Lord Hawksbury wrote Fulton, “If you should be disposed to accept active employment from the British government, you may rely on the most liberal treatment and recompense proportioned to your efficient service.” No wonder that Fulton departed happily from France.

Arriving in London, he established himself in lodgings and tried once more to order the engine for the American boat; he also tried to induce the British Ministry to accept his submarine torpedo. As his work in France had been publicly known, he signed his letters to the English statesmen “Robert Francis,” an assumed name which was no secret to the English but served to protect the torpedo project from the notice of French spies, should there be any.

At Boulogne, Napoleon was gathering his army for a possible invasion of England. France, enriched fifteen million dollars by the American purchase of Louisiana, was prepared to strike a new blow. History made rapidly during those days; maps and ruling powers were changing. Fulton swung his energies to a fresh scene of action at a crucial time.

He was indeed “playing with fire.” Fulton’s danger during his submarine experiments in the harbor of Brest, was small compared with the risk he would run should he fall into the hands of the French while using torpedoes against them. Fulton had been told by Napoleon’s commission that any one employing such weapons of destruction would certainly be hung if captured by the enemy; how much greater the likelihood now if France found the spurned machines effectively turned against Napoleon’s troops.

For so it was. Fulton was in England only two days when he proposed to the Ministry a practical trial of his plunging vessel, describing it as thirty-five feet long, having power to sail like an ordinary fishing-boat, with a capacity for machinery and provisions for six persons for twenty days at sea, capable of plunging and remaining three hours under water without aid. When necessary to renew air, the boat need not appear above the water, but approaching the surface, could project two tubes, one to discharge the foul air already breathed, the other to take in fresh air, accomplishing the change in two minutes, when the boat could plunge again to remain another three hours below.

In this manner he promised that a crew could conceal themselves under water during a day of twelve hours, on renewing the air three times, and could remain many days in the neighborhood of an enemy without detection.

He proposed a submarine expedition to destroy the French fleets at Boulogne and Brest “as they now lie.” It was a daring plan, but Fulton admitted no possibility of defeat and offered personally to conduct the siege. He asked the aid of a good machinist to assist in fitting out the vessels, and an active sea-officer with power to choose one hundred hardy seamen from the fleet who were good swimmers,—also about forty tons of powder and seven thousand pounds, English money, to fit out the expedition.

But the British halted their judgment. Delay was irksome and Fulton urged the appointment of a committee to consider his plan.

Lord Sidmouth, who had sent Dr. Gregory to call upon Fulton in Paris, was no longer in power; but had been succeeded by the Right Honourable William Pitt, a relative of Lord Stanhope. The latter, with Lord Viscount Melville, First Lord of the Admiralty, finally drew up a contract, which was witnessed by Sir Home Popham, and was signed by Fulton in his own name.

Although Fulton was officially engaged by the English government, his plan was still under consideration, and the actual expedition met with several postponements. Pitt, although impressed by Fulton’s drawings and arguments, said that if the torpedo were introduced into naval practice it would in time destroy all military marines, and, as England’s pride and strength was in her navy, he hesitated to encourage a plan which might injure it.

In fact, Pitt was hoping for peace rather than war; and for several months the project languished.

We can imagine with how much pleasure Fulton accepted an invitation to breakfast with Mr. Pitt on the 20th of July at his country house near Putney Common. Sir Home Popham also was present and Fulton noted that “Lord Melville was expected but did not arrive.”

Fulton noted in his book of memoranda, that “during breakfast he explained the general principles of submarine navigation and attack which appeared to give pleasure and make a strong impression.” The enthusiasm of the inventor prevailed. Little by little he won by argument the approval of the half-sceptical British statesmen.

Finally Mr. Pitt directly asked Sir Home Popham if an agreement could be reached and Sir Home assented, saying Mr. Pitt’s “perusal and signature alone were wanting.” Then Mr. Pitt read and signed the papers, and delivered them to Sir Home Popham, with orders to call upon Lord Melville for his signature.

This was another red-letter day in Fulton’s history,—indeed in the history of the world’s naval warfare. For the signed papers were a contract with the inventor to fit out a British torpedo expedition against the French fleet at Boulogne. Sir Home left early, bearing the precious documents, and Mr. Pitt when alone with Fulton remarked upon the extraordinary invention which seemed to “go to the destruction of all fleets.”

Fulton replied, “It was invented with that view.” He added in his book of memoranda:

“As I had no desire to deceive him or the government, I did not hesitate to give as my opinion that this invention would lead to the total annihilation of the existing system of marine war.”

“But,” said Mr. Pitt, “in its present state of perfectionment those who command the seas will be benefited by it, while the minor maritime powers can draw no advantage from what is now known.”

“True, unless plunging or submarine vessels were introduced into practice,” answered Fulton. “It probably would be some years before any nation could bring such a vessel to perfection—at all events there would be time to fit future politics to future circumstances; if at present the French preparations can be destroyed by submarine attack, it will convince Bonaparte and the whole world that Frenchmen never can make a descent on England, for any future fleet prepared by them may be burnt in like manner.”

Fulton notes that little more was said. It was agreed that the torpedo attack should take place at Boulogne as soon as the engines could be prepared, and, after agreeing to call again upon Mr. Pitt during the week, Fulton returned to London.

