Trafalgar Tales

By Samuel Moore

On this day in 1805 the Battle of Trafalgar (the last great sea battle in the age of sail) was fought. 219 years later and the story still captures our imagination and little wonder, for Trafalgar is a tale of high drama.

From 1792 - 1815 Britain and her European allies were locked in a global (and almost continuous) war with Revolutionary (later Napoleonic) France. Britain was dominant on the seas but France was preeminent on land. At the height of the conflict (on the 21st October 1805) two great fleets, one a Franco-Spanish fleet under Admirals Villeneuve and Gravina, the other a British fleet under Admirals Nelson and Collingwood, met off Cape Trafalgar. What was to follow would go on to become the most famous naval engagement in history, during which 33 French and Spanish ships of the line (a collective ordnance of 2624 guns manned by around 30,000 seamen) clashed with 27 ships of the Royal Navy (a collective ordnance of 2150 guns crewed by around 17,000 British Tars). The Royal Navy ultimately emerged triumphant. By day’s end they had captured or destroyed no less than 18 enemy ships. However, their decisive victory was bittersweet as Admiral Nelson, mortally wounded at the height of the action, died of his wounds at the very moment of victory. His final words: “Thank God I have done my duty.” His body was subsequently transported home to England for a sumptuous state funeral.

It’s a powerful story. As dramatic as anything in Homer’s Iliad and thus, since 1805 the epic has been told and retold a thousand times yet never tires by its retelling. However, the classic narrative (as written above) presents challenges for those wishing to dive deeper into the history. Not least the fact that Nelson’s dramatic death, immortal last words and the world famous monuments built to honour him (his tomb in St Paul’s Cathedral and his column in Trafalgar Square)

dominate our collective memory. Don’t misunderstand me, Nelson is hugely significant to the Trafalgar story and it’s right that we remember him on this day of all days, Trafalgar Day. However, here at The Napoleonic & Revolutionary War Graves Charity (NRWGC) we are passionate about honouring ALL veterans and casualties of conflict from 1775-1815. Any nationality, any branch of the armed forces, anywhere in the world. With this in mind, today I want to share with you some of the lesser-known stories of the people and memorials connected with Trafalgar to mark this, the battle’s 219th anniversary.

Few who died at Trafalgar were given ‘the Nelson treatment’. Bringing bodies home for burial was not the norm during the Napoleonic Wars. Thus, there are very few marked graves for those who actually died in the battle itself or succumbed to wounds received in the subsequent days, weeks and months. Most were buried at sea, however, there are a few exceptions.

Just off Main Street in Gibraltar lies Trafalgar Cemetery.

Consecrated in 1798, it was originally named Southport Ditch Cemetery. However, the name was later changed to commemorate Trafalgar. Despite the new name, few interred there have a direct connection with the battle. That is except for two: Marine Captain Thomas Norman and Acting Lieutenant William Forster. Today, I want to share their stories with you.

No two experiences of battle are the same, least of all in the age of Napoleon where the black powder smoke thrown up by cannon and small arms fire dramatically limited one’s vision. Taking this into account, my re-telling of Norman and Forster’s respective stories today will largely restrict itself to their likely eyewitness experiences. However, I have added in some additional perspectives (notably those of Captain George Duff and Captain James Nicoll Morris) to add greater depth to the narrative.

Our story begins on the morning of Trafalgar.

Thomas Norman was 36 years old in 1805. Husband to Elizabeth Norman (they had married on 13th March 1798), father to Anna Griffiths Norman (born 6th January 1799) and a Captain in the Royal Marines, Norman was serving on-board HMS Mars on the 21st of October 1805. The day had not started according to plan. Mars, a British 74, had been ordered to take the lead in Admiral Collingwood’s lee column. However, the ship was a lazy sailor and despite canvas being hung on every available spar, she’d proven incapable of staying ahead of Collingwood’s flagship Royal Sovereign. Thus Mars soon found herself the 3rd ship in the column. Doubtless this, and the light wind that day, frustrated her Captain, George Duff. 

Captain Duff was a naval officer of vast experience. Born in 1764 he had entered the Royal Navy at the age of thirteen. Since then he had fought the Americans during their War of Independence and subsequently seen action in the French Revolutionary Wars and now the Napoleonic Wars. Naval service ran in Duff’s veins. He was the grandnephew of Vice Admiral Robert Duff and now, his own son (Norwich Duff) had followed him into the service. That day young Norwich (at the tender age of just thirteen) was serving with his father on-board Mars. The fate of his young son (and family concerns generally) were clearly weighing on Captain Duff’s mind that morning, for he took a moment to write one last letter to his wife before going on deck:

Dearest Sophia,

I have time to tell you we are going into action with the combined fleet. I hope and trust in God that we shall all behave as becomes us, and that I may yet have the happiness of taking my beloved wife and children in my arms. Norwich is quite well and happy. I have, however, ordered him off the quarterdeck. Yours ever, and most truly, George.

