SOME FRENCHMEN

[Ill.u.s.tration: JEAN BART, A FAMOUS FRENCH PRIVATEER CAPTAIN]

CHAPTER XIII

JEAN BART

Privateering was very much resorted to in France, from the middle of the seventeenth century onwards; it was greatly encouraged by the State, and frequently men-of-war were lent to private individuals or corporations, who maintained them at their own cost, and of course pocketed the proceeds of the prizes captured. Some of these were large and powerful vessels, mounting fifty or sixty guns, and, having been built for men-of-war, were far superior to most privateers, which were frequently merchant vessels adapted for the purpose. Their crews were very numerous, not infrequently outnumbering those of our 64-gun ships, and it was not of much use for any vessel of less force than these to tackle them.

One of these big privateers, in the year 1745, was engaged off the south coast of Ireland with the 40-gun ship _Anglesea_, Captain Jacob Elton, with a very sad and tragic result. The _Anglesea_, having put into Kinsale to land some sick--her senior lieutenant being one--sailed again on March 28th, being one of the vessels ordered to command the entrance of the channel. On the following day, with a fresh breeze blowing, a large sail was reported to windward. Captain Elton, for some reason, a.s.sumed that this was his consort, the _Augusta_, of 64 guns; it was just twelve o'clock, so he ordered his boatswain to pipe to dinner, making no preparation for action. The stranger came down rapidly, displaying no colours, apparently--which should have aroused Elton's suspicion--and suddenly, when he was quite near, it was realised that the ornament on her quarter was in the French style.

Then, all in a hurry, they beat to quarters, and the English captain, in order to gain time for his preparations, made more sail, setting his foresail; but the wind was strong, with a lumpy sea, and the increased pressure of sail, as the gun's crews opened the lee ports, brought tons of water in on to the lower deck, threatening to water-log the ship.

The enemy--which was the _Apollon_, 50 guns, fitted out as a privateer--had it all her own way. Pa.s.sing under the stern of the _Anglesea_, she rounded to on her lee quarter, and delivered a heavy fire. The guns were not cleared away, there was a lot of water below, and in a minute or two sixty men were dead or wounded. The captain and master were killed by the first broadside, and the command of the ship thus devolved upon the second lieutenant, a young and inexperienced officer. He was in a very tight place. The Frenchman being on the lee quarter, he could not bear up and run, as he would have fallen on board the enemy, which carried many more men, and his ship meanwhile was under a heavy fire, which could not be returned, his men falling fast. After consultation with the third lieutenant, he surrendered--and really it is difficult to see what else he could have done. Possibly an older man, of consummate skill and great experience, might have found a way of handling his ship so as, at least, to gain some respite; on the other hand, no such man would have had any business to find himself in this predicament.

So the lieutenant--Baker Phillips by name--hauled down his colours, and in due course was tried by court-martial for the loss of his ship. The court "was unanimously of opinion that Captain Elton, deceased, did not give timely directions for getting his ship clear or in a proper posture of defence, nor did he afterwards behave like an officer or a seaman, which was the cause of the ship being left to Lieutenant Phillips in such distress and confusion. And that Lieutenant Baker Phillips, late second lieutenant of the said ship, by not endeavouring to the utmost of his power after Captain Elton's death to put the ship in order of fighting, not encouraging the inferior officers and men to fight courageously, and by yielding to the enemy, falls under part of the tenth Article.[11] They do sentence him to death, to be shot by a platoon of musqueteers on the forecastle; ... but ... having regard to the distress and confusion the ship was in when he came to the command, and being a young man and inexperienced, they beg leave to recommend him to mercy."

That is to say, they felt bound, under the clause referred to in the Articles of War, to sentence him to death, but obviously hoped that the extreme penalty would not be inflicted under the circ.u.mstances--a very proper view to take. The recommendation, however, was ignored--it will be recollected that just at this period the British Navy was, for some reason, pa.s.sing through a very unsatisfactory phase; courage and energy appeared often to be lacking--as in the instance of the treasure ships, in the previous year, when George Walker was compelled to witness the outrageous incapacity and supineness of the captains of the men-of-war.

These men were acquitted--Lieutenant Baker Phillips was not. Perhaps it may be permitted to ask, would Captain Elton have been shot had he survived the action? His lieutenant was made an example of, and there is some story that a reprieve was refused on account of his Jacobite tendencies; no evidence appears to be forthcoming in support of this view. Another and very terrible tale in connection with the incident relates that Phillips's wife, after a reprieve had been refused, went in person to Queen Caroline and obtained one, with which she posted in feverish haste to Portsmouth; but the unhappy young officer, desiring to avoid the terrible pain of a final interview with her, had, in ignorance of her mission to the queen, requested that the hour of his execution might be hastened. When she arrived, he had already been shot. One can only hope that this story is not true; it is too terrible to dwell upon.

