Gerra sahiestezina eta ezinezko garaipena
The Peace of Amiens (1801) was unstable; as a matter of fact, it could be said to have been born dead. It was a truce to recover, since there had been no decisive victory, but neither Napoleon nor Britain saw it as a definitive settlement of European affairs.
Spain was caught in the horns of a dilemma. Napoleon?s ambition had no limits, but the French Army was so powerful that a direct land confrontation would only bring about defeat and a swift invasion of Spain. Godoy knew this. But he also knew that Britain?s ambitions overseas were no less excessive and its Navy, no less powerful. In any case, if Spain became an ally of one of the nations coveting some part of the Spanish empire, it would not be able to defend the part coveted by its ally. In a pragmatic move, having to choose between the colonies and the metropolis, Godoy opted for the latter: Spain became France?s ally, which, given the Spanish Army?s weakness, meant acquiescence to Napoleonic demands.
Godoy tried to buy time by supplying France with money and ships, the Conquistador among them, in which Churruca had invested so much time and so great efforts. But remaining neutral became increasingly difficult and would not be possible for too long. In the sea, the British galleons haunted overseas trade, which was just beginning to recover in the aftermath of the wars in America against Britain. The Spanish Army looked in much better shape: there were more ships, even though it was short of men. And although the Royal Treasury was burdened with the debt incurred for ship building by the previous administration, the Army was still a force capable of protecting the Empire and, joining the French Navy, fighting against Britain in the sea.
When the war finally broke out, in early 1805, Napoleon presented his strategic plan: invading the British Isles and settling matters once and for all. In order to carry this out, he needed to gain control of the English Channel. Being realistic, he knew that the Royal Navy?s technical and material superiority was undeniable. So, instead of devising fantastic plans for defeat in battle, he decided that his ships should take the British vessels far away from the critical area of the Channel for a while. As long as it would take his Navy to cross it. Once on land, his military talent would prevail.
The plan was sensible if one considers that it was devised in an office in Paris. However, in those circumstances and with the means available, it was doomed to failure. Napoleon was never a sailor, and he never intended to be one.
But Churruca was. After six months in office as his hometown?s mayor, among hygiene edicts and urban concerns, with no time left for his thermal baths in Cestona, he was called to the court of the King, who wanted to see him. The royal family lavished attention on him, and he even had the chance to discuss sea matters with the Monarch.
Churruca would have liked to go back home and rest, but he was posted to El Ferrol instead. Winds of war had started to blow once again. The Príncipe de Asturias, a 112-cannon ship, one of the most powerful in the Spanish Navy, needed to be repaired and improved. Zealously, Churruca began to work on the ship, applying everything he had learnt in Brest, where he participated in repairing the Conquistador and became a household name, capable of turning a barge into an efficient war machine. The ship was covered in copper and caulked, and the outcome proved that Churruca was not just an expert scientist but also an ingenious technician. Many believed the ship?s improvements in sailing conditions, habitability and crew, where Churruca applied the enlightened ideas he was so fond of, were the reason for its remarkable performance in Trafalgar.
To record his work on the Príncipe de Asturias, Churruca wrote an enlightened and enlightening work, a handbook of naval artillery called Instrucción de punterías en los bajeles del rey (How to Take Aim in the King?s Vessels), which was to be published in the year of his death.
After the Príncipe de Asturias, he started working on the Nepomuceno, and older and less powerful ship which nevertheless inspired him to work hard and enthusiastically. While at work, he was summoned back to Cadiz: the Franco-Spanish fleet was marching to the Antilles, followed closely by the British. Churruca took the Nepomuceno to Cadiz, and watched events unfold.
Conforming to the Napoleonic plan, the Spanish ships set sails along with the French ones, commanded by Villeneuve, an obscure official with no meritorious achievements. The Spanish commander, also appointed by Napoleon, was Gravina, a rising star in the King?s court, completely obedient and not suspicious of free thinking, let alone Francophobia, like other candidates such as Mazarredo.
The snare?s first stage worked out well: the Royal Navy pursued the Franco-Spanish fleet in a round trip to the Antilles, which made Franco-Spanish weaknesses apparent. For one thing, the allies did not get along quite well: they distrusted one another both personally and professionally. The French regarded the Spaniards as inferior and the latter deplored Villeneuve?s passivity and lack of experience at sea. Moreover, both fleets had been put together in a rush, the French having to fill in crew blanks with land troops and the Spaniards resorting to levies and other drastic and makeshift measures. Even though all the posts had been filled, the navy was far from being well-trained. This was to be reflected in the awkwardness to manoeuvre some of the ships and in the handling of the artillery in combat.
As surprising as it may seem, however, the Franco-Spanish fleet managed to catch a Royal Navy squadron, commanded by Calder, off-guard on the coast of Galicia, in Cape Finisterre, when they were returning to Europe. They engaged in battle and, despite Villeneuve?s hesitations, Gravina commanded the Spanish division and, taking advantage of the superiority in number and tactics, his division attacked. He could have won an inestimable victory, but was sabotaged by his own allies, who never came to help the Spanish soldiers. In the chaos that ensued, the Spanish fleet lost two ships. What was worse, Villeneuve, horrified by his allies? individual initiative, decreed that, from then on, the Franco-Spanish fleet would be formed by alternating Spanish and French ships.
If one takes into account that, in the 18th century, even in one-nation fleets communication was fraught with difficulties and cohesive action in battle less than probable, it is easy to imagine the situation when a fleet included people speaking different languages and ships from two different national navies, each with its own signalling system. Gravina?s independent command had come to an end in all respects. And so had the Franco-Spanish Navy?s tactic flexibility. From then on, it became impossible for Villeneuve to partially manoeuvre the fleet in battle, even if he had wanted to.
As if this were not bad enough, Spanish officers felt much closer to their enemies than to their allies from an ideological point of view. They considered the alliance with Napoleon to be purely strategic, and they knew that the price to pay would be having their country invaded as a result of an ideology which, as faithful noblemen and supporters of the absolute monarchy, they tended to despise.
Thus, blindly trusting an erroneous conception of discipline, bound hand and foot, the Franco-Spanish Navy?s men left the port of Cadiz to meet their fateful destiny in Trafalgar.
