CHAPTER VIII THE ARMY AT SEA—TO 1815

The history of the army in early days, and, in fact, up to the termination of the long war with France, was intimately associated with naval operations. This naturally arose from our insular situation; and though at first English armies were largely employed in Continental war only, the time came when it was evident that blows of greater weight and greater political consequence could be aimed at an enemy’s colonial empire than even in great Continental battles, which were invariably fought with the assistance of allies. There was little but barren honour to be got by such land campaigns; but the naval operations were not only valuable as lessening an enemy’s prestige, but also gave tangible rewards and results in prize-money for the men and territory for the State. In no other way, in fact, could Great Britain’s supremacy at sea be used with greater effect; and hence it is that in the battle-roll of many an English regiment are names of victories which are practically semi-naval affairs. In fact, the army has in its time been largely employed as marines, doing their twofold duty of in some cases acting as the ship’s guard, and at others that of a force to be landed for active service and re-embarked when their work was done. Hence, regiments, though on the strength of the army, were often lent to the navy for such duty. Thus in 1664 was raised the “Admiral’s Regiment,” for service in the Dutch war, and was really the “Old Buffs,” as this was the colour of their facings. Said to be raised from the London trained bands, which at that time must have formed a very good recruiting129 ground of drilled men, they in all numbered nearly 10,000 men, each ward furnishing a certain fixed proportion. But these early naval soldiers were practically regarded as a mere nursery for the navy, and when they had qualified as “foremast men,” they were drafted as seamen, and fresh levy-money granted for recruits to take their place. On the cessation of the Dutch wars, the regiment was disbanded, to reappear in 1684 again as an “Admiral’s Regiment,” but with the imposing title of “H.R.H. the Duke of York and Albany’s Maritime Regiment of Foot.” This was eventually incorporated with the Coldstream Guards, the Holland Regiment, formed about the same time, which had also sent some of its companies on naval duty, taking its place on the list, and numbering eventually the 3rd Regiment of the line, or “Old Buffs.” The second title was given from the colour of the facings and linings of their coats, and to it was added the term “old” to distinguish them from the “Young Buffs,” the 31st, which wore the same colour. Several other marine regiments were also raised, but they successively disappeared or were incorporated with other regiments. Naval operations themselves were also becoming more extended, and large fleets, rather than a few isolated ships, were beginning to push out, from the narrow offensive-defensive actions in and about the Channel, to wider seas and with greater aims. All this necessitated, if any impression was to be produced on the actual coastal people and defences of an enemy, the employment of soldiers. Not that the effect of local naval victories was less important in the past any more than in the future. The naval battle of La Hogue was, in a way, as effectual in checking invasion as was Trafalgar later. The very extension of the naval war of 1694 to the Mediterranean gave an opening for one of these maritime operations, of which the naval and military annals were for more than a century to be full. The action of the army as an irritant to the general body politic of the hostile state with which we were at war was to be evidenced. Thus, in 1694, the absence of the French fleet in the130 Mediterranean led to an effort to damage the French arsenal at Brest, for which purpose a landing was attempted in Camaret Bay, when twelve regiments of the line and two of marines embarked under Talmash. Churchill was currently believed to be the cause of the disaster which followed; for he is stated to have communicated the intended surprise to King James in France, so that when the expedition reached its destination, it was most vigorously opposed, and the general with 700 men fell.

But in 1702, while six regiments were specially raised for sea service, of which only three, the 30th, 31st, and 32nd, now remain, six other battalions were lent from the regular army for naval duty. These were the 6th, 19th, 20th, 34th, 35th, and 36th; and they returned to land service in 1713, when the other three of the six marine battalions were disbanded.

Again, in 1739 and 1749, ten other marine regiments were formed; but these again were, according to the prevailing custom, done away with when, in 1748, war for a time ceased. But these newer levies were becoming more like true marines. They were to be quartered near the Government dockyards. They were to assist in the fitting out of ships as well as helping to man them. Other independent companies of a similar character were also formed in America and the West Indies, and many of these became absorbed in the ranks of the land forces; but so close was the union between the sea and land regiments then, that exchanges between the officers of both were permitted.

Up to this time, the sea service regiments had done good work. In 1702 eleven regiments of the line, of which the 2nd, 4th, 6th, 7th, and 32nd still remain, with a battalion of Guards and some Dutch regiments, were despatched to the Spanish coast. An attack was first made at Rota, in the bay of Cadiz, which was captured, but abandoned; and then the squadron moved to Vigo Bay, where the Spanish galleons, laden with treasure and convoyed by a French fleet, had taken refuge. The entrance was difficult and guarded with batteries, and with a boom “made up of masts,131 yards, cables, top chains, and casks, about three yards in circumference, but this, though three-quarters of a mile long, and guarded at the ends by seventy-four-gun men-of-war, was broken by the Torbay of eighty guns, the other ships following, while the troops landed, stormed, and silenced the shore batteries at the Rhondella, and this with little loss. The booty amounted to 20,000,000 pieces of eight, and an equally valuable amount of merchandise, of which 14,000,000 pieces were saved, and about ￡50,000,000 worth of stores; while 4,000,000 pieces of plate and ten of merchandise were lost.”28

But the most noteworthy event of these times was the capture and retention in 1704 of Gibraltar, in which the 30th, 31st, and 32nd Regiments, serving as marines at first in Sir Cloudesley Shovel’s fleet, bore a gallant part. This is the early history of one of our proudest possessions, even if it be not as valuable strategically now as it was when the century was young.

