At the end of March Rodney was at Gros Islet Bay in Santa Lucia with a fleet of twenty-one sail of line-of-battle ships. His adversary Guichen was at Fort Royal Bay in Martinique, some thirty miles off to the north, with a force of twenty-three line-of-battle ships and two fifty-gun ships—a class of vessels which held an intermediate position between the liner and the frigate. Both admirals had their attendant swarm of small craft. In spite of the superior numbers of the French, the fleets were substantially equal. The French Government usually built its vessels bigger and better than ours, and the calibre of its guns was heavier. On the other hand Rodney had more three-deckers and seventy-fours than his opponent. What advantage there was—and there was some—was in favour of Guichen, but it was only just sufficient to enhance the glory of beating him. The superiority or even the equality of the Frenchman was somewhat of a surprise to Rodney, who expected to find himself in greater force. He complained that he had not been kept well informed by his Government of the movements of Guichen, who had sailed from Europe shortly after he himself left for the relief of Gibraltar, and had got to the West Indies first. There was doubtless some ground for the complaint, but Rodney, who was just then rather disposed to find fault, made the most of it. The position was certainly not one which an admiral who believed in himself, as Rodney did, and commanded an English fleet, need have considered unfavourable.

Whatever ground of complaint he might feel he had, Rodney was resolved that there should be no shilly-shallying. On March 21st he turned into Gros Islet Bay with the four ships he brought from Europe and joined the seventeen already lying there under Sir Hyde Parker. One does not clearly understand why Guichen, who was already at sea with his twenty-three ships, allowed the junction to take place. He did, and then returned to Fort Royal Bay. After spending less than a week in watering his ships, and in settling matters of detail, Rodney got to sea on April 2nd, and paraded in defiance off the French harbour. It would have been utterly contrary to the usual practice of the French admirals if Guichen had come out for the mere purpose of fighting a battle. He would not stir till he had an “ulterior object,” and so lay tight under the protection of the shore batteries. Finding that his enemy would not stir, Rodney returned to Gros Islet Bay, leaving look-out frigates on the watch. By April 15th the French had settled a plan. There was a convoy of merchant ships to be seen safe to San Domingo for one thing, and for another it was decided to make a stroke at one of the English islands. In this work Guichen had the zealous assistance of the then Governor of Martinique, the famous BouillÉ, that “quick, choleric, sharply discerning, stubbornly endeavouring man,” who afterwards played so great a part in the Revolution. The plan was to ship a body of troops under BouillÉ himself on board the war vessels, to stand northward with the merchant ships in convoy, to see them off for San Domingo, and then, by turning to windward between Martinique and Dominica, to beat up to Barbadoes in the hope of mastering it before Rodney could come up from Santa Lucia. Barbadoes was then full of French prisoners and prizes. The scheme was most characteristic of French naval operations at that time. It depended for success not on the previous beating of the English fleet, but on luck in avoiding a battle at sea. Of course if the English admiral behaved with common sense and energy he would catch the French up before they got to Barbadoes, and then they must fight or run. In either case there was an end of the scheme.

As a matter of fact it hardly even began to be put into execution. No sooner were the French known to be under way than the English look-out frigates were signalling the news to one another all along the thirty miles of sea between Fort Royal and Gros Islet Bay. As soon as the signal of the nearest frigate was seen by the look-out on Pigeon Island, a great mass of rock which shuts in the anchorage, the order was given to the English fleet to get up anchor. Without delay it stood out to sea, stretching to the north along the coast of Martinique in pursuit of the enemy. The French had slipped out by night, but Rodney judged that they would endeavour to make for Barbadoes through the Dominica Channel, and followed them hot foot. In the course of the 16th M. de Guichen’s fleet was seen by the English to the north, endeavouring to turn to windward between Dominica and Martinique about twenty-four miles to westward of the Pearl Rock. In order to secure the power to force on a battle, and also in order to bar the road to Barbadoes, Rodney worked to windward. Before night he had succeeded in obtaining that commanding position. It was too late to force on a battle, but during the darkness the English fleet kept across the road of the French, whose movements were keenly watched and immediately signalled by guns. The Venus and Greyhound frigates patrolled the space dividing the enemies till daybreak.

