Chapter 3: To the Last Shot

On August 25, the combined fleet hove-to, out of sight from Algiers, and the Prometheus frigate sailed ahead, with the aim to spirit the British consul and his family away, under the guise of delivering dispatches. She returned on the next day, having achieved nothing. The boat sent for the consul had not returned, and it had to be assumed that the crew was taken prisoners. Nevertheless, Exmouth sent orders to proceed according to plan.

During the night to the 27th of August, the fleet closed in on Algiers, and in the late morning, sailed to their various designated positions, to both sides of the large harbour mole, and, for the most part, cast anchor. From his position in the Infernal bomb, Thomas could readily see that Impregnable had not succeeded in anchoring as prescribed by Exmouth, but was instead anchored within the sector controlled by the powerful Lighthouse Battery on the mole.

Thomas spent time up in the foretop with his glass to watch the developing situation. A barge under flag of truce was sent from the Queen Charlotte to the shore, but when it returned almost two hours later, signals from the flagship advised all ships of the squadron to prepare for battle.

Meanwhile, the bomb vessels were anchored securely, and the masters had made use of the wait to determine the distances to their various targets — the citadel, the batteries on the mole, and the harbour itself. Thomas gave signal to aim at the Dey’s citadel first and watched with interest as Lieutenant Fuller, Royal Marines, prepared the 32-pounder rockets. Those were to be aimed at the harbour where combustible targets, such as ships, boats and storage sheds abounded. They were less effective against fortified places as the War of 1812 had shown.

For a while, the fleet lay at anchor, ready to engage the shore fortification. Thomas knew that Exmouth was loath to start the fighting, and in the end, one of the Dey’s gunboats did him the favour of firing first. It was a quarter past six bells in the afternoon watch, and within seconds, the entire British battle line was engulfed in smoke as they fired their first broadsides into the shore fortifications.

In accordance with his orders, Thomas gave order to the bomb vessels to commence bombardment of the citadel. It took three or four ranging shots from each of the five vessels before they found the right direction and powder charge, but then the bombs began raining onto the Dey’s stronghold.

Lieutenant Fuller and his men were not idle either, aiming their infernal rockets at the harbour and the shipping inside. The corsairs had tried to rebuilt their fleet after the disastrous encounter with Thomas and his frigates three years earlier, but they had not a single ship that could meet even one of the 74-gun two-deckers of the British squadron. All the Dey could boast were four elderly frigates and an equal number of corvettes — ship-sloops in Royal Navy parlance. Those now came under bombardment with rockets, but also under heavy fire from HMS Leander from her position at the harbour entrance.

Queen Charlotte came under attack from a large number of gun boats, but as far Thomas could see, those small boats disintegrated under the withering fire of the frigates and the quarterdeck and forecastle guns of the big ships. Pandemonium was reigning all around the harbour and beyond, and smoke could be seen coming from the citadel.

Assessing the situation, Thomas ordered to shift the aim of the mortars to the harbour. Again, the bombs had to find their range, but soon explosions could be seen all around the harbour whilst smoke was rising from burning ships and structures.

It also became obvious that Impregnable was in great difficulty. She was under heavy fire from the main batteries on the mole and constantly suffering hits, as the gunners in the shore battery had found their range. Something had to be done about those batteries.

“Mr. Palmer, signal to the bombs: Engage Lighthouse Battery!”

“Aya-aye, Sir Thomas!” Palmer replied and with his mates prepared the signal.

It took some time for the bombs to shift to a new target, and in the meantime, one older sloop which had been filled with over a hundred gunpowder barrels and fitted with slow matches, was ordered to engage the same battery. Out of necessity, the sloop was only manned with a small crew, and it took her time to cross the mole, already under fire herself. It was a murderous task, Thomas knew, to sail a ship filled to the gills with explosives under fire, and it took a lot of nerve. The explosive vessel’s crew bailed out once the ship was on course for the centre of the mole, but then something must have happened to her steering — perhaps a hit from the shore — and she veered to starboard, running ashore at the north-eastern end of the mole.

