taken a prisoner to England, where he remained two years.

Upon his return home he was promoted, and continued to cruise in various parts of the world, and was especially employed in surveying the Guinea coast.

In January, 1762, he served in the West Indies, as captain of a line-of-battle ship, and soon after his return was made a Chevalier of St. Louis, and served in the French fleet which bombarded Sallee. In 1772 he commanded a ship in the squadron of the Count d’Orvilliers, and about the time of the breaking out of the American Revolution was present at a naval battle off Ushant, in which he particularly distinguished himself.

In 1779 he went out to the West Indies, in command of four line-of-battle ships and seven frigates, to join the fleet of Count d’Estaing, off Martinique, and participated in the action of July 6th, between d’Estaing and Admiral Byron. The following year he took part, in the same latitude, in the three battles between the Count de Guichen and Admiral Rodney, after the last of which he returned to France.

At the commencement of 1781 he was sent out with an important convoy, to Martinique. He sailed from Brest on March 24th, with twenty-three ships-of-the-line, carrying troops, and having on board a very large sum of money, and a quantity of arms and ammunition, all intended for the succor of the young and struggling Republic of the United States.

On the twenty-eighth of April De Grasse arrived off Port Royal, Martinique, where he found eighteen English line-of-battle ships, detached from Admiral Sir George Rodney’s fleet, and under the command of Rear-Admiral Sir Samuel Hood, who was there to oppose the landing of the convoy at Martinique.

Hood, recognizing the superior force of De Grasse, contented himself with distant firing, and did not attempt to engage; De Grasse chased him off to the westward of Saint Lucie, and then returned to Martinique Road with his convoy.

Soon after he left there, to attack, in concert with the Marquis de Bouillé, the English island of Tobago; and, on June 1st obtained possession of the chief town of that island. De Grasse then sailed for San Domingo, took on board three thousand soldiers; touched at Havana, where he effected a loan; and then came through the Bahama Channel, a route not then used by large ships, to the American coast; which he followed up until he entered the Chesapeake. Here he, with his fleet, and in concert with General Washington, made the well known dispositions which led to the surrender of Cornwallis, at Yorktown.

On September 5th, hearing of the approach of the English fleet, De Grasse left his anchorage in Lynnhaven Bay, just inside of Cape Henry, and put to sea. Bougainville commanded the van division of his fleet, in the Auguste, 80; De Grasse himself the centre, in the Ville de Paris, 104; and the Chevalier de Monteil the rear division, in the Languedoc, 80.

The English fleet, of twenty line-of-battle ships, was commanded by Admirals Graves, Hood and Drake.

A partial engagement followed, which was mostly confined to the van divisions of the two fleets, and which continued about two hours and a half. Four or five days were consumed in manœuvres, De Grasse not being able to bring Graves to a general engagement, and finally the French fleet returned to their anchorage in Lynnhaven Bay; having, on the return, captured two English frigates.

To De Grasse and his fleet certainly belong a considerable share in the glory of the surrender of Cornwallis’ army, and of the consequent firm establishment of American independence. In recognition of this, Congress offered De Grasse four pieces of cannon, taken at Yorktown; of which the French King authorized his acceptance; and they were placed in his Chateau of Tilly, with a suitable inscription engraved upon them.

Returning with his fleet to Martinique, he made several expeditions against the English islands; and had also several partial engagements with Sir Samuel Hood, in none of which he was very successful.

Some months elapsed in this manner, and the month of April, 1782, arrived. De Grasse was on his way to join a Spanish squadron, on the coast of San Domingo, when he fell in with the English fleet again, near Dominica.

In consequence of the junction of Rodney and Hood, the English now numbered thirty-six ships-of-the-line, fourteen frigates, three sloops-of-war, and two fire-ships. Admiral Rodney had his flag in the Formidable, 90; Sir Samuel Hood was in the Barfleur, 90; and Rear-Admiral Drake was in the Princessa, 70.

De Grasse at this time had about thirty line-of-battle ships, and a proportion of frigates, but was hampered by a convoy of about one hundred and fifty merchant vessels.

Sir Samuel Hood’s division was in the van of the English fleet, which, having got the sea breeze early, stretched to the northward in chase, while the centre and rear were still becalmed. The French, on the starboard tack, observing the isolated position of the English van, bore up, in hopes of cutting them off. De Grasse, in this evolution, executed a novel and ingenious plan, which was done full justice to by his adversaries.

The British van was, about 10 A.M., hove to, to enable their centre and rear to close. In consequence, the French ships, by keeping under way, were enabled to manœuvre as they chose. Hood kept his division well closed up, however, opposing vigorous and well directed broadsides to his enemy’s attacks. He thus resisted De Grasse until the sea breeze reached the rest of the English fleet, when the French Admiral tacked and stood inshore to rejoin his fleet and convoy. When the sea breeze reached them the English were to windward; but the sailing of the French ships was so superior that they could not come up with them. This was the end of the operation, except some distant and ineffectual cannonading.

The two succeeding days were occupied in chasing; but it was evident that only a change in the wind, or some accident, would enable Admiral Rodney to force an engagement; so superior were the French in sailing qualities.

On the 12th of April the French were again seen, near the Saintes, and one of their ships, having lost her foremast and bowsprit, was seen, in tow of a frigate, standing in for Guadaloupe. Rodney made signal for four ships to chase, which being perceived, De Grasse bore up, with his fleet, to protect them. But finding that by persevering in this course, he should give the British the weather-gage, he gave up his intention, and formed line on the port tack. Rodney, perceiving an engagement inevitable, recalled his chasing ships, and made signal to form line of battle on the starboard tack, Rear-Admiral Drake’s division leading. The two fleets gradually neared each other, the French only just crossing the bows of the English, to windward.

At 8 A.M. the leading English ship, the Marlborough, 74, opened the action, firing upon the French centre and rear. Sir George Rodney then made signal for “close action,” and Drake’s division was at once closely engaged. The rest of the English were nearly becalmed, as were the French soon after. The wind then hauled to the southward, and while this completely disarranged the French line, it did not so much affect the English, and Rodney, perceiving an opening in his adversaries’ line, kept a close luff and passed through it, cutting off their rear. It is not thought that Rodney deliberately planned this, but it was the first time that the stiff notion of preserving a line-of-battle at all hazards, and when advantage could be gained from departing from it, was broken through.

This movement of Rodney’s was the main cause of the loss of the battle to the French; and although many assert that the preservation of his line would have rendered the victory more decisive, yet when the sailing qualities of the two fleets are taken into account, it is very doubtful. By pursuing the plan he did, Rodney separated his ship, and the six ships which followed him, from the van, part of the centre, and the rear. It is said that his manœuvre was inadvertently performed; but this could hardly be, for the Formidable luffed out of line, which could not have been done inadvertently and without distinct intention, and it is, therefore, not fair to impute the movement, and the consequent victory, to mere accident. A French writer distinctly says that “Rodney’s able manœuvres completely got the better of De Grasse.” With the fine and well trained fleet which the French Admiral commanded, it is probable that no great advantage would have accrued to the English under the old plan of fleet fighting. The advocates of the theory that Rodney’s movement was an accident have some foundation for what they allege, however, in that Sir Alan Gardner, who commanded the Duke, 90, Rodney’s second astern, was heard to say, “the wind was very light at the commencement of the action, but as it advanced it fell calm; my ship dropped through the enemy’s line, and I, thinking I was wrong, and out of my station, did everything I could to get back again, but was unable to do so.” The state of the wind prevented Hood from following Rodney through the French fleet, and, by continuing his course he soon became opposed to the French van, separated from the centre, and here a warm and close action took place, and continued, until at length the smoke and concussion of the firing, which had also “killed” the wind, so completely enshrouded the ships of both fleets, that a cessation of firing was necessary. About noon the smoke cleared away, by which time the French ships, to effect a re-junction, all bore up, and were seen to leeward, retreating, and in considerable disorder, and a general chase succeeded. The English victory was complete, if not overwhelming. Five French line-of-battle ships were taken or destroyed; the Glorieux, Cæsar, Hector, Ardent, and the flag-ship Ville de Paris. The English accounts say that three of their line-of-battle ships concentrated upon the Ville de Paris; the French accounts say five. Certain it is that she made a gallant fight for hours after the battle was decided; and when, at last, she hauled down her flag, she had one hundred and twenty killed, and almost all the rest more or less wounded. Count De Grasse himself, although he had not left the deck, escaped unscratched, as did a very few others on board.