Whoever the prim?val inhabitants of “the Rock” may have been, and their skulls and bones found in the stalagmitic limestone of the caves show they were of no high class but merely cave-dwellers, they were followed, somewhere about the eighth century, by the Moors. This curious wave of invasion from the East seems to have simply skirted the northern parts of Africa, until it reached what is now Algeria. It never penetrated far south, and yet it represents one of the few traces of civilisation in the dark continent. Most curious of all is it that African aborigines have done so little for themselves. All the civilising waves have been immigrant, from those who built the dead cities of Mashonaland to the men who have made Buluwayo. Such civilisation as North Africa possesses has been wholly of foreign origin. The negro race has done nothing worth mentioning, and it may well be believed, after the experience of Liberia, never will. So that the Arab invasion sought for other outlets for its expansion than the warmer clime of Mid or Central Africa. Reaching Algiers, Tarik the Conqueror passed across the132 straits to the peninsula of Gibraltar, and built there, somewhere about 725, a castle of which the existing Moorish tower may be a relic. It remained in Mohammedan hands for seven hundred and forty-eight years, and then, captured by the Spaniards, was remodelled, the “Gebel al Tarik” becoming Christian “Gibraltar.” Its present arms, a castle with a key pendent at the gate, granted by Henry IV. of Castile, refer to its condition as a fortress once the key to the Mediterranean, but now, with the improvements in the range and size of modern guns, of less value than heretofore.

In 1704 the place was but feebly garrisoned, and fell mainly owing to the silencing of the batteries by the squadron and their occupation then by seamen landed from the ships. The troops, under the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, meanwhile occupied the isthmus until the fortress surrendered. So important a capture was not likely to be agreed to without a further struggle, and in 1705 the Marquis de Villadarius was despatched to formally besiege it. The garrison, however, had been reinforced by the 13th and 35th Regiments, a battalion of Guards, and some Dutch troops, and though several gallant efforts were made to carry the place by assault they successively failed, and after seven months the siege was abandoned and converted into a partial blockade. It had cost the Spaniards and French some 10,000 men, but the garrison lost only some 400.

For more than twenty years the British flag flew unmolested from the “Rock.” But, in 1727, Spain made a more determined attempt to regain her lost possession. The strength of the fortress had been increased since the previous siege, but the armament was indifferent, many of the guns being so honeycombed as to be liable to burst on the first fire, and at least a hundred of them were so destroyed during the coming siege. But the command of the sea, and the presence of Hopson’s powerful fleet, prevented stores reaching the Spanish army save by land, and reinforcements, composed of the Edinburgh Regiment, the 35th, some Engineer and Artillery officers and men, as well133 as, later on, another line battalion and one of the Guards, were despatched to the aid of the beleaguered fortress. So again, after a tedious four months, during which time about 3000 of the enemy and 300 of the garrison had fallen, a suspension of hostilities was agreed to, and followed by a treaty of peace.

But the last and most sustained attack upon the place was made during the years 1781–83. Great Britain had been somewhat occupied, since 1775 and before, with warlike operations on the American Continent, and needed much of her naval strength to cope with French fleets and American corsairs, let alone to protect in addition her home waters. The entry of Spain into the arena intensified her difficulties; and, as might be expected, the great dream of the new enemy was to seize the opportunity of England’s difficulty and repossess herself of the key to the Straits. There was a strong French fleet cruising off Cape Finisterre in 1779, and a Spanish one in Cadiz Bay, either of which could spare a sufficiently powerful blockading squadron without risk.

So that, by the middle of August 1779, the place was closely invested by a Spanish army at San Roque, and a fleet of four ships, five xebecs, and numerous “row-galleys” in the bay; and preparations were made for the capture of Gibraltar by a formal siege, trenches, parallels, and siege batteries being carefully and laboriously constructed.

The fortress was commanded by that gallant “Cock of the Rock,” George Augustus Elliot. His garrison consisted of the 12th, 39th, 56th, and 58th Regiments, the old 72nd, or Royal Manchester Volunteers, disbanded in 1783, three Hanoverian regiments, and a company of Engineers. The strength of the place had been greatly increased, especially on the side facing the isthmus and Spain. Powerful batteries had been erected there, and galleries with portholes for guns had been hewn out of the solid rock. It was deemed impregnable in those days. It was thought that “No power whatever can take that place, unless a plague, pestilence, or famine, or the want of ordnance, musketry, and ammunition,134 or some unforeseen stroke of Providence should happen.” Throughout 1779 the place was simply blockaded, and there was little firing on either side. But provisions ran short. General Elliot himself tested practically that it was just possible to exist on four ounces of rice a day! The arrival of Sir George Rodney’s fleet early in 1780, after the destruction of a Spanish squadron off Cape St. Vincent, was therefore joyfully welcomed. It reprovisioned the fortress, removed the women, children, and invalids, and strengthened the garrison by a strong battalion of Highlanders, then numbered the 73rd, but now the 71st Highland Light Infantry. But by March 1781 the stores again began to fail, and soldiers were directed to economise flour and go with unpowdered hair; and a cargo of potatoes “run” by a polacca fetched ￡7, 10s. 6d. a hundred-weight.

The Spanish batteries, being complete and fully armed, opened a tremendous fire. Far from discouraging the garrison, they replied to it vigorously, though inferior in number of guns, and, more than that, executed a most brilliant sortie, storming the siege works and trenches, and setting fire to all the combustible material, doing damage, it was said, to the tune of ￡2,000,000, and that with a loss of but four killed and twenty-five wounded.

In second line to the 12th, 39th, 72nd, 73rd, etc., who led the assault, were the 39th and 58th Regiments, commanded by General Picton, the uncle of the Peninsular hero. Finally, the continuous bombardment, broken only by the diversion effected by a British squadron conveying the 25th and 39th Regiments, culminated, on the 13th September 1782, in a desperate attack both by sea and land. Specially constructed floating batteries, the sides of which were formed of timber with wet sand between, took part in the bombardment, when some 400 guns were hurling their projectiles into Gibraltar. But it was of no avail: the vessels were disabled and many burned. From the eighty cannon, with some mortars and howitzers, which formed the artillery of the defence, more than 8000 rounds were sent in reply, and quite one-half of them were red-hot shot.