Following this Captain Duff put down his quill, donned his bicorn hat and walked out of his cabin to take direct command of Mars on the quarterdeck.

Captain Duff was likely feeling confident as his ship sailed towards the Franco-Spanish fleet. He knew Mars packed a mighty punch. Not only was she more heavily armed than most ships in her rate (owing to a slightly longer hull than most 74s), but she, unlike most ships in the Royal Navy, was slightly over strength. In total she was carrying a complement of 728 seamen. None of this however was the immediate concern of Marine Captain Thomas Norman. As the senior Marine officer on-board Mars, Norman had no sailing responsibilities that day. He was a soldier and under his direct command were two Marine Lieutenants (Holmes and Guthrie) plus 128 privates and NCOs. All dressed in red coats with white cross belts and donning black ‘round hats’ (a hat design not that dissimilar to a modern top hat), Norman (armed with a sword) and his men (mostly armed with smoothbore Brown Bess navel issue muskets) were stationed on Mars’ upper decks. Their duty that day was simple: to assist with the gun teams if needed but, for the most part, they were to wait until Captain Duff laid Mars alongside an enemy ship, pour disciplined musketry onto her upper decks, repel enemy boarders and (if necessary) lead boarding parties to capture her at the point of the bayonet. Simple? Yes. Easy? No. It was going to be brutal, bloody work. Thoughts like this were doubtless swirling through Norman’s mind as the Mars crawled towards the Franco-Spanish fleet. However, much like his Captain, he also likely spared a moment to think of his family. Would he survive to go home to Plymouth and see his wife Elizabeth and young daughter Anna again? 

As Collingwood’s lee column approached the Franco-Spanish fleet, the view from Mars’ upper decks would have been stunning. Had Norman looked across Mars’ bow, he would have seen a vast armada of 33 enemy ships of the line scattered across the horizon. They were trying, in a rather disorderly fashion, to form a line of battle. Over to his centre-left Collingwood’s flagship (Royal Sovereign) was racing ahead, desperate to be the first British ship into action. HMS Belleisle (the 2nd ship in Collingwood’s lee column) was coming up fast astern of her. If Norman turned his head further to the left to look over Mars’ larboard side (port side), he would see, not a mile distant, a long line of British ships (Admiral Nelson’s column) fast approaching the enemy. The 102 gun HMS Victory was leading them into action. If Norman were to continue to turn his head until he faced astern, he would see the remaining ships in Collingwood’s lee column coming up behind Mars. This long line of vessels was stretched out for over one and a half miles of ocean. Immediately astern was the 80 gun HMS Tonnant. Behind her a further 10 ships of the line. Ploughing through the sea, sails set, their painted black hulls adorned with yellow stripes to mark out their gun decks, these mighty vessels must have been a magnificent sight! Doubtless seeing them helped steady Norman’s nerves as the enemy fleet opened fire as Royal Sovereign came into range.

Mars came under fire at around 11:45am. For the next 20 minutes, shots whistled through her rigging, sails and spars. By 12:20pm Norman’s view of the enemy would have been dramatically obscured by powder smoke. Mars was now making her final approach. Royal Sovereign and Belleisle were already in the thick of the action. In the midst of all this, Captain Duff remained calm. He knew his duty: find a gap in the enemy line, sail his ship through it, seek out a wooden victim and pound her to matchwood. In theory it was simple, after all hadn’t Royal Sovereign and Belleislealready done it? Yes, they had, but let’s not underestimate the complexity of what Captain Duff was attempting to do. Surrounded by the chaos of battle, with limited visibility owing to the dense clouds of powder smoke, taking fire from multiple enemy ships, his clumsy vessel now made harder to handle owing to damage aloft, and the only gap in the enemy line ahead fast closing, this would not be an easy task. Thus, whilst attempting the manoeuvre, Mars was raked (shot through the bow) by the French 74 Pluton. Over 37 solid iron balls (some weighing as much as 36 pounds) slammed into Mars’ bow at close range. They crashed down the full length of the ship leaving chaos, death and destruction in their wake. Forced to luff up to wind (turn towards the direction of the wind, to larboard in this case), Mars now found herself running parallel to the enemy line and thus exposed to a withering fire. Forced to luff up to wind again, she found herself in an even worse position. Hove too (pretty much dead in the water with her bow facing into the wind), she had lost much of her forward momentum and was taking enemy shot from multiple sides. To make matters worse, Pluton was now on her starboard quarter (virtually behind her). Midshipman James Robinson takes up the tale:

“Captain Duff walked about with steady fortitude, and said: “My God, what shall we do? Here is a Spanish three-decker the [Santa Anna] raking us ahead, and a French one [the Pluton] under our stern!”