At sunrise, shortly after five o’clock, the two fleets were drawn up in two lines of from six to seven miles long, heading both to the north. The French were at a distance of some seven miles to westward and leeward of the English. At a quarter to six the signal was given to form the line of battle on the starboard tack at two cables’ length. With the wind at east this would mean that the fleet was heading to the north. The cable as a measure of length being about two hundred yards, and the average length of a ship fifty-four, the line must have been something under six miles long. Before we go down with Rodney into the very inconclusive battle which was about to be fought, there are two facts which it will be necessary to note. The first is, that the system of signals then used in our fleet was most defective. There was no proper general code. Every admiral had to make his own on taking command of his squadron. It was not possible to do work requiring such minute finish of detail as the formation of a code of signals in such circumstances. Much was apt to be omitted. In Rodney’s own code, for instance, there was then no signal by which a captain could make known that he did not understand the admiral’s orders. One was supplied after the battle. The second fact is this: at that time there existed a body of laws for the fleet known as the Fighting Orders and the Additional Fighting Instructions. These were not statements of the principles on which battles should be fought, but recipes for fighting a battle. They bear an almost comic resemblance to those cut-and-dried rules for painting a picture to be found in old drawing-books, which tell men that grief is expressed by pulling down the corners of the mouth, and pain by wrinkling the forehead. Moreover, they were worded with the looseness of an Act of Parliament. Such as they were, however, they were binding on all captains unless direct orders to the contrary were given by the admiral, who disregarded them at his peril, as had been shown in the case of Rodney’s old chief, Mathews, who was broken by court-martial for an offence against them, though he only did it to get at the enemy and support the honour of the flag. With insufficient power to give orders, and hampered by a competing authority, a British admiral was very liable to find his fleet get out of hand. These same standing orders are responsible for much of the pedantry of our fighting during a century.

Rodney had decided to break away from the old tradition by which our admirals always endeavoured to fight van to van, centre to centre, and rear to rear. He had resolved to throw the whole of his ships on a part of the enemy. At a quarter to six he signalled that he meant to attack the enemy’s rear. The most northerly ships of his own line were under Rear-Admiral Rowley, one of the many of the name who have done much respectable sea-fighting. He himself was in the centre with his flag in the Sandwich. The rear, as the fleet was then sailing, was under the command of Sir Hyde Parker; the stern-most ship of all being the Stirling Castle, which was to be unenviably distinguished before the day was out. Until about nine o’clock no opportunity presented itself of making an attack, and the two fleets continued to stand to west of north watching one another—the French waiting for an attack, the English waiting for an opening. M. de Guichen had stretched his fleet well out, “as if,” as Rodney scornfully put it, “he thought I was going to run away.” At about nine Rodney saw a gap in the French line a few ships astern of the admiral, the leading English ship being then apparently about level with the leading Frenchman—and the last of the enemy, in the loose order they were in, a good bit behind the last Englishman. At once Rodney ordered the fleet to tack and steer for the enemy’s rear—which, if the Frenchman had held on his course, would have thrown the whole of the English ships on the last eight or nine of his line. Guichen was too wary to be so caught. No sooner did he see the move of the English admiral than up went his signals, and the ships of his centre and van came round on their heel together and swept on to fill up the gap. Then the ships which had been nearly cut off spun round also. Resolute, as Wellington himself at Salamanca, not to strike till he could do it with effect, Rodney hauled his wind, and the two fleets resumed their attitude of observation, heading now to the south with the wind on their port or left side, sailing nearly parallel with one another. So they continued for rather over an hour, the French, as before, too much extended, the English in a fairly compact line. At last Rodney decided to make an opportunity. Shortly after ten o’clock he reversed his order of march and went back again towards the north. Guichen perhaps thought the English admiral meant to avoid a battle, and was content to let him do so. He did not alter his own course, and now the two fleets ran past one another, the French to the south, the English to the north, with the wind on the beam. These opposite courses were continued for half an hour, when Rodney for the second time came round to the port tack, and headed to the south. The result of this movement had been to bring the whole of the English force opposite the rear third or half of the French. Again the two fleets stood on together to the south for another hour. The English fleet had been slightly disordered in the course of these movements; this or that vessel was out of her place, the rear had to be ordered to make more sail to close the centre. By midday all was in order and Rodney hoisted the signal to bear down all together, and each to engage the ship opposite her on the enemy’s line.