The Ville de Paris was considered the finest ship afloat at that time. She measured 2300 tons, and had been presented to Louis XV, by the City of Paris, at the close of the preceding war. She is said to have had a large amount of specie on board. She was towed to Jamaica by her captors, but was so damaged that she foundered in an attempt to take her to England; as did the Hector and Glorieux. The Cæsar, a very fine ship, was burned on the night following her capture, and four hundred of her crew, as well as an English lieutenant and fifty seamen who were in charge, lost their lives. In fact, not one of the French ships captured in this battle ever reached England.

The victory caused great exultation in England. Sir George Rodney and Sir Samuel Hood were both made peers, and Rear-Admiral Drake and Commodore Affleck made baronets. Public monuments were erected in Westminster Abbey to those captains who were killed.

The French loss was very heavy, some reported it as 3000, in killed and wounded. The English loss was reported as 253 killed and 816 wounded.

As for the French ships, twenty-four of which escaped, they were at last collected, in a very damaged condition, under the Marquis de Vaudrueil, but they were obliged to abandon the West India islands.

De Grasse was sent a prisoner to England, where he was most courteously received by the King and court circles. Indeed, he was accused of enjoying his popularity too much, and of lowering the dignity which became a prisoner of his rank. He was instrumental in forwarding the negotiations which led to the peace between England and the United States, which was concluded at Versailles, in 1783.

Upon his return from captivity De Grasse was tried for the loss of the battle of April 12th, and honorably acquitted; but he was never again employed, and died in Paris, at the age of sixty-five.

The opinion concerning De Grasse, both in France and England, was that he had brilliant courage, but a lack of judgment.

Sir George Bridge Rodney, the victor in the battle of April 12th, 1782, was born in 1717, and survived the battle ten years. George the First was his godfather, and with such patronage his advancement in the Navy was rapid.

In 1759 he commanded at the bombardment of Havre; and two years afterwards he captured the French West India islands of Saint Lucie, Saint Pierre, Grenada and Saint Vincent. He was made an Admiral in 1771; but, in consequence of debts contracted in an election for Parliament, he was obliged to take refuge on the Continent. While in France he was, one day, at the table of the Marshal de Biron, and was holding forth upon his hopes of one day defeating the combined French and Spanish fleets. Biron jokingly offered to pay his debts, so as to enable him to put his threat into execution.

Rodney, whose bravery and ability were equal to his arrogance and self-conceit, justified what he had said in less than three years, for, in February, 1780, he utterly defeated Don Juan de Langara, and a Spanish fleet, off Cape St. Vincent, being the first naval battle of that name; and in April, 1782, he defeated De Grasse. He received the thanks of Parliament, the title of Baron, and a pension of two thousand pounds, with reversion to his heirs.

LE SOLEIL ROYAL
(A famous French 120-Gun Ship, 17th Century, Built by Colbert.)

HOWE’S ACTION OF JUNE 1st, 1794.

LORD HOWE AND THE FRENCH FLEET. JUNE 1st, A. D. 1794.

This naval battle is memorable as the first of any importance in the long series which followed, in the wars between the English and the French Revolutionary government, the Republic, and the Empire.

Lord Howe, the English Commander-in-chief, had had experience in the last war of the English with France, and on our own coast during the Revolutionary war. But some of his captains and most of his junior officers had no experience of war, and this, perhaps, is one of the great reasons why the battle of the first of June did not have the magnificent results afterwards obtained by the British ships against the French.

At the time of the battle in question Howe was an old man; and the fatigues and anxieties of the week preceding the action must have told upon him.

In his youth and middle age he had been celebrated for his endurance and coolness in emergency, but at sixty-nine he was not able to bear the strain of hard and continuous service so well, and so the results of his great action were incomplete as compared with those of Nelson.

To illustrate Howe’s natural disposition, we may relate one or two well-known anecdotes.

While captain of the Princess Amelia, of 80 guns, the flag-ship of the Duke of York, the lieutenant of the watch suddenly appeared at his bedside, at night, and called out, in great agitation, “My Lord! the ship is on fire, close to the magazine; but don’t be frightened, my Lord, it will soon be got under.”

“Frightened, Sir; what do you mean by that? I never was frightened in my life!” and looking the lieutenant full in the face, he said to him, coolly, “Pray, Sir, how does a man feel when he is frightened? I need not ask how he looks. I will be with you immediately; but take care that His Royal Highness is not disturbed.”

At another time, when Captain of the Magnanime, he was obliged to anchor in a gale of wind, on a lee shore. In the course of the night the wind increased, almost to a hurricane, but Howe, having two anchors ahead, went down to his cabin, and took up a book. Presently the lieutenant of the watch came below hurriedly, and, with a woful face, said, “I am sorry to inform you, my Lord, that the anchors are coming home.” “They are much in the right,” replied Howe, coolly, “I don’t know who would stay abroad on such a night as this.”

But to return to the great battle of the first of June:—

In the latter part of May, 1793, Lord Howe hoisted his flag on board the Queen Charlotte, at Portsmouth. She was a ship of 100 guns. His principal instructions were in regard to protecting the English trade from the French privateers.

By the middle of July he put to sea, and steered down Channel with twenty-three sail-of-the-line, in two divisions, under Vice-admiral Graves and Sir Alexander Hood. For several months the doings of this fleet might be comprised in saying that they had occasional glimpses of squadrons and fleets of the French, varied by gales of wind, which invariably did much damage, and necessitated the putting in at some western port of England. The fleet was so continually in trouble, indeed, and so much in port, that great dissatisfaction was felt.

Howe expressed himself as decidedly against keeping a heavy fleet of line-of-battle ships at sea, at the mouth of the Channel, and in the Bay of Biscay, during the autumnal and winter gales. Nor did he believe in the blockade of Brest, at that season, although it was his enemy’s great naval port. He said that “to keep a fleet at sea, watching an enemy’s fleet lying snugly in port, and ready to start the moment the weather has driven the blockading squadron from the coast, and probably disabled many of them, appeared to be a mistaken system, and ruinous in the extreme to the ships themselves, hateful to the seamen, and extravagant beyond measure in expense.”

In fact, long periods of this kind had so much weakened the larger English ships that private yards had to be employed for repairs, as well as building new ships.

What Lord Howe recommended was, keeping a fleet at St. Helen’s Roadstead, near Spithead, all ready for sea, while a few frigates watched the enemy’s movements. Another fleet he recommended to lie at Torbay, where, in event of the enemy’s putting to sea from Brest, the contending fleets might meet on equal terms, being each fresh from port; while a blockading fleet, keeping the sea for months, and exposed to all kinds of weather, was not on a par with one fresh from the dockyards; and still less in a condition to follow them abroad. “The public does not care for such considerations, but judge by the results, and require a battle and a victory; or else blame must rest somewhere, most appropriately on the shoulders of the commander-in-chief.”

There was plenty of this fault-finding in England, in 1793. The French fleet was known to be often at sea—had been seen by Lord Howe—and yet no battle had been fought, no captures made.

The caricaturists and the press were very hard upon Lord Howe, but he was not a man to be very much affected by sarcasm or abuse. He wished to save wear and tear of ships and men, and to improve the discipline and health of his fleet. The laurels earned by the veteran sailor were too deeply planted to be plucked away by scribblers, and Mr. Pitt and Lord Grenville would not listen to Howe’s retirement, which he urged, on account of infirmities and advancing age.