135 So the attempt failed, and though the fire was steadily continued, the attack was practically exhausted; and the preliminaries of peace, signed in February 1783, were welcomed by all. The famous siege had lasted three years, seven months, and twelve days. The loss suffered by the garrison amounted to 1231 men, and 205,328 shot were fired during that time.

But other regiments embarked for local or special service were also meanwhile earning naval honours for the army. The 6th Regiment showed conspicuous gallantry in the attack on Fort Monjuich at Barcelona. The 6th, 9th, 11th, 17th, 33rd, and 36th Regiments also served at Almanza in 1707, and the 6th also at Saragossa; while nothing can exceed the gallantry of the defence of the Castle of Alicante by a regiment now disbanded, when the officers refused to surrender, and drank the health of good Queen Anne in a bastion over the mine that a few minutes later blew the castle nearly in pieces!

Again, in the melancholy expedition to the Spanish Main in 1740–41, the 6th, 15th, 16th, and 36th Regiments served; and the 6th, especially, suffered so terribly from fever at Jamaica in 1742 that when it returned home it had, from this and other causes, only eighteen men left of the eight hundred who sailed from England. The expedition, including the abortive attacks on Cuba and Carthagena, was throughout conducted in such a way as to be fruitless of result, and is noteworthy as a rare event in such expeditions, for the want of cordial co-operation between the naval and military commanders.

In 1746 the Royal Scots, 15th, 28th, 30th, 39th, and 42nd were embarked under General Sinclair to destroy Port L’Orient, but beyond a feeble bombardment little was done, and the army re-embarked to make a similar abortive attempt at Quiberon Bay. Similarly, the 30th fought in the naval action of Finisterre as marines (in addition of course to those troops that had been definitely enlisted for sea service), and received the thanks of the Admiral for their general behaviour. At that time the proportion of marines136 embarked in vessels of war was one man per gun; a fifty-gun frigate carrying therefore fifty men.

At the outbreak of hostilities in 1739–40, six regiments had been raised for sea service, and two years later four were added (numbering from the 44th to the 53rd inclusive though still bearing the names of their colonels); but all these ten regiments were disbanded in 1740, and with them the principle of lending line battalions to the fleet, except in 1741, practically ceased. For in 1755 fifty companies of true Marines were raised, who were to be placed on the strength of the navy and put under the definite command of the naval authorities. At this time the army had been reduced to forty-nine line battalions, so the newly raised Marine corps took rank after that regiment when serving with the land forces, and the 52nd Foot, raised in 1755, became the 50th two years later. It is curious to note here, again, how frequently the number had changed. The first “Fiftieth” was “Shirley’s American Provincials” formed in 1745, which received its number in 1754 and was disbanded in 1757.

From this time forward, then, the land forces were only on occasional emergencies lent to naval squadrons for sea duty. That was to be carried out by the newly formed Marine companies, which, since their reorganisation in 1755, have continued as a military force paid by the navy, and not as a body lent when the occasion arose to the army. Thus its duties are twofold, as in one respect its superiors are. When borne on the books of a vessel of war, the Royal Marine is under the Naval Discipline Act, and subject to the supreme authority of the Admiral commanding the fleet. On shore he is liable to the provisions of the Army Act, and owes allegiance to the officer commanding the garrison in which he happens to be stationed. Employed, therefore, ashore as well as afloat, the history of the Royal Marines is that of both the army and the navy. Between their employment at Cork in 1690 and the cessation of the long war in 1815, the services of marine soldiers are mentioned in 369 naval actions and 169 coast operations and campaigns. This does not include numerous small137 “affairs” in which lives were lost. Between 1827 and the present date, again, there are more than thirty battles and campaigns in which they have taken part, and this list does not enter into details. So wide a story as theirs is that of the army itself almost, and extends far beyond the limits of these pages. But, briefly summarising the history, it may be said that the first fifty companies of a hundred men each were first formed into three divisions at Chatham, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, and to that, later, was added one at Woolwich, which was disestablished, the dep?t at Walmer taking its place. Its badge, “the Globe,” with the motto, “Per mare, per terram,” were granted in 1760, “for special service during the war”; the title “Royal,” when the facings were changed from white to blue, was granted in 1802, “for its many and varied services”; and in 1827 George IV. added the laurel wreath to the globe, as well as “Gibraltar” and the royal cipher, to mark its gallantry in the defence of the fortress and “as the most appropriate emblem of a corps whose duties carried them to all parts of the globe, in every quarter of which they had earned laurels by their valour and good conduct.” The designation “Light Infantry” was bestowed after 1855.

To the light infantry companies were added, in 1804, artillery companies, which were formed into a distinct body, “the Royal Marine Artillery,” in 1860.

Some of the Marine regimental records are interesting as showing the inner life of the sea, or even land, soldier a hundred years ago. In the tailor’s shop in 1755, for example, the idea of an eight hours’ working day was evidently not a burning question; for the men worked from 4 a.m. to 8 p.m., with one hour only for meals. Again, punishments were severe, as the sentences passed on three deserters in 1766 shows; for while one was shot, the other two were to receive a thousand and five hundred lashes respectively. In 1755 two “private men absent from exercise” were “to be tyed neck and heels on the Hoe half an hour”; while thirteen years later, a sergeant, for taking “coals and two poles” from the dockyard, was sentenced to five hundred lashes,138 and to be “drummed out with a halter round his neck,” after, of course, being reduced to the ranks.