The order was obeyed in a manner which threw Rodney into a paroxysm of rage. To him what ought to have been done was as clear as day. All his ships should have borne down together, so that the whole twenty-one would have come into action with a dozen or fifteen Frenchmen with every chance of crushing them before Guichen’s van could turn to his assistance. By ship opposite he meant the ship opposite at the moment, but what was self-evident to him was by no means so to his captains, nor to Parker, whose division was now leading. Brought up in the pedantic old school, and steeped in the orthodox faith that van should engage van, centre centre, and rear rear, they understood opposite ship to mean ship occupying the same relative position in the enemy’s line. The order to attack the rear they supposed only to apply to the movement made at nine o’clock. So when Rodney and the ships astern of him which followed the movements of their admiral turned west to fall on the French rear, the ships ahead of him, utterly forgetting the order to keep at a distance of two cables’ length from one another, and mindful only of the pedantic old theory, kept on along the French line, headed by the Stirling Castle, which went blindly on to put herself alongside the leading French ship miles off. Rodney’s careful formation fell utterly to pieces, and his scientifically prepared plan of attack was ruined. His force, instead of being concentrated on a part of the enemy, was scattered all along his line. In vain were signals hoisted on the flag-ship. They were not understood by men whose minds were clouded by preconceived notions—were perhaps not seen in the smoke gathering from the cannon.

To Rodney it was now only left to do his own duty as a brave man. He placed his ship at about a pistol shot from the nearest Frenchman, and by furious cannonade drove him from the line. Even now he was exasperated by further bungling and by downright misconduct. The Cornwall, the ship immediately ahead, went too far from him. The Yarmouth, the next ahead of the Cornwall, did worse. She first stopped at too great a distance from the French, and then actually drew out of action and lay to windward of the Admiral. This last piece of misconduct Rodney did amend. First a signal, and then when it was not obeyed a cannon shot fired into her, brought the Yarmouth down to the flag-ship’s quarter. There by the voice of the signal lieutenant, who, standing by Rodney in the stern walk—the gallery outside the cabin—roared at her through his speaking-trumpet, she got the order to come into action again under the Admiral’s stern. But the battle had gone to pieces. Nothing was left of it but a furious cannonade between the rear divisions of the two fleets. Fortunately the French made no use of the opportunity presented them by the confusion in the English line. Some of them were crippled, others misunderstood orders. By three o’clock many of them had fallen to leeward. M. de Guichen called off the ships engaged to form a new line. Rodney, seeing that nothing effectual could now be done, hauled down the signal for battle. The two fleets separated—the French standing to the north, the English to the south—and by night they were out of sight of one another. Even now the confusion in the English fleet did not end, for during the darkness some of the vessels were separated, and did not rejoin their admiral till late next day.