Well, that is how the privateer _Apollon_ scored off us. Five-and-thirty years later, in 1780, within a mile or two of the same spot, a still more powerful vessel, similarly commissioned--to wit, the _Comte d'Artois_, of 64 guns--was overcome and captured by the _Bienfaisant_, 64 guns, captain Macbride, after a smart action of over an hour. The _Bienfaisant_ was countenanced, more than a.s.sisted, by the presence of the _Charon_, 44 guns, which took little or no part in the action. The French loss was 21 killed and 34 wounded, while the British lost 3 killed and 23 wounded.

It was one of these privately maintained king's ships which was selected to convoy the young Pretender to Scotland in 1745; indeed, both the _Elizabeth_, of 60 guns, and the _Dentelle_, a much smaller vessel, in which the prince embarked, were of this cla.s.s. The two vessels encountered the British 60-gun ship _Lion_, off Ushant, and of course there was a fight. The _Lion_ and _Elizabeth_, pretty equally matched, and each commanded by a doughty fighter, blazed away at each other by the s.p.a.ce of four or five hours, when both had had enough. Captain Brett, of the _Lion_, while regretting that he had not been able to capture the _Elizabeth_, was pleasing himself with the reflection that he had "spoiled her voyage"--and so he had, for she had 65 killed and 136 wounded, while her hull was fearfully battered, and she was compelled to make for the nearest French port. Brett took but little notice of the smaller craft, which, endeavouring at first to a.s.sist the _Elizabeth_, was easily disposed of by the _Lion's_ stern chasers, and hung about out of range until the big ships separated, when she proceeded on her voyage to Scotland. Brett must have been rather annoyed afterwards to think that he had not made a capture of the _Dentelle_; but he had, in fact, spoiled their voyage very effectually, for the _Elizabeth_ had on board all the stores and munitions for the campaign in Scotland, and Charles Edward Stuart landed very empty-handed in consequence.

One of the most prominent among French privateer captains is Jean Bart; he is, in fact, perhaps somewhat unduly prominent, as it does not appear, from authentic accounts, that he performed any more wonderful or daring feats of seamanship and battle than some others. It may be that the many unfounded, or at least unsupported tales of his prowess--incredible tales, many of them--form the basis, to a large extent, of his immense popularity; or, on the other hand, this very popularity may have given rise to these exaggerated anecdotes. He was, without doubt, a very fine seaman, and a determined and capable commander, very worthy of the public esteem, and his reputation gains nothing from wild inventions.

He was born in 1650, at Dunkirk, though his family is said to have been of Dieppe origin. He came of privateering, semi-piratical stock, and at the age of twelve he embarked as boy on board a Dunkirk smuggler, under a brutal, but capable ruffian named Jerome Valbue; his father's old boatswain, Antoine Sauret, accompanying him, apparently, as a kind of "sea-daddy"--and it appears to have been just as well that he had some one to stand between him and the skipper. After a four years'

apprenticeship, young Bart, always enthusiastic and eager to learn, had acquired remarkable proficiency in seamanship and gunnery, and is said to have won the prize for the best marksman at the annual compet.i.tion on the Dunes.

Thanks to Sauret's teaching and his own zeal, the lad was considered competent, at the age of sixteen, to fill the post of mate on a brigantine, the _Cochon Gras_, of which the redoubtable Valbue was appointed commander.

Jean Bart and his elderly adviser, Sauret, were, however, destined soon to find employ elsewhere, the occasion of their leaving the _Cochon Gras_ being an exhibition of wanton cruelty on the part of their captain. The fact of the two having protested rendered it advisable that they should not remain.

M. Valbue, it appears, in common with many captains, both in the Navy and elsewhere at that period, still affected to be bound, together with his crew, by the Laws or Judgments of Oleron--a brutal code, dating from the twelfth century.

Valbue, half drunk, had been relating some wonderful tale of the miraculous intervention of a saintly bishop to save a fishing-boat, and proceeded to emphasise his own belief and his contempt for heretics by flinging his half-empty tin cider-mug at one Lanoix, a harmless Huguenot seaman. (Huguenots are habitually represented by the ordinary British writer as harmless, exemplary persons; a large number of them were, in fact, bloodthirsty, cruel, and seditious ruffians, who richly deserved all they got.)

Lanoix meekly but firmly pointed out that the Laws of Oleron ordained that the captain was not to punish a seaman until his anger had cooled down. (It reminds one rather of Midshipman Easy walking about with the Articles of War under his arm, and admonishing his superior for using strong language!)

