Part 9

The _Glorieux_ was the first of the French to yield, in spite of an extremely gallant effort to save her. About one o'clock, as the breeze began to freshen, the French frigate _Richmond_ was ordered to close the _Glorieux_ and pass a towing cable on board. The effort was made under fire, for Rodney's nearest ships were already within range of the _Glorieux_. Midshipman Denis Decres, _aspirant de marine_ of the _Richmond_, had charge of the boat, round which the English cannon-balls splashed on all sides. He did his work, despite its difficulties, and won widespread fame and promotion for his gallantry. He lived to become an admiral, Napoleon's favourite Minister of Marine and a Peer of France, Duc Decres. On his grand monument in Pere la Chaise is a sculptured panel in relief, to commemorate this particular incident in Admiral Decres' career. It is elaborately carved, and represents a naval battle in grey marble, smoke-clouds, cannon firing, and so forth, with, in the centre, a small boat with a rope, a boy standing up at the stern, and near by a big dismasted man-of-war. Over the panel is the legend--'Remorque portee au _Glorieux_: 1782.' The attempt, however, was palpably a hopeless one. The stricken seventy-four was water-logged and could hardly stir. The officers of the _Glorieux_ recognised the state of things at once. They hailed across to the frigate to cast off the tow and shift for herself. De Mortemart, the captain of the _Richmond_, however, was not inclined to abandon a consort in distress. Although some of the British ships were already threatening to cut him off, as well as the _Glorieux_, he flatly refused to leave her. After that, as the only thing to be done, the hopeless ship's company of the _Glorieux_ cut the rope. So the two ships parted. The _Richmond_ had to move away, and in the end she only saved herself with difficulty. Another French ship that tried at the last moment to create a forlorn-hope diversion in favour of the _Glorieux_, was De Glandeve's _Souverain_, but she in turn had to give up the attempt, and, hunted like a hare among hounds, was hard put to it in the end to get clear. Now, without further respite, the British dogs of war ran in and closed on the doomed _Glorieux_. Trogoff de Kerlessi, her first lieutenant, and the senior surviving officer on board, could do no more. As the first British ship came up, he with his own hand stripped away the tattered shreds of the _Glorieux_' ensign, that still remained nailed to the stump of the mizen mast, and called across to the British to take possession. There was no other course left. The decks of the _Glorieux_ were shambles from end to end--'a scene of complete horror,' in the words of Dr. Blane. 'The numbers killed were so great, that the surviving, either from want of leisure or through dismay, had not thrown the bodies of the killed overboard, so that the decks were covered with blood and mangled limbs of the dead, as well as wounded and dying.' Baron d'Escars, the captain, had fallen some time previously, about nine o'clock,--one of the victims of the _Formidable's_ awful first broadside. 'On boarding her,' adds Blane, 'our officers ... were shown the stains of blood on the gunnel where his body was thrown overboard.'

The _Royal Oak_, one of Hood's squadron, was ordered to take the _Glorieux_ in tow. Captain Burnett had almost exhausted his ammunition, and he utilised the opportunity to ransack the prize's magazines and transfer on board his own ship all the powder barrels the _Glorieux_ had left, to fight any further Frenchmen he might encounter with their own powder. Several others of Rodney's ships, indeed, were equally short of powder after their morning's work, and another of Hood's squadron, the _Monarch_, was at that very moment alongside the _Andromache_, lifting forty barrels out of the frigate to enable herself to continue in action.

The _Cesar_ was the second French ship to meet her fate. She was the next to drop astern, and the _Centaur_ and the _Bedford_ went at her together as they came up. Though little better than a wreck, the _Cesar_ made a heroic defence for nearly half-an-hour. Hailed by the _Centaur_ to surrender, the Comte de Marigny, the _Cesar's_ captain, replied by nailing his colours to the mast with his own hand and opening fire. De Marigny fell dangerously wounded within the first five minutes, but Captain Paul, his commander, took charge and made a desperate defence. He held out until, one after the other, his masts had gone overboard, the mizen carrying the ensign staff with it. After that, no rescue being possible, with six feet of water in the hold, and with only thirty-six rounds for her guns left in the magazine, the _Cesar_ surrendered to the _Centaur_.

Elsewhere at this time, towards four o'clock, there was a good deal of 'partial and desultory' firing, to use Dr. Blane's term, going on here and there, principally in the direction of De Grasse's squadron. The French admiral's attempt to rally and re-form line had failed. Bougainville's ships kept away in a body, apparently too much occupied in repairing their own damages to pay attention to their commander-in-chief. Many of De Vaudreuil's seemed equally shy, although De Vaudreuil himself, with two or three of his command, gallantly beat to windward and joined the _Ville de Paris_, making up a forlorn-hope band round De Grasse that comprised the rearmost formed group of the French fleet. They moved away at the best speed they were capable of, but owing to the state of the _Ville de Paris's_ masts and spars, the rate of sailing was dangerously slow.