None the less, these were the men who fought the battles of the crown in the eighteenth century; and perhaps of all their exploits, that of the “Diamond Rock,” in 1804, is best worth noting. The rock lies near Cape Diamond, and is described by Davenant as “a rough-looking place, with little that was inviting about it—a great firm rock, the highest point of which might be something over 500 feet above the level of the sea, the circumference of it less than a mile, and in its shape not at all unlike a haystack. On the west side there were bold, rugged cliffs, precipitous, sheer up and down walls, seeming as though they would defy all approach to them; and the roar of the surf beating against the base of them was distinctly audible at the distance of a mile. Yet here was the only place where a landing could be effected. The other three sides of the Diamond Rock were simply inaccessible, presenting a perpendicular face from within a few feet of the summit. On the whole, it looked uncommonly like a noli me tangere sort of place, reminding me of Lundy Island in the British Channel, where, as old Holinshed quaintly says, ‘there is no entrance but for friends single and able.’” Its position was such that vessels passing between it and the shore in those days of sailing ships were often able to escape pursuit; so, to prevent this, the rock was garrisoned by Lieutenant Maurice and a hundred and twenty marines and seamen, who for five months garrisoned the place, and which, during that time, appeared in the estimates as “His Majesty’s sloop of war, Diamond Rock”! So much trouble did the garrison give the French, that a squadron of five ships was despatched to capture it, but all attempts failed, until want of ammunition and provisions led to its exhaustion. Even when compelled to capitulate, however, the small detachment made such terms that the British flag was not to be hauled down until the garrison had reached the ships, the men were to be permitted to wear their side arms, and were to be sent under a flag of truce to Barbadoes.

A more extraordinary instance of coolness and bravery is139 not to be found in any page of our national history; and the Marine service has always been popular, for what was stated in 1775 is equally true now, that “the Marines recruited better in every part of the island [of Great Britain] than the line.” But, putting aside the operations undertaken solely by the marine, the soldier acting temporarily as such, or the bluejacket, there were many others in which the army shared, though they do not form part of a connected series of battles such as characterise more serious campaigns. They partake rather of the nature of naval raids for the specific annoyance of the enemy, or attempts at the actual capture of his outlying possessions. They are individually interesting in many ways, but it would be impossible to do more than tabulate them more or less in order of occurrence, emphasising only the share the army took in them. Practically ships of war either conveyed the soldiers as transports for the required duty, or themselves formed the escort and guard of the convoy of transports which accompanied the battleships, and for the time being formed part of the armada.

Thus, when the Seven Years’ War broke out, the attention of the French was directed towards Minorca, which, captured in 1708 by Stanhope, was regarded as only second in importance to Gibraltar for a naval power having interests in the Mediterranean. Its capture was the first appearance of England as a naval power possessing a naval base in that closed sea. It was garrisoned by the 4th, 23rd, 24th, and 34th Regiments; and, unrelieved by Admiral Byng’s fleet, on whose co-operation alone was it possible for the defender to hold out, its commandant, Blakeney, was compelled to surrender in 1755, though the troops behaved with such gallantry after the terrible bombardment, with numerical odds against them of some 20,000 to 3000, that they were allowed to march out with drums beating and colours flying, with all the honours of war. The siege had lasted from May to July. It is a noteworthy instance of the absolute importance of a most full and cordial co-operation between the naval and military commanders in cases such as these, when the army, cut from its home base, is dependent on the navy for its line140 of communications. In the future, without full command of the sea, isolated posts and coaling stations will be always at the mercy of bold and skilful raids, unless powerfully armed and sufficiently garrisoned.

Minorca was restored to the British flag in 1763, and eighteen years later had to undergo a second siege by the French under Crillon, when, at the end, the governor, out of 660, had 560 on the sick list against 14,000 besiegers, and for the second time the fortress capitulated. It was taken for the third and last time by General Stuart (with the 8th and 42nd) in 1798, of whom it was said that no man could “manage Frenchmen like him, and the British will go to h—ll for him.” Little resistance was made, and the number of the prisoners exceeded that of the invaders. It was ceded finally to Spain in 1802.

In 1758 a force was despatched to destroy the shipping at St. Malo, and to capture Cherbourg, both of which affairs were successfully conducted, the docks being blown up, and the brass cannon captured taken in triumph through the streets of London; but success in these somewhat pitiful operations was to receive a rude check, for a third landing in the bay of St. Cas was conducted with such contempt for all military precautions, that the force, on re-embarking, was heavily beaten by the French, and while many boats were sunk by the fire of artillery, some forty-six officers and eight hundred men were left prisoners in the hands of the enemy.

In 1759 the first serious attempts at extending our power over the West Indies began; as did the first serious effort for the conquest of Canada, the main action in which was the gallant capture of Quebec. An expedition, in which the 3rd, 4th, 61st, 63rd, 64th, 65th, some marines, and a second battalion of the 42nd, raised readily and rapidly to avenge the loss of the first battalion at Ticonderoga the previous year, took part, was therefore despatched under General Hopson, and though they failed at Martinique, they succeeded, after much toil and privation for three months, during which the climate was a more deadly foe than the French, at141 Guadaloupe. Similarly, two years later, while one force was sent to harass the French coast and destroy the harbours of refuge for French privateers, and suchlike, on the island of Belleisle in the Bay of Biscay, a success in which the 3rd, 9th, 19th, 21st, 25th, 37th, 61st, etc., Regiments shared, and where Private Samuel Johnson, though severely wounded, distinguished himself by killing six men in the defence of his wounded officer; another army composed of the 1st, 17th, and 22nd Foot completed the capture of the Caribbean Sea Colonies by the occupation of Dominica, Martinique, St. Vincent, and St. Lucia. When Spain, too, joined the enemies of Great Britain in 1762, and it was found impracticable to land an army on the Continent, it was none the less clearly evident that decisive blows could be struck against her in other parts of the world.

