The War of Wars (64 page)

The two fleets were now in a slow motion drama impelled by the slightest of breezes, the French and the Spanish extending in a great crescent about four miles long, the British in two columns, which had in fact broken up into bunches with every ship trying to be first into the action heading for the centre and rear like two slow-moving spears.

As picturesque as these elegant sailing craft with their sleek wooden hulls and their billowing sails might appear, they were colossal engines of war, packed with explosives, approaching each other with the purpose of inflicting as much damage and killing as many people as possible. It seemed improbable to the spectators on shore that the beauty and peace of this slow-moving scene, the stately procession of magnificent, gaudy and multicoloured ships with their bosomy sails billowing almost as far as the eye could see, from north to south and
across to the western horizon, would engage soon in horrific and destructive conflict.

The fleets were not evenly matched; the French had some 400 more guns than the British and double the number of men. But Nelson had compensated for this by his tactics, and his guns also fired twice as fast as the French and Spanish ones. The British were also vastly more experienced sailors than their enemies, who had for many months been cooped up in port. Slowly, elegantly, unhurriedly, the spears moved towards their targets in the centre of the great arc of the Franco-Spanish fleet.

It was Collingwood’s glory that he arrived first beneath the sinister black hull of the
Santa Anna
. This was the moment of greatest danger. The huge ship and its neighbours were able to concentrate their fire on the British ship, which could not return it as its guns were not broadside to the enemy. The
Fougueux
behind the
Santa Anna
attempted to block Collingwood’s
Royal Sovereign
, which steered straight for it, as though to ram it. The
Fougueux
took evasive action to avoid collision.

The
Royal Sovereign
broke the line between the stern of the
Santa Anna
and the bow of the
Fougueux
. Collingwood raked both ships broadside as he passed. ‘What would Nelson give to be here!,’ he exclaimed triumphantly. ‘How I envy him,’ said Nelson, observing from the head of his slower-moving line. That first British broadside disabled some fourteen guns and killed some 300 of the
Santa Anna
’s crew. Swinging her helm round, the
Royal Sovereign
came alongside the towering Spanish ship on the lee side; the Spanish captain replied with his own broadsides.

Five ships were soon firing at the
Royal Sovereign
. For fifteen more minutes ‘that noble fellow Collingwood’, as Nelson dubbed him, was entirely alone in the action, and it was extraordinary that his ship was not destroyed. Then he was joined at last by the
Belleisle
, the
Mars
, the
Tonnant
, the
Bellerophon
and the
Ajax
coming up behind him in his column.

Nelson’s column was now at last approaching the Franco-Spanish line. He had intended to attack the enemy flagship, the
Bucentaure
, but there was nothing to identify it, so he made for his old foe, the
Santissima Trinidad
. As the
Victory
approached, the French fired single shots to test whether she was within range. The seventh blew a hole in the
Victory
’s topsail. The British held their breath for two minutes more, and then a pandemonium of fire broke out from the enemy fleet as she approached.

For nearly forty minutes more the
Victory
ploughed on, unable to return fire, under this hail of shot. At 500 yards’ distance the mizzen topmast came down. The ship’s wheel was disabled and its sails were shredded. A single shot killed eight marines in the poop and another struck a launch, showering splinters on Nelson and Hardy, who were standing on the quarter-deck. Another cannonball ripped Scott, Nelson’s secretary who was standing beside them, in two. ‘This is too warm work, Hardy, to last long,’ declared Nelson without emotion. Some fifty officers and men were killed in those first volleys.

As they approached the French line they spotted Villeneuve’s flag flying aboard the
Bucentaure
, but the
Victory
could not veer towards it without exposing her side to fire from the
Redoutable
and the
Neptune
. ‘Take your choice,’ Nelson instructed Hardy. The
Victory
steered past the stern of the French flagship, and at last opened fire with a 50-gun broadside directly into the
Bucentaure
’s bow at point-blank range. Some twenty guns were disabled and 400 men killed.