The explosion was rather spectacular, but when the smoke cleared, Thomas could see that it had not done much damage, and none to the formidable Lighthouse Battery. Those gunners were still hitting the anchored Impregnable at will, in spite of the fierce return fire from the big three-decker, and Thomas had to acknowledge their courage and discipline.

Now, the mortars of the bomb vessels fired the first ranging shots, and Mr. Palmer was busy sending back the reports from the spotters. Hitting the relatively small battery proved to be more daunting than hitting the citadel or the harbour, but finally, the first shell bursts could be observed near the gun placements. Soon, shells were raining down on those brave gunners, and it appeared to Thomas that their fire was slowing down, giving the battered Impregnable some relief.

Unbelievably, it was evening and the sun was setting, when Lieutenant Fuller reported to be out of rockets. As far as Thomas could discern, the destruction of the shipping and structures in the harbour was complete, with the Dey’s frigates turned into blackened, smoking hulks. There could be no doubt about the effectiveness of Mr. Congreve’s rockets against wooden targets.

The Lighthouse Battery had been reduced to smoking rubble by the bomb vessels and the now unimpeded gunnery of Impregnable‘s heavy guns. In fact, the resistance of the Dey’s troops appeared broken, his ships burnt or shot to pieces, his harbour and seafront buildings in ruins, and his citadel still smoking. Seeing this, with the fading light, Thomas gave orders for the bomb vessels to revisit the citadel with their last shells. The burning structures gave them enough direction to brace the citadel again, but by 2 bells in the evening watch, they ran out of ammunition and had to cease firing.

Everybody was dog-tired and dazed by six hours of fighting when the flagship signalled for the ships to retreat from the coast. It took time to raise the anchors, and it was almost midnight before they could heave-to out-of-range from the coast. Thomas turned in then, after giving orders to a literally shell-shocked Broderick to have him roused at sunrise.

Stepping on deck on his stiff legs, Thomas trained his glass on the distant Algiers as soon as the first sun rays illuminated the scenery. Smoke was still rising from the citadel and around the harbour, and the silhouette of the town was much changed.

Thomas could see how much punishment Algiers had taken, but would it be enough to make the Dey surrender? If the bomb vessels under his command were any indication, Exmouth’s main force must be out of ammunition, having fired broadsides for six hours. Even with the extra gunpowder and round shot they had stowed, the 130 rounds per gun must have been spent, even considering that only one broadside per ship had been in battle.

Just then, flags rose along the halliards of the flagship.

“Flag to squadron, form battle line!”

Another signal rose.

“Sir Thomas! Signal for us. Nºs 139, 1339, 739, 873, 289, 784; that would be ‘Captain ... Grey ... to ... flag ... ship’!”

“Thank you. Captain Holcomb, may I trouble you to bring your ship close to the flagship?”

“Aye-aye, Sir Thomas,” Holcomb replied, probably hoping to get his cabin back. “All hands, make sail!”

It took the Infernal almost a half hour to catch up with the Queen Charlotte, and she had to overreach her a little, in order for the side boat to reach the Jacob’s ladder of the three-decker, but as it turned out, Thomas, with Broderick and their dunnage, arrived just a little after eight bells on the morning watch.

Leaving Broderick in charge of his sea chest, Thomas headed for Exmouth’s cabin on the upper deck. The sentry announced him, and he was invited in. Exmouth and his brother were clearly waiting for him, and he was invited to join them at the table.

“Have a seat, Sir Thomas. I need a bit of your insight!”

“Aye-aye, milord.”

“How did you fare with the bombs?”

“I have my report, milord,” Thomas replied, handing over the envelope. “We shifted aim thrice, from citadel to harbour, to the battery on the mole, and then back to the citadel. I believe that we hit them very hard, milord.”

“So we saw, Sir Thomas. I believe that Admiral Milne will want to thank you in person for silencing that accursed battery.”

“The gun powder sloop veered off course in the last moments, milord, and we could see Impregnable‘s dire situation.”

“Yes, indeed. They dropped anchor far ahead of their position. So much for planning everything,” Pellew added to the exchange with a sigh. “How are the bombs set for ammunition?”

“Not ten shells between the five vessels, Sir Israel,” Thomas replied. “We’re out of rockets, too.”

