In 1759,
the British began construction of a new flagship, the HMS Victory, a 100-gun, three-decker, ship of the line. In the 18th century, this was the nautical equivalent of a
nuclear-powered aircraft carrier and only the most powerful countries could even
contemplate the construction of such a ship.
This ship
was the most complicated man-made object in the Eighteenth Century world. Using 6000 trees, 26 miles of rope, and
enough sail to cover a football field, she was also the deadliest war machine
in the entire world. From within the
wooden walls crewed by iron men, her cannons could loft a ton and a half of
iron shot several miles.
The ship
was 45 years old when Lord Horatio Nelson used her as his flagship to destroy
the combined navies of both France and Spain.
Such ships and such leaders made England's the largest and most powerful
navy in the world.
Not only
was that navy large, it was damn good. In several wars and
countless battles, the British Navy had humiliated the navies of France, Spain,
Denmark, Turkey, Algeria, Russia, and Holland. During the period from
1792-1812, the ships of His Majesty’s navy had fought in over 200 engagements
and had won all but five battles. (And all of those losses were in single ship-to-ship
battles—none of them more recent than seven years earlier.)
The
inevitable consequence of this incredible string of victories was that an
English victory was expected by not only the English, but by the captains and
crews of the ships the British fought. With this attitude, it will not be
a surprise when I tell you that no fewer than 170 of the nearly 900 ships that
made up the British Navy in 1812 had been captured from other countries during
combat.
But then
Napoleon was defeated and peace turned out to be far more difficult for the
island maritime power than war. Ships
rotted, experienced naval personnel were put ashore on half-pay, and the
general overall condition of the navy
declined as a sense of complacency settled over its officers. Only occasionally did the Admiralty’s office
kick into high gear and actually do something (usually after the London
newspapers published an editorial about how recent French naval developments
put the Empire at risk). The HMS
Victoria is one such example.
In 1859,
England launched a new flagship, the HMS Victoria. She was almost immediately a floating example
of the British admiralty’s knee-jerk reaction to all things French.
The French had
just built a 130-gun three-decker, the Bretagne, that was designed to be the
biggest, baddest warship afloat. Halfway
through the construction, someone noticed that the age of sail—while not dead—was
certainly dying. Even though the hull
was already laid down, the builders managed to shoe-horn a steam engine into
the frame, making it into an ungainly ship that was so impractical to sail
that, within a decade, the French turned it into floating barracks.
The Bretagne
was horribly impractical, but it was bigger than any ship the British had, so
the Brits immediately began construction of an even bigger version, with even
more firepower. And deep within her was
the very reason why the ship should not have been built in the first
place.
The largest
wooden-hulled warship ever built, the HMS Victoria would have twice the
tonnage of the Victory, and her massive guns could fire both red-hot
shot and explosive shells that could penetrate wood-hulled vessels and then
explode. As a result, the days of the
giant three-deckers were already over even before this dinosaur was launched.
While the Bretagne
saw brief action in the Crimean War, neither ship had a very long or
distinguished career, and by the middle of the 1860’s, both ships were
decommissioned and never sailed again.
By the end of the century, both ships had been scrapped.
A few decades later, the British
launched a new HMS Victoria—a new battleship launched in time to
celebrate the aging queen’s Golden Jubilee.
Once again, the Victoria was the most powerful ironclad afloat,
with the largest guns and the thickest armor, and—as the first British ship to
use a steam turbine—one of the fastest warships afloat.
Posted to the
Mediterranean Fleet, the Victoria—nicknamed The Slipper for the habit of the foredeck to
slip under waves due to the weight of the heavy bow guns—was put under the
command of Vice-Admiral Sir George Tryon.
Tryon, was a fanatic about Lord Horatio Nelson, both studying the man
and personally purchasing the famous Nelson sword (a copy of which can be seen
in Trafalgar Square in London).
While Tryon honored
Nelson, he was, unfortunately, nothing like the man. Nelson was famous for drilling his
subordinate ship captains in using their own initiative. He called these men his ‘Band of Brothers’—a
line taken from Shakespeare’s Henry V. Tryon, in contrast, was a dictatorial tyrant
who expected instant obedience from his subordinates.