Captain Duff had been outmanoeuvred. Mars had failed to break the enemy line and was now being brutally punished for it. She was in a poor condition by the time HMS Tonnant (the 4th ship in Collingwood's column) sailed past just a few minutes later. 

Marine Captain Thomas Norman was still alive and uninjured at this point. However, he knew Mars was in a desperate situation. Little did he know that things were about to get much worse.

At around 1:00pm the French 74 Fougueux (which had hitherto been locked in a brutal fight with Belleisle) disentangled herself. She began to drift. Slowly but inexorably, she drew closer and closer to Mars, who was stilltrapped like a fish in a barrel and being hammered by multiple enemies from numerous sides. This was a true moment of crisis. Fougueux was about to bring her guns to bear on Mars in what was already an uneven fight. Norman was the first person on Mars’ upper decks to notice the approaching disaster. With enemy shot whistling around him he ran to Captain Duff’s side and pointed out Fougueux drifting towards Mars through the dense clouds of smoke. Their verbal exchange was later recorded as follows:

Captain Duff:  “Do you think our guns would bear on her?”

Marine Captain Norman: “I think not, but I cannot see for smoke.”

Captain Duff: “Then we must point our guns on the ships on which they bear. I shall go and look, but the men below may see better, as there will be less smoke there.”

This was likely one of the last sentences Captain Duff ever spoke. Shortly afterwards a broadside slammed into Mars. One of the shots took Captain Duff’s head clean off. His decapitated body fell to the deck in a bloody mess. Mercifully his thirteen-year-old son (Norwich) had not been close by to see this happen.

The Master’s log records: 

“At 1:15 Captain Duff was killed, and the poop and quarterdeck almost left destitute, the carnage was so great; having every one of our braces and running rigging shot away, which made the ship entirely ungovernable, and frequently raked by different ships of the enemy … there not being one shroud standing in either fore, main or mizzen rigging. The fore mast and main mast badly wounded, mizzen mast cut half asunder, main top mast cut half in two, and not a sail in state of setting.”

Midshipman James Robinson takes up the tale:

“In a few minutes our poopdeck was totally cleared, the quarterdeck and forecastle nearly the same, only the Boatswain [John Blunt] and myself and three men left alive.”

It is impossible to know when Marine Captain Thomas Norman was wounded amidst all this carnage. But, based on the testimonies above, it’s fair to conclude it was around this time. Whatever the truth of the matter, we know what happened next. Captain Duff’s mangled body remained on Mars’ quarterdeck for the remainder of the battle, covered by a union flag. Marine Captain Norman was carried below to receive medical treatment from Surgeon Torkington. Command of the marines passed to one of Norman’s lieutenants (either Holmes or Guthrie).

Mars’ fight would go on for the remainder of the day, but by this point she was little more than a floating wreck, a sitting target for any enemy vessel that passed by. Surprisingly, by day’s end her casualties were relatively low. Norman was one of 69 wounded. 29 others (including Captain Duff) had been killed.

Marine Captain Norman and Captain Duff’s fight on the Mars might be over, but for Acting Lieutenant William Forster, the battle was just beginning!

Acting Lieutenant William Forster was 20 years old in 1805. He was serving on HMS Colossus, a newly built British 74 (she was constructed in 1803). Colossus’ Captain was James Nicoll Morris. Born in 1763 Morris had entered the Royal Navy in 1772 at the age of just nine. He was a veteran of the revolutionary wars against America and France and doubtless was a figure of both awe and fascination for young officers like Forster. Unfortunately, we know little of Forster’s personal life but as an Acting Lieutenant he had doubtless spent the weeks leading up to Trafalgar preparing for his forthcoming examination for Lieutenant (the rank of Acting Lieutenant being one given to Midshipmen in anticipation of them taking their Lieutenant’s exam). No doubt he was both excited and nervous at the prospect of going into action on the 21st October 1805.

