A SECRET UNCOVERED – Ken Cooper

 PROLOGUE

In July 2009 archaeologists in Peterborough turned their attention to a twenty-two acre field five miles away at Norman’s Cross. At ground level the field looks like any other. But from the air, distinct outlines of buildings can be seen. The field is the site of what is thought to be the world’s first prisoner of war camp, built to hold French prisoners during the Napoleonic Wars. The famous Time Team was involved in the investigation. It was, however, a local lay-person, Jean Chandler, who made the most interesting find several months later whilst out walking with her dog Bonnie. Skirting the perimeter of an adjacent field she noticed something glinting in the winter sunlight. She jiggled the object with her walking boot and found it to be a bottle almost totally buried in the ploughed earth. Its neck contained half a cork which had been pushed inside and sealed with black wax. The clear glass was scratched and dirty, but through it Jean could see a roll of paper sheets with writing. She could make out a few words – they appeared to be in French. The next day she took the bottle to the museum in Peterborough where experts carefully extracted the manuscript and called in a specialist who translated the work into English. The author was a man with a secret. What follows is that translation.

ANTON’S STORY

My name is Anton Baxerras. I am a Frenchman. I have kept a secret for all the time I have been on English soil – almost ten years now. I was one of thirty five ship-fellows to be sent here. Only three others knew my secret when we arrived, but all three have perished because of the typhoid that has been a curse on this place over the years. God only knows why I was spared. When we arrived we four agreed no-one would say anything of my role in the battle that put us here, for if my English captors became aware of it I am certain some means, fair or foul, would be found to bring about my death. Yesterday, after our evening meal, my fellow prisoners and I were informed that in the coming days we shall be repatriated to our beloved France. Today I decided my story should be written down for posterity.

I grew up in the south of France, at Fos-sur-Mer. My family have always been fishermen and when I was old enough I joined my father and older brothers working on the family trawler. When I became 18 years of age I fell under the compass of the inscription maritime. Under this law, all Frenchmen exercising one of the maritime professions for over a year, have to register on the rôle des gens de mer  - roll of the men of the sea. It includes all crews of merchant ships and even ferries. This made us liable for compulsory service in the navy when called upon. I had to go with my father to present myself at the bureau d’inscription to enrol. Failure to do this would have branded me a deserter, and my father would have been punished.

Following the arrival of my call-up letter, in May 1803, I had eight days to arrive in the port of Toulon on the Mediterranean coast otherwise I would be posted as a deserter. I was assigned to the Redoubtable – a 74-gun ship of the line, commanded by capitaine de vaisseau Jean Jacques Étienne Lucas. This was the year that England declared war on France. The two nations had been at war, on and off, for ten years, and only a year earlier a so-called peace treaty had been signed at Amiens.

Napoleon Bonaparte was determined to invade Britain, but to do so he required control of La Manche - the English Channel. Our main fleets were at Brest and at Toulon, commanded by Vice-Admiral Pierre-Charles Villeneuve. Our Spanish allies had fleets in Cadiz near Gibraltar and Ferrol in the north.  The English Navy had imposed a naval blockade on France. Napoleon's naval plan was for the French and Spanish fleets in the Mediterranean and Cadiz to break through the blockade and eventually assist the fleet in Brest to emerge from the blockade, and together clear the La Manche of English ships, ensuring a safe passage for the invasion. Early in 1805, Admiral Nelson commanded the English fleet blockading Toulon. However, Villeneuve's fleet successfully evaded Nelson's when the English were blown off station by storms. Villeneuve passed through the Gibraltar straits and reached Ferrol. When he sailed from Ferrol in August, he was under orders from Napoleon to sail north towards Brest. Instead he sailed southward towards Cadiz.

 In September 1805 Villeneuve received orders from Napoleon to sail the Combined Fleet from Cadiz to Naples. Villeneuve ordered the fleet to sail immediately even though there were only very light winds. The Redoubtable took up its position behind the flagship Bucentaure. That evening a force of eighteen English ships of the line was spotted pursuing us. The next day, at eleven, another fleet of twenty-seven ships of the line was spotted in pursuit from the northwest with the wind behind it. Someone said this was Nelson aboard the Victory. The two opposing fleets would be within range of each other within an hour. Our fleet hoisted its colours. The ensign of the Redoutable went up in a very impressive manner; the drums beat 'Aux Drapeaux' ; the soldiers presented arms. The flag was saluted by the officers and I and my fellow members of the crew cheered seven times, ' Vive I'Empereur!'

 The two English columns approached from the west at nearly a right angle to our line. At noon, we on the Redoubtable received the signal "engage the enemy". We began firing at the Victory. Although many shots went astray many found their target. Because of her heading, Victory could not yet respond. It soon became clear to us that Nelson would employ an unorthodox strategy of breaking our line. I felt sick when I realised his intention was to break through between the Redoubtable and the Bucentaure at our fore. Captain Lucas’s response was to keep as close to the Bucentaure as he could do safely, but the Victory simply rammed the Redoubtable. It was now able to fire one broadside into our ship and another into the Bucentaure. The result was a terrible slaughter. On both ships small arms, muskets, and grenades were employed with devastating effect. The noise, screams, heat and smoke combined to make me believe I was in the presence of the devil himself.