In the far East was Manila, which since 1564 had been her undisturbed possession. But the old 79th from Madras, with some other troops, marines and sailors, gave a “good account of it,” and 9 colours and 536 guns were taken with the fortress, though “the front we were obliged to attack was defended by the bastions of St. Diego and St. Andrew, with orillons and retired flanks, a ravelin which covered the royal gate, a wet ditch, covered way, and glacis,” and the attacking force was totally inadequate to attempt the full investment of the place.

But this was not the only material gain. A still more important expedition was despatched to the West Indies to take Havannah. The troops embarked were the 1st, 9th, 22nd, 34th, 40th, 42nd, 56th, 72nd, 90th, and others, and there, after much hard fighting and considerable hardships, during which at one time over 5000 men were on the sick list, effected the storm of the Moro Castle and the place. Great indeed was the prize. Nine sail of the line were taken in the harbour, 361 guns on the fortifications, and treasure valued at nearly ￡3,000,000 sterling. The Commander-in-chief’s share amounted to ￡122,697, but poor “Thomas Atkins,” who had borne even more the burden and heat of the day, got but ￡4 odd!

142 Still these two great captures were the most important effected during the whole war, and the combined army and navy had, both in the East and West, as fully “singed the King of Spain’s beard” as did Drake some two hundred years before.

So again (and it is curious to see how little was known beforehand in those days of an enemy’s probable movements), the French fitted out a squadron at Brest and recaptured Newfoundland; but they only held it for a short time, as the fleet sailed away, as Byng’s did, without supporting the troops on shore, and the 45th and 77th re-took and garrisoned St. John’s.

For nearly twenty years there is little to record as regards these isolated affairs; but in 1779 the French took St. Vincent, Granada, the small garrison of the latter place having been surprised in the dark by some of the Irish Brigade, who, “by speaking the same language, were admitted into the entrenchments as friends,” and “immediately overpowered our troops by numbers;”29 and in the naval actions that accompanied the closing scenes of the American War of Independence, the 4th and 46th again served as marines in Admiral Byron’s squadron, as did, in 1780, some of the 5th in Rodney’s fleet.

One romantic story of the army of this time found its conclusion at Gibraltar. Many years before, a certain Maria Knowles, a tall, handsome Cheshire girl, fell in love at Warrington Market with a certain Sergeant Cliff of the Guards, who was on recruiting duty. When he returned to his regiment, the girl ran away and enlisted in the same regiment as the man she loved, but who does not appear up to that time to have reciprocated her passion. She accompanied a draft to Holland, fought in several engagements in Flanders, and, on being desperately wounded at Dunkirk, the secret of her sex was discovered. On recovering, she was induced to divulge the reasons for her action, and the officers provided them with a handsome subscription, and the chaplain of the 66th married them. Later on, he was promoted adjutant of the143 66th, and died at Gibraltar, whence his widow, with one son, returned to England in 1798.

The outbreak of the French Revolution, and the beginning of the long war with France, led to a resumption of these combined operations. Thus, in 1794, Paoli, a Corsican patriot, determined on throwing off the French yoke, and for this purpose invited England’s co-operation. Curiously enough, against him fought a young artillery officer, one Napoleon Bonaparte. The force was composed of the 1st, 11th, 18th, 25th, 30th, 50th, 51st, and 69th Regiments, and the 12th Light Dragoon Regiment, under Colonel, afterwards Sir John, Moore; and it seems strange to read now that when resistance ceased, a “Te Deum” was sung in the Cathedral of Bastia, and prayers were read for “George III., King of Great Britain and Corsica”! Some of the 12th were employed at Civita Vecchia, and so good was their conduct that the Pope Pius VI. presented each of the twelve officers with a gold medal. In due course Corsica was resigned to native hands, without any attempt or desire on the part of Great Britain to retain it. In these years, too, Tobago, St. Pierre, and Miquelon were captured; and the 13th, with some of the 49th, assisted at the capture of St. Domingo. Martinique was also taken, and the 1st and 3rd Regiments shared in the operation. Cape St. Vincent, on the 14th February 1797, saw not only the brilliant victory of Admiral Jervis over the Spanish fleet, but the gallant boarding of the San Nicolas by the seamen and some of the 69th, who acted as marines under Lieutenant Charles Pierson. For while the officer commanding dropped on to the deck of the enemy’s ship from the spritsail yard, a private of the 69th dashed in the window of the quarter gallery from the fore chain of the Captain, and led the boarding column.

The year following a brilliant dash was made with the object of damaging Ostend, and, like many others of these harassing and essentially useless debarkations, it did much damage; but, failing to be able to re-embark, the assailants were compelled to surrender. The force was but 1200 strong all told, with 6 guns, and was made up of detachments of144 the Guards, 11th, 23rd, and 49th Foot, and a few men of the 17th Light Dragoons under General Coote.

Similarly useless and disastrous was the abortive passage of the Dardanelles in 1807, which was followed by a feeble descent on Egypt, in pursuance of the idea, this time, of harassing the Turk. But the army was too weak to effect any real annoyance, and the 35th, 78th, and 31st sacrificed useless lives at Rosetta and El Hamet, the detachment of the 78th being surrounded and losing 260 men out of 275. Several of the men became leaders in the Turkish army, and one Scottish drummer boy was until recently still living, the last survivor of General Fraser’s small command.