The sequel proved that they were right.

In the middle of April, 1794, the fleet, having been repaired, assembled at St. Helen’s. Howe had thirty-two sail-of-the-line, six of which, with some frigates, were detailed to convoy in and out of the Channel the East India Company’s ships and the West Indian traders. On May 2d the fleet put to sea, and cruised, generally in bad weather, off Ushant, and on the 19th discovered that the French fleet had sailed from Brest. They were twenty-four sail-of-the-line and ten frigates, and had come out to give protection to an immensely large and valuable homeward-bound convoy of French merchant ships, from North America and the West Indies.

On the 25th, after a fruitless search for the enemy, two French corvettes steered into the midst of the English fleet, mistaking it for their own. They were both taken. Not to diminish the efficiency of his ships by sending prize crews, Howe destroyed them, as well as several other prizes and recaptures. He then continued his search for the main French fleet.

The following is, in the main, an extract from the private journal of Lord Howe himself. It is to be premised that, on the morning of May 28th, with a fresh southwest wind and a rough sea, he had sighted a portion of the French fleet, bearing southeast.

“May 28th. They (the French) were some hours before they had formed their line, on the larboard tack, which they proceeded to do while three or four leagues distant; the British fleet being in the order of sailing, with the advanced squadron, under Rear Admiral Paisley, on the weather quarter of the body of the fleet; the whole under as much sail as the weather would safely permit, standing to the eastward, by the wind. At 11 A.M. tacked to approach nearer the enemy, the centre of their fleet then in the S. S. W.

“At 4 in the evening tacked back to the eastward. Soon after 5 o’clock, the Bellerophon arriving up abreast of the rear ship of the enemy, the Revolutionnaire, of three decks, though too far distant for close action, began to fire upon her, and received the fire from that ship, and some others ahead of her. But observing that the other ships of the advance squadron, the Russell, Marlborough and Thunderer, though gained more to windward of the enemy, had shortened sail, and the two last backed their main-top-sails, and firing at the enemy from a distance far too considerable, their particular signals were made to attack the enemy’s rear; and soon after the general signal to the same effect. The Bellerophon, having her main-top-sail lowered and aback, and making signal to denote that her main-top-mast was disabled, the other ships also, of the advanced squadron, still keeping astern, with little sail set, and firing far distant, the general signal was made for assisting ships in action; and a few minutes after the particular signals for the Russell and Marlborough for the same purpose; enforcing it by a gun, to obtain the notice that was not duly shown to the former signal.” In other words these ships were not behaving very handsomely, and the beginning of their collision with the French did not augur well for success.

“The three aforementioned ships thereupon made sail to the eastward, the Marlborough having been observed to have set her courses, and the Leviathan pressing forward, commenced action with the rear ship of the enemy, to the relief of the Bellerophon.

“As the day was closing in, the Audacious was seen to advance; to the attack of the Revolutionnaire, in apparent very close action. The body of the enemy’s fleet keeping on in order of battle, and being approached to about three miles distance from them; their force consisting of twenty-six ships-of-the-line, besides frigates, it was judged requisite to form the British fleet in such order of battle ahead as the ships by their accidental situation at the time could be so arranged, ahead and astern of the Charlotte, to be in suitable disposition for any service which might occur in the night; nothing more of the action being distinguishable, and the firing ceasing at dark. Information was given, by the Marlborough and Niger, that the sternmost ship of the enemy was beaten out of their line by, and supposed to have struck to, the Audacious.”

The crews of the Audacious and Russell declare that the Revolutionnaire struck; but whether she did or not, she was clearly beaten and defenceless, as she only answered three guns from her one hundred and twenty to the last broadside of the Audacious. The Revolutionnaire’s loss was nearly 400 men. The Audacious was so crippled that she could hardly keep clear of the French fleet, but after an engagement with a frigate and a corvette made her way to Plymouth. The Revolutionnaire afterwards lost her masts, but was towed into Rochefort.

Thus ended the first day’s collision.

For the next two days indecisive manœuvres took place. There was a very fresh breeze, heavy seas, fogs, and various other reasons why no general action could be brought on. During this time Lord Howe passed through the French fleet in his flag-ship, but as only one or two of his ships were able to follow him no general action occurred. One or two of the ships of each fleet lost masts in the heavy sea, and between the 29th and 31st of May Rear-Admiral Nielly joined Admiral Villaret de Joyeuse, with five line-of-battle ships, and then left the French fleet. This left twenty-six line-of-battle ships to the French; many of these had very revolutionary names, such as Tyrannicide, Convention, Trente et un Mai, Montagne, Jacobin, Republicaine, etc., and many were very large ships, one being of 120 guns, and two of 110.

During these days Lord Howe was far from satisfied with the behavior of some of his captains, and we find in his journal the following: “The centre of the British fleet drawing fast up with the van, the signal was repeatedly made for the Cæsar, leading the line, and then under treble reefed topsails and foresail, to make more sail;” and this ship, by her conduct, threw out the whole line, and interfered materially with the operations of the day.

Again Lord Howe says, “the ships of the fleet (called up by signals, and appointed to fall into line, ahead and astern of the flag-ship, as most convenient) came forward to meet her, which had stood toward them, as the enemy approached. When arrived they came up so crowded together that they afforded an opportunity for the enemy to have fired upon them with great advantage. But they ‘(the French)’ having covered their disabled ships, and giving a distant fire as they passed to leeward of our fleet, wore again to the westward; and the English fleet, preserving the weather gage, kept on after them.” “Most of the time the Queen Charlotte was engaged the sea was so rough that much water was taken in at the lower deck ports, and the pumps were constantly at work.”

Lord Howe goes on to say, “soon after noon on the 31st, the fog clearing off, the enemy were seen to leeward, forming again in order of battle.” “But before our fleet could get abreast of them the day was too far advanced for bringing them promptly to action. It was, therefore, deemed expedient to keep the wind, with frigates of observation to notify any change in the enemy’s motions during the ensuing night.”

It is hard in these days to realize the slow and laborious movements of a fleet of the old line-of-battle ships. And it is also curious to observe the adherence to old ideas in regard to battle, as well as the lukewarmness, and want of conduct and seamanship, which amounted to bad behavior, and which characterized some of the captains of Howe’s fleet. As we shall see, further on, only one captain was brought to a court-martial, and he was only lightly punished. Had the action of the first of June been less successful, it is probable that more would have been tried for misconduct, and disobedience of orders. But success condones many offences. A few years after this a British fleet of the force of Howe’s would have dashed at any French fleet, without regard to the time of day, and not risked losing the enemy in the night, or the chance of his changing his mind about fighting.

But to come to the decisive day, June 1st. It is impossible to follow Lord Howe’s journal further, for, at the risk of being irreverent, we must observe that the gallant and noble Lord’s English is almost as much involved as that of those other English seamen, Captains Cuttle and Bunsby.

The French fleet being six miles to leeward on the morning of June 1st, Howe made signal that he intended to attack the enemy’s centre, and engage to leeward. The British fleet filled away for the French, each ship being directed to steer for and engage her proper opponent.

Both fleets were under single-reefed topsails, the French backing and filling, to preserve their stations in their line, which extended from east to west. The wind was very fresh, at south by west, and with the signal to engage flying, Lord Howe closed his signal book, as the matter was so clear that it was impossible for any captain to mistake his duty.

The French first opened fire. The flag-ship of Lord Howe, setting a noble example, steered for the Montagne, 120, receiving a heavy fire from other ships in reaching her. The ship passed close under the French flag-ship’s stern, giving her a tremendous raking broadside. She was so close that the French ensign brushed the Queen Charlotte’s rigging. In a moment she was attacked by the Jacobin, but succeeded in giving her a like raking. The Queen Charlotte lost her fore-top-mast, but, in spite of this, stuck to the Montagne, and killed and wounded 300 on board of her. At last the Montagne hauled out of the line, and several other French vessels followed her, when Howe made signal for a general chase.