“Well, we must hope that the Dey cannot guess that,” Exmouth sighed. “From your experience, have those corsairs any way of knowing that we’re short of round shot and gunpowder?”

Thomas considered this. “To my understanding, no, milord. They have never captured a ship of the line, so they cannot know how many rounds we can store. I also believe that they were too busy to count our broadsides.”

“That’s what we think, too, Sir Thomas. Let’s send Mr. Rourke over then, with my letter!”

Thomas had to hide his surprise, but it made sense to send Rourke. It might be dangerous though. Exmouth read his thoughts and smiled.

“I’ll make him sailing master if he succeeds. Captain Chetham was very satisfied with him.”

“I am not surprised, milord. He is a resourceful man.”

Exmouth chuckled. “Yes, I heard of the little trick you played on that xebec in Gibraltar. How was he involved?”

“He was in charge of the construction of the drogue, milord, and led the men who affixed it to the xebec’s rudder.”

“A man of action then?”

“Yes, milord, very much so.”

Exmouth looked at his brother. “Any losses amongst the junior lieutenants, Israel?”

Pellew thought briefly. “Severn lost her third.”

“Let’s give the man an acting commission if he returns with the Dey’s surrender!”

From what Thomas could gather, the letter which James Rourke was to deliver to the Dey was an ultimatum to either accede to the British demands or suffer a second day of bombardment. It was a bold-faced bluff on the part of Exmouth, and if it failed, the ships would have to retreat in ignominy, having achieved nothing. That and the near loss of a second-rate ship might just end Exmouth’s career. If it worked, he would be a hero for the public.

Thomas was also a little bit worried about the fate of the slaves that were kept in Algiers and had to live through six hours of bombardment. More specifically, he worried about Teresa’s mother who had stayed behind with her master/husband and their sons. She had refused once already to return to England, and he hoped that she would not be torn away from her family.

Rourke was gone for over five hours, but when he returned he was accompanied by a blonde family of three, who Thomas suspected were the British consul and his family. They were all asked into Exmouth’s day cabin and offered refreshments before Rourke gave his report.

“The Dey agrees to the conditions you set, milord,” he began, and Thomas could feel Exmouth’s relief. “He will send out his vizir tomorrow, to lead the negotiations. I know of the man, milord, and I must warn you that he speaks a bit of English and understands more.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rourke. I believe that I shall need you for the next days, to help with the negotiations,” Exmouth said in a friendly voice, before turning to the consul. “Mr. Ponsonberry, I presume?”

The man nodded curtly. “Yes, milord.”

“I trust that you and your family were safe?”

Ponsonberry exhaled and nodded. “Yes, milord. Your boat crew was arrested, but we were only placed under house arrest by the vizir.”

“That is a relief. May I offer you the hospitality of this ship? I expect that you will prefer to return to England with us.”

Ponsonberry nodded, showing relief. “That would be welcome, milord. After yesterday, there will not be much for me to do.”

“I imagine that. I am sorry that it had to come to this, but after the regrettable incident at Bona, H.M. ministry charged me with enforcing an end to the Dey’s piratical activities. May I present my brother, Sir Israel Pellew, my Chief of Staff, and Sir Thomas Grey of whom you have undoubtedly heard.”

“Delighted, gentlemen,” Ponsonberry said unconvincingly. Thomas suspected that the posting as consul in Algiers had had certain benefits for the man.

“If I may, milord, perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Ponsonberry would be better served by conveying them back to English soil as soon as possible,” he suggested.

Exmouth considered this and nodded. “Indeed, Sir Thomas, that is a good idea. I am sending Prometheus home with the reports. I am certain that Captain Dashwood will be delighted to host Mr. Ponsonberry and his family and convey them home.”

Ponsonberry nodded to this, obviously not keen on leaving. His wife was standing silently, her infant son on her arms, all through the exchange. She at least smiled at the prospect. Lord Exmouth’s steward then led them away to their temporary accommodations, and the admiral grinned at his staff.

“Good thinking, Sir Thomas. I should rather not have the man present during our deliberations. Well, it is good that he was not harmed, or I would not hear the end of it from the Foreign Office. Now, Mr. Rourke, what damages could you observe?”