The bitterness of this disappointment remained with Rodney as long as he lived. He told Gilbert Blane that he was prouder of the plan he laid to beat Guichen than of the actual victory he won over Grasse two years later. On this latter occasion he owed something to fortune and much to the enemy’s blunders. Grasse too was the inferior man. Had his orders been obeyed on April 17th, Rodney felt that he would have won by pure good management, and against an adversary who was a master swordsman. This was the feeling of a genuine artist, and one cannot but sympathise with the anger he felt and expressed. Guichen even had a fellow-feeling for him, and wrote condoling with him on the bad support he had received. For himself, so he said, he thought eight of his ships were gone when he saw the beginning of the English attack. This letter, it is almost unnecessary to say, is not mentioned by French historians, but we have Rodney’s word for it; and nothing could be more in keeping with the gallant, courtly manners of a time which retained the old faith that the noble cavaliers who follow the honourable profession of arms are not the less brothers and fellow-artists because they fight on opposite sides. Rodney indicated his feelings sufficiently clearly in his public letter—so clearly in fact that Sandwich thought it better to suppress a paragraph. Even as it was published there could be no doubt what the Admiral meant. He pointedly complimented Guichen on the support he had received from his captains, and abstained severely from any praise of his own subordinates. In private letters to Sandwich and to Lady Rodney he was vehement in wrath and denunciation, declaring in so many words that it was all a villainous plot to ruin him and discredit the Administration. Something must be allowed here for natural heat and something for gout. Rodney had already complained in bitter general terms of the conduct of some of his captains in the fight with Don Juan de Langara, when, if we are to judge by results, every man’s duty was well done. We need not suppose there was any villainy or plot, but only stupidity and routine. It is a fact which ought to be remembered that the conduct of Parker and the captains in the van was partly justified by the hidebound fighting orders. The fault of the failure rests more with the neglect to form a proper code of signals, and the foolish system which compelled an admiral to fight in chains imposed by standing orders.

His sense of their conduct was not unknown to his captains, and one of them actually complained to him and insisted on a court-martial. This was Carkett of the Stirling Castle, the officer who led the van right away from the centre. He drew upon himself an admirably worded and most severe rebuke. No court-martial on him was ever held. Poor Carkett perished in the dreadful hurricane which desolated the West Indies in the following October. He was one of the officers from before the mast, and had been the hero of a famous episode in the Seven Years’ War. At that time he was first-lieutenant to Captain Gardiner in the Monmouth, sixty-four, in Admiral Osborne’s squadron, which was blockading a French force in Carthagena. One of the Frenchmen was the Formidable, eighty, which had been the French flag-ship in the scandalous battle off Minorca. Now Gardiner had been Byng’s flag-captain on that occasion, and he had sworn to attack the big Frenchman whenever he met him, if it were only in an open boat. The French squadron slipped to sea, were seen by the English, and scattered in flight. Gardiner picked out the Formidable and followed her. Both sailed well, and had soon run the other ships out of sight. Then the Frenchman, exasperated by the pursuit of an enemy half his size, turned at bay. Gardiner was as good as his word. He attacked in a masterly manner and with indomitable pertinacity. Shortly after the action began he fell with a musket-shot in the head. The wound was swiftly mortal, but while he could still speak he charged Carkett to fight it out, to go down if he must with his colours flying, but never to leave the Frenchman, or to strike. Carkett kept his charge in the letter and the spirit. Metaphorically, or perhaps in heroic reality, he nailed his colours to the mast, and fought till the Monmouth was a hulk, and the Formidable was beaten to a standstill. At last two of the slower sailing ships of the English squadron, guided by the sound of the cannon, for the action had been carried on in the night, came up, and the French captain struck. He insisted, however, on surrendering his sword to Carkett; not to the senior captain of the two new-comers. It is impossible to believe that such a man wanted courage or loyalty. Indeed Rodney, even while rebuking him, fully recognised his bravery and the quality of his former service.

