St. Vincent - 30. Chapter 30

February 14, 1797

Granger watched as Captain passed between Excellent and Diadem and set a course directly toward the heart of the Spanish fleet, directly toward the Santissima Trinidad. “Mr. Brookstone. Belvidera to Flag. Captain is engaging the enemy!”

“Aye aye sir!” Brookstone said.

“Let’s maintain our station on Captain, but stay out of range of those battleships,” Granger said to Clifton.

“Flag has acknowledged, sir,” Brookstone said, as Belvidera wore ship and followed the Captain, while still maintaining her visual sights on the flagship.

“Sir, Flag is signaling Excellent and Diadem to support the commodore!” Brookstone shouted.

“Relay that signal, Mr. Brookstone,” Granger ordered. He turned to Sir Gilbert. “The admiral has seen the commodore’s maneuver and is supporting him. It appears that he is willing to be forgiving, Your Excellency.”

“As you said, Sir George, I suspect that will ultimately be a function of how things turn out.”

Nelson wasted no time in driving toward the Spanish. Between his actions, and the engagement of the van of the fleet with the Spanish rear, the whole sea was filled with the sound of gunfire, a dull rumble that seemed to cascade on and on. They watched from Belvidera’s deck as Nelson tackled the massive Santissima Trinidad and then moved on to another three decker, the San Josef.

“Nelson seems to be in hot water,” Elliot observed. The Captain was under fire from four separate Spanish ships of the line.

“He is busy, Your Excellency,” Granger said, grinning. “Notice how the Captain’s fire has not slackened.” From this distance, Captain appeared to be holding her own just fine, but Granger knew that eventually the Spanish must overwhelm Nelson. Those odds were simply too steep. They were therefore relieved to see Excellent bearing up, moving in to support Nelson. When Excellent arrived, she interposed herself between the Captain and San Josef, giving Nelson and Miller some breathing room. Granger watched as Captain drifted out of the action.

“Have they done for the Captain?” Drinkwater asked, worried that the Spanish had knocked her out of the battle.

“No,” Granger said definitively. “If you look carefully, you’ll see the activity on Captain’s decks as they hurry to refill their shot lockers.” Captain had poured some serious iron into the Spanish ships. It wasn’t long before they saw Captain brace her yards and steer back into the melee.

“He’s going after the San Nicolas now, sir!” a lookout called. Granger chose to ignore the man’s irreverent reference to Nelson, and focused instead on the action. He scanned the horizon, but with all the smoke, and with all the ships so close in, it was difficult to get a feel for the entire battle, but there was a direct line of sight window into the section of the battle Captain was heading into.

Granger watched as the Captain’s side belched fire and smoke when she unleashed her broadside into the San Nicholas. The San Nicholas was an 84-gun ship of the line. There were a few captured 84 gun ships serving in the Royal Navy, and Granger had heard their captains extol their virtues. They were large two-deckers, longer than a standard 74 like the Captain, and they were good sailers. They tended to be fast and weatherly, and good sea boats all around. The only problem with them was that their length made them less structurally sound. Granger had learned to be suspicious of French designs, where they sacrificed structural integrity for speed and power, when he’d experienced that first hand while sailing Commerce de Marseilles back to England as a prize. She’d been a beautiful but massive ship that had proven to be so unseaworthy she’d been relegated to harbor duty. Granger wondered to himself if the Spanish ships would have similar problems. All eyes on Belvidera watched as the massive artillery of both ships slugged away at each other, noting the vastly superior rate of fire of Captain. This was what all the drilling was about, this was the purpose of all their preparation, and this is where it paid off. British gun crews appeared to be working as a well oiled machine, firing off shots as fast as they could, with an efficiency that was renowned. The Spaniards were lucky to get off one shot for every three British salvos. The two ships drifted closer and closer to each other until Captain finally collided with the Spaniard, with a clear intent to board her.

“Sir, they’re going to board her!” the lookout cried. Granger found himself holding his breath as he watched the sailors and marines from Captain surge onto the San Nicolas. “There’s another ship affixed to the San Nicolas, Sir George,” Kerry observed.

“Indeed there is, Sir Phillip. It is the San Josef. She has run afoul of her, after being crippled by Captain and Excellent,” Granger said. The battle for the San Nicholas was brief and intense, but the end was no surprise. The crew of the Belvidera had swarmed into the rigging to watch the battle, and Granger saw no reason to drive them back to the decks. This was history, this was epic, and they deserved to watch the show. A huge cheer rose up from Belvidera as they saw San Nicholas’ flag come fluttering down, and Granger found himself grinning with Sir Gilbert, Colonel Drinkwater, and Kerry, all happy in the success of Nelson, whom they considered to be a friend.