Rourke nodded and began. “Milord, the whole harbour is in shambles; all the ships burnt, the storehouses too, and the batteries have not a dozen working guns anymore. Dead soldiers everywhere and many wounded. The citadel looked all right from the outside, but inside, there’s hardly any buildings left standing. The vizir had to receive me in a storehouse. They’re mightily afraid that we may start again, milord.”

Exmouth nodded grimly. “Think they’ll play honest this time?”

Rourke allowed himself a shrug. “Right now, they’re scared, milord, but give them time, and they’ll start the trade again. They just don’t know better, begging your pardon, milord.”

Exmouth nodded. “That is to be feared. Mr. Rourke, I am very pleased with your conduct. Keep up your efforts, and by the end of this affair, there’ll be an acting commission for you.”

Rourke’s mouth widened in a smile before he got it under control. “Thank you kindly, milord. I’ll do my best.”

“I know, Mr. Rourke. Find the gunroom for now and rest a bit. The next days will be busy.”

Rourke shot Thomas a look full of gratitude before he left the cabin, and then the three officers sat to discuss the best approach to the negotiations, but also the next measures.

Since Impregnable would have to sail back to England under jury rig, it was decided to transfer her remaining ammunition to the Queen Charlotte. The bomb vessels and rocket ships were of little use without their shells and rockets, which could not be procured in the Mediterranean, and they would escort the damaged three-decker to Portsmouth. Minden, 74, would sail for Gibraltar to replenish her ammunition and then return. Depending on the time the negotiations would take, Superb, 74 could replenish her stores next. They would also send back the frigates, one at a time, for the same purposes. Only Queen Charlotte would have to stay off Algiers for the negotiations.

When they finished their deliberations, they had a small dinner to which the Ponsonberries were invited. The presence of Mrs. Ponsonberry prevented the talk from touching any military matters, but it gave them an opportunity to question the couple unobtrusively about the living conditions in Algiers. Thomas was making mental notes of the information he gleaned, already contemplating amendments to a future edition of his book.

The negotiations with the Dey’s vizir took time, so much time that Exmouth saw the need to sail the three ships of the line towards the coast, ostensibly to practice another attack on the town. The vizir finally understood the situation, or perhaps the gesture compelled the Dey to accept reality, for from then on, the negotiations continued at a quicker pace.

Mail arrived from England, too, and Thomas learned from Mirabel’s letters that the weather was still unseasonably cold, and that the prospects for the harvest were bleak. Mr. Thomson had organised another purchase of naval stores, this time at Greenwich, and the people living on the estate would make it at least through the winter without starving.

She also included a newspaper article written by a Mr. Mortley, a naturalist, who claimed that the strange colour of the sky and the coinciding cold weather might be the result or a large volcanic eruption somewhere far away that had deposited large quantities of volcanic ashes into the skies, which were now blocking the sunlight and causing the strange colours. He claimed similar observations in antique texts describing the aftermath of large volcanic eruptions, such as the one which had destroyed the ancient Roman city of Pompeii. Thomas did not know what to make of this. After all, there had been no reports of catastrophic volcanic eruptions anywhere.

At least, it was a possible explanation, but there was no way to tell how long those effects might last, and that worried him. It was not a problem of England alone either. From all over Europe, reports of failing crops were coming in, and even here, in the Mediterranean, the early September was decidedly cool.

Thomas sent back his own accumulated letters in which he had described the battle from his viewpoint, but also the other events. He fervently hoped that he would be returned to England before Mirabel’s answering letters would arrive.

The negotiations finally concluded in mid-September. The vizir, in the name of the Dey, agreed to free all Christian slaves in Algiers and assured the British that no Algerian ship would henceforth engage in slave raids or slave trading. They Dey also had to repay the ransom money he had received early in the year, over £ 80,000. In return, and for as long as the Dey kept his assurances, Exmouth guaranteed that the Royal Navy would not renew the attack, but rather reopen trade with Algiers and protect peaceful shipping to and from Algiers.

Two days later, the first boats with freed slaves were approaching the transport ships which Exmouth had brought along for the purpose. It took three days to ferry over 1,000 slaves to the ships. Thomas had volunteered to oversee the embarkation, and he kept looking for women who might be British and in fact resemble Teresa.