De Grasse's group, numbering, with De Vaudreuil's accession and others, nine ships in all, formed, as it were, a lodestone to the British captains. It drew towards it all who could possibly make for the spot. The great French flagship in the centre, with the commander-in-chief's flag at the mast-head, was for all eyes the supreme attraction. Each followed as well as the wind, which was variable and at times very light, and the state of his own masts and spars, would let him.

The French _Hector_ was their first victim, between five and six o'clock in the evening,--the third Frenchman to surrender. She had been badly hammered by Hood's squadron when it broke the line, losing so many men that to supply the main and upper deck batteries the quarter-deck and forecastle guns had to be abandoned, but had been able to keep up with the _Ville de Paris_ for most of the afternoon. For the last two and a half hours, according to a letter from one of the _Hector's_ officers, they had been firing their stern chasers to try and keep the advancing British back, but in vain. Then, towards the end of the time, two British seventy-fours drew out and ranged alongside the _Hector_. They were the _Canada_ and the _Alcide_. The two pushed up abreast and came to close quarters. Their attack was met by the _Hector_ in a spirit worthy of her heroic name. She struck out right and left like a wounded tigress at bay. She looked, in the words of an eye-witness, 'like a blazing furnace vomiting fire and iron.' The display was brilliant, but it could not last. De la Vicomte, the gallant captain of the _Hector_, was struck down, mortally wounded, and with his fall the spirit of the defence flickered out. 'Some men on the main deck having run from their quarters,' says the letter just referred to, 'the captain was putting his foot on the ladder to go below to kill with his own hand the dastards, when a cannon-ball smashed his thigh.' He was carried to the cockpit, and a few minutes later De Beaumanoir, the first lieutenant, 'seeing the ship being knocked to pieces and powder running short,' after a hasty consultation with the other surviving officers, hauled the ensign down and hailed the _Alcide_ that they had surrendered.

A fourth ship, the _Ardent_, was taken about the same time. She was one of Bougainville's squadron, and the only ship of all the French van that, on seeing how things were likely to fare with the commander-in-chief, had turned back to lend him a hand. In so doing she met her fate. The _Ardent_ was intercepted and cut off by the British _Belliqueux_ and the _Prince William_, who brought her to close action, and after a sharp set-to of a quarter of an hour, made her lower her colours. Some English prisoners, taken a few weeks before out of a merchantman prize, happened to be on board, and their red ensign was hoisted in token of surrender. The taking of the _Ardent_ was peculiarly gratifying to the British fleet. In point of fact it was a recapture. The _Ardent_ was a British-built man-of-war which had fallen into the hands of the enemy in very discreditable circumstances earlier in the war. It was this same ship that the Franco-Spanish combined fleet had snapped up, practically without her firing a shot, off Plymouth Sound three years before, when they were parading the English Channel in triumph at the time they compelled the Channel Fleet to retreat before them to Spithead. It was a satisfactory stroke of retaliation, although if it had taken place six weeks earlier it would have been still more satisfactory. Then the Vicomte de Marigny--Charles Rene Louis, of an old Norman family, elder brother to Comte Bernard, the captain of the _Cesar_--the officer who had been the original captor of the _Ardent_, would have been on board. In honour of his capture of a British man-of-war, 'si vaillamment,' Charles de Marigny had been posted to the prize by the King of France's special command, his commission being accompanied by a picture in oils representing his feat, painted at the instance of His Most Christian Majesty, and sent by the King's order to be hung in the cabin of the _Ardent_, with the legend over it: 'Donne par le Roi au brave Vicomte de Marigny.'[41] The Vicomte, unfortunately for the dramatic completeness of the situation, had been sent home with De Grasse's despatch after the capture of St. Kitts, and he had taken the oil-painting with him. Still, though, even without De Marigny, it was a good thing to have the _Ardent_ back under her old flag once more.

We now come to the closing fight of the day, to the story of the fate of the noblest victim of all. It was next the turn of the _Ville de Paris_ herself. Between half-past five and six o'clock the course of the pursuit had brought the headmost of Rodney's ships well up with the rearmost group of the enemy, close astern of De Grasse himself and the little group of ships that kept company with the _Ville de Paris_. There were ships both of Rodney's own squadron and of Hood's squadron among the British at that point, although most of them were Hood's, hustled forward in chase by their chief's incessant signals during the afternoon. The _Barfleur_ herself, with every inch of canvas set and stu'ns'ls out aloft and alow, was following among the foremost and eagerly pressing on. The _Formidable_ and great part of Rodney's squadron were in rear, a little way off. As they neared the enemy the headmost ships came streaming on and firing briskly, steering to overlap the French on either side.