“What will happen now, Sir George?” Sir Gilbert asked. Captain and San Nicholas were still locked together, but San Nicholas was also locked together with the San Josef.

“I’m not sure, Your Excellency,” Granger answered honestly. And then Granger saw something that he never expected to see. Shortly after the San Nicolas struck, boarders were dispatched to attack the San Josef, from the San Nicolas’ decks. “It appears that the commodore is planning to take the San Josef as well.”

“How many men would be on those ships?” he asked.

“I suspect that those ships combined have at least 600 more men than the Captain,” Granger said, wondering how Nelson was going to accomplish this. He expected San Josef to break off, to separate from San Nicholas, and hoped that the boarders wouldn’t be stranded on her, left to fend for themselves on the hostile San Josef.

“Sir!” Clifton pointed excitedly. “San Josef has struck!”

Granger stared at the scene in front of him, amazed and impressed beyond words. Nelson had not only boarded and captured San Nicholas, he’d used her as a bridge to continue on and board and capture the San Josef as well. The men in the rigging were cheering themselves hoarse.

“Has that ever happened before, sir?” Clifton asked.

“I am not aware of a first rate ship of the line being boarded from another captured vessel,” Granger said. That was a stunning achievement. Granger was conscious that he had just witnessed the making of a hero. This action would make Nelson the most popular man in all of England. First he had put tradition aside and broken the line, pretty much in direct violation of orders. The mob would love his spunk and irreverence. Then he’d tackled the Spanish flagship, the largest warship in the world, and pummeled her severely before moving on to engage four other Spanish battleships. Battling bravely against such odds and persevering in the face of that much opposition would be seen by the people as reflective of their own virtues. Then, finally, he’d grappled with the San Nicholas, boarded and taken her, then used her as a bridge to board and take the San Josef. He’d tackled the largest warship in the world, and then gone on to capture a huge two-decker and a three-decker, all with his Captain. That’s the stuff that mob idols were made of.

“Sir, signal from Flag! Our number: Assist Captain!” And from that moment forward, Belvidera ceased to be just an observer, and now was a participant in the action.

“Acknowledge, Mr. Brookstone.” Granger turned to Clifton. “Clear for action!” They were sailing into the middle of a fleet action, so there was no question of not getting all the bulkheads torn down now.

“Aye aye sir.” The drummers began to beat the men to quarters, summoning the men down from the rigging, and they could already hear the commotion below as everything was struck down and stored in the hold. That would take some time and skill, so full of people and baggage was Belvidera.

“I fear we are going to disorganize your worlds, gentlemen,” Granger said to his passengers with a smile.

“We will survive the inconvenience, Sir George,” Elliot said with a similar grin.

Some ten minutes later, Clifton reported back to Granger. “Ship’s cleared for action, sir.”

“Excellent. Set a course to close on the Captain. Alert Dr. Jackson that we’ll need him to stand by to help with the wounded.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said. The whistles blew and hands swarmed to the yards, taking the reefs out of the topsails to give Belvidera the speed she needed to enter the action.

The entire ship was in a frenzy of activity, from the men below getting their guns ready to the men aloft setting sail, yet there was still more to think of. “Captain Somers!” Granger called.

“Sir?”

“Be prepared to assist in securing the prizes,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir.” Now Somers was making plans to deploy his marines to relieve the crew of Captain, which must be stretched to the length of their capacity. They had not only to repair their own ship, but to keep control of two Spanish prizes in the midst of a hostile fleet.

“Sir Gilbert,” Granger said, addressing the viceroy. “We’re sailing into harm’s way now. Perhaps you would be safer below.”

“Nonsense, Granger,” he said dismissively. “I’ll not miss this.”

“Yes, Your Excellency. I felt it was my duty to warn you,” Granger said respectfully.

“Well, you’ve done your duty; now spare no further worries on me. Go help Nelson.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, using the sacred naval response to a superior. Elliot grinned at him.

“What of the boats, sir?” Clifton asked. Granger pondered that for a moment. They’d need them shortly, as Captain had probably lost hers, and the Spanish boats would probably be shot to pieces, but to have them aboard in an action was to invite a spray of splinters if they were hit with a ball. Granger came up with a unique solution, thanks to the fact that the boats were on davits.

“Lower them halfway down, so if they’re hit, the splinters will fly harmlessly into the side of the ship,” Granger ordered.

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said. “Sir, that means the rear guns will be obstructed, and won’t be able to fire.”