Colossus was the 6th ship in Collingwood’s lee column and assuming Forster was on her upper decks, he likely witnessed first Royal Sovereign, then Belleisle, then Mars, then Tonnant, than Bellerophon disappear one after the other into the roiling smoke of battle ahead. Soon it would be his turn to join the fray. Doubtless his heart was racing. Like Mars before her, Colossus came under fire almost as soon as she was within range of the Franco-Spanish fleet. She broke the enemy line at around 12:35pm and suffered “a galling fire” during her final approach. Following this she immediately came under fire from the French 74 Swiftsure and subsequently passed through a dense bank of smoke before crashing directly into the French 74 Argonaute. The impact was so great that it broke four of Colossus’ lower gun ports. A furious exchange of broadsides ensued, during which the two ships fought muzzle to muzzle. Forster may well have been assisting with the gun teams during this action, so let’s take a moment to reflect on his likely experiences. Conditions on Colossus’ gun decks during this exchange must have been hellish. The men, blinded by powder smoke, deafened by the crash of the big guns and peppered by enemy shot (each sending a shower of razor sharp wooden splinters into the air), were working feverishly to load and fire their cannon. Death, destruction and noise would have been Forster’s constant companions as he sweated, toiled and encouraged the men under his command. The length of this brutal exchange is unclear. Colossus’ Captain’s log marks it as 10 minutes, the French, 30 minutes. Legend has it that around this time a hen coop on Colossus’ upper decks was smashed. Its occupant (a large cockerel) flew into the air and alighted on Captain Morris’ shoulder. Doubtless Forster (assuming he was still unwounded and close by at this moment) had to suppress a wry smile of amusement at his Captain’s undignified and farcical predicament.  The hilarity however was short lived. Soon afterwards Captain Morris was hit. He’d taken a serious wound to the knee. Had it not been for the swift application of a tourniquet (which Morris applied with his own hand), he may well have bled to death. Astonishingly, Morris refused to be taken below. He remained on deck and in command of his ship for the remainder of the battle. Following her punishing duel with Argonaute, Colossus broke free and was soon assailed by the Spanish 74 Bahama. Ultimately, Colossus would win the day. Bahama eventually struck her colours (surrendered) but only after many hours of hard pounding.

It is unknown at what point in all this action Acting Lieutenant William Forster was wounded. However, he would subsequently have been carried below to receive treatment from Surgeon McDonald. Forster was one of 200 casualties (40 killed and 160 wounded) on-board Colossus that day (the highest number of casualties sustained by any ship in the Royal Navy at Trafalgar). After being operated on (in an era before anaesthesia), Forster would likely have been left in great pain in the subterranean twilight of Colossus’ lower decks. From this point onwards his only knowledge of the battle would have been the sounds penetrating from the decks above: the crash of the big guns, the squeal and rumble of gun carriages and trample of feet, the splintering crash of enemy shot tearing through Colossus’ hull and, of course, the moans and cries of his wounded comrades. Finally, after many hours of cacophony, it all died away to virtual silence, broken only by a tinnitus ringing in Forster’s ears and the creek of the ship’s timbers as Colossus pitched and rolled in the ocean.

After almost five hours of carnage the fighting was finally fizzling out over the four square miles of water that forever more would be known as the site of the battle of Trafalgar. As the smoke cleared it would have become clear to all those on Mars’ and Colossus’ upper decks that the Royal Navy had won a historic victory. The cheers of joy and relief would doubtless have reached the ears of both Marine Captain Thomas Norman and Acting Lieutenant William Forster as they lay below decks on their respective ships in post-operational agony.

Once the guns had fallen silent and necessary emergency repairs had been made to the surviving ships, Norman and Forster were transported to Gibraltar. Despite the best intentions of their comrades and respective ship’s surgeons, their journeys would likely have been unpleasant, especially given the huge storm that hammered Collingwood’s fleet for around five days after the battle. Despite this, both men were alive when they reached Gibraltar. They were subsequently transferred to the local naval hospital.

The exact date on which Acting Lieutenant William Forster died is unknown, but Marine Captain Thomas Norman survived for around six and a half weeks post battle. He eventually succumbed to his wounds on 6th December 1805. Both men were subsequently laid to rest in Southport Ditch Cemetery (later Trafalgar Cemetery) and remain there to this day. Their respective gravestones read as follows:

To the memory of Captain Thomas Norman of the Royal Marine Corps & late of His Majesty’s Ship Mars who died in the Naval Hospital of this place on the 6th December 1805 in the 36th year of his age after having suffered several weeks with incredible patience & fortitude under the effects of a severe wound received in the great & memorable seafight off Trafalgar. His brother officers on this station have consecrated this humble but sincere testimony of their sense of his distinguished merit & of their regret for his premature fate. Militavit non sine gloria nec paucis flebilis occidit.