But there were two incidents in these times that are worth recording, those of the first attempts against South America at Buenos Ayres and Monte Video, and the successive operations that led to the conversion of the Cape of Good Hope into an English colony. Beginning with the latter, it will be remembered that it was first taken possession of in 1795, with the consent of the Prince of Orange, but contrary to the desire, apparently, of the colonists, who resisted the attempt to occupy a position at Simon’s Bay held by the 78th and some marines; but when reinforced by the 84th, 95th, and 98th Regiments, an advance was made on Wynberg, where, after a slight skirmish, the inhabitants surrendered. In the same year a number of other small Dutch possessions, including Colombo, fell into English hands. The Cape was resigned in 1801 by the treaty of Amiens; but the alliance between the French and Dutch led to the assembling of an expedition for its recapture, in which a Highland brigade, the 71st, 72nd, and 93rd Regiments, a brigade composed of the 24th, 38th, 59th, and 83rd Regiments, with the 20th Light Dragoons, and one field battery with two howitzers, took part. The resistance was most feeble, and the enemy, though armed with nineteen cannon, barely awaited the attack of even the Highland brigade.

A number of the natives there were later formed into a regiment by Colonel Graham, and these were the forerunners145 of the Cape Mounted Rifles, a force which has done good service in Kaffir wars since. In connection with this conquest, so important in the expansion of our Eastern Empire, may also be recorded the capture, in 1810, of Mauritius from France, and Java from the Dutch, in which the 12th, 19th, 22nd, 65th, 84th, and 89th, under Abercrombie, and the 14th, 59th, 69th, 78th, and 89th, under Auchmuty, took an active part. Their capture freed those seas from the Dutch and French privateers, and secured our trade route with Calcutta.

The want of employment militarily, in South Africa, led to the transference of the theatre of war to South America. In 1806, a small force of dragoons, marines, and the 71st Foot occupied Buenos Ayres with scarcely any opposition, but the Spanish afterwards assembled in some strength, and compelled General Carr Beresford to capitulate. Measures were at once taken to remedy this disaster. Colonel Vassall of the 38th, and Colonel Backhouse, with the 43th, occupied the island of Maldonado, which commanded the harbour of the same name, and, after storming the batteries, furnished a safe and protected anchorage for the fleet, which, with General Auchmuty, and the 38th, 40th, 47th, 87th, a company of the 71st, the 93rd, some marines, and the 17th Light Dragoons, was on the way from England. The enemy were defeated outside the town of Monte Video, when the advance was made from Maldonado, but the further effort to penetrate into the city, through a breach made by a few light guns, met with the most determined resistance, and the assault of the “Gibraltar of America” cost some 600 officers and men out of the 1200 who formed the column of assault, among whom was Colonel Vassall, who had won the affectionate regard of the 38th Regiment, which he commanded. So much so was this the case, that it is said that when the regiment returned home and was stationed in Ireland, a publican “realised a little fortune by simply hoisting as his sign the effigies of the colonel,” and the “Vassall Arms” were as popular there as was the name of the “Marquis of Granby,” Dorking, in former years.30

146 The capture was some consolation for the loss of Buenos Ayres, and Auchmuty’s success led to the hope that our disaster there might be avenged. So it might, possibly, had that general retained command; but the army was to be placed under that of General Whitelock, who was reinforced by General Crawford from the Cape with the 5th, 36th, 45th, 88th, the Rifles, some artillery, and the 6th Dragoon Guards. A more extraordinary exhibition of want of judgment on the part of a general in command has rarely been witnessed. Throughout the previous operations, both of Beresford and Auchmuty, there had been no trace of want of fighting power on the part of the enemy. But everything now seems to have been left to guess. Reconnaissance was ignored, though General Beresford had escaped from the town and, joining his chief, could have given him the fullest information. The possible nature of the defence with flat-roofed houses, each of which, defended by its owner and his negroes, became a fortress; deep ditches and barricades formed across the streets; stout buildings stoutly held; grape-loaded guns entrenched to sweep the avenue; were so little imagined, that “from motives of humanity”—Heaven save the mark!—many of the men’s arms were unloaded, and others not provided with flints or even locks,31 lest they should “fire wantonly on the inhabitants.” Doubtless this was much exaggerated, but there is no doubt that the muskets were generally empty. The strong force of artillery captured at Monte Video was not used at all, when a steady bombardment before any attempt at assault or penetration into the town would have been of the highest value. Yet, hemmed in and helpless as the columns were, their bravery and steadfastness stand out in brilliant contrast to the culpable and idiotic folly of their most incompetent generals. The 88th especially distinguished themselves, and one portion of the army was compelled to surrender, having fired its last cartridge, while Crawford, hemmed in on all sides, had to lay down his arms too. When Whitelock finally agreed to withdraw, having lost 2500 men, according to his147 despatch, he surrendered Monte Video as well, and on his return to England was justly court-martialled. He was found guilty, and was cashiered, and so much was his name held in detestation by the people, that when, in 1830, he asked the landlord of the Somersetshire inn in which he was staying, to drink with him, the man, when he knew who his guest was, refused to “drink another glass with him,” at the same time throwing down the price of the bottle, that he might not be indebted to the cashiered general.

The first efforts at conquest on the South American mainland had met with little save disaster and disappointment, and were absolutely barren of result. Our other possessions on that continent were gained, not by hard fighting there, but by treaties dependent on hard fighting elsewhere. Both British Guiana and Honduras saw no battles fought on their soil by British soldiers. The former, captured in 1796, was confirmed to the English rule in 1814; the latter became a crown colony in 1867.

Thus, though many of these expeditions rather partook of the nature of filibustering raids than real war, they none the less are interesting as showing the gradual extension of military operations beyond the main theatre of war. In many cases, doubtless, as in the landing on the French coast, no real benefit was derived from them, and they only tended to exasperate and embitter a contest that already was sufficiently imbued with these feelings. They brought the horrors of war on defenceless people, as well as on the enemy’s military and naval resources. In so doing they harassed and annoyed, and to some extent lent their aid to the otherwise needless dispersion of the enemy’s troops; but such deeds only lead to reprisals, and, like killing individual soldiers on outpost duty, have little real effect on the conduct or result of a campaign.