“That is correct. If we encounter a situation where we must have all our guns in action, we’ll cut the boats loose.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said. “Thank you for explaining it to me.” In another ship, with another captain, Clifton may have earned a harsh rebuke for simply not following orders, but Granger knew better. He needed Clifton to understand his thoughts and methods, since it was entirely possible that Granger would be cut down in any battle. He also knew it was his duty to train Clifton, to bring him up to the same level of expertise that Granger had acquired.

“I do not require blind obedience all of the time, Mr. Clifton,” Granger joked, getting a small smile from his inexperienced first lieutenant.

“Sir!” the lookout called, distracting them. “Spanish two-decker off the larboard bow!” The Spanish fleet was moving beyond them, and the rest of the British fleet was coming up fast, but this one two-decker, a straggler, lay between Belvidera and the Captain. Granger watched with horror as she ran out her guns.

“Down!” Granger shouted. “Everyone down on the deck!” The men obeyed his orders instantly, and they were relayed below as well. If the Spaniard raked Belvidera, as he clearly intended to do, at least by lying on the deck, the men would minimize their chances of getting hit by cannon balls and splinters. Granger and his officers remained erect, as did Belvidera’s passengers, standing confidently as if they were impervious to cannon balls. “Helm, larboard a point.”

“Aye aye sir,” the helmsman said. His response was drowned out by the thunder of the Spaniard’s broadside. She had fired on the up roll, aiming at Belvidera’s rigging as was the Spanish and French custom. Granger heard the shots scream over their head, but the only damage suffered was a single hole in her fore topsail.

“That was bad shooting, I daresay,” Elliot said.

“Indeed, Your Excellency, and I am glad for it,” Granger replied. He was infuriated at this breach of the conventions of war. Frigates were not supposed to be fired upon by ships of the line unless they were taking belligerent action. In other words, ships of the line weren’t supposed to fire on frigates unless they fired first. Belvidera was making such speed that she was astern of the Spaniard before she could reload, and thus had to endure only that one broadside. He could see her name clearly marked: Conquistador. There was a huge gash in her stern that was crudely repaired, marking the spot where Belvidera’s carronade had fired into her last night.

“Shall we fire as we pass, sir?” Clifton asked.

“No. Hand me that speaking trumpet!”

“Here, sir,” Llewellyn said, handing it to him.

Granger waited until they were astern the Spanish ship, and she was downwind from them so he could be heard, then spoke through the speaking trumpet in Spanish, so everyone in earshot could understand. “You fire into a frigate while you run from battleships, señor? You are a dishonorable coward!” He could see the Spanish officers glare at him, and wondered briefly if they’d turn and fire into him again, but a British 74 was closing on the Spanish fast, so they pressed on.

“Sir, signal from flag, protect the prizes.”

“Acknowledge, Mr. Brookstone,” Granger ordered.

Belvidera hove to off Captain’s bow and lowered her boats, sending men and marines to help the beleaguered ship. Granger studied the scene before him, and saw the Spanish making threatening maneuvers as if they were planning to renew the action. But Vice Admiral Thompson in the Britannia, along with the Victory, Namur, and Barfleur, stood to intercept them, and they opted to call it a day.

In the two hours since the action had ceased, much had been accomplished. Nelson had stayed aboard the Spanish prizes until he was relieved by adequate prize crews, while Miller had managed to get Captain under way, courtesy of a tow by the Minerve. Belvidera lay hove to next to the two Spanish prizes, awaiting the return of her captain, who had gone to see the commodore. Granger arrived aboard San Josef with Somers and half of his marines to help keep an eye on the prisoners.

“Granger! You came to see my booty!” Nelson called, as Granger strode onto the prize.

“What you achieved, sir, was miraculous.”

“While I appreciate your acclaim, Granger, I am more interested in what Sir John has to say on that account.”

Granger chuckled. “I suspect he will appreciate the victory, sir.”

“Let us hope,” Nelson said. And then there had been work to do. They’d focused on getting the prisoners organized, and on getting the ships as ready to sail as best they could. All around them the carnage of battle was evident. There were dead bodies that required a Catholic burial, guns were upended, a testament to the Captain’s firepower, and the ship was all but dismasted. Nelson had left an exhausted Roberts in command of the San Nicholas, with an equally tired Gatling there to assist him. Granger had been relieved to see them both alive and in one piece; casualties had been high on the Captain. She’d had over 20 men killed, and another 60 or so wounded. Victories like this did not come cheap.

And now they were heading back to Belvidera, Nelson and Granger, in order to go and meet with their commander aboard Victory. They were welcomed aboard with the customary honors, but those were eclipsed by the greeting Nelson got as he stepped onto the deck. The crew of the Belvidera gathered in the waist and in the rigging and cheered loudly for him. Nelson doffed his hat to thank them, basking in their adoration.

