1805 and all that...

The Snake visits his O-level history books to bring us his take on the Battle of Trafalgar

“Dans ce pays-ci il est bon de tuer un amiral de temps en temps pour encourager les autres.”

“In this country [England] it is thought well to kill an admiral from time to time to encourage the others.”

The French writer, Voltaire (1694-1778), was not alluding to Horatio Nelson - Britain’s famous disabled sailor, the country’s first super-celebrity and our most effective combat commander. He was referring to an earlier, darker chapter in British naval history: the execution of Admiral John Byng for a bungled engagement with French forces off the Mediterranean island of Minorca in 1757. For nearly 50 years this comment - from the short story ‘Candide’ - kept Voltaire and his sophisticated continental chums laughing up their lacy sleeves at the expense of the British Navy; revelling in a humiliating defeat and incredulous that England should scapegoat and kill one of her senior officers in an a politically driven, face-saving stunt.

This tragic event exists only as an historical footnote, but survives hidden away on both sides of the English Channel: In southeast England on the dead admiral’s gravestone in Bedfordshire, the inequity is recorded; “To the perpetual disgrace of public justice, the Hon. John Byng Esq, Admiral of the Blue, fell a martyr to political persecution.” In France, the idiom “Pour encourager les autres…” is frequently employed in conversation to suggest or explain that drastic actions are often needed and justified.

However, the sniggering south of the Channel stopped on 21 October 1805 at the Battle of Trafalgar, fought off the Spanish port of Cadiz. This week’s ‘Trafalgar 200’ celebrations honour one of Britain’s most historically important victories and the man responsible for this triumph. Without doubt, Nelson was an inspirational, brilliant and fearless leader; loved by those serving under him and worshipped by his fellow countrymen. The degree of adoration and passion surrounding Nelson surmounted his seedy and scandalous ménage à trios with a former prostitute, Lady Emma Hamilton, and her husband Sir William; indeed this daring lack of conformity and flouting of social mores may have enhanced the cult of Nelson.

The defeat of French and Spanish forces at Trafalgar effectively terminated Emperor Napoleon’s plan to invade the British Isles and, therefore, is considered by many as a fundamental turning point in European history. However, the forthcoming maritime gala to mark this salvation from oppression has given rise to a spate of Francophobia and French-bashing; not least by the British government who have recently been making the life extremely uncomfortable for French prime minister, Jacques Chirac.

At a grass roots level, The Snake encountered Trafalgar-inspired xenophobia at a small, post regatta party last week. Installed in a south-facing Cowes garden with the dipping sun warming-up a nasty glass of chardonnay, the party guests were forced to witness an impromptu, ill-thought lecture on the possible outcome of Britain’s occupation and subsequent rule by a Napoleonic government. The sunburnt orator showered theories and opinions on a distressingly receptive audience, ignoring that any extrapolation of the theme was meaningless: starting with the blimpish belief that under French rule the Industrial Revolution would have only recently got underway and then proposing some tripe about which side of the road should be used for driving, he steadfastly refused to be distracted by any suggestion of possible benefits from a successful French conquest (a lack of fast food and obesity in the UK and USA or the likelihood that Kylie Minogue would be the current prime minister of Australia). When the tone of the speculation progressed from being harmlessly idiotic to verging on racism, The Snake felt it was time to go into battle for the French in the only way that seemed truly appropriate….and made a very public pass at the idiot’s wife. The effect of this unreciprocated action was total silence among the guests, which at least allowed those present to concentrate entirely on the drab, English summer party staple of coronation chicken with rocket salad and cherry tomatoes.

The build-up to Trafalgar started with a transatlantic chase between the British fleet and combined naval forces of France and Spain, with Nelson tailing the ships of the French admiral, Villeneuve, and his Spanish counterpart, Gravina, from Cadiz, across the North Atlantic to Martinique, then back to Europe and the Spanish port of Vigo. Blockaded by the British fleet, Villeneuve was unable to leave Vigo and head for the Channel to support Napoleon’s invasion plan, but managed to slip south to Cadiz, just north of the Straits of Gibraltar.

Nelson then sailed his ships far offshore and out of sight, in the hope of enticing Villeneuve from the safety of Cadiz. Finally, the French admiral succumbed and sailed out of the harbour in light winds. Immediately, the signal; “Enemy’s ships are coming out of port” was passed via a chain of British warships on station near the coast to Nelson further ofshore. The British admiral summoned his leading captains to the flagship, Victory, and explained a radical battle strategy.

At dawn the following morning, the French and Spanish fleet of 33 ships were heading slowly north in a light WNW breeze when two columns totalling 27 British ships appeared to windward, sailing downwind at pace and heading directly at their unsteady and uneven column. The British fleet was swiftly among the French ships, slicing the column at the middle and rear, cutting-off the trailing French and Spanish boats ensuring that they were unable to struggle upwind and join the battle.