Lieutenant William Forster late of His Majesty’s Ship Colossus. Died of wounds received in the glorious battle off Trafalgar the day of 21st October 1805. Aged 20 years.

What of the other men and women mentioned in this account: Captain Duff, Norwich Duff, Captain Morris, Elizabeth Norman and young Anna Norman. What happened to them after Trafalgar?

Captain George Duff of HMS Mars was buried at sea the day after Trafalgar. A memorial dedicated to his memory was subsequently erected in St Paul’s Cathedral (London). It can be seen to this day on the wall next to the tomb of Lord Nelson. The inscription reads as follows:

Erected at the public expense to the memory of Captain George Duff, who was killed the XX1st of Oct M DCCC V commanding the Mars in the battle of Trafalgar, in the forty-second year of his age and the twenty-ninth of his service.

Young Norwich Duff survived Trafalgar and went on to enjoy an illustrious career in the Royal Navy. Norwich died a Rear Admiral in 1862 and is buried in Bath Abbey Cemetery (Somerset). One of the most poignant documents relating to Trafalgar is Norwich’s letter to his mother. It was written just after the battle and has been reproduced in full below. It’s worth remembering that Norwich was only thirteen years old when he wrote it:

My Dear Mama

You cannot possibly imagine how unwilling I am to begin this melancholy letter. However as you must unavoidably hear of the fate of dear Papa, I write you these few lines to request you to bear it as patiently as you can. He died like a hero, having gallantly led his ship into action, and his memory will ever be dear to his King and his country and his friends. It was about 15 minutes past 12 in the afternoon of the 21st Oct when the engagement began. It was not finished till five. Many a brave hero sacrificed his life upon that occasion to his king and his country. You will hear that Lord Viscount Nelson was wounded in the commencement of the engagement and only survived long enough to learn that victory was ours, ‘then’ said the brave hero ‘I die happy since I die victorious,’ and in a few minutes expired.  

Captain James Nicoll Morris of HMS Colossus survived his leg wound and continued to serve in the Royal Navy. He received the naval gold medal, parliamentary thanks and a vase from the Patriotic Fund for his bravery at Trafalgar. He eventually died a Vice-Admiral in 1830 and is buried in All Saints Church (Marlow). The inscription on his memorial reads:

Sacred to the memory of vice admiral Sir James Nicoll Morris, K.C.B. who departed this life at his residence, Thames Bank, Great Marlow the 15th of April 1830, aged 66 years. He was a sincere Christian in his belief and practice, both being alike distinguished by a simplicity and singleness of heart for which he was remarkable. His beneficence was of that sort which is rather felt than seen he was a firm and zealous friend and in the various relations of life most exemplary whilst his strict sense of honour in the discharge of his several duties rendered him universally respected – esteemed – and regretted. He married in 1802 Margaretta Sarah, daughter of Thomas Somers Cocks esq who erects this tablet to record his worth and her submissive but unfeigned grief. And now Lord what is only hope: truly my hope is even in thee. Psalm 39 v6.

Last, but most certainly not least, what of Elizabeth Norman and young Anna Norman. What happen to them after Marine Captain Thomas Norman died? Alas (as is so often the case) the evidence trail goes cold. The last we know of them is in 1815 when Elizabeth applied for a pension. She was still living in Plymouth at this time. If anyone reading this article knows more, please contact us!

The events described in this article sound to modern ears like ancient history. However, the smoke of Trafalgar didn’t fade that long ago. The last survivor of the battle was likely Pedro Antonio Zai Martinez (he claimed to have served on the San Juan Nepomuceno as a 16 year old). Owing to the position of his ship in the Franco-Spanish fleet, Martinez likely saw HMS Mars and HMS Colossus sail into action on that remarkable day on the 21st of October 1805. Martinez went on to live a long life. He died in Texas in 1898 at the astonishing age of 109. Two years prior to his death (1896) a British man by the name of Henry Allingham was born. Allingham was to go on to become a World War One veteran. He also lived a long life and eventually died in 2009 aged 113. To cut a long story short, you could (in theory) have met someone whose lifespan overlapped with that of a Trafalgar veteran! I hope this highlights why the work we do here at The Napoleonic & Revolutionary War Graves Charity is so important. With this in mind, I warmly encourage you to make a donation to support us. Even a small amount can make a big difference!

My sincere thanks to Dr Zack White, Carol Dixon-Smith and Lee Boys for kindly proofreading this article prior to publication. 

Written and researched by Samuel Moore.