“Commodore, that was magnificent!” Sir Gilbert said.

“Thank you, Sir Gilbert,” Nelson said. “Granger, will you square away for the Victory?”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, and got his ship underway, this time to close with his own flagship.

Victory was still keeping an eye on the departing Spaniards, but was close enough in that it took very little time to reach her. Once again they were in Granger’s gig, heading over to the flagship. Nelson was quiet, and Granger respected that, leaving him to his own thoughts.

They hooked on to Victory, and Granger noted dourly the shot holes in her stout wooden hull, a testament to her own role in the battle. He waited until Nelson was on his way up the side, and then followed, arriving on deck shortly after the commodore. Lieutenant Lennox was there to greet both of them.

“Sir John asked me to escort you to the quarterdeck, sir,” he said respectfully.

“And what kind of reception will we receive, Mr. Lennox?” Granger asked.

Lennox smiled. “A good one, sir.”

Nelson led the way onto the quarterdeck, and approached his admiral with some trepidation. Jervis was a stickler for discipline and adherence to orders, and Nelson had challenged both of those precepts. Calder, Grey, and their officers stood off to the side, as if waiting in anticipation for the admiral to eat Nelson alive. Nelson, his uniform grimy and blackened from the gunpowder of battle, and with bloodstains on his trousers, approached the admiral with confident resignation.

“Welcome, Nelson,” Jervis said warmly, and even deigned to smile broadly at him. “That was well done!”

“Thank you, Sir John,” Nelson replied, and seemed as astonished as the other officers on the quarterdeck. “I was worried that you would be vexed with me for leaving the line. I hope you know I meant no disrespect.”

“I will tell you what I told these gentlemen,” Jervis said, waving his hand at Grey, Calder, and the others. “If you ever commit a breach of orders like that again, I will forgive you again.”

Nelson chuckled, as did Granger, but Calder remained taciturn and severe in his expression. “Thank you, sir,” Nelson said.

“I would have liked to have captured more of them, but I think taking four ships of the line from a fleet twice our size is still a good victory.”

“It is,” Nelson agreed. “A splendid victory.”

“We captured the San Josef and Salvador del Mundo, both of 112 guns, as well as the San Nicholas, of 84 guns, and the San Ysidro, of 74 guns,” Jervis recounted, as if he were writing his report.

“As I said, sir, a splendid victory,” Nelson agreed. “I fear the Captain is in need of significant repairs. With your blessing, I will transfer my flag to the Irresistible.”

“You think Martin will be able to keep up with you?” Jervis asked in a jocular way, referring to the captain of the Irresistible.

“Yes, sir,” Nelson said.

“Very well. I will leave you to it. We will gather up our four prizes and head for the Tagus. Granger, I see you managed to stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir, although we were fired on by a Spanish 74.”

“The Dons fired on a frigate?” Jervis shook his head.

“Yes, sir. As we were passing close astern of her, sir, I took the liberty of asking her captain why he was attacking a frigate while running away from you.”

Jervis laughed. “Keep that up, Granger, and the King of Spain won’t invite you to any more of his parties.”

“No, sir, I suspect he won’t,” Granger agreed.

“You’ll stay with the fleet until we get the prizes and the damaged ships to safety, then you will take Captain Calder to London.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said.

February 16, 1797

For the past two days, the fleet had labored north, towing the prizes and the Captain toward their base in Portugal. It was not until they reached Lagos Bay that Granger was summoned to appear once more aboard Victory. This time, he was received in the admiral’s cabin.

“Welcome, Granger,” Jervis said warmly. “A glass for you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger replied. Jervis poured each of them a glass of port, and then affably directed Granger to be seated.

“I’ve finished drafting my report to the First Lord, but I wanted to discuss it with you.”

“Sir?” Granger asked curiously. It was inconceivable that Jervis would want to talk to him about the report on the battle.

“You are a talented young officer, and you have acquitted yourself well, tackling every challenge that’s been thrown at you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger replied nervously. Jervis didn’t pour praise on someone like this if there wasn’t a big ‘but’ coming.

“I read your report on your action with the Spanish fleet the night before the battle. Navigating through a hostile fleet in and of itself is a major challenge.” Granger said nothing. “While doing that, you fired on a few Spanish ships and created such chaos and confusion that they ended up separating into two parts. That was a significant contributor to our victory.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger replied again.

“I want you to leave that latter part out of your report, and I intend to do the same in mine.”