The two differing methods of naval warfare practiced by Britain and France now became crucial: the French tactic was to engage the enemy from a distance, firing cannons on the ship’s up-roll and sending shot into the rigging and masts, crippling an enemy’s manoeuvrability and killing the crew on deck. The British preference, however, was for close engagement, firing into an enemy’s hull on the down-roll, disabling and then boarding a ship. The two fleets soon became locked together. Leading the leeward, southern British column, Nelson rammed the Redoubtable and the two ships crashed together; crew on the French ship immediately closed the gunports to prevent attempts at boarding as the tangled yards and rigging of the Victory and Redoubtable bound the ships together. Carnage ensued as French marines in the Redoubtable’s rigging dropped grenades onto Victory while snipers raked the deck with shot. It is at this moment that a musket ball entered Nelson’s shoulder and lodged in his spine.



While the admiral was carried below decks (covering his face with a handkerchief to avoid demoralising the crew) for a lingering and painful death from the fatal wound, the wind died leaving ships drifting around, attempting to find targets in the thick clouds of cannon smoke enveloping the fleet. The eventual rout of the French and Spanish fleet was conclusive; 17 ships captured, 1 sunk (Redoubtable), 4 burnt or exploded, 3 scuttled and 4 wrecked in a storm directly after the battle.

The highlight of Trafalgar 200 is the International Fleet Review on Tuesday 28th in which 112 warships from 36 countries will parade on the Solent. For the past ten days, ships have been manoeuvring into position, running security tests and rehearsing producing a deeply impressive assembly of military might. Following the review, a re-enactment of the Battle of Trafalgar will be staged to the east of the modern fleet. It seems that sensitivity to this section of the event has swept through the British Navy and the opposing forces will not be labelled as the French or British fleet, but…er…the ‘red fleet’ and…um…’blue fleet’. The only likely effect of this muddled political correctness will be a further fifty years of laughter from south of the Channel.

If such intense, historical pageantry is unappealing, then Portsmouth’s ‘Festival of the Sea’ - which underpins ‘Trafalgar 200’ – may prove attractive to fans of the nostalgic ‘varnish, gleaming brass and sea shanty’ category of yachting. Readers of thedailysail may consider that this maritime heritage has little relevance in modern yachting, but this is far from true. Having attended a number of classic yacht regattas, The Snake can reveal that there is currently a popular renaissance in shanty singing.

This novelty may be due, in part, to a recent increase in the number of very tough, high profile, round-the-world yacht races and record attempts. If this is so, then all owners or corporate sponsors of Volvo 70s, Open 60s, trimarans, maxicats etc., should be aware that installing a capstan on their racing yacht is essential to sustain shanty integrity and authenticity. The capstan need not be fully functioning and may be constructed using lightweight carbon fibre with a nomex core rather than English oak, but there is no appropriate position other than the top of a capstan to seat the wizened, cross-legged little fellow playing the fiddle.

Furthermore, a popular, contemporary shanty presents a powerful marketing tool for sponsors and an opportunity for product placement that transcends corporate branding. There follows a brief guide on how to write your own shanty:

There are two traditional types of shanty and both varieties can transfer successfully to modern yachts:

1. The ‘halyard shanty’ with short bursts of singing to encourage effort in brief, but strenuous tasks (pumping the heads, canting keels, shifting ballast etc.)

2. The ‘capstan shanty’ of prolonged singing throughout extended, shipboard chores (charging batteries, downloading grib files, re-booting computers, unblocking the heads etc.)

[NB: A shanty should not be confused with the ‘hornpipe’ (a dance with no singing) or the ‘forebitter’ (an off duty song for entertainment)]

A truly authentic shanty should also contain a number of traditional subjects; some of these are listed below (with examples in brackets):

1. Archaic or arcane words and objects (pieces of eight / codpieces)
2. Exotic locations (The Spanish Main / inside a whale)
3. Extremes of natural phenomena (freak waves / ghost ships)
4. Excessive drinking (casks of rum / sleeping in the longboat)
5. Nautical terminology (fouled anchors / keelhauling)

By way of example, The Snake has produced ‘The Iridium Shanty’ (sung to the tune of “What shall we do with the drunken sailor?”):


The Iridium Shanty

By flotsam and jetsam! I do love sailing!
Contaminated diesel, just keep bailing,
The pressure’s dropping, it’ll soon be hailing,
O’ the bosun’s aloft in the futtock shrouds!

I haven’t been drunk since we sailed from Rio
And I’m thoroughly sick of drinking tea-o,
I hate luffing and knotting
So I’m stuffing all yachting!
The autopilot appears to have seized-o.

With a hey-nonny-nonny, where’s the satellite ‘phone?
O’ dub be good to me-o!*

*(Repeat until unconscious)