Every Man Will Do His Duty (42 page)

Lieutenant Davies took charge of her with the jolly-boat and crew; he and Mr. Jones, who went in with the fire-vessel, got made commanders for this business, and well they deserved it; but I, who had the sole charge of fitting them up, the most trouble, and my clothes spoiled by the stuff, did not so much as get a higher rate, which I applied for, and which from my services I thought myself entitled to: such is the encouragement that warrant officers meet with in the Navy! If an action is fought, though they have the principal duty to do in it, they are seldom mentioned in the captain’s letter; whilst the purser, doctor, and boys of midshipmen are greatly applauded, though some of them were no more use in the ship at the time than old women!

The following orders were issued:

All launches and other boats of the fleet to assemble alongside of the
Caesar
and act under the orders of Rear-Admiral Stopford; ships and other vessels to be stationed as follows:

The
Pallas, Aigle
and
Unicorn
to lie near the Boyard shoal and receive the boats as they return from the fire-ships.

The
Whiting
schooner,
King George
and
Nimrod
cutters, at the Boyard to throw Congreve’s rockets; the
Indefatigable
and
Foxhound
to lie near Aix to
protect the
Etna
while she threw her shells into that place; the
Emerald, Dotterel Beagle, Insolent, Conflict
and
Growler
to make a diversion on the east side of Aix; the
Lyra
to lie with lights near the Boyard side, and the
Redpole
with lights on the Aix side, a mile and a quarter from the enemy, as a direction for the explosion and fire-ships to pass between.

Lord Cochrane in the
Imperieuse
was to act as circumstances would permit, he having superintendence of the explosion and fire vessels.

The French ships of the line lay in two tiers across the passage, rather outside of Aix, as they had not room enough to lie in our
[one]
line; the frigates lay to the eastward and a great number of gunboats to the westward across the passage, and without (where the line-of-battle ships lay), they had moored a large boom, well secured with chains and anchors, to stop any vessel from entering in. Admiral Willaumez, who commanded the squadron, that we chased in the West Indies in 1806 (which was separated from us in the hurricane), and who commanded the Brest fleet that we had followed in here, has been superseded by a mighty man, if many names can make him so: he is called “Lacharie Jacques Theodore Allemand.” This would have disgusted old Mr. Clark, master of the
Tromp
when I was in her: when mustering any of the people who came to join the ship, if they had two Christian names he would say, “Au, mon, I suppose you have come from some ‘great family,’” then turning aside and giving a grin, would say again, “I dinna ken how these people come by twa names—it was as much as my poor father and mother could do to get me christened David.”

On April 11, at half-past eight in the evening, it being very dark, and a strong tide setting with blowing weather right towards the enemy’s ships, the explosion vessels set off, followed by the
Mediator
and other fire-ships. The former soon blew up with a dreadful explosion. The
Mediator
carried away the boom laid across by the enemy, and the other fire-ships followed her in, and the elements were soon in a blaze by their burning. Shells and rockets were flying about in all directions, which made a grand and most awful appearance. All hands were up that were able on board all our fleet, to behold this spectacle, and the blazing light all around gave us a good view of the enemy, and we really thought we saw some of their ships on fire. But it seems they had been prepared for this business, for as the fire-ships closed on them, they slipped or cut their cables and ran their ships on shore; and the fire-ships, after being abandoned by our people, drove with the wind and tide up mid-channel, and passed them; but we were informed by some of the prisoners taken that the
Ocean
lost near two hundred men in extricating a fire-vessel from her, and that she cut and anchored three different times.

At daybreak the following morning we saw all the enemy’s ships, except two, on shore on the Palais shoal. The
Ocean
was lying with her
stern on the top of the bank and her bows in the water; but next high water she, with two others, by throwing their guns and heavy stores overboard, got afloat again and ran towards Rochefort, until they stuck on the bar, and there remained until they could get more lightened.

At 2 p.m. the
Imperieuse
and some others of a light draught of water which were inside of our fleet, ran into Aix Roads and opened their fire on the
Calcutta,
and soon made her strike her colours. They then set her on fire, as she was fast aground, but it was thought she might have been got off by lightening her. The two line-of-battle ships that had not been on shore now cut their cables and ran towards Rochefort, until the bar brought them up.

The
Revenge, Valiant,
and
Etna
bomb were soon after ordered in, and began firing on the other enemy’s ships that lay aground, and at five in the evening the
Varsovie, Aquilon,
and
Tonnere
surrendered, and three more fire-vessels were ordered to be got ready with all dispatch. We got the
Sisters
transport alongside for one of them, and soon fitted her up in a temporary manner for the purpose, and this same afternoon, between five and six o’clock, we got the
Caesar
under way, and with the
Theseus
and three fire-vessels ran into Aix Roads.

N.B.
—In passing the Aix batteries, where our French pilots had said there were as many guns as days in the year, we could not find above thirteen guns that could be directed against us in passing; and these we thought so little of that we did not return their fire, although they fired pretty smartly at us too with shot and shells, which made the water splash against the ship’s side; yet (thank God) they never hit, though the passage here is only about a mile wide. Captain Beresford of the
Theseus
had his cow put into the ship’s head to be out of the way of the guns; a shot from the enemy killed it, which was the only loss received.

About seven o’clock, just as we were getting nearly out of the range of their guns, our ship took the ground and stuck fast nearly close to the Boyard. The shot and shells were flying about us at the time from Aix and Oleron, but it soon came dark, and they left off, and we had the prudence to still keep all the sails set to make them believe we were running on. However, after dark we took them all in, and as the tide fell the ship heeled much, so we started thirty tons of water overboard to help to lighten her, and ran the after guns forward to bring her more on an even keel. During this business a light was seen by the enemy through one of our port-holes, and we soon had a shot whistling across our quarterdeck. The light was quickly extinguished, and they fired no more. But this shows what a predicament we should have been in had it been daylight.