The case of Bateman of the Yarmouth was very different. He too had risen from before the mast, but with no such record as Carkett. In the action he had simply misbehaved, and it was not for the first time. The Yarmouth had been badly handled in Admiral Byron’s action off Grenada. Bateman was court-martialed and dismissed the service at New York some months later. In his case Rodney was implacable, and even allowed his feelings to carry him into what the officers of the court-martial thought undue interference and protested against with spirit. The Admiral had to make something approaching an apology to the President of the Court, Sir Chaloner Ogle. With this and one other exception there were no courts-martial. Rodney knew that the Government was exceedingly anxious to avoid any repetition of the scandals which had followed the battle off Ushant. He did not himself wish to discredit the flag by publishing details of misconduct. For the rest, though his teeth were sharp, his bark was worse than his bite. In the course of these months he tells his wife a story which shows that he was not implacable. A certain Captain —— had angered him by allowing his ship to get into a bad condition. Rodney had resolved to suspend him, and had actually gone on board with some hostile intentions. It happened that the captain’s wife and daughters were staying on board. Now the girls were such nice girls, and the mother was such an agreeable woman, and the whole family was so amiable, that the Admiral’s heart bled at the thought of bringing misery upon them. The old Adam of gallantry was too much for him. Rather than bring tears into the eyes of those sweet girls he let the service go for once, and contented himself with sending the ship home in charge of a convoy. It was well for Captain —— that his wife was above rubies, and that he had such children to parley with the enemy at the gate. As a rule, indeed, Rodney’s course was to get rid of captains whom he could not trust by sending them on convoy so soon as reinforcements from Europe enabled him to dispense with them.

The days immediately following the battle were spent in hard work. Although he had missed victory Rodney was not beaten, and determined to show the Frenchmen as much. He therefore resolutely kept the sea, and barred their road to Fort Royal. The Sandwich was so battered that for twenty-four hours she was in danger of sinking. Rodney shifted his flag to the Montague. The damage was repaired at sea. As the French, who are driven to some straits to find victories at sea, have claimed April 17th as one, we may pardonably remind them that quiescence on the part of their admiral seems to show they were as badly mauled as we were. On the 20th, three days after the battle, the French reappeared to the north, but on finding the English waiting for them, made off at once. Guichen took his ships northward to the Dutch, and then neutral, island of St. Eustatius, where he was able to refit, which does not look like the conduct of an officer who felt conscious of superiority. After cruising for a few days longer in sight of Martinique, to the no small disturbance of the French colonists, Rodney, seeing that Guichen had retreated, went south himself to Santa Lucia, leaving frigates to watch Fort Royal. At Choque Bay he was able to get fresh water, to land his sick and wounded, and to complete his repairs.

On May 6th the look-out frigates reported that the French had reappeared; this time to the eastward of Martinique. Rodney at once put to sea with nineteen line-of-battle ships and two of fifty guns, turning to the windward of Santa Lucia by the north to meet the Frenchman. He had now an opportunity of doing what he told his wife greatly needed to be done—namely, of teaching his captains to be officers. “Every captain in this fleet,” he once said to Gilbert Blane, “thinks himself fit to be Prime Minister of Great Britain.” The Admiral was resolved to show them that they should not disobey, or show a want of promptitude in obeying, the orders of George Brydges Rodney. He set resolutely to work to bring them to a proper degree of smartness. While he was manoeuvring in front of Guichen the days were passed in tacking in succession or tacking together, in wearing in succession or together, in forming column and forming line. Whenever a ship was out of her station her signal was made, and she was publicly rebuked without regard to the seniority of her captain, or to the fact that she carried an admiral’s flag. Rodney even threatened to hoist his flag in a frigate in order to observe the line from a distance the better. It is easy to understand that such schooling was disagreeable to old captains who thought themselves masters of their profession. Rodney’s second in command, Sir Hyde Parker, a thorough seaman and solid fighter of the old stamp, was wrought by it into a state of sullen fury. When he returned to England a few months later he was with difficulty restrained by Sandwich from rushing into a pamphleteering attack on his late commander. For the present, however, there was nothing for it but obedience. At the end of a few days the lesson had been taught, and the English squadron manoeuvred with the precision of Frederick’s grenadiers. Rodney might have found a more excellent way. If he had had more of the kindly good-fellowship of Nelson, if he had been wont to talk things over and explain his ideas to his captains, to get the wild ducks out after dinner and work out problems, it might have been better for his glory. But this was not Rodney’s way. He lived apart from his captains, whom he generally regarded as his social inferiors—neither asking for their friendship nor giving them his—asking only for that implicit obedience which he was ready to render to his own official superiors. As a natural consequence he got obedience, but he won none of that loyal devotion which bound Collingwood, or Hallowell, or Hoste to Nelson. His relations to his subordinates were always strained. They knew that he expected them to act only on his order, therefore they would do just what they were ordered and nothing more. He could never shut up his signal-book as Nelson could, with the confidence that he had instilled his spirit into his captains and could trust them to act in it. On Rodney’s part, however, it is only fair to remember that the relations of Nelson to his captains were exceptional, and would not have been possible unless he had been absolutely sure of their spirit of discipline. In the American War the bonds of discipline required to be tightened, and Rodney did well to tighten them. To say that he could not temper command by good-fellowship, that he could order but could not inspire, is to say that he had not the genial temperament of the very greatest stamp of leader, of a Nelson or of a Gustavus Adolphus, to whom, king as he was, all soldiers were brothers, who knew that his personal influence would give him all the superiority he wanted. To that race Rodney did not belong.