Still there were many cases in which the semi-naval operations were of supreme value to a great naval power. The true outlet for a vigorous nation’s natural expansion is its colonies. Shorn of these, in many instances the parent country loses its most vital limbs, with increasing injury to148 the main trunk. Morally, as well as politically, the loss of colonial empire gravely affects the mother country. The loss of the American States to England long lowered her prestige in the eyes of Europe, and for a time led nations to think her end as a great power had come. The dropping away from Spain and Portugal of those vast colonies which owe their origin and existence to the energy of the people of those countries in the past, have left the mother countries far behind in the race, low down in the political scale of Europe.

Hence the conquest of French and Spanish colonies in this prolonged war was not only a serious loss to the States concerned, but an important element of strength to the power that first of all effected the conquest, and then was strong enough to hold them. No doubt, in days when steam and telegraph were not, the element of secrecy entered largely into the calculation of how these attacks could be successfully planned and executed. It was possible then to attempt what now would be far more risky, because foreseen. “To be forewarned” is more than even “to be forearmed” in these modern days.

But, in addition, there is one other point to be considered in thinking of what was done in past wars, and so examining if similar things could be done in the future. Would the bombardment of open, or feebly defended, coast towns be permitted? Would that old “harassing” side of war, without any other end beyond that of harassing, be considered justifiable now? There is a certain general and no longer local public opinion to be considered nowadays, and much that was done when the nineteenth century was young will be very possibly looked on as barbarous and unnecessary when another century dawns.

Lastly, the means of local defence have also largely increased. It is common to see, as at Havana, how frequently forts and batteries were fully silenced by the fire from the fleet, whose guns were certainly not of great power. But coast batteries are now more scientifically and powerfully built, and mount guns quite as formidable, if not more so, than battleships can carry. Ranges are greater, and the149 accuracy of fire enormously improved, and ground mines and active torpedoes can make situations, whence fleets could formerly best act, too dangerous now to be occupied at all. Quick-firing and machine guns, repeating rifles, and what not, will render boat operations practically impossible, except at night. Such landings as those at Aboukir Bay, etc., should be now out of the question. It may safely be surmised that the class of operations referred to in this chapter will be less easy of execution in the future than when Guadaloupe was taken.

But one thing is clearly apparent in watching the story of this combination of military and naval war. It was only as England began to feel her strength, and, by increasing her squadrons, to have the power of showing it, that she really began to grow to greatness. At first the wars were local and somewhat restricted on shore, as were the actions of the fleets. But the desire to get at France and Spain on both sides, or all along their coast lines, led, instinctively almost, to the capture of Gibraltar, the gateway to the Mediterranean, and next to seize Minorca, as she did later Malta, and then Cyprus, as a base of operations for her naval strength. Such harbours or bases are needful always for rest, refitting, reprovisioning, and, now, recoaling. No such fortified place is by itself a menace; it is only the basis of that active menace, the sea-going fleet of battleships. Neither Malta nor Biserta would in the least affect the destinies of the world unless behind the shelter of their defensive works was a sea-going fleet capable of offensive action. The defence of the fortress is purely passive; the defence power of the fleet is, like that of cavalry, either active or nothing. This in the last century was the use of Minorca.

So, with the extension of the idea, the growing size of the fleet, came greater ideas of expansion and greater powers of carrying it out. Success had produced confidence. Confidence had created greater boldness. Commerce had increased, and continued to increase, despite the continuous wars. Though the loss of ships was terrible, the merchant navy still went forth bravely upon the seas. Merchant princes must have had calm, philosophical heads to have150 recognised, as they must have done, an almost certain percentage of serious loss of both ship and cargo. Such loss was to be risked from the mouth of the Thames to the mouth of the Hudson, and yet still the traders sought the open sea. Is such a spirit alive now, or is the commercial dread of loss in the end of the nineteenth century greater than the commercial fearlessness of the early part of it? That only the next war can prove.

But the next stage in the national growth which is clear in these bygone days, is that commercial expansion led to bold enterprises against the enemy’s colonies, on which his commerce much depended.

It was so with the expansion of the Indian Empire on the one hand, and the American Empire, after the conquest of Canada from the French, on the other. Both led to yet another idea, of which earlier history could show no trace. The connection between these growing empires and the mother country was becoming increasingly important, and so remained until they were self-supporting or self-dependent. With British India, then a mere spot on the peninsula of Hindustan, it was to home and England only that she could look for everything. Until the vast territories along the banks of the Potomac, the Hudson, or the Ohio had been subdued and become populous, only the mother country could be of use to help her struggling Western children in their early youth. To guard the roads by which this necessary help must come was all-important then, as it is now with such of our dependencies as have not grown up to that national manhood which means independence of all maternal support.

Hence, then, the natural and instinctive desire to possess the Cape of Good Hope. None saw then that there were other advantages and channels of expansion, besides the Cape itself, to be gained in the “Hinterland” to those unknown but reported “Mountains of the Moon.” It was only as being a port on the road to India, in those days, that made the Cape valuable, and for a very simple reason. Ships, like men, require stores and food. Supplies run short, sails are destroyed, boats swept away. These calling places151 are to the navy what “the Stores” are to the individual; and if access to such places were denied, the ship and the individual would suffer. A hostile Table Bay or Simon’s Bay would have meant, in those days, no house of call between St. Helena and Bombay!