It would be tedious to follow the action of the particular ships up to this period of the battle. Suffice it to say that the fire was most concentrated and deadly on both sides. Some of the French ships fought most desperately. Among others, the Vengeur lost her masts, and lay rolling her lower deck ports in the water, many of which had been torn off or shot away by the English ship Brunswick. The Vengeur soon filled with water, and although fast sinking, her colors were kept flying. By great exertions of some of the English vessels, some 400 of her crew were rescued, but many sank with the ship. Among the survivors were the brave French Captain, Renaudin, and his son, only twelve years old. Being taken off to different ships, each believed the other to have perished. To their great joy, they met again in Portsmouth.

Many of the French ships which struck were enabled to make off during the succeeding night, as the English had not been able to take possession of them. But they secured the 80-gun ships, Sans Pareil and Juste, and 74-gun ships, América, Impetueux, Achille, and Northumberland, and the Vengeur, 74, was sunk.

The British loss in the battle was 1140, in killed and wounded. The French loss is not exactly known, but was much greater.

The damage to the masts and rigging of the British ships generally was so considerable that the 2d and 3d of the month were passed in securing the injured masts, fixing jury-masts when required, and removing the prisoners, and taking the six prizes in tow.

Fine weather prevailed, and light westerly breezes, and the fleet arrived in the Channel on the 11th; part of it, under Rear-Admiral Graves, going to Plymouth, and the rest, led by the Queen Charlotte, anchoring at Spithead on the 13th of June.

It had been many a year since Portsmouth had seen the arrival of a victorious fleet, with six of the enemy’s line-of-battle ships in tow. Crowds flocked to witness it, from all parts of England; and to see the landing of the 2300 prisoners.

Rear-Admirals Paisley and Bowyer each lost a leg, and Admiral Graves was very badly wounded in the arm, while three English captains were killed. There was no doubt about the behavior of these officers, but the report of Lord Howe omitted the mention of many captains, most of whom thought themselves aggrieved, and made a great commotion. The fact appears to be that more were delinquent in the previous operations than on the day of the great battle; and this, in many cases, was no doubt due to want of seamanship and experience.

The Cæsar being especially mentioned in an unfavorable light, her captain, Molloy, demanded a court-martial, which the Admiralty was bound to grant. Lord Howe was much annoyed at this, and did all that he could to prevent captain Molloy from persisting, but without avail. Howe, like all others who had fought a successful action, did not want the scandals and delinquencies of his command exposed to the public gaze. After a long trial, Molloy was found delinquent, and was dismissed from the command of his ship.

As regards the conduct of the other captains, it is certain that Howe’s orders as to passing through the French line and engaging to leeward were not carried into effect by a very large portion of his fleet.

In some this was caused by the bad sailing of the ships and by the very compact form in which the French formed their line, so that only five captains of the British fleet had the nerve to let their ships “make their own way,” as the Queen Charlotte did, through the French line. Signals were misunderstood, or not seen, in the smoke and confusion, and Howe made, at last, a discretionary signal, which left each captain to engage his opponent to windward or to leeward, as circumstances might arise.

Howe’s fame as a naval commander will not bear comparison with some others who were to immortalize themselves in the long wars which his action inaugurated. But we must remember that this was the first great naval battle of that eventful period, and that it had an immense influence upon the French; as well as in forming the British Navy for their future glorious achievements. Had the action of June 1st been the last of that series of great actions, instead of the first, it is probable that few ships of the French fleet would have escaped. Lord Howe, although not making much complaint of his want of efficient support, nevertheless felt the defection of some of his captains strongly.

In the year 1799, not many months before his death, he wrote, concerning Nelson’s splendid victory at the Nile, “I will only say, on the splendid achievement of Nelson, that one of the most remarkable features in the transaction consists in the eminently distinguished conduct of each of the captains of the squadron.” Perhaps it never before happened that every captain had equal opportunity to distinguish himself in the same manner, or took equal advantage of it.

There is one point upon which Lord Howe’s conduct has been censured. It is said that he gave way to the opinion of Sir Roger Curtis, his Captain of the Fleet, who advised him not to pursue the five dismasted French ships which went off unmolested, under sails set on the stumps of their masts, and which succeeded in joining the rest of their vessels.

The prevailing opinion in the English fleet certainly was that these ships of the enemy were suffered to escape, when they might have been captured with ease. That they were not captured was the fault of having a Flag Officer at sea who was too old to command, and who had a Fleet Captain who was not enterprising.

But the victory was sufficient, and settled the fate of the war, as far as the naval part was concerned.

The general reader may be interested in some remarks and anecdotes concerning the battle.

During the hottest part of the engagement between the Marlborough and the Vengeur, the former ran the latter aboard to windward, her anchor hooking the French ship’s fore shrouds and channels. The master of the English ship wanted to cut her adrift, but Captain Harvey exclaimed, “No! we have got her, and we will keep her.” “The ships then swung broadside to broadside, and both paid off before the wind, locked together, dropped out of line, and engaged furiously. So close were these ships locked that the Marlborough was unable to open her midship lower-deck ports, which were consequently blown off by her eager crew, etc.”

The flag-ship, the Queen Charlotte, as in duty bound, set a brilliant example to the rest of the fleet. On the 29th of May, when she broke through the French line, she was followed, gallantly, by the Leviathan and Bellerophon, commanded by Captains Lord Seymour, Conway and Hope, and both these ships were most conspicuous in the whole engagement.

The foremast of the Leviathan was crippled, and in danger of falling, and Lord Howe, observing this, stood to her rescue. Lord Seymour, in his own journal, says, “quarter before four; being very near, and pointing into the body of the French fleet, which had then appeared, to succor their rear, the Queen Charlotte wearing, we did the same, but not without exposing ourselves for a long time to be raked by the French Admiral and three other ships, which had stood back to the relief of two of their ships that were in danger of being cut off by our fleet.

“On this occasion the gallant conduct of the Queen Charlotte, in coming down to draw the enemy’s fire from the Leviathan, has made too strong an impression upon my mind, and is too much the subject of general applause on board of her, for me to resist expressing my sense of it, and offering, in the name of all the officers, as well as my own, this feeble though grateful tribute of our admiration of our noble chief, Lord Howe.”

But the day most glorious for Howe was the 1st of June, when he broke through the French line again, brushing the ensign of Admiral Villaret Joyeuse’s flag-ship on the one side, and grazing, on the other, the Jacobin’s mizzen shrouds with her jib-boom.

Collingwood, eleven years after, in the battle of Trafalgar, did much the same thing, in the Sovereign, when he cut the line, and grazed the stern of the Santa Anna.

Had not the Queen Charlotte’s fore-top-mast been shot away, and the main-top-mast gone over the side just as the French Admiral’s fire had about ceased, there is little doubt he would have captured the French flag-ship; but she made off to leeward, and it was impossible for the Charlotte to follow her. The French flag-ship’s hull was completely knocked to pieces, and her battery rendered almost useless. The tremendous broadsides which the Charlotte poured into her stern, in passing through the line, made a hole large enough, the sailors said, to row the Admiral’s barge through.

As the Queen Charlotte was coming down on the French line, determined to pass through, it appeared so close and compact that Howe expressed a doubt as to whether there was room to pass between the Montagne, 120, and the Jacobin, 80, which had got partly under the lee of the former, as if afraid of the Charlotte’s broadside, thus occupying the place the Charlotte intended to take. Howe was determined either to go through, or to run the French flag-ship or the Jacobin on board. His Master, Bowen, in a blunt and resolute tone, called out, “That’s right, my Lord, the Charlotte will make room for herself.”