By the late
19th century, fleets maneuvered in two long parallel lines to facilitate faster
communication by flags. This gave
Admiral Tryon an idea for an efficient (and showy) method of bringing the
entire fleet to stop at an anchorage at once.
The lead vessels of both lines of ships would begin a simultaneous turn
towards the other line. As the following
ships reached the same point in the line, they, too, would execute the
turn. When the entire fleet had reversed
direction, all the ships would simultaneously execute a ninety degree turn away
from the opposing line, come to a stop, and lower their anchors. Ten ships dropping anchor at exactly the same
time would be an imposing sight.
Tryon issued
his orders very carefully. When the Victoria
raised her orders by flag, each of the other nine battleships in the fleet was
to repeat the orders on its flags, helping to communicate with the rest of the
fleet and at the same time, indicating that it was standing by to execute the
order.
Leading the
other line of ships was the HMS Camperdown, under the command of Vice
Admiral Markham, Tryon’s second in command.
He had already expressed an opinion that this maneuver should not be
attempted unless the two lines of ships were at least 1600 yards apart. On June 22, 1893, off the coast of Libya,
Admiral Tryon decided to attempt his showy maneuver—at the time, however, the
two lines were only 1200 yards apart.
Believing the
maneuver to be dangerous, Markham did not immediately indicate he was ready to
comply, and composed a message to be sent to the Victoria indicating
that he thought the two lines were too close to each other, but before the
message could be sent, Admiral Tryon sent one to Markham: "What are you waiting for?" Markham cancelled his message and complied
with Tryon’s order.
The
reason for Markham's hesitation was simple:
Each lead ship of the column weighed 10,000 tons, was steaming at nine
knots, and had a turning radius of 800 yards.
Ironically, each ship was equipped with a steel ram on the bow; a device
that the Admiralty had recently decided was obsolete and no longer useful.
Halfway through the turn, Admiral
Tryon could see the disaster that was, by this point, inevitable. He ordered the engines reversed, but it was
too late: The Camperdown tore
deep into the starboard side of the Victoria, then as the two ships
continued to swing towards each other, the Camperdown’s ram opened up
the side of the Victoria like a can opener, making a hole roughly 100 square
feet in area. (By comparison, the hole
that sank the much larger Titanic was only fourteen square feet.)
Almost
immediately, the steel ram and the heavy bow guns pulled the bow of the ship
down and the Victoria sank in less than ten minutes, killing 358 men
(almost exactly half the ship’s compliment).
As the ship sank, Admiral Tryon repeatedly said, “It’s all my fault.” Of course—as was the custom—the admiral went
down with the ship.
After
this, the British Navy stopped naming battleships after Queen Victoria. The HMS Victory is the oldest
warship still on the rolls of any nation's navy, although it hasn’t been in a
battle since Lord Nelson died during the Battle of Trafalgar.
Four years ago, the wreck of the Victoria
was found off the coast of Libya.
After 111 years underwater, she was discovered with her stern some 350 feet underwater.
Miraculously, when the ship sank, her 14,000 hp engines continued to
turn the screws, driving the bow of the ship deep into the mud, so that the
wreck is standing completely upright—appropriately, like a tombstone.
The
diver who discovered the wreck managed to reach Admiral Tryon’s cabin and
located Admiral Nelson’s sword, but hid the sword deep inside wreck to prevent
future divers from finding it, so it will probably stay there forever.
Sounds like a subject for an episode of "The Librarians". Admiral Nelson's sword is imbued with power to make an admiral invincible. Tryon acquired it to make himself the greatest admiral in the British Navy, Tryon ignores Nelson's dictum "Forget maneuvers, go straight at 'em!" and tries to use the sword for fancy and potentially deadly maneuvers, so the sword takes out Tryon rather than let the disastrous maneuver continue causing the sinking of dozens of ships. Years later the Chinese launch a super carrier to force its will in the South China sea. The Chinese admiral seeks to obtain Nelson's sword from the wreck of the Victoria. Enter the librarians to prevent a bloody naval battle in the South China Sea..........
ReplyDeleteCall it "The Librarians and the Admiral's Sword". Wonder who I send that idea to?
Tom