“Sir?” Granger asked, confused.

Jervis sighed. “This victory was a victory for the fleet, for the ships of the line. That is not to minimize the role of frigates and lesser vessels, but this was the time for our battleships to shine, and they did.”

“And you are worried that if it appears that I helped split the fleet in two that will take away from the glory our ships of the line deserve, sir?” Granger interpreted.

Jervis scowled. “That is my concern.”

“I will be glad to edit my report so that is not mentioned, sir,” Granger said.

Jervis eyed him carefully, as if trying to decipher Granger’s motives. “I will see that the First Lord is aware of it nonetheless, and you can rely on me to make it up to you someday.”

“It’s not a problem. Really, sir,” Granger insisted. “I happen to agree with you, not that that is a prerequisite for me agreeing to your request.”

“Of course not,” Jervis answered, almost playfully.

“I have seen the damage and the scars these ships and men have incurred, sir, and I have no desire to take anything away from their achievement.” Granger said this sincerely, since he truly felt that way. The carnage had been horrific, especially aboard Captain. These men had done their duty, had fought their battle, and had won. The credit was theirs.

Jervis nodded. “Jealousy and politics in a fleet is a bad thing. I do what I can to keep them to a minimum. Thank you for helping me with this instance.”

“I am glad to be of help, sir,” Granger said.

“Another thing…” Jervis began, then paused.

“Sir?”

“I want you to deliver Captain Calder to Portsmouth or Plymouth, whichever port is more convenient, and then take Belvidera around to London.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said, although he was curious as to why.

“Calder has been a good captain of the Fleet,” he said, unbending. “This is his time to enjoy the laurels of success.”

“And if I arrive with him, I may take away from that, sir?” Granger asked. If Granger arrived with Calder, he may be perceived by some, especially the press, to be the messenger, or at least one of them, and that might take something away from Calder’s moment of glory.

“It is possible.”

“I must thank you, Sir John, since having Belvidera in London will make my life ashore much more pleasant,” Granger said, his own way of gracefully acknowledging Jervis’ order.

“There is one more issue,” Jervis said.

“Sir?”

“You are still short a lieutenant, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“If I recall, I saddled you with a pretty reprehensible creature in Corsica.”

“Actually, sir, that reprehensible creature is now my first lieutenant. Even though he is junior for that role, Mr. Clifton has performed his duties admirably.”

“Indeed? Then maybe I should dump all my miscreants on you,” Jervis said with a wry smile.

“I’d rather you didn’t, sir,” Granger responded.

“I’m sending Lieutenant Lennox back to London for consultation on my behalf with the Admiralty,” Jervis said. “You can utilize his services on your voyage home.” Granger wondered briefly why Jervis was sending Lennox home along with Calder. Surely Calder would be able to adequately present any information Jervis had to convey.

Granger pulled himself away from those political ruminations and smiled as he thought about Lennox, and how pleasant he was to have around. “Thank you, sir.” Jervis nodded, dismissing him. He found Lennox waiting for him outside the cabin.

“I understand you are to join me,” Granger said, unable to hide his smile.

“Those are my orders, sir.” Lennox was grinning from ear to ear. “I have the dispatches we are to take with us.”

“Excellent. You will assume the duties of first lieutenant during our voyage to London,” Granger stated.

“Sir?”

“Did you envision this would be merely a pleasure cruise?” Granger asked.

“No, sir.”

“I would ask you to treat Mr. Clifton with some delicacy. He has performed his duties well, and I would have had no problem retaining him in that role.”

“Yes, sir. That’s not a problem, sir.”

They found Calder waiting impatiently for them at the entry port. “Well, let’s be about it then.”

Granger didn’t deign to acknowledge his comment. “After you, Mr. Lennox.” They went over the side in reverse order of seniority, and sat quietly for the brief ride to Belvidera.

Calder went aboard first, but Granger was right behind him. Clifton greeted them cordially. “Mr. Clifton, Mr. Lennox has been assigned to us for the voyage home. As he is senior to you, he’ll assume your duties as first lieutenant.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said, with a hint, but only a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Mr. Clifton, will you show Captain Calder to his cabin?” Granger asked politely.

“I’ll stay up here for the time being,” Calder said. His voice was rough, so everything he said sounded like a growl.

Granger took control of his ship, and put her smartly about. Once steadied on her northerly course, he crammed on the sail, pushing his lovely ship to her limits. They’d spent the last few days with the fleet, towing and nursing wounded ships of the line about, so the freedom from those behemoths, the ability to really let Belvidera have her head, was exhilarating beyond belief, even if he had to do it under the dour eye of Captain Calder.