The French, for their part, were in a straggling line, with irregular gaps between the ships. They comprised the _Ville de Paris_, originally in the centre but now fallen back to be almost last ship; the _Triomphante_, De Vaudreuil's flagship; De la Charette's _Bourgogne_, Macarty Macteigne's _Magnifique_, De Rions' _Pluton_, and the _Marseillais_, commanded by De Castellane-Majastre. All these belonged to De Vaudreuil's squadron, and had rallied with their chief to try and help the admiral. Three of De Grasse's own ships were with them--all that had stood by the chief,--the _Languedoc_ and the _Couronne_ (the _Ville de Paris's_ two 'seconds' in the original line of battle) and the younger De Vaudreuil's _Sceptre_. Like his brother, that officer was at the post of greatest danger, in accordance with the traditions of his House. The last three had dropped back to join De Grasse about four o'clock. None of Bougainville's ships were near De Grasse; the only one that had tried to reach him had been the _Ardent_, now, as the result, in Rodney's hands. Round this devoted band of nine ships the British attack concentrated, and for a second time the battle blazed up fiercely. The encounter was, however, too one-sided to endure. Stout-heartedly as they defended themselves, and most of them were fighting both broadsides at once, the French last-hope band were thrown into disorder and broken up.

The British _Canada_, Cornwallis's hard-hitting seventy-four, fresh from her victorious bout with the French _Hector_, came on in the forefront of the pursuing British and fastened at once on the _Ville de Paris_. The French flagship by now had fallen quite to the rear. The _Couronne_ had failed her admiral at the last moment. De Grasse, as he himself reported to Versailles, had personally hailed her just before, and ordered her to keep station close in the flagship's wake. They had answered back, 'Oui, General!' but as the _Canada_ came up the _Couronne_ shifted out of the way and edged off past the flagship, letting Cornwallis in.[42] Cornwallis knew what he had to do, and pointed his guns high. Stationing the _Canada_ on the quarter of the _Ville de Paris_, out of direct reach of De Grasse's broadside, he hung on there fixedly, pounding his hardest meanwhile into the French flagship with every gun the _Canada_ could bring to bear, cutting away spars and rigging and holding the great vessel back until other British ships were at hand to take up the task. The _Canada_ then moved off after the other French ships farther on, passing over the work of holding the _Ville de Paris_ to Saumarez of the _Russell_, the only captain of Admiral Drake's squadron who was 'in at the death'--thanks to his own intelligent anticipation of probable events earlier in the day. The _Russell_ during the afternoon had had a series of long-range encounters with four of the French fleet elsewhere, but she was fresh enough for the business before her. Saumarez pushed in boldly, hauled up under the stern of the _Ville de Paris_, and gave her a raking broadside that swept the giant three-decker from end to end. After that the _Russell_ placed herself on the lee quarter of the _Ville de Paris_, to prevent her from edging off after the other French ships of her group, which were now giving way everywhere as the attack on them was being driven home. There she remained until Hood himself with the _Barfleur_ came on the scene.

De Grasse by this had been practically abandoned to his fate. Even De Vaudreuil's devotion could help him no further now. The _Languedoc_ made one despairing attempt to come to her flagship's rescue, but could not get through. Beaten back by the _Duke_ and another ship, she turned away and fled, hoisting all sail. On board the _Ville de Paris_ every spar had been shot down, stripped from the masts, which had themselves been riddled and were tottering. The rudder had been smashed away, and the ship could not be steered; many guns were disabled; one gun had burst, killing sixteen men and injuring thirty. There was hardly a yard of space along her sides that had not a shot-hole through it. From three to four hundred of her crew--the exact numbers were never returned--were dead or in the cockpit. Those who were still at quarters were dead-beat and nearly dropping from exhaustion, having been without food since daybreak. All the cartridges in the magazines were exhausted, and they had to supply the guns by ladling loose powder into them from open barrels brought up on deck. The 'fighting lanterns' between decks were mostly extinguished, the candles burned out; all was dark below, and they waded ankle-deep and stumbled amid the horrible _debris_ of what that morning had been living human beings. Even then De Grasse would not give in; not at least to any British captain. He stoutly resisted until, a little after six o'clock, he caught sight of Hood's flag at the _Barfleur's_ mast-head, showing above the smoke a little way off. He would wait until Hood came up and then surrender. It was a point of honour: his flagship should lower her colours only to a flagship.