The
Victory
turned alongside the
Redoutable
, which closed her lower deck gun ports to avoid being boarded, the two ships becoming entangled. Meanwhile the
Neptune
, the
Bucentaure
, the
Redoutable
and the
Santissima Trinidad
were pouring fire into the
Victory
. But she was soon supported by the
Téméraire
, the next in line, then the British
Neptune
, the
Leviathan
, the
Conqueror
, the
Africa
and the
Agamemnon
. The van of the Franco-Spanish fleet meanwhile had sailed ahead, leaving two clusters of ships fighting about half a mile apart from each other, where Nelson’s and Collingwood’s squadrons had penetrated the French line.

The
Victory
raked the
Redoutable
with broadsides, but its Captain Lucas was a formidable fighter. Although his ship was crippled, the sharpshooters he had placed in the tops were still firing lethally down on to the deck of the
Victory
. A French mariner called Guillemand, who was one of Lucas’s best marksmen, took up the story:

The two decks were covered with dead bodies, which they had not time to throw overboard. I perceived Captain Lucas [his own captain] motionless at his post, and several wounded officers still giving orders. On the poop of the English vessel was an officer covered with orders, and with only one arm. From what I had heard of Nelson, I had no doubt that it was he. He was surrounded by several officers, to whom he seemed to be giving orders. I saw him quite exposed and close to me. I could even have taken aim at the men I saw, but I fired at hazard among the groups I saw of sailors and officers. All at once I saw great confusion on board the
Victory;
the men crowded round the officer whom I had taken for Nelson. He had just fallen, and was taken below, covered with a cloak.

If this is accurate, and Guillemand indeed fired the fatal shot, he was not aiming specifically at Nelson but at a group of Englishmen, even though he had recognized the admiral.

This is understandable. The sharpshooter was aiming at a distance of fifty yards in the heat of battle from one swaying ship on to the deck of another. Even an excellent marksman could not have been sure of his target. Nelson has been much faulted for so exposing himself to danger and wearing his decorations in battle. Yet his uniform was dusty and the decorations were stars sewn into it, not his usual glittering metal ones. The Frenchman claimed he recognized him from his single arm as well, something Nelson could not cover up. It is hard to believe that Nelson had a death wish, as some have alleged, or that he actually sought death on the field of battle. He was a man who loved glory and the acclaim of his countrymen: in destroying the enemy fleet as he intended to, he would already have acquired glory and a place in the affection of Britons to the end of his days, which he wanted to share with his beloved Emma and Horatia.

Much more likely, for a man accustomed to leading his men by example, by exposing himself to their risks, by being in the thick of the action, by showing cool detachment in the face of great odds which allowed him to direct the course of the battle, he believed he could cheat death as he had so many times before. He knew the risks, but it was his style of leadership to seek to defy them. His place was at the
head of his men, in undress uniform and decorations, so that he could be recognized by them and show that he did not fear the enemy nor should they.

It was meaningless to talk of his staying out of battle and directing operations from afar. As had been shown in Parker’s case at Copenhagen, no admiral could direct operations where he could neither comprehend the course of the action nor expect to be obeyed by the captains in the thick of it. Once battle was joined it had to be carried through to the end in ship-to-ship engagements until one side or the other broke it off. This was not a land battle that could be directed from a hill with orders to various units to advance, retreat or redeploy.

The very basis of Nelson’s extraordinary career and the esteem in which he was held by his fellow countrymen was that he exposed himself fearlessly to risk. Other naval commanders had done just the same – Howe at the Glorious First of June, Jervis at St Vincent, Duncan at Camperdown. History has not been kind to those who stayed at a safe distance. Young Blackwood was later to lament: ‘I wish to God he had yielded to my entreaties to come on board my ship. We should all have preserved a friend, and the country the greatest admiral that ever was, but he would not listen to it.’ But Nelson had no other choice than to lead his men and expose himself to risk.

