Every Man Will Do His Duty (31 page)

It was shortly after made known by one of our boat’s crew, that Lord Nelson had received a fatal shot: had this news been communicated through the fleet before the conflict was over, what effect it might have had on the hearts of our seamen I know not, for he was adored, and in fighting under him, every man thought himself sure of success; a momentary but naturally melancholy pause among the survivors of our brave crew ensued.

We were now called to clear the decks, and here might be witnessed an awful and interesting scene, for as each officer and seaman would meet (oh! what an opportunity for the Christian and man of feeling to meditate on the casualty of fate in this life), they were inquiring for their mess-mates. Orders were now given to fetch the dead bodies from the after cock-pit,
and throw them over-board; these were the bodies of men who were taken down to the doctor during the battle, badly wounded, and who by the time the engagement was ended were dead. Some of these, perhaps, could not have recovered, while others might, had timely assistance been rendered, which was impossible; for the rule is, as order is requisite, that every person shall be dressed in rotation as they are brought down wounded, and in many instances some have bled to death.

The next call was, “all hands to splice the main brace,” which is the giving out a gill of rum to each man, and indeed they much needed it, for they had not ate or drank from breakfast time: we had now a good night’s work before us; all our yards, masts, and sails were sadly cut, indeed the whole of the sails were obliged to be unbent, being rendered completely useless, and by the next morning we were partly jury-rigged: we now began to look for our prizes, as it was coming on to blow hard on the land, and Admiral Collingwood made signals for each ship that was able to take a prize in tow, to prevent them drifting into their own harbour, as they were complete wrecks and unmanageable.

We took an eighty gun Spanish ship in tow for a day and night, but were obliged to cast her off, it blew so hard, and our ship being so very much disabled, indeed we were obliged to scuttle a few of them; some we contrived to take into Gibralter; some were wrecked near Cadiz harbour; and others drifted into the harbour from whence they had only come out two days before. It was a mortifying sight to witness the ships we had fought so hard for, and had taken as prizes, driven by the elements from our possession, with some of our own men on board as prize masters, and it was a great blight to our victorious success; but, in justice to the enemy, it may with truth be recorded, that, however contrary to the Spanish character as an enemy generally, yet, upon this occasion, they used our men well.

In order to shew the crippled state in which our ships must have been, it will be requisite to mention that, in preparing to engage the enemy closely, and protect ourselves as much as possible, the seamen’s hammocks with the bedding and blankets were lashed to the shrouds, which served much to save our rigging, as was very evident from examination on the second night after the battle; for when our men got their hammocks down, many were found to have received a great deal of damage, being very much cut with the large shot, and some were found to have had grape or canister shot lodged in them. The most destructive shot to us appeared to be the thirty-two pounds double-headed; two of these deafeners we observed to be sticking in our main-mast, which, miraculously and fortunately for us, was not carried away.

I will now call the reader’s attention to some occurrences during and after the battle, which, although they may not regularly belong to a seaman’s log, yet they may be found interesting.

AS WE WERE
closely engaged throughout the battle, and the shots were playing their pranks pretty freely, grape as well as canister, with single and double headed thunderers all joining in the frolic; what was termed a
slaughtering one,
came in at one of the lower deck ports, which killed and wounded nearly all at the gun, and amongst them, a very merry little fellow, who was the very life of the ship’s company, for he was ever the mirth of his mess, and on whatever duty he might be ordered, his spirits made light the labour. He was the ship’s cobbler, and withall a very good dancer; so that when any of his messmates would
sarve
us out a tune, he was sure to trip it on light fantastic toe, and find a step to it. He happened to be stationed at the gun where this messenger of death and destruction entered, and the poor fellow was so completely stunned by the head of another man being knocked against his, that no one doubted but that he was dead. As it is customary to throw overboard those, who, in an engagement are killed outright, the poor cobbler, amongst the rest, was taken to the port-hole to be committed to the deep, without any other ceremony than shoving him through the port: but, just as they were about to let him slip from their hands into the water, the blood began to circulate, and he commenced kicking. Upon this sign of returning life, his shipmates soon hauled the poor snob in again, and, though wonderful to relate, he recovered so speedily, that he actually fought the battle out; and, when he was afterwards joked about it, he would say, “it was well that I learned to dance; for if I had not shown you some of my steps, when you were about to throw me overboard, I should not be here now, but safe enough in
Davy Jones’s Locker
.”

WHILST WE WERE
engaging the combined fleets, a French ship caught fire, the crew of which made every effort to escape from the flames, and as

“Britons fight but to conquer, and conquer to save,”

our frigates and schooners, which had been laying off during the battle, sent their boats to endeavour to save as many lives as possible. Amongst those who were thus preserved from a watery grave was a young French woman, who was brought on board our ship in a state of complete nakedness.
Although it was in the heat of the battle, yet she received every assistance which at that time was in our power; and her distress of mind was soothed as well as we could, until the officers got to their chests, from whence they supplied her with needles and thread, to convert sheets into chemises, and curtains from their cots to make somewhat of a gown and other garments, so that by degrees she was made as comfortable as circumstances would admit; for we all tried who would be most kind to her; and as the history of this adventurer may acquire some interest from the account she gave of it, the following is the statement, as collected from herself;—

“The combined fleets, (she says) were ordered to proceed from Cadiz, where they lay, to make an attack and take that of the British; for, from their superior force they were confident of success and elated at the same time with the idea that it would be but an easy task. That no impediment might be in the way, all the females were ordered to go on shore; she was married, and to quit her husband could not endure the thought; she was therefore resolved to share his glory or his death. No time was lost in carrying her plan into execution; for, having rigged herself out in a suit of sailor’s clothes, thus disguised, she entered on board, and went in the same ship with him, as a seaman. In this state she remained, doing duty, during the engagement, when, whilst fighting by the side of her husband, a ball killed him on the spot. On seeing him fall dead, the conflict was too great:—nature displayed itself; she became overwhelmed with grief, and, by it, betrayed her sex.