Valbue's rejoinder was a blow with a handspike, which narrowly missed braining the seaman. Antoine Sauret ventured to remonstrate, but was warned that he was in danger of similar treatment: for the Laws of Oleron allow the captain one blow, just as the law of England allows a dog one bite--only the skipper was apparently permitted one crack at each member of his crew. So Sauret said no more.

Lanoix, however, was as well up in the law as his captain, and, jumping over the iron rail which separated the forecastle from the after part of the vessel, reminded Valbue that if he followed him on to the forecastle and repeated the blow he would put himself in the wrong, and he, Lanoix, would have the right to retaliate.

Valbue immediately let loose a string of contemptuous and insulting epithets, and, pa.s.sing the barrier, struck Lanoix two violent blows on the face.

Out came the seaman's knife, and in a second the captain's arm was badly gashed; but the instinct of discipline induced the crew to rush to the rescue, and they pinioned Lanoix--but not before he had killed one man, stabbing him to the heart.

Valbue thereupon sent his cabin-boy down to bring up a copy of the Laws of Oleron, Jean Bart, at the helm, looking on all this while with disapproval and horror very plainly expressed in his countenance. When the boy appeared with the book Sauret went aft and sat down by the helmsman.

Thinking to place Sauret and his young companion in the wrong, Valbue bade the former come forward and read out the law. He refused, pointing out that Valbue had himself broken the law, and that Lanoix was ent.i.tled to purgation of his offence by means of certain oaths and formulae.

However, the protests of Jean Bart and the brave old man were of no avail. Ignoring their veto, and declaring that six out of eight of the crew agreed that Lanoix had wounded his captain and slain one of his shipmates, Valbue inflicted upon the unfortunate Huguenot the penalty for the first offence, lashing his arm to a sharp sword fixed to the windla.s.s and then knocking him down, so that the flesh was stripped from his arm; and finally, ordering the dead body of the other man to be brought along, he caused Lanoix, sorely wounded but still alive, to be bound to it, and both were thrown overboard--which is also strictly in accordance with the Laws of Oleron, in the event of a seaman killing one of his comrades at sea--as he who runs may read.

Jean Bart and the boatswain acquired from that moment a strong distaste for the Laws of Oleron, and quitted the vessel upon arriving, the same evening, at Calais.

Valbue, consistent with all his brutality, reported the circ.u.mstances, as enjoined by the same code, to the authorities; and the incident, we are told, led to the framing of the Maritime Code of France.

Bart and Sauret were highly commended for their plucky protest, and a few days later the former was entrusted with the responsible task of conveying some French n.o.blemen, in a half-decked sailing-boat, to join De Ruyter in the Dutch fleet, then lying off Harwich--so we are told in the account given by Mr. C.B. Norman, in "The Corsairs of France"; but Mr. Norman is very vague as to dates, and we can only conclude that this was during the interval between the "four days' fight," from June 1st to 4th, 1666, and the subsequent decisive action on July 25th and 26th. It is said that he distinguished himself in the "hard-fought action"--between Albemarle and De Ruyter--on August 6th following; but there is no record of any action on this date.

However, these matters are not of much importance, especially in the case of Jean Bart, concerning whom, as has been stated, fables are plentiful. It appears to be certain that he was some five years in the Dutch service, his heart being all this time with France; and when, in 1672, war was declared between France and the States-General, he immediately returned to Dunkirk, and entered upon his career as a privateersman. Commencing as a subordinate, he was given his first command in 1674--when he was four-and-twenty--a small vessel, mounting two guns, with a crew of thirty-six.

In this vessel--the _King David_--Bart soon showed himself to be a bold and capable captain; in four or five months he captured six prizes. No fighting was entailed, it is true; but those who knew Jean Bart did not doubt that he could fight, should the occasion arise; and his old friend and "sea-daddy," Antoine Sauret, loafing and chatting with his cronies in Dunkirk, did not allow his young friend's exploits to be forgotten.

Naturally, his next command was a larger vessel--a brigantine, named _La Royale_, mounting ten guns, and his success continued unabated. He cruised in company with two other Dunkirk men, and made many captures, the most important being the _Esperance_, a States-General man-of-war, carrying 12 guns, by which he appears to have won great renown--though she was only overcome by the heavy odds against her, Bart having the a.s.sistance of at least one of his allies. However, there is no small merit in always contriving to outnumber the foe.

Having taken four months' leisure in order to get married, Jean Bart once more put out, in July 1675, and met with immediate success; and, capturing quite a number of fishing-vessels, he permitted the captains to ransom them for a handsome sum--a much more convenient arrangement, in many instances, than bringing a number of prizes into port; it was, however, forbidden, as liable to lead to great abuses, and Bart was deprived of half the proceeds and warned to be more careful in future--a warning to which he did not pay much heed. Ransoming was subsequently forbidden to British privateers, and other precautions against semi-piracy were inst.i.tuted, more or less copied from the French, who were always in advance of us in their regulation of privateering.