But the acceptance was for only one-half of his project. Torpedoes were to be used, set with clock-work for future explosion, and these weapons, leaded so they floated below the surface of the water, were to be towed by catamarans, or rafts, consisting of two long sidewise planks, so placed that a man sat between them on a submerged seat. He guided the raft toward the enemy’s ship, attached the torpedo to the anchor-cable, and then paddled away, under water if need required, leaving the clock-work agent of destruction to float broadside beneath the vessel, with the turn of the tide, for later explosion.

In the dusk of the evening of October 2d, 1804, several catamarans, led by the flag-ship Monarch with Admiral Keith in command, stole quietly into the harbor of Boulogne. Seamen, in black jerseys, waistcoats and trousers, with black caps pulled over their faces, managed to paddle each raft into position, attach the torpedoes and get away in safety. But the French ships swung about and avoided the bombs; only one wrought destruction upon a small vessel with a crew of twenty-one men. The other bombs drifted ashore and exploded without serious harm, and at early dawn the British sailed away, without losing a man, but with so slight accomplishment that it was termed a failure. Fulton was present, as were also Sir Home Popham and Viscount Melville. The inventor’s disappointment must have been great.

The attack was followed by a storm of protest in England. It was considered unlawful warfare,—the just idea of mercy construed as unfair such a form of siege. Others made fun of it, and a merry wag wrote a ballad for the newspaper, supposedly sung by the Secretary of War:

In December another trial of the submarine torpedo-boat was made against the Red Fort in the harbor of Calais. Only one of the two bombs exploded and little damage was done.

So passed several months,—months of entreaty on Fulton’s part,—months of cautious planning on the part of the British statesmen. It was an open secret that they did not like that sort of warfare. Any man less persevering than Fulton would have thought their lack of interest a sufficient dismissal.

But Fulton eagerly continued to plead for a more extended trial of his new device. He explained that the partial failure of the early attempts was due to lack of knowledge in the men employed to handle the explosives. He lost no faith in his plan and urged that it be adopted “as a system” by the English fleet. Finally his persistence was rewarded; Mr. Pitt gave permission for a public demonstration of his plan at Walmar Roads, near Deal Harbor, within a mile of Mr. Pitt’s country residence, Walmar Castle.

Fulton secured the Danish brig Dorothea—a prize of war—and anchored her within safe range from the shore, in easy sight of the crowd of distinguished visitors whom he invited to witness the experiment. The rumor spread that “Mr. Francis,” who had invented and built the machines used by Sir Home Popham against the enemy’s ships at Boulogne, was to try to blow up a three hundred ton brig with one of his novel catamarans. A multitude assembled on the beach eager to see the explosion.

Fulton wrote a letter to Lord Castlereigh, the next day, which gives a fine account of all that happened. He says:

The unbelieving statesmen were convinced by this demonstration before their very eyes. Fulton was of course happy and satisfied; and wrote to Benjamin West (whom he affectionately addresses as “Mammy”), giving a graphic account of the event.

Success was apparently at hand, but again it eluded him. A strong combination of national forces turned the tide of war. Austria and Russia combined forces against Napoleon and the emperor was forced to break camp at Boulogne to transfer the seat of war to Central Europe; nor was this all; on October 21st, less than a week after Fulton’s demonstration of torpedo warfare, Nelson with his banner “England expects every Man to do His Duty,” won the great victory at Trafalgar, routing the forces of France and Spain, and disposing of any Napoleonic dream of conquest over England on the high seas. Great Britain held supremacy on the ocean,—she needed no new weapon of destruction; and with the artillery of France silenced, the country was unlikely to listen further to Fulton’s plan. The old way was considered the best way. Pitt was called “the greatest fool that ever existed, to encourage a mode of war which they who commanded the seas did not want, and which if successful would deprive them of it.”

So faded again Fulton’s dream of universal peace through the stratagems of war. Yet he was under contract with the British government to supply the invention, which he found, after many inquiries, they did not want. They offered to grant him an annuity if he would promise to suppress the submarine torpedo and agree that neither England nor any other country should adopt it. Fulton sent a fearless reply to the Arbitration Committee who made the suggestion. He declared that he would never consent to the abandonment of his project. “In fact, I will do my utmost to make it a good philosophic work and give it to the world. I will then form a committee of the most respectable men of America and proceed regularly in experiments on a large scale, publishing the result from time to time and thus drawing the attention of the ingenious and enterprising to such pursuits. I shall hope to succeed in my first object, that of annihilating all military marines and giving liberty to the seas.”

The English probably smiled contentedly at the ardor of the enthusiast. Fulton continued:

“Gentlemen, a man who has the candor to give you this in writing has but little deception or fear in his character and will not abandon so glorious an enterprise for trifling rebuffs or mean consideration.

“At all events, whatever may be your reward, I will never consent to let these inventions lie dormant should my country at any time have need of them. Were you to grant me an annuity of twenty thousand pounds a year, I would sacrifice all to the safety and independence of my country. I hope that England and America will understand their mutual interest too well to war with each other. And I have no desire to introduce my engines into practice for the benefit of any other nation.”[2]