The Loss of the Courageux – 10 December 1796
On 1 December Admiral Sir John Jervis’ Mediterranean fleet of fifteen ships of the line came to anchor in Gibraltar Bay, having evacuated their previous base in Corsica as a consequence of the threat generated by the new Franco-Spanish alliance. Nine days later, as a French force of five sail of the line and three frigates under Rear-Admiral Pierre Villeneuve rushed past Gibraltar in passage to Brest, a lethal gale known as a Levanter sprang up from the east and slammed into the anchorage. For one veteran ship in particular, it would be a devastating weather event.
The Courageux 74 was one of the oldest active ships in the Royal Navy. She had been launched in 1753 at Brest for the French Navy, but was captured on 14 August 1761 by the Bellona 74, Captain Robert Faulknor. Although she was long overdue for a refit and the copper on her hull was in desperate need of attention, Jervis had been unwilling to send the Courageux home. He had very few vessels at his disposal as a result the earlier departure of Rear-Admiral Robert Man’s squadron from the Mediterranean, and he was unwilling to part with the services of her captain, the dynamic and inspiring Benjamin Hallowell. An American-born loyalist officer, Hallowell had successfully commanded the ship for four years,
Captain Benjamin Hallowell
When the Levanter struck on the 10th, the Courageux’s two anchors failed to hold her at her anchorage off the new mole of Gibraltar. She dragged her anchors as she was blown westwards across the Bay, finally coming to a stop when Hallowell got a third anchor to hold. However the ship was now within range of the Spanish batteries at Algeciras, so he issued orders for the ship to return to her original anchorage, out of range of Spanish guns. At this point the captain was ordered to attend a court-martial on the flagship, Britannia by Vice-Admiral Charles Thompson, and despite his urgent requests, was not allowed to return to his ship to supervise its movement.
Thus, the responsibility for the tricky task of using the tides sweeping in from the west to help the Courageux sail against the easterly wind to reach her allotted station fell to her first lieutenant, John Burrows. Even without the problems of wind and tide, the number of ships already anchored off Gibraltar (some of which were also dragging their anchors) meant that manoeuvring among them would be difficult, risking collision. After one try at resuming the ship’s original anchorage, Burrows gave up the struggle and decided to wait out the storm by tacking back and forth out in the Strait of Gibraltar. He was concerned not to go too far west into the Atlantic for fear of running into an enemy squadron known to be on the prowl.
Over the next few hours, the weather failed to moderate but instead developed into a thick haze with thunderstorms and persistent rain that hammered the distressed ship as she tacked off the African coast. With Burrows below deck, an 18-year-old lieutenant of just nine months seniority, George Ralph Ainslie, had been left in sole charge of the watch. Shortly before 9 p.m. amidst the cracks of thunder, shrieking wind, and the lightning flashing through the torrents of rain, the lookout sighted land directly ahead. In these circumstances a more experienced officer would have immediately thrown the helm a-weather and eased the mainsheet. Instead, wasting precious seconds, Ainslie sent below for instructions. When the panic-stricken Burrows came tumbling up on deck, such was his confusion that it was left to the sailing-master, John Morton, to attempt to wear ship, at a time when the men had been sent below to take their first refreshment for several hours after a desperate day fighting the elements,
It was already too late. The ship ploughed directly onto a sheer cliff, swung round, and broke in two. She had struck on Apes Hill, the modern-day Jebel Musa, on the Barbary Coast near the Spanish enclave of Cueta. For the crew who survived the initial impact, deliverance on land seemed close at hand, but was almost impossible to reach. As the ship started to disintegrate, many crewmen were killed by being battered against the rocks when they attempted to swim ashore. Five men survived in the launch which had been towing astern. Most of the hundred and thirty survivors managed to clamber along the mainmast which had fallen ashore, making a perilous bridge over the pounding waves. Four hundred and thirty-nine lives were lost: among the dead were Lieutenants Burrows and Ainslie. Thankfully the survivors were treated well by local villagers, being fed bread and dried beans, but they subsequently experienced further harrowing times on a six-day march before reaching salvation.
The loss of the Courageux was a major disaster, the result of a series of cascading problems. Her experienced captain was ashore, the judgement of his first lieutenant was faulty, and the officer on deck at the crisis was ill-equipped to make the necessary rapid decisions. It is perhaps pertinent that in the same storm the Gibraltar 80, Captain John Pakenham, and Culloden 74, Captain Thomas Troubridge, had both been driven from their anchorage in Gibraltar Bay, but had both been saved by their experienced officers. There has been confusion about the date of the loss, with some historians indicating the Courageux was wrecked on the 18th of December, but there is little doubt that this tragic event occurred on night of 10 December 1796.