The second phrase, as the fencing men would say, of the duel with Guichen was pure manoeuvring on both sides—mere doubling and disengaging. The Frenchman, who had the advantage of the wind when they met, took care not to lose it, and though he had a distinct superiority in number of ships, would not force on a battle. According to the French historians it was the English admiral who avoided action. It does not seem to strike them as absurd that, if it were so, Guichen did not bear down, and either force him to stand, or chase him ignominiously into Santa Lucia, as on this supposition he could have done. The facts show that Guichen was by no means anxious for a close fight. He would come down in line of battle to just out of gunshot, and there parade in defiance much as a mischievous boy might flaunt a red rag at a bull from the safe side of a fence; but so soon as the English seemed to be coming into striking distance the French worked up to windward at once. “They kept,” said Rodney, “an awful distance.” It was a somewhat risky game, for the fence was not quite permanent. Though the trade wind blows from the east it does not blow always from the same point of east, and a slight shift in it might enable Rodney to get to windward. Once it did give him the chance, but only for a moment. Then it dropped back and the Frenchman slipped off. During the fortnight in which the two fleets were zigzagging in front of one another, the Frenchman always breaking measure, to take to fencing language again, so soon as the English were within lunging distance, there were two partial actions, one on the 15th the other on May 19th. On one if not on both of these occasions the English fleet could have forced on a battle by steering into the rear of the French line, and so cutting off the last three or four ships. If this had been done Guichen must either have left his tail behind him like the lizard, or have fought a real battle. But Rodney was not prepared to break away from the old system of tactics as yet. He could only use it with more tactical judgment than his contemporaries. These actions, therefore, presented no particular novelty, and were thoroughly feeble. At last the two fleets separated by mutual consent. Both were in fact in a very bad condition. The use of copper sheathing was only coming in among ourselves. The French had not begun to use it. Ships, being unprotected against barnacles and worms, grew rapidly foul and leaky. Some of Rodney’s were in an almost sinking state, and Guichen’s were not in better case. Finally, the admirals were glad enough to separate, and return to port on May 21st. Guichen steered for Fort Royal round the north end of Martinique, Rodney sent three ships into Santa Lucia, and then made his way with the bulk of his fleet to Barbadoes, in order to be on the spot if the French should persevere in their designs on that island.