On his first appointment to the flag-ship this unpolished but shrewd and excellent seaman was in the habit, in addressing the commander-in-chief, of so constantly using the expression “My Lord,” that one day Howe said to him, “Bowen, pray, my good fellow, do give over that eternal ‘My Lord! My Lord;’ d’ont you know I am called Black Dick in the fleet?” This was his usual sobriquet among the sailors.

Just as the Queen Charlotte was closing with the Montagne, Lord Howe, who was himself conning the ship, called out to Bowen to starboard the helm. On this Bowen remarked that if they did they would be on board the next ship, the Jacobin. His lordship replied, sharply, “what is that to you, sir?” Bowen, much nettled, said, in an undertone, “D—n my very eyes if I care, if you d’ont. I’ll go near enough to singe some of our whiskers.”

Howe heard him, and, turning to his Captain, said, “That’s a fine fellow, Curtis!”

Lord Howe appears to have had but a dim conception of a joke. Shortly after the return of his flag-ship to Portsmouth, he sent for the First Lieutenant, Mr. Larcom, whom he thus addressed: “Mr. Larcom, your conduct in the action has been such that it is necessary for you to leave this ship.”

Larcom, who was as brave as the Admiral, and a good officer, and good seaman, was perfectly thunder-struck, and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed “Good God! My Lord, what have I done? Why am I to leave the ship? I have done my duty to the utmost of my power.”

“Very true, Sir,” said the Admiral, “but leave this ship you must; and I have great pleasure in presenting you with this commission as Commander, for your conduct on the late occasion.”

It appeared that it was at the solicitation of his Fleet-Captain, Sir Roger Curtis, that Howe appointed the Cæsar to lead the van in the order of battle of May 29th.

It was against Lord Howe’s own opinion. Circumstances occurred, on the very day, which induced Lord Howe to place another ship in that station. But he again yielded the point, at Curtis’ earnest request to give Molloy another trial, the Admiral remarking, at the same time, “You have mistaken your man; I have not.” On the 1st of June, when the Cæsar hauled up, instead of going through the enemy’s line, Howe, who was standing on the poop of the Queen Charlotte, tapped Sir Roger Curtis on the shoulder, and, pointing to the Cæsar, said, “Look, Curtis, there goes your friend. Who is mistaken now?”

Certainly Lord Howe’s biographer is mistaken in recording this anecdote of the man whom he delights to honor. It is an old story, and has been true of Admirals, in peace or war, time out of mind. But it shows a culpable weakness in Howe, to allow himself to be swayed against his own convictions by any one, in so vitally important a matter.

The conduct of the Marlborough, Captain Berkeley, is interesting, and illustrates the phases of naval actions of that day.

The Marlborough first engaged the Impetueux for about twenty minutes, when the French ship paid off, and dropped with her bowsprit over the Marlborough’s quarter, where she lay exposed to a heavy raking fire. Every one was driven from her decks, and some of the Marlborough’s men boarded her, but were ordered back. Just then the three masts of the French ship went over the side, and a 74 which was astern attempted to weather and rake the Marlborough. But he met with such a fire that he dropped on board his consort’s quarter, and then luffing up, boarded the Marlborough upon the bow. But the steadiness of the English small-arm men and the fire of her carronades prevented the French from succeeding. In a few minutes this second ship’s masts also went over, and they both lay, without firing a gun, without any colors, and with no one on the upper deck. At last the English fleet came up and took possession of them both. Captain Berkeley proceeds to say: “I now attempted to back off from the two vessels, and unfortunately accomplished it just as the French Admiral came under our stern and raked us, by which he did us considerable damage, and carried away our three masts. It was from this ship I received my wound, and, therefore, the remainder is the account of my First Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Monckton then proceeds: “At the time Captain Berkeley was obliged to quit the deck we were still on board, but backing clear of our opponents. Our masts being then shot away by the three-decker under our stern, carried away the ensign staff, and deprived us of hoisting any colors for a few minutes. I ordered the wreck to be cleared away from the color-chest, and spread a Union Jack at the sprit-sail yard, and a St. George’s ensign on the stump of the foremast; but perceiving that the latter was mistaken by some of our own ships for the tri-colored flag, I ordered that flag to be cut off.

“At this time we were laying along the Impetueux, within pistol shot, and finding she did not return a gun, I ordered our ship to cease firing at her, and suffered them quietly to extinguish the flames, which I could easily have prevented with our musketry. While clearing away the wreck, the rear of the enemy’s fleet was coming up, and perceiving that they must range close to us, and being determined never to see the British flag struck, I ordered the men to lie down at their quarters, to receive their fire, and return it afterwards, if possible. But, being dismasted, she rolled so deep that our lower deck ports could not be opened. The event was as I expected: the enemy’s rear passed us to leeward, very close, and we fairly ran the gauntlet of every ship which could get a gun to bear, but, luckily, without giving us any shot between wind and water, or killing any men, except two, who imprudently disobeyed their officers, and got up at their quarters. Two of their ships, which had tacked, now came to windward of us, and gave us their fire, upon which one of their dismasted ships, that had struck, hoisted her national flag, but, upon our firing some guns at her, she hauled it down again; and a three-decker, having tacked, also stood toward us, with a full intention, I believe, to sink us, if possible.

“The Royal George, however, who I suppose had tacked after her, came up, and engaged her very closely, carried away her main and mizzen masts, and saved the Marlborough from the intended close attack. I then made the signal for assistance, on a boat’s mast, but this was almost instantly shot away. At five the Aquila took us in tow, and soon after we joined the fleet.”

A curious incident is said to have taken place on board this ship, when lying entirely dismasted, and otherwise disabled, the captain and second lieutenant severely wounded, and the ship so roughly treated that a whisper of surrender was heard. Lieutenant Monckton resolutely exclaimed, “he would be d——d if she ever should surrender, and that he would nail her colors to the stump of the mast.” At that moment a cock, having been liberated from a broken coop, suddenly perched himself on the stump of the mainmast, clapped his wings, and crowed aloud. In an instant three hearty cheers rang through the ship, and there was no more talk of surrender. The cock was afterwards given to the Governor of Plymouth, lived to a good old age, and was frequently visited by the Marlborough’s men.

The Brunswick, 74, had a large figure-head of the Duke of that name, with a laced cocked hat on. This hat was carried away by a shot, during the battle. The crew sent a deputation to the captain to ask him to give his own laced hat to supply the place; and he did so; the carpenter nailing it on the Duke’s head, when they continued the action.

Nothing could exceed the gallant conduct of this ship, as we have already noticed. The Defence, Captain Gambier, also behaved most gallantly, being terribly cut up, and totally dismasted. She was one of the few that passed through the enemy’s line, and got into the midst of the French ships. Captain Gambier was an excellent officer, and a gentleman of strict principles of religion and morality. At the close of the action, Captain Pakenham, a rattling, good-humored Irishman, hailed him from the Invincible, “Well, Jimmy, I see you are pretty well mauled; but never mind, Jimmy, whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.”

When the Sans Pareil was taken possession of, the English Captain Trowbridge was found on board, a prisoner, having been captured in the Castor, when in charge of the Newfoundland convoy. On the morning of the 1st of June, the French officers, seeing the British fleet under easy sail, going parallel to the French line, taunted him by saying, “there will be no fighting to-day; your Admiral will not venture down.” “Wait a little,” said Trowbridge, “English sailors never like to fight with empty stomachs; I see the signal flying for all hands to breakfast; after which, take my word for it, they will pay you a visit.” When the Sans Pareil had got enough of the battle, and was prepared to surrender; her captain sent down to request Trowbridge to come on deck and do him the honor of striking the colors. This he very properly declined to do.

Anecdotes of the action are too numerous for all to find a place here. But we may mention that on board the captured French ships the cartridges were found to be mostly made of the fine painted vellum on which church music was painted, and of the titles and preuves de noblesse of the principal French families, many hundred years old, and illuminated, in many instances, with the genealogical tree. There was a decree of the French Convention, applying the archives of the nobility to that particular purpose. The great convoy of ships from the West Indies and America, consisting of more than two hundred sail of ships, of immense value, and of so much importance to the French government that they risked the loss of their great Brest fleet for its safety, arrived safely in port a few days after the battle of the first of June.

