It was certainly the worst conditions under which a major naval engagement was ever fought. One violent squall after another descended on the two fleets. Huge waves rose, their crests breaking with a think misty foam against a darkening sky, and then violently dropped away, making it almost impossible for ships to avoid colliding as they lost their wind and steerage way in the trough of the swell. Yet even as the wind howled and ships' wheel chains shuddered and waves slammed against rudders with a dismal clang, the leading British ships got within range of the rearmost French.(excerpted from pages 288-91)
"At half-past two p.m. . . , I made the signal for engaging." [British Admiral] Howe's Magnanime was the first to get in close range. As they came astern of the 80-gun Formidable, he ordered his men to "hold their fire until they put their hands on their enemy's guns." Their broadside ripped into the Frenchmen's hull and "pierced [it] like a cullender," remembered an eyewitness, as the Formidable reeled and dropped back. . . .
At 3:30 the storm reached its height. The seas were so high that the ships opening their lowest deck of gun portals threatened to heel over and founder. [Senior British Admiral] Hawke spotted [the French Admiral in charge, the Count de] Conflans's flagship the Soleil Royal through the gusting mist and turned to the [100-gun] Royal George's master, Thomas Conway. "I say," he shouted against the wind, "lay me alongside the French admiral." Conway, his face dripping with rain and sea spray, bellowed they might run aground. "You have now done your duty in appraising me of the danger," Hawke bellowed back, "let us now see how well you can comply with my orders."
The Royal George surged forward. The first French ship Hawke encountered was the Superbe, with seventy guns and 800 men. The Royal George's second broadside sank her with all hands. A similar disaster overtook the Thesee, now heavily engaged wiht Keppel's Torbay. A heavy sea smashed into them both, flooding their lower gun ports. Keppel shouted to the wheel to turn the Torbay into the wind, to bring her upright, but the Thesee with her [French] peasant crew was not quick enough. The green water rushed in. . . Kepple immediately ordered his men into the boats and, in spite of the danger, broke off the battle to look for survivors. The Torbay's crew only managed to save nine out of the Thesee's 650 men. . . [By morning], "most of the French ships appeared to be aground at low water."
For Conflans, it was a disaster and a humiliation. He had lost his flag-ship and four more ships of the line. . . [T]he defeat at Quiberon Bay ended the French navy as an effective fighting force for the rest of the war. Conflans himself admitted, "The morale of the fighting and civil officers was at the lowest ebb."
The Admiralty and the British public agreed. . . In the navy, November 20 would be remembered in every captain's cabin and officers' gun room with a toast: "May all our commanders have the eye of a Hawke and the heart of a Wolfe."
Aristotle-to-Ricardo-to-Hayek turn the double play way better than Plato-to-Rousseau-to-Rawls
Friday, December 31, 2004
To Rule the Pages
Earlier, I mis-underestimated Arthur Herman's To Rule the Waves, a history of the Royal Navy. It's not pitched too low; it's just that I'm fairly familiar with the British Navy under Pepys and then under Nelson, but was ignorant about the century plus in between. Such as the Royal Navy's "most decisive victory" before Nelson, the battle of Quiberon Bay against--who else?--the French:
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