To add to the distress which this discovery occasioned, an alarm was now spread that the ship was on fire; she seemed to care very little about it; life to her was not desirable, whilst all hands were employed in the endeavour to check the fire’s progress. This seemed to be impossible, and it became necessary to think of the means to escape; for the fire raged with great fury, and there was every probability that, in a few minutes, the ship would be blown into the air, as the fire was fast approaching the magazines.

The resolution to take to the water being now unavoidable, the men commenced to undress themselves; and in this dreadful situation she was strongly urged to do the same, that it was a duty to make every effort for self-preservation, and it being the only chance she could possibly have. After much entreaty, persuasion, and remonstrance, she summoned up sufficient resolution, and prepared herself to endure the agonizing alternative, for the only choice which her unfortunate case presented, was, either to strip or perish in the flames. She was then lowered into the ocean by a rope from the taffrail, the lead of which was melting at the time, and, whilst letting her down, some of it dropped, and burned the back of her neck. On reaching the water, one of her shipmates, who was a good swimmer, staid
by her side, and supported her until she was picked up by a boat belonging to the
Pickle
schooner, and brought on board the ship she was then in.” [Here let the reader pause, and paint to himself, if he can, what were the inward workings and heartfelt sufferings of this extraordinary heroine, and bright instance of conjugal fidelity and attachment.]

Her name was Jeannette, of French Flanders, and she remained with us until our arrival at Gibralter, when a cartel took her to a Spanish port. On leaving our ship, her heart seemed overwhelmed with gratitude; she shed abundance of tears, and could only now and then, with a deep sigh, exclaim, “
les bons Anglois
.”

SOME OF OUR MEN
were sent on board of the Spanish ship before alluded to, in order to assist at the pumps, for she was much shattered in the hull, between wind and water. The slaughter and havoc our guns had made, rendered the scene of carnage horrid to behold: there were a number of their dead bodies piled up in the hold; many, in a wounded or mutilated state, were found lying amongst them; and those who were so fortunate as to escape our shot were so dejected and crest-fallen that they could not, or would not, work at the pumps, and of course the ship was in a sinking state.

The gale at this time was increasing so rapidly that manning the pumps was of no use, and we were obliged to abandon our prize, taking away with us all our men and as many of the prisoners as we could. On the last boat’s load leaving the ship, the Spaniards who were left on board, appeared on the gangway and ship’s side, displaying their bags of dollars and doubloons, and eagerly offering them as a reward for saving them from the expected and unavoidable wreck; but, however well inclined we were, it was not in our power to rescue them, or it would have been effected without the proffered bribe.

Here a very distressing and affecting scene took place; it was a struggle between inclination and duty. On quitting the ship, our boats were overloaded in endeavouring to save all the lives we could, that it is a miracle they were not upset. A father and his son came down the ship’s side to get on board one of our boats; the father had seated himself, but the men in the boat, thinking, from the load and the boisterous weather, that all their lives would be in peril, could not think of taking the boy; as the boat put off, the lad, as though determined not to quit his father, sprung from the ship into the water and caught hold of the gunwale of the boat; but his attempt was resisted, as it risked all their lives, and some of the men resorted to their cutlasses to cut his fingers off, in order to disentangle the boat from his
grasp; at the same time the feelings of the father were so worked upon, that he was about to leap overboard and perish with his son: Britons could face an enemy, but could not witness such a scene of self-devotion; as it were, a simultaneous thought burst forth from the crew, which said “let us save both father and son or die in the attempt.” The Almighty aided them in their design; they succeeded, and brought both father and son safe on board of our ship, where they remained, until, with other prisoners, they were exchanged at Gibraltar.

Using the pseudonym Jack Nastyface, Robinson published his book
Nautical Economy
, containing the preceding account, in 1836. He fails to mention in it that he deserted in 1811. Much more particular in its detail and far closer to the central plot was the narrative of William Beatty, the surgeon on board Nelson’s flagship
Victory
during the bittersweet British triumph at the Battle of Trafalgar.

¹
It has been the generally received opinion that this memorable Signal was,
“England expects every man to do his duty,”
but an extract from the Log-book of the
Victory,
will shew it correctly. It was made by Telegraph, with the different coloured numerical flags, as follows:
On the 21st October,
1805.
Note:
For alternative readings, see “Journal of Lieutenant John Barclay” and “The Log of HMS
Orion”
in T. Sturges Jackson, ed.,
The Logs of the Great Sea Fights, 1794-1805.
Publications of the Navy Records Society, volume XVIII. (London, 1900), pp. 213, 278.

TELEGRAPH