BATTLE OF CAPE ST. VINCENT. A. D. 1797.

Although Rodney had fought a celebrated action off Cape St. Vincent a few years before, yet the one which occurred in 1797 so far eclipsed it that Rodney’s action is scarcely ever thought of.

St. Vincent is the name of the most southwestern point of Portugal, in the old Kingdom of Algarve.

Admiral Sir John Jervis, with an English fleet under his command, left the Tagus on the 18th of January, 1797, with eleven ships-of-the-line. Before crossing the bar of the Tagus the St. George, a three-decker, got on shore, and, being got off with difficulty, was found to be so much injured as to render it necessary to send her back to Lisbon. So with ten sail-of-the-line Sir John put to sea, having for his first object to escort some Brazil merchantmen and their Portuguese convoy to a safe latitude; thence he intended to proceed off Cape St. Vincent, where he had appointed a rendezvous for the St. George to join him. He also hoped to be there joined by long and anxiously expected reinforcements from England.

His fleet consisted of the Victory, of 100 guns, his flag-ship; the Britannia, 100, Vice Admiral Thompson; the Barfleur and Blenheim, 98s; and the Captain, Culloden, Egmont, Excellent and Goliath, 74s, and the Diadem, 64.

On the 6th of February Sir John had parted from the Portuguese ships, and was upon his return to his station off Cape St. Vincent, where five sail-of-the-line, sent from the Channel fleet to reinforce him, effected their junction. These were the Prince George, 98, Vice Admiral Parker; the Namur, 90; and the Colossus, Irresistible, and Orion, 74s. It so happened that the accession of force did no more than make up that which the Admiral had with him when he sent home for an addition to his force. A sixth serious accident soon deprived him of the use of another ship; for, early on the morning of February 12th, while yet quite dark, as the ships were tacking in succession, the Colossus, keeping her wind a little too long, compelled the Culloden to bear up, to clear her. The former ship then suddenly bore up also, and the two ran foul of each other. The Colossus escaped almost without injury, but the Culloden received damages which would have sent most ships home to a dockyard. She was, however, commanded by the gallant Captain Trowbridge, and he managed, after a time, to repair damages at sea, and to be ready for action again.

Sir John Jervis, with his fifteen ships, persevered in working up to his station, against a strong southeast wind, not doubting that he should there gain a sight, or at least have tidings, of the Spanish fleet, of which he was in quest, which could not be less than nineteen, and might be thirty sail-of-the-line.

Whatever the force might be, it was to be broken up, if possible, and a heavy blow struck against the Spanish navy.

On the morning of February 13th the English frigate Minerve, bearing the flag of Horatio Nelson, then a Commodore, came into the fleet, with the intelligence that on the 11th, soon after quitting Gibraltar, he had been chased by two Spanish line-of-battle-ships, and that, afterwards, when in the mouth of the Straits, he got sight of the Spanish fleet of whose strength and probable intentions Commodore Nelson communicated some important information. In the course of the same evening the Niger frigate joined the fleet, with the same information; she having kept the Spaniards in sight for several days. Captain Foote, of the Niger, informed the Admiral that their fleet could not be more than fifteen miles off.

It was then near sunset. Signal was made for the British fleet to prepare for battle, and to keep close order for the night, during which the signal guns of the Spaniards could be distinctly heard.

While the English are thus keeping a bright lookout for them, let us take a glance at the Spanish fleet, soon to be engaged in a momentous battle.

The grand fleet of Spain, under the command of Don Josef de Cordova, in the Santissima Trinidada, a huge ship of 130 guns, had sailed from Carthagena on the first of the month. He had, besides his flag-ship, six of 112 guns, two of 80, and eighteen of 74 guns; in all twenty-seven sail-of-the-line, with ten frigates, and two or three brigs.

Some gun-boats, and about seventy transports, having on board two battalions of guards and a Swiss regiment, and a great quantity of military stores and ammunition, accompanied the fleet, all bound to the camp of St. Roche.

The Spanish fleet passed Gibraltar at daylight of the 5th, and some of them escorted the transports to Algesiras, where the troops and stores were disembarked. It was these ships, upon their return to the main fleet, which had seen and chased Nelson.

The report was that this fleet was to proceed to Brest, then to join the French fleet, which was in turn to be joined by the Dutch fleet; and that with the whole united, England was to be invaded. Be that as it may, the destination of the Spanish Admiral was, in the first instance, Cadiz. But the strong easterly gale that had given him a quick passage through the Straits soon blew in his teeth and drove his ships considerably to the westward of their port. On the night of the 13th, the wind still adverse, the lookout frigates of the Spanish fleet, which now consisted of twenty-five sail-of-the-line and eleven frigates, got sight of several of the British ships; but the latter, being taken by them for part of a convoy, excited little attention.

The Spaniards were busy in taking advantage of a favorable change of wind which just then occurred, and were crowding sail to make the land, without much regard to order.

The morning of the 14th of February, a disastrous day long to be remembered by the Spaniards, broke dark and hazy. The two fleets were in full sight of each other. The British were formed in two compact divisions, on the starboard tack, with the wind at west by south. Cape St. Vincent then bore east by north, distant about twenty-five miles.

At about half-past six the Culloden, 74, made signal for five sail, S. W. by S. The frigates immediately confirmed the same, adding that the strangers were by the wind, on the starboard tack. A sloop-of-war was at once sent to reconnoitre, and the English Admiral made signal to his fleet to form in close order and prepare for battle. Soon after three ships-of-the-line were sent to chase to the S. W., and, upon the sloop signaling that she saw eight sail in that direction, three more line-of-battle ships were sent.

The Spanish reconnoitring frigates soon made out and recognized these detached English ships, and it was not until then that the Spaniards recovered from their delusion that the ships they had seen were part of a convoy.

Then they fell into another. An American ship, which had passed through the British fleet some days before, while the Culloden was away in chase, had afterwards been spoken by the Spanish Admiral, and informed him that Sir John Jervis had but nine sail-of-the-line.

The partial view of the British fleet now obtained through the fog and haze tended to confirm this statement, and the Spanish were in high glee at the idea that they should soon make a triumphant entry into Cadiz, with some English ships as prizes; for their force was too great for nine ships to resist, however well handled and bravely fought.

About 10 A.M. the English frigate Minerve made signal for twenty sail in the southwest, and presently for eight more.

By this time the fog had cleared away, and left the two fleets to count their enemy’s numbers.

The Spanish were, of course, greatly surprised at seeing fifteen instead of nine sail-of-the-line; and these fifteen, found in two close lines, were steadily advancing to cut off those of their ships that, owing either to mismanagement or to a blind confidence in numerical strength, had been allowed to separate from their main body. Their main body, formed in a sort of a square, were running before the wind, under all sail, while their leewardmost ships, with their starboard tacks on board, were striving hard to effect a junction with the former, in time to frustrate, if possible, the evident design of the British Admiral.

As, besides the object of cutting off the six detached sail-of-the-line, it was now equally important to be ready to receive the nineteen sail bearing down from to windward, the British Admiral, soon after eleven A.M., ordered his fleet to form in line-of-battle, ahead and astern, as was most convenient, and to steer south-southwest.

The advanced position of the Culloden in the morning’s chase conferred upon her the honor of being the leading ship in the line, which, when all the ships had fallen into their stations, and were close hauled on the starboard tack, was closed by the Excellent.

Thus arranged the fifteen British ships steered direct for the opening, still wide, but gradually narrowing, between the two divisions of the Spanish fleet.

About this time the advanced ships of the Spanish weather division began wearing and trimming on the port tack.