So successful was Jean Bart in _La Royale_ that early in 1676 he was given command of a much more important vessel--the _Palme_, of 24 guns, with a crew of 150 men--a regular frigate of those times. Again he was lucky in hunting in company, for he and his consorts were opposed to eight armed whalers and three privateers, which they fought for three hours, when Bart boarded and carried the largest, while his consorts secured the whalers, the two other privateers finding it too hot to remain.

Bart was by no means satisfied with these exploits. A genuine fighting man, he longed to be matched singly against a man-of-war or a privateer of fully his own force; and this wish was gratified on September 7th, 1676, when he fell in with a fleet of fishing-vessels, convoyed by the _Neptune_, a vessel carrying 32 guns. Bart sailed into the convoy, and, hoisting his colours, fired a gun for the enemy to bring to. Up went the Dutch colours, with a broadside by way of emphasis; the Dutch captain was a man of Jean Bart's stamp--a foeman worthy of his steel--and they had a great fight.

For three hours, at close range, they battered each other, Bart all the while trying to get a favourable position for boarding, but being constantly frustrated by the good seamanship of the other. At length, however, the _Neptune_ was so seriously damaged aloft that she was no longer under full command; Bart, instantly and skilfully availing himself of the chance, got his vessel lashed alongside, and headed the boarding party, consisting of nearly all his crew. The Dutch captain, grievously wounded, sat on one side, like desperate Andrew Barton, and shouted to his men to lay on; but they were demoralised by the banging they had had, and Bart and his boarders were not to be denied; in a few minutes the affair was over, and the French flag replaced the Dutch. It was a proud moment for Jean Bart, and a proud day when he sailed into Dunkirk with the captured vessel in his wake, followed by the fleet of fishing-boats which his victory had thrown into his hands.

The fame of this exploit soon spread abroad, and one fine day Jean Bart received a gold chain from the king as a mark of appreciation of his prowess; at the same time the authorities began to discuss the question of keeping a list, or roll, of the best fighting privateer captains, in order that they might be transferred to the Navy in case of need--not necessarily an advantage to a keen privateersman, as he would occupy at first a subordinate position, very irksome after the freedom of his former life, in command of his ship.

Colbert, the Minister of State, was very eager about the matter, and advocated giving the most efficient privateer commanders the rank of commodore among their brethren, so that they could operate in squadrons, and attack the enemy's men-of-war. He caused inquiries to be made at Dunkirk and other ports as to the character and capability of the leading privateersmen; and of course he received extremely favourable reports of Jean Bart, who meanwhile was again at sea in the _Palme_, doing great execution.

His employers soon displayed their appreciation of his services by providing him with a yet larger ship--the _Dauphin_, of 30 guns, with a crew numbering 200. In this vessel, a year later, he encountered another Dutchman of the same sort as the captain of the _Neptune_.

Sailing in company with two smaller privateers, on June 18th, 1678, a Dutch frigate was sighted. The smallest privateer happened to be nearest to the enemy, who immediately attacked, hoping to carry her before her consorts could arrive. The Frenchman, however, handled his craft so judiciously as to keep his big antagonist in play until Bart came up.

The two larger vessels--the Dutchman was the _Sherdam_, Captain Ranc--at once got into action, while Bart's smaller consort stood off, awaiting a chance. Seeing his opportunity, Bart signalled to her to bear down, and between them they got the Dutchman in such a position that he could not avoid being boarded. A crowd of men from both French vessels was speedily on his deck; but they had no kind of a walk-over; Ranc, though severely wounded, rallied his men again and again, and it was not until two-thirds of his crew were disabled or killed that he at length surrendered.

Bart was wounded in the leg, and badly burnt by the discharge of a gun, almost in his face, as he leaped on board; six of his men were killed and thirty-one wounded, while as for the saucy _Dauphin_, her career was at an end. So well had the Dutchmen plied their guns that her hull was shattered beyond repair, and it was with extreme difficulty that she was brought into harbour.

Bart, of course, had another ship at his disposal immediately--such an invincible corsair was not allowed to be idle--and he was at sea again in a fortnight, in the _Mars_, of 32 guns; a few weeks later, however, the war came to an end, and he returned to Dunkirk to have a spell on sh.o.r.e.

And here the career of Jean Bart as a privateer captain comes to an end; in January 1679 he was given a commission as lieutenant in the navy.

This was not very much to his taste; besides the comedown from captain to lieutenant, the aristocrats who predominated among French naval officers regarded a privateersman, thus pitchforked in among them, with a very supercilious air, and made things decidedly unpleasant for him.

However, Jean Bart pulled through this all right, and eventually had opportunity of displaying his capacity in the royal ships.