Therefore it is so interesting to watch this gradual expansion of the national idea of empire based entirely, instinctively, and rightly on the colonies we were founding. The whole “earth hunger” of Great Britain, if viewed in its natural light, is the opening of new lands for trade, the extension of colonial empire by true colonists, men who mean to make the new realm their permanent home, and the preserving intact, with a good series of supply stations along these unmarked ways, the roads that unite Great Britain with her colonial children.
* * * * *

Brave and gallant as had been the conduct of soldiers on board ship, whether acting as marines afloat or as landed parties, there are other instances of skill and courage equally well worth recording.

In 1852 the Birkenhead transport was on its way to India, with drafts of the 12th Lancers, and of the 2nd, 6th, 12th, 43rd, 45th, 60th, 73rd, 74th, and 91st Regiments, under the command of Colonel Seton, and, entering Simon’s Bay, struck on a sunken rock, and began to fill. She was ill provided with boats, for there was scarcely sufficient accommodation for the women and children, let alone the crew or the gallant representatives of the army, and the harbour swarmed with sharks. But the noble spirit of duty, that fearlessness of death and danger which all brave men have and which discipline intensifies, was never shown more grandly than in this moment of supreme peril. The men fell in on the upper deck as if on parade, and there they stood, bearing themselves as stoutly before that dread foe death, as ever they had or would have done before an earthly enemy, while the weeping, helpless, women and little ones were being saved. And standing there, while the officers shook hands and wished each other good-bye, the Birkenhead sank152 beneath their feet. Of 630 souls on board, only 194 were saved, and among them, Captain Wright of the 91st.

Similarly, in 1857, sheer coolness and discipline saved an entire ship. For the 54th were on their way to Mauritius, when the vessel caught fire. It was only through the exertions and steadiness of the men that the ship was saved at all, and then she reached her destination a mere burnt-out shell.

Nor was the case of the Birkenhead the only one in which the greatest of all bravery—facing death in cold blood—was evidenced by men of the 91st. In 1846, the reserve battalion was taking passage in the Abercrombie Robinson, when the vessel was wrecked near Cape Town. But the 500 men of the 91st assembled on deck as if on parade, and kept the grim silence of discipline until the women and children were safely in the boats.

Noteworthy is the discipline and patience of the gallant 78th, when the transport Charlotte, in which they had embarked, for transference from Batavia to Calcutta in 1816, ran ashore on a sunken rock a few miles from the island of Preparis, and that so violently, that in fifteen minutes she filled to her main deck. Though death was apparently imminent, the men behaved like the heroes and soldiers they were. Every man waited for orders, and there was no sign of panic or disobedience. The women, children, and sick were transported to the island, with a few bags of rice only, and a few pieces of salt pork. It was four days before the rest of the men and crew were landed on the inhospitable shores of Preparis, and during that time some 140 men were quartered on a raft fastened to a rock near the ship that was just aflush with water at low tide. There they had neither sleep, nor food, nor water. But the most perfect order obtained none the less. When they were all got on to the island, things were little better. They remained without relief from the 9th November until the 6th December, by which time even the poor two-day allowance of a glass of rice and two ounces of meat per head had been exhausted. Shell-fish were collected at low tide and stored. All such finds were brought to the common153 stock, and there was no need even for a guard! Officer and man shared the same privation until the final relief came, and throughout the discipline of the men was perfect.

But it is not merely in times of dangerous emergency that soldiers alone have shown that they are descended from those Vikings who were the true marines, equally good on shore or afloat. At the conclusion of the China war of 1860, the regiments engaged returned to England, and among them were the Buffs. Three companies of this grand old regiment, who, like the Royal Marines, claim their descent from London trained bands, and oftentimes had done seagoing duty, embarked on board the Athleta. All went well till after she had touched at the Cape to water. The crew was like many a merchant’s crew now, even if not much more so now than then, built up of indifferent materials, probably what is known as “Beachcombers,” men who in sterner days were marooned on desert islands. The gold fever in Australia, too, had set in, and hence caused desertions in homeward bound crews. So the crew of the Athleta tried to desert, and were prevented, and then came aft in a body to complain of imaginary ill-treatment, and request to be taken on shore before a magistrate. To have done so would have been fatal; and the commanding officer of the Buffs stepped in. He suggested that the captain should at once “weigh” and go to sea. The crew refused to move a finger in the matter. Colonel Sargent proposed, as a quiet and friendly way of settling the matter, to put the seamen in the fo’castle, with an armed guard for their protection, and bread and water for their food, while the Buffs worked the ship home. Captain Potter joyfully assented, and went to sea with his strange, untrained, crew. Volunteers were asked to go aloft, and the detachment was cautioned as to its dangers, and the supreme necessity for coolness and readiness of resource; and was told that to be ordered aloft was contrary to Queen’s regulations. None the less, sixty stalwart lads stepped forward, and of these, twenty-eight were chosen for the yards and “tops.” A week’s duty of this kind brought the154 mutineers to their senses; that and the bread and water probably. They prayed to be allowed to return to their duty, and did so. Colonel Sargent thought, and rightly, that “he had had pleasure in going aloft with them himself, because the boldest and most zealous of his men had never been in the rigging before, and some had not even been on board a ship of any kind previous to their voyage out and home.” Captain Potter thought and said that he “was perfectly astonished to see soldiers able to turn themselves all at once into such good sailors, and to teach so wholesome a lesson to his crew, not one of whom, he was convinced, would ever again strike work in a vessel on board of which British soldiers were embarked.” The Buff crew refused payment for their extra work, when it was proposed to stop a portion of the mutineers’ pay and hand it over to the new crew, and “wished to enjoy the satisfaction of feeling that they had only done their duty as British soldiers, determined to support their commanding officer in any position.”

The incident is not merely one of passing interest, it evidences that sentiment du devoir and discipline which, combined, form the finest soldiery the world has ever seen.

These are but a few of the noble records of the “Army at Sea.”