At 11.30 A.M., the Culloden, coming abreast of the leewardmost of these ships, opened fire upon them, as they passed her starboard broadside. She then stood on, followed by the Blenheim, which ship also gave and received a distant fire.

As soon as she reached the wake of the enemy’s line the Culloden tacked again and stood towards it.

The three rearmost Spanish ships, the Conde de Regia, 112; Principe d’Asturias, 112; and Oriente, 74, being some way astern of their companions, and therefore in danger of being cut off by the leading British ships, bore up together, athwart the hawse of the Prince George, 98, (Vice-Admiral Parker’s flag-ship). The latter, being rather too far from her leader, had left a sufficient opening for the purpose.

The three Spaniards then hauled up on the starboard tack, and joined four others that lay a little to windward of the remaining three of their lee division.

Upon the Prince George and Blenheim tacking, half an hour after noon, the advanced portion of the Spanish lee division put about also, and thus both divisions of the Spanish fleet were brought on the port tack. The English ships astern of the Prince George, as they increased their distance from the van, lessened it from the rear division, several of the ships of which opened, and received in return, a sharp fire, evidently to the disadvantage of the Spanish, as they all, but one, wore round on the other tack.

The Egmont, 74, at this time received damaging shots through both main and mizzen-masts; while the Colossus, another English 74, lost important spars, which compelled her to wear out of line, and afforded an opportunity to a Spanish three-decker, which was to windward and astern of the others, to bear up, with the intention of raking the crippled English ship. The Orion, 74, seeing this, backed her main-top-sail, and lay to, to cover the Colossus; whereupon the three-decker wore, and stood away to the southward, after her friends.

The Spanish ship which had not accompanied their lee division in its retreat was the Oriente. She hauled up, on the port tack, and stretching along, under the lee of the remainder of the British line, from which she was partly concealed by the smoke, succeeded in running the gauntlet, and in regaining her own line, to windward.

This was the most gallant and seamanlike act performed by any Spanish ship on that day. About 1 P. M., as the rearmost ship of that part of the British line which was still upon the starboard tack had advanced so far ahead as to leave an open sea to leeward of the Spanish weather division, then passing in the contrary direction, the ships of the latter, as the last effort to join their lee division, bore up together. Scarcely was the movement made ere it caught the attention of one who was as quick in seeing the consequences of its success as he was ready in devising the means for its failure. Nelson, then a Commodore, directed Captain Miller to wear the Captain, 74, on which ship he bore his pennant, and in which he achieved much of his renown.

The Captain, a smart working ship, was soon round, and, passing between the Diadem and the Excellent, ran athwart the bows of the Spanish ships, as far as the ninth from the rear, which was the huge Santissima Trinidada, of 130 guns, a four-decker. The Captain instantly opened fire upon the large ship and those about her, with the rearmost of which the Culloden, which had recommenced firing a few minutes before, was warmly engaged. Soon the Spanish Admiral and the ships about him, not liking to present their bows, even to so insignificant a force, hauled nearly to the wind, and soon opened a very heavy fire upon the Captain and Culloden. By 2 P. M. the latter had stretched so far ahead as to cover and to afford a few minutes respite to the Captain. Of this Nelson took advantage, replenishing her racks with shot, and splicing and repairing running rigging. The Captain then renewed the battle with great animation.

At about half-past two the Blenheim, 98, came crowding up, and, passing to windward of the Captain, afforded her a second respite, which was taken advantage of as before.

The two more immediate opponents of the Captain and Culloden had been the San Ysidro, 74, and the Salvador del Mundo, 112; these, being already with some of their topmasts gone, and otherwise in a crippled state, the Blenheim, by a few heavy broadsides, sent staggering astern, to be cannonaded afresh by the Prince George and other advancing ships.

The Excellent, 74 (Captain Collingwood, afterwards Lord Collingwood), was now coming up. This ship had been ordered by the Admiral to quit her station in the line and lead the weather division, consisting of the Victory, 100; Barfleur, 98; Namur, 90; Egmont, 74; Goliath, 74, and Britannia, 100. The latter was a dull ship, and a long distance off, though under all sail.

This weather division was intended to pass to windward of the Spanish line.

About half-past two, the Excellent, having by a press of sail arrived abreast of the Salvador del Mundo’s weather quarter, brought to, and engaged her warmly, until the latter, ceasing to fire in return, and as it appeared, striking her colors, the Excellent stood on to the next ship, the San Ysidro, whose three top-masts had already been shot away. This ship she closely engaged on the lee side, for some time, when the San Ysidro, after a gallant defence, in his crippled state, hauled down the Spanish, and hoisted the British flag.

The Excellent then made sail ahead, and soon came into close action with the San Nicolas, 86, whose foremast was gone, and who, as well as the ship abreast and rather ahead of her, to windward, the San Josef, 112, had been occasionally firing at the Captain, which we have seen so busily engaged with others.

The Excellent, passing within a few feet of the San Nicolas’ starboard side, poured in a destructive fire, and then stood on. The San Nicolas, in luffing up to avoid Collingwood’s broadside, ran foul of the San Josef, whose mizzen-mast was already shot away, and which had received very considerable other damage from the fire of four English ships.

The Captain, as soon as the Excellent was sufficiently ahead of her to be clear, luffed up as close to the wind as her shattered condition would admit, when her fore-topmast, which had been shot through, fell over the side. In this unmanageable state, with her wheel shot away, and all her sails, shrouds and running rigging more or less cut, with the Blenheim far ahead, and the Culloden crippled, astern, no alternative remained but to board the San Nicolas. Previous to doing this the Captain reopened her fire within less than twenty yards, and the San Nicolas returned it, with great spirit, for some time. The Captain then put her helm a starboard, and encountered the two Spanish ships drifting down upon her. As the Captain came to, she hooked, with her port cat-head, the San Nicolas’ starboard gallery, and with her sprit-sail yard, the San Nicolas’ mizzen-rigging. What immediately ensued is in Nelson’s own language.

There was a detachment of the 69th Regiment on board, and Nelson says:—

“The soldiers of the 69th, with an alacrity which will ever do them credit, and Lieutenant Pearson, of that regiment, were almost the foremost on this service. The first man who jumped into the enemy’s mizzen-chains was Captain Berry, late my first lieutenant; (Captain Miller was in the very act of going, also, but I directed him to remain;) he was supported from our sprit-sail yard, which hooked in their mizzen-rigging.

“A soldier of the 69th Regiment, having broke the upper quarter gallery window, I jumped in myself, and was followed by others, as fast as possible. I found the cabin doors fastened; and some Spanish officers fired their pistols; but, having broke open the doors, the soldiers fired, and the Spanish Brigadier (Commodore with a distinguishing pennant) fell, as he was retreating to the quarter-deck. I pushed immediately onward for the quarter-deck, where I found Captain Berry in possession of the poop, and the Spanish ensign hauling down. I passed, with my people and Lieutenant Pearson, on the larboard gangway, to the forecastle, when I met three or four Spanish officers, prisoners to my seamen; they delivered me their swords. A fire of pistols or muskets opening from the stern-gallery of the San Josef, I directed the soldiers to fire into her stern: and calling Captain Miller, ordered him to send more men into the San Nicolas; and directed my people to board the first-rate, which was done in an instant, Captain Berry assisting me into the main-chains.

“At this moment a Spanish officer looked over the quarter-deck rail and said they surrendered. From this most welcome intelligence it was not long before I was on the quarter-deck, when the Spanish Captain, with a bow, presented me his sword, and said the Admiral was dying of his wounds.

“I asked him, on his honor, if the ship was surrendered. He declared she was; on which I gave him my hand, and desired him to call on his officers and ship’s company, and tell them of it; which he did, and, on the quarter-deck of a Spanish first-rate, extravagant as the story may seem, did I receive the swords of vanquished Spaniards; which, as I received, I gave to Wm. Fearney, one of my bargemen, who put them, with the greatest sang-froid, under his arm. I was surrounded by Captain Berry, Lieutenant Pearson, of the 69th Regiment, John Sykes, John Thompson, Francis Cooke, all old Agamemnons, and several other brave men, seamen and soldiers. Thus fell these ships.”