The bullet passed through his left shoulder, was deflected into his chest, ruptured an artery and shattered his spine. It could hardly have been more damaging. ‘They have done for me at last, Hardy,’ he said as he fell slowly. ‘My backbone is shot through.’ He covered his face with a handkerchief so as not to be recognized and dishearten his men. A marine and two sailors carried him down to the cockpit. His crew had little chance to observe what had happened. The fighting was as fierce as ever.

With the deadly fire of the marksmen having all but cleared the top deck of the
Victory
, and much of the
Redoutable
itself wrecked and on the point of surrendering, the latter’s sailors tried desperately to board the British flagship without success. The French crew had fought with unbelievable tenacity and ferocity: of its complement of 643 men, 522
were killed or wounded, an extraordinarily high casualty rate, particularly for a smaller ship attacking a larger. Nearby the
Temeraire
had also attacked the
Redoutable
, coming under fire from the
Fougueux
and the French
Neptune
.

However the French flagship proved less formidable. Badly damaged by the fire from the
Victory
and under attack from the
Conqueror
, Villeneuve surrendered, once its last mast fell. A marine officer, three marines and two sailors came aboard and found ‘a very tranquil, English-looking Frenchman, wearing a long-tailed uniform coat and green corduroy pantaloons’. The marine took Villeneuve and his two companions aboard his little launch, and tried to return to the
Conqueror
. He could not find it in the bedlam of fighting around him, so he escorted his eminent prisoner aboard the nearest English ship, the
Mars
.

The
Conqueror
had taken on another giant ship, the
Santissima Trinidad
itself, which was also under fire from several others. The behemoth’s mainmast came crashing down, like a huge skyscraper at sea. A British officer recorded: ‘This tremendous fabric gave a deep roll, with a swell to leeward, then back to windward, and on her return every mast went by the board, leaving her an unmanageable hulk on the water. Her immense topsails had every reef out, her royals were sheeted home but lowered, and the falling of this majestic mass of spars, sails, and rigging plunging into the water at the muzzles of our guns was one of the most magnificent sights I ever beheld.’

The giant Spanish ship threw a Union Jack over its side in surrender, but the
Conqueror
was off in search of new prey. So no one arrived to take possession until the
Africa
despatched a lieutenant who found a solitary Spanish survivor on the main deck. At that moment several ships of the Spanish van, which had at last tacked about, seemed to be coming to the rescue. So the Spaniard replied that the ship was still fighting, and the lieutenant hastily retreated to his boat unmolested. In the end the
Santissima Trinidad
was not rescued but was captured by another British ship, the
Prince
.

In Collingwood’s battle cluster, his flagship was pounding away at the other giant Spanish ship, the
Santa Anna
, and beat it into submission. After an hour and a half, though, the
Royal Sovereign
was almost in
as bad a state, with just its foremast left standing, and had to be taken in tow. Around Collingwood, the battle raged: the
Belleisle
took on three ships one after the other, including the
Fougueux
. The
Belleisle
was soon dismasted. The
Mars
came to her rescue, drawing off one of the attackers, but another French ship joined in. Undaunted, the
Belleisle
continued to pour shot into the nearest Frenchman, which struck its colours.

Then the
Leviathan
and
Polyphemus
arrived, followed by the
Swift-sure
. The
Mars
went on to engage four ships simultaneously, a Frenchman on each side with a Spaniard behind reinforced by a Frenchman. The last’s broadside killed her captain, Duff. Codrington’s
Orion
closed silently into battle, under orders not to fire, until it was alongside a French ship; then bringing down all three of its masts in a devastating broadside, the
Orion
forced it to strike its colours. The
Orion
proceeded to attack
L’Intrepide
, which it also quickly forced to surrender. The
Tonnant
was engaged with the
Algeciras
, which attempted to board it; a single Frenchman succeeded in getting aboard and was captured. The
Tonnant
went on to capture two prizes.