Practically this was the end of the measuring of swords between Rodney and Guichen. There was no further fighting or attempts to fight among the Lesser Antilles that year. Hardly had Rodney reached Carlisle Bay in Barbadoes before he received news which materially altered the position. It was brought by Captain Mann of the Cerberus, who, while cruising off Cadiz early in the month, had sighted a large convoy under the protection of a squadron of line-of-battle ships steering to the west. He followed them in the hope of cutting off one of the merchant ships, and so learning more about them. The enemy was too vigilant, but he saw enough to convince him that this was a Spanish force on its way to the West Indies. Captain Mann used his discretion in the right way. He left his station and hurried with the news to the Antilles. Soon other messages to the same effect arrived from Commodore Johnstone’s squadron on the coast of Portugal. Rodney made all possible haste to sea and resumed his cruising to windward of Martinique. But the Spanish commander, Don Jose Solano, was a more capable man than Langara. He had foreseen the possibility that the English might be at sea on this station, and therefore steered farther to the north so as to enter by the Saints’ Passage between Dominica and Guadaloupe. Then he anchored in Prince Rupert’s Bay in Dominica, and there waited to be joined by Guichen. The meeting was effected, and the force of the enemy thereby raised to thirty-six line-of-battle ships. It was hopeless to attempt an attack on such a force, and Rodney made at once for Gros Islet Bay in Santa Lucia. He moored his fleet under the protection of batteries, and fortified Pigeon Island. The measure was destined to be the salvation of the station in the next year, but for the present its worth was not put to the test. The Spaniards were as usual much more a hindrance than a help to their allies. They had the plague on board, and were dying like sheep with the rot, or as they say themselves—say with less than their habitual felicity of expression—como chinchas, which, saving the reader’s reverence, are bugs. This great force therefore did nothing. Don Jose was so cowed by the wretched state of his squadron that he insisted on being convoyed to San Domingo by Guichen. From thence he made the best of his way to Havannah. No wonder that French and English naval officers alike prayed that they might have the Spaniard as an enemy but never as a friend. As soon as he had seen his burdensome allies well into the Bahama Channel, Guichen, who knew that his squadron was worn out and saw the hurricane months close on him, left the West Indies. After touching on the coast of the insurgent colonies he, to the bitter disappointment of the rebels, insisted on sailing for Europe. The West Indies were thus practically clear of enemies.

In the meantime Rodney had been waiting for the attack which never came. Early in July he was reinforced by a squadron from England under the command of Captain Walsingham, but it was now too late to do anything. The hurricane months were just beginning. A very rude rhyme has been formed to aid the mariner’s memory, and it limits the hurricane season with reasonable accuracy—

In this July Rodney decided to leave waters in which nothing could now be done. He sent the trading ships, which had collected for convoy, to Europe under charge of Sir Hyde Parker and those of his captains whom he desired might be better strangers to him in future. Rowley and Walsingham were ordered to Jamaica. The safety of the Lesser Antilles was provided for sufficiently, and then he sailed for Sandy Hook himself with ten line-of-battle ships and a frigate.

The campaign of 1780 had done nothing to diminish the reputation Rodney had gained by the relief of Gibraltar. He was not held responsible for the failure to win on April 17th, or the subsequent failure to force Guichen into close action in May. Although what fighting there had been was but indecisive, the substantial results were considerable. All attacks on the English islands had been stopped, and although no effective counter-stroke had been delivered at the French, yet we had remained masters of the field of battle at the end in spite of the enemy’s superior numbers. To be sure the sufferings of the Spaniards from the plague had helped us materially, but they were the consequences of a dirty inefficiency in our foes which would one day, when opportunity and faculty combined, give us a decisive victory. At home, therefore, Rodney’s fame was great. He was being sung into immortality by ballad-mongers. His lady was highly complimented by the King in frequent Drawing-room. Other rewards of a more substantial kind were not wanting. When the thanks of the House were voted him for the relief of Gibraltar, his friends had, with more zeal than judgment, moved that the King should be petitioned to grant him a pension. With almost incredible want of taste they made much of the Admiral’s notorious pecuniary embarrassments. The motion was opposed by North as irregular, and even indecent. It was certainly unnecessary. A pension with remainder to his children was granted, and would certainly in any case have been granted by the King.