The foregoing is part of a report signed by “Horatio Nelson,” “Ralph Willett Miller,” and “T. Berry.”

The loss of the Captain in boarding the San Nicolas did not exceed seven killed and ten wounded. That of the San Nicolas was about twenty. But the taking of the first-rate San Josef did not cost the Captain a man, nor does it appear that the prize herself lost above one or two men, in the trifling exchange of small-arm shot which had preceded her surrender.

The previous loss of the San Josef had, however, been severe, principally from the fire of the St. George.

During this brilliant service of the Captain she had been so disabled that Commodore Nelson returned to the Minerve, and at five o’clock the same day shifted his broad pennant to the Irresistible.

But other ships besides those already mentioned did good work.

The Victory, next astern of the Excellent, came up in time to throw a most destructive fire into the Salvador del Mundo, whose colors had been once lowered but were then again flying. The Barfleur, close astern of the Victory, seconded the blow. Having already lost her fore and main-top-masts, and being seriously shattered in the hull; observing, also, that her two antagonists were preparing to round upon her bow, and that a third three-decker, the Namur, was not far off, to windward, the Salvador del Mundo hauled down her colors.

The Diadem and Irresistible had previously been ordered to suspend their fire at the Salvador del Mundo, until the Victory and her second passed clear, and they were now directed, by signal, to take possession of the Spanish ship. Soon after this the Excellent got close under the lee of the Santa Trinidada, which vessel she engaged for nearly an hour, assisted by the Orion, Irresistible, and particularly the Blenheim. At last the Spanish four-decker, having her fore and mizzen-masts shot away, and having suffered immense damage in hull, rigging and sails, hauled down her colors, after a splendid resistance to odds.

BATTLE OF CAPE ST. VINCENT, 1797.

Just then two of the Spanish van ships, having wore, were standing to the support of the Santa Trinidada. Two fresh ships were coming down from the southwest; and the lee Spanish division, of nine sail, well formed, and including among them the Conde de Regla, and the Principe d’Asturias, three-deckers, were approaching from the southeast. All these ships, closing round their sorely harassed comrade, saved him from further molestation.

By five o’clock the victory was won. At this time all firing ceased, and at that season of the year night was at hand. The British Admiral made the signal for his fleet to bring to, on the starboard tack. This he did, chiefly to cover the prizes and his own disabled ships from the nine Spanish ships of the lee division, which, having made a good stretch to windward, on the starboard tack, were now rapidly coming up on the opposite one.

The determined front of the British changed their purpose, and after firing a few ineffectual broadsides, they stood on to the assistance of their chief.

Both fleets lay to during the night, to repair damages, and day-break discovered them on opposite tacks, each in line-of-battle ahead.

The Spanish had the weather gage, and still possessed eighteen or twenty effective sail-of-the-line, but they made no attempt to renew the action. Probably some of their ships were not in condition to fight. The great Santa Trinidada was nearly out of sight to leeward, in tow of a frigate. As it was necessary to keep the British fleet together, Sir John Jervis sent no vessels in chase of her.

The whole Spanish line was standing to the northward, while the British fleet, which—including the Colossus and Culloden, neither of which was fit to take a place in the line—could muster but fourteen ships-of-the-line, then took their four prizes and the Captain in tow, and very slowly made their way southward.

The damage sustained from the contest by the British ships was not so great as might have been expected, from the severity of the contest. The only ship of theirs dismasted was the Captain, which ship also suffered much in the hull.

The Colossus and Culloden were both very much cut up, and the latter had suffered especially in the hull, and was very leaky. She had only one carronade dismounted, however, and two first and two second deck guns.

The loss of life among the British was comparatively small. Except in the cases of the Colossus and Egmont, those ships which suffered most in hull and rigging had most killed and wounded. The total for the fleet was 73 killed and 227 wounded. Of course, these were only the badly wounded; for it was not the custom, in those days, to report the slightly wounded. It is, therefore, fair to consider the total as about 400; an amazingly small number, considering the nature of the action.

According to the Spanish accounts, ten of their ships, besides those crippled, suffered materially, but not more than half of them showed any signs of being at all crippled. The Santa Trinidada, Soberano, Principe d’Asturias and Conde de Regla were very much damaged.

The damages of the prizes are better known. All four ships had lost masts, and all were so hulled as to be very leaky. The San Nicolas was badly on fire, but her captors extinguished it. Their loss in killed and wounded amounted to about 1000.

The detached and confused state of the Spanish fleet at the beginning of the battle, and the consequent partial and irregular manner in which their ships came into action, would render any statement of comparative force, by comparing the totals on each side, very unfair.

It would be correct to say that the British line consisted of fifteen ships-of-the-line, and the Spanish line (if it could be called so) of twenty-five, and afterwards of twenty-seven, ships-of-the-line.

The Santissima Trinidada was a monster in size. She was built in Havana, in 1769, as a 112-gun ship, except that she had greater beam than was usual with that class. Some time about 1796 her quarter-deck and forecastle were formed into a whole deck, barricades built along her gangways, with ports in them, and she was made into a flush four-decker, but was not really much superior in force to the three-decked 112s.

The most striking feature in this victory is the boldness of the attack. Another commander might have paused before running into the midst of twenty-five sail with fifteen. If he had paused to weigh the chances, the separated ships would have closed, and the Spanish line then have been too compact to be attacked with hopes of success.

Sir John Jervis, relying upon the character of his force, and viewing with a general’s eye the loose and disordered state of his enemy’s line, resolved to profit by it, attacked promptly, and conquered. It cannot be said that he broke the Spanish line, for there was no line to be broken. He simply chose the proper moment for advance, had a leader who never flinched or fell back, and he had all about him those who were emulous to follow so bright an example.

On the other hand, the bold front he put on was calculated to sink the hearts of those among the Spanish fleet who had little experience of naval warfare. The Spanish fleet was not only in confusion at the outset, but continued to be so; and some of their ships undoubtedly fired into their comrades, while they were so huddled together that if a shot missed one it was sure to strike another of them.

Then the British were better sailors, and repaired damages more quickly; and to many of them the battle was more like a rattling game than a grim matter of life and death and national renown.

It is reported that the Captain actually expended all her shot in this action, and when grape was needed for her 32-lb carronades, used 7-lb shot as a substitute.

This at a short distance must have caused great execution.

When the Spanish Admiral at last formed his scattered divisions into line, he found the British in equal, if not better, alignment; and each side then drew off, the one to lament, the other to exult, over the events of the day.

The Spanish were never accused of a lack of courage, either by sea or on land, and their discomfiture appears to have been caused principally by the worthlessness of the crews which manned their ships. These were composed of pressed landsmen, and soldiers of new levies, with a very few seamen in each ship. It has been reported that these “poor panic-stricken wretches,” when called upon to go aloft, to repair the damaged rigging, fell upon their knees, and cried out that they preferred being sacrificed on the spot to performing a duty where death seemed inevitable from more than one cause. The numerical superiority of their guns seemed little in their favor, for some of the San Josef’s were found with their tompions in, on the side which had been engaged, after the battle was over. Indeed, the numbers on board some of the Spanish ships seem to have been rather a detriment to them.

A rather prejudiced writer says that if eight of their twenty-five ships had been left at Carthagena, and had the five or six hundred seamen they probably contained been substituted for twice that number of raw hands, taken from the remaining seventeen ships, the latter would probably have made a better stand; and the victory, if achieved at all, have been at the expense of a much greater number of lives in the British fleet. Whatever the fault of the crews, the officers fought well. “Upon the whole, the victory off Cape St. Vincent, although from its consequences pre-eminently great, from its results, dispassionately considered, cannot be pronounced in an equal degree glorious.”