Shortly all of our sharpshooters in the mizzen-tops had succumbed, so my friend Pierre Munier and I were ordered to take muskets and with four solders, go aloft to occupy the tops. While we were climbing, English musket balls and grape shot showered around us, splintering the masts and rigging. Pierre was above me on the shrouds and I heard him call out – he had been hit by a musket ball. As he fell to his death thirty feet below he almost took me with him. It took all my strength to hold on as his injured body tumbled over me. I scrambled to the redoubt and looked across to the Victory. The English top-men were only a few yards distance from us, shouting and cursing. They fired upon us and we returned the fire, appearing to be more successful, for when I was next able to see across, the English tops were deserted. We expected those English killed to be replaced, but none came. Through the thick smoke thrown up at each broadside from both vessels I was able to survey the whole scene. The decks of both ships were strewn with dead bodies. I could see Captain Lucas at his post, wounded, but still able to give orders. I surveyed the Victory once more and on the quarterdeck saw a group of officers. At their centre was one whose chest was covered in stars of honour. His single arm confirmed it was Nelson.

I quickly loaded my musket and fired at the group. You need to be aware that normally it is very difficult even for a marksman to score a hit on a particular target on an enemy’s vessel, because the various movements of the ships – the pitching, the rolling, the yawing, the swell, each different for ships not of the same size, combine in unfathomable ways to produce relative motions that are impossible to predict. This time Fate was directing my musket I believe. My ball struck the English admiral just below his left epaulette and penetrated his chest, and he reeled round. There was immediately a great confusion surrounding the casualty. I watched as he was taken below.

Did I feel elated? No. Strangely, I felt a deep pity for this man, even though he was only one of my several English victims. Why stand in such a vulnerable position with one’s chest emblazoned with the insignia of a senior officer? Why remain on a ship that was so fiercely engaged at so close quarters? Did he somehow know that this was to be his last battle?

Now the Redoubtable was within minutes of taking the English flagship. One of our aspirants and four matelots got on board the Victory by climbing onto her anchor. They shouted across that there was no-one in the batteries. The decks had been evacuated. Our grenades had proved very effective. Captain Lucas ordered that the cables holding our main yard should be cut with the intention of using it as a bridge over to the higher decks of the Victory.  The order was given for our lads to follow the boarders and a great shout rang out. Everyone felt they were on the threshold of taking a great prize. But before we could begin the raid we were rammed on our starboard bow by an English ship at full sail. I learned later that this was the Temeraire, which had seen that the Victory was no longer fighting and was about to be taken. We were continually blasted at point blank range by her artillery. The resulting carnage is impossible to describe. More than two hundred of our lads were killed or wounded. A short time afterwards another English ship, a two-decker, placed herself across our stern and fired upon us with pistol shot.

Very soon, our poor ship looked little more than a hulk. The Temeraire clearly thought we were done for and hailed for us to surrender. Captain Lucas’s response was to order some nearby marines to fire back at the Temeraire. Just then, our mainmast fell on board the ship across our stern and the two topmasts of the Temeraire came down, falling across the Redoubtable. All our guns now were either smashed or dismounted by the broadsides we had suffered from the Victory and the Temeraire.

The Victory was now effectively hors de combat. Her crew busied themselves with freeing her from the Redoubtable. We, however, were still being fired upon by the Temeraire and the ship across our stern. There was no chance of rescue for us – the rest of our ships were now too far leeward to come to our aid. Captain Lucas could see that the Redoubtable was destined to sink, and I heard him give the order for our colours to be struck. Before the flag could be lowered, however, the mizzen mast carrying the colours came crashing down. The ship to our stern then left us, but the cowardly Temeraire continued to fire upon us. She only ceased her murderous actions when her gunners had to attend to a fire that had started on their own ship.

 The Redoubtable, the Victory, and the Temeraire were now all joined together owing to their masts having fallen across from one ship to another. They were unable to steer, and drifted as one mass, at the mercy of the winds. They even came foul of the Fougueux, which having been dismasted and unrigged earlier, was now a floating wreck.

The English took no steps to take possession of the Redoubtable, and Captain Lucas called to the Temeraire that he feared the ship would sink before the wounded could be got away. He said that unless they sent men to work the pumps, he would be obliged to set fire to the ship, and this would have consequences for those English ships with which we were entangled. At this, two English officers, some seamen and some marines came on board and took possession of the ship.

An hour later, the Victory managed to free itself from the Redoubtable, but she was in a dreadful state and had to be taken in tow. It was not until seven in the evening that the Temeraire was able to free itself from the Redoubtable. Shortly afterwards, the English Swiftsure took us in tow.

Our captain’s concern now was to keep the ship afloat, for we had many wounded on board. The few of we Frenchmen who were still able joined the English party on board in stopping up leaks and manning the only two serviceable pumps. We also tried to shore up the poop which looked ready to cave in. We spent the whole of that night toiling to save the ship. It was a Hell on Earth, dead bodies lying all over the decks and the batteries.

The next morning, the Swiftsure sent a boat to fetch Captain Lucas. At five in the evening it was obvious the pumps could not hold out. The sea was running very high, and the wind was blowing very hard. The prizemaster on board sent distress signals to the Swiftsure, who sent all her boats to rescue us. Despite the foul weather, we were able to rescue some of our wounded. But at seven o’clock the Redoubtable sank with many of my injured comrades still on board, God rest their pour souls. One hundred and sixty nine of us were taken on board the Swiftsure. Those that were wounded were taken to Cadiz under a flag of truce. The thirty five of us who were physically unscathed were taken to England as prisoners of war.

The battle at Trafalgar was a great victory for the English navy, and Horatio Nelson, its great hero, was given a state funeral. But not many know how close a run thing it was.

This is my story. Only now that I have ended it do I realise it cannot be found upon my person, for if it fell into the wrong hands I might never be reunited with my dear family. I have resolved to conceal these papers. If you find them after I have gone, tell the world about the role of Anton Baxerras at Trafalgar, and his contribution to history. 

Reference: Crowdy, Terry. French Warship Crews 1789 – 1805 (Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2005)