As the _Barfleur_ got nearer, De Grasse fired a challenging gun. It was to attract the approaching flagship's attention. Hood marked the gun and understood it. He at once headed the _Barfleur_ directly for the _Ville de Paris_. 'I concluded,' said Hood, 'the Count de Grasse had a mind to be my prisoner, as an old acquaintance, and therefore met his wishes by looking towards him.' As the _Barfleur_ began to close with the French flagship, De Grasse made a show of opening fire on her, 'which I,' continued Hood, 'totally disregarded till I had proved, by firing a single gun from the quarter-deck, that I was within point blank.'[43] That was the _Barfleur's_ distance. Ranging up to the _Ville de Paris_ Hood greeted the French admiral with one tremendous salvo of round-shot and grape at close quarters that crashed through the sides of De Grasse's doomed flagship as though they were cardboard. That one broadside struck down sixty men. All was over for the French admiral now. In less than ten minutes the end had come. De Grasse stepped to the taffrail, and with his own hand pulled the _Ville de Paris's_ ensign down. The battle of the 'Glorious Twelfth of April' had been fought and won. As the _Ville de Paris's_ ensign dropped the sun's rim touched the sea-line.

There were but three unwounded men on the _Ville de Paris's_ quarter-deck when the admiral hauled down the flag. De Grasse himself was one. More than a third of the flagship's immense company, officers and men, had gone down, while he himself, at the most exposed point of all from the first shot to the last and seeming to court death throughout, had come through the day unscathed, except for a contusion across the loins from a splinter which did not break the skin.

The grand finale was witnessed from the _Formidable_, now close at hand and drawing up, but just too late to share in the honour of the event. Dr. Blane saw the French flag drop. 'The _Formidable_ was right astern, and having come within shot, was yawing in order to give the enemy a raking broadside, when, Sir Charles Douglas and I standing together on the quarter-deck, the position of our ship opened a view of the enemy's stern between the foresail and the jib boom, between which we saw the French flag hauled down!'[44]

Some one else saw it too--De Vaudreuil. He was about a quarter of a mile off at the moment, and still fighting. It made him senior officer, commander-in-chief. There was now no De Grasse to keep pace with for the honour of the flag. He could consider his own safety. De Vaudreuil at once clapped on every sail that his masts could bear and made off, hoisting as he did so the signal to rally to the north-west. The _Bourgogne_ was the nearest ship to him. Across to her De Vaudreuil shouted orders to make all sail and follow, and as he passed the other ships ahead of him he hailed each to the same effect in turn.

Captain Knight of the _Barfleur_--son of Dr. Johnson's old friend, Admiral Sir Joseph Knight, with whom the Doctor once stayed for a week on board the _Ramillies_ at Chatham, and afterwards expressed the opinion that 'No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into gaol'--received De Grasse's surrender. A party of seamen and marines from the _Barfleur_ under the first-lieutenant at the same time took possession of the prize. They put off within five minutes of the surrender, and arrived not a moment too soon. With the hauling down of the flag all discipline on board vanished. 'The moment the _Ville de Paris_ struck,' wrote Captain Douglas, 'her worthless, disorderly crew broke open the chests and trunks of all their officers, and with lighted candles in their hands, stove in the doors of the store-rooms in quest of wine and other liquors, to the great danger of all on board from fire.'[45]

Lord Cranstoun in a boat from the _Formidable_ reached the _Ville de Paris_ a few minutes after Captain Knight. He described De Grasse as 'a tall, robust, and martial figure, presenting in that moment an object of respect, no less than of concern and sympathy.' He looked pale and apparently dazed at the tremendous catastrophe that had befallen him. According to Lord Cranstoun the French admiral 'could not recover from the astonishment into which he was plunged, the expressions of which he often iterated, at seeing in the course of so short a time, his vessel taken, his fleet defeated, and himself a prisoner.' Lord Cranstoun brought De Grasse a courteous message from Rodney, to the effect that if he wished he might remain for the night 'at his ease' on board the _Ville de Paris_, 'with every testimony of attention and regard manifested towards him on the part of the British commander.'[46]

The state of things on board was appalling, 'altogether terrible,' said Lord Cranstoun. The quarter-deck was 'covered with dead and wounded.... Between the foremast and main-mast, at every step he took,' Lord Cranstoun told Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, 'he was over his buckles in blood.'[47] Below, where the cattle (to provide the troops on board with meat) had been stalled between the guns, things were even more horrible, for 'they had suffered not less than the crew and troops from the effects of the cannon.' De Grasse himself, incidentally, gives an idea of the state to which the _Ville de Paris_ had been reduced at the end. In his official report to Versailles on the battle he said, 'I was reduced to such a state that the enemy on the morning of the 13th, to strike the ship's pennant, were obliged to cut away the masts for fear, in sending a man to get at the pennant, all would go overboard or come down in a crash on deck.'