At eleven at night, with the rise of the tide, she floated again, and we got her into deeper water, where we anchored her more clear from their shot and more clear from the
Calcutta,
which had been all in a blaze only a short distance from us; the latter when she blew up made a most dreadful explosion, having a great quantity of gunpowder on board and other stores which were intended for Martinique, had we not prevented her. It was said she was worth half a million sterling.

Fortunately none of her fiery timbers fell on board our ship: everything went upwards, with such a field of red fire as illuminated the whole elements. One of our French pilots was so frightened that he dropped down on the deck, and said afterwards that if anybody had told him that the English had done such things, and he had not seen them, he would say it was “one tam lie.”

In the course of this eventful night Captain
[John]
Bligh of the
Valiant
was sent in with the boats manned and armed to reconnoitre the enemy more closely, and on his return informed us that they had got three lines of boats manned and armed to keep off any more fire-ships, and, it beginning to blow strong at the time, the attempt was given up. So we set fire to the
Varsovie,
a new 90-gun ship (for she carried that number), and to the
Aquilon
(74 guns), as they were waterlogged. They burnt to the water’s edge, and then blew up. As for the
Tonnere
(74 guns), the enemy set fire to her themselves, and then escaped in their boats.

In the place where we now had anchored we found our ships to ground at low water. And early in the morning, the wind having become favourable, we got under way with the other line-of-battle ships, and left this place, which may be compared to Portsmouth Harbour, and soon after anchored among our other ships in Basque Roads, which may be compared to Spithead. The enemy fired at us from Aix in passing their line, but, thanks to Providence, not a man was hurt.

The frigates and small craft we left inside, but the enemy had got their ships lightened so much, and into shoal water, that the shot from our frigates could not reach them.

Our loss on this occasion was as follows:

When our fire-ship had got near the enemy an explosion vessel (which they did not see) blew up, and a piece of one of the shells, which had burst, struck the boat alongside of the fire-ship which Mr. Winthorpe and his four men had to escape in, and stove in her quarter (they were light four-oared gigs, and selected for the purpose), and wounded the boat-keeper in the hand. When they left the fire-ship, it being rough weather, she soon filled with water, and they clung to the boat for safety.

As the ebb tide was setting out strong they drifted out to one of our brigs, who sent her boat to save them; but two of them were gone and lost through exhaustion. Mr. Winthorpe was found in the boat quite dead, and Yankee Jack and the other were taken out of the gig nearly so, and when carried alongside the brig, Jack requested to be left in the boat until he recovered and got a little stronger, so the boat was dropped astern, and he in her.

He had not been there long before the rope broke, and being very dark, the boat soon drove out of sight, and the first landfall poor Jack made was on the French shore, where he was soon made a prisoner. We all pitied poor Jack Ellis, a good-tempered fellow, and never expected to see him again. But after the war was over, and Jack released, I met him on the Common Hard at Portsea, and was glad to see poor Jack again: he then belonged to a merchant vessel.

He told me that when he was made a prisoner he was examined strictly to know whether or not he belonged to one of the fire-ships, as by the laws of war they can put any one to death taken in them. But Jack said he belonged to one of the victuallers. They asked him then how he came to have his hand wounded, and he said it was by the boat’s gunwale and ship’s side as they rolled together, and by sticking to the same story (after being examined thirteen times at Rochefort and other places) he got clear, but remained a prisoner five years. When peace took place in 1814, Jack got released, returned to England, and received the whole of his pay and prize money up to that time.

Lieutenant Jones, who commanded the fire-ship, had likewise a narrow escape. One of the cabin windows had been opened for him to get into the boat, after the fuse was lighted; but the swell was so high, and the sea so rough, they durst not venture near the stern of the vessel for fear of staving the boat against the counter, and—not having a moment to spare—he jumped overboard. The boat took him up, and they all five arrived safe on board.

Lieutenant Davis, with the jolly-boat and four hands, who went in with the explosion vessel, likewise all safely returned on board.

A singular circumstance happened while we lay inside, as follows. The captain of the
Varsovie,
a prisoner, finding we were going to set his ship on fire, got permission to go on board her to get some charts, which he said he set a high value on. He went with Lord Cochrane, and sat alongside of him in the gig, and, strange to say, but actually true, a shot came from the enemy at Aix and killed the French captain on the spot, without either hurting his Lordship or any one in the gig.

Other occurrences happened, but we hardly had time to think of them, being so dangerously situated; for who could ever suppose to see four sail of the line go into Portsmouth Harbour, passing the batteries, and running up as far as the Hardway and there anchoring, and destroying part of the enemy’s fleet, and then running the gauntlet out again amidst shot and shells flying about! Such was the case going into Aix Harbour. Had a gale come on from the north-west and blocked us in we should have been in a poor situation, but kind Providence favoured us in everything.

The killed and wounded in the British fleet are: Two officers and eight men killed; nine officers and twenty-six wounded, and one missing (which was Yankee Jack): total forty-six.

On the evening of April 14th the enemy succeeded in lightening the three-decker so much that with a press of sail and a high tide they got her over the bar, and she went up to Rochefort; the commodore tried hard to get the
Cassard
over, but failed; the
Etna
bomb kept throwing shells, but without any effect, as the swell made her roll so much.