The British Navy in Eastern Waters: The Indian and Pacific Oceans 9781783276776, 9781800104587, 1783276770

Table of contents :
Front cover
Contents
Maps
Editorial Conventions
Introduction
Part I: The Company and the Bombay Marine
1 The Company’s Early Struggles (1600-1625)
2 The Company Survives (1625-1680)
3 Interlopers and Union (1680-1710)
4 Wider Interests, Greater Threats (1710-1750)
Part II: The Bombay Marine and the Royal Navy
5 British Dominance Established (1748-1763)
6 The French Threat Continues (1763-1782)
7 The Decisive War (1782-1783)
8 A Ring of Enemies (1783-1803)
9 Destroying all Rivals (1803-1811)
Part III: The Royal Navy and the Indian Navy
10 The Company Reduced, its Empire Expanded (1811-1838)
11 Imperial Warfare (1838-1863)
12 The British Lake (1863-1935)
13 A Successful Defence (1935-1945)
14 Imperial Withdrawal (1945 and after)
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

The British Navy in Eastern Waters

The British Navy in Eastern Waters The Indian and Pacific Oceans

John D. Grainger

THE BOYDELL PRESS

© John D. Grainger 2022 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner The right of John D. Grainger to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published 2022 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 978 1 78327 677 6 hardback ISBN 978 1 80010 458 7 ePDF The Boydell Press is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620–2731, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The publisher has no responsibility for the continued existence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate Cover image: The English East Indiaman Pitt engaging the French ship St Louis off Fort St David, near Pondicherry, 29 September 1758 © National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London Cover design: Greg Jorss

Contents

List of Maps

vi

Editorial Conventions

vii

Introduction

1

Part I: The Company and the Bombay Marine 1. The Company’s Early Struggles (1600–1625) 2. The Company Survives (1625–1680) 3. Interlopers and Union (1680–1710) 4. Wider Interests, Greater Threats (1710–1750)

7 27 47 63

Part II: The Bombay Marine and the Royal Navy 5. British Dominance Established (1748–1763) 6. The French Threat Continues (1763–1782) 7. The Decisive War (1782–1783) 8. A Ring of Enemies (1783–1803) 9. Destroying all Rivals (1803–1811)

83 101 119 135 161

Part III: The Royal Navy and the Indian Navy 10. The Company Reduced, its Empire Expanded (1811–1838) 11. Imperial Warfare (1838–1863) 12. The British Lake (1863–1935) 13. A Successful Defence (1935–1945) 14. Imperial Withdrawal (1945 and after)

187 205 235 255 275

Bibliography

289

Index

301

v

Maps

1. The Western Indian Ocean 2. The Eastern Indian Ocean 3. The South China Sea

viii ix x

vi

Editorial Conventions

Throughout I have distinguished the East India Company by referring to it as the Company, with an initial capital. Warships are distinguished by their number of guns, e.g. (60), after the name; merchant ships of the Company by their tonnage, e.g. (600).

vii

Map 1. The Western Indian Ocean.

Map 2. The Eastern Indian Ocean.

Map 3. The South China Sea.

Introduction The subject of this book is the activities of the British Royal Navy in the Indian and the western Pacific Oceans, that is, in over half the world, from the Cape of Good Hope to China and Japan. Neither of these oceans and the lands they gave access to were known to European before the ‘Age of Discoveries’, though they were well enough known to many inhabitants of these regions, and certainly rumours and hints had reached Europeans of their existence. It was, of course, difficult for any European ships to penetrate into these oceans even in the century or so after the initial Portuguese explorations had reached them. This was in contrast to the accessibility of the contemporary revelation of the American continents, which seemed to be, by comparison, relatively easy to reach. It was clearly possible for English, French, and Dutch ships to get across the Atlantic and to interrupt Spanish activities in the Caribbean, and perhaps in West Africa and Brazil, but to reach the Pacific Ocean or the Indian Ocean required a voyage of years, far more courage and endurance, and a greater financial investment, than was involved in sailing to the east coast of America. It was not at first known whether this could be done at all. Vasco da Gama, following Bartholomew Diaz and a long list of earlier Portuguese sailors, reached the Indian Ocean in 1498. The Portuguese had been moving slowly down the coast of Africa for a century before then, and had established a precarious control over the coast and its trade from Morocco southwards.1 They had even established a presence on the coast of eastern South America – Brazil – discovered in about 1500, and were gaining some control there. They did not wish any other Europeans to interfere with the profits they had been making in the Indian and Spice Island trades, any more than the Spaniards wanted others to interfere in the Caribbean. The two states had a treaty to that effect, ratified by the Pope, though no other country recognised it. Nonetheless this was the foundation of their empires. When other Europeans’ ships actually reached the Indian Ocean, they found that the main ports were already under Portuguese control – though there were always other ports which they could use.2

1

2

J.W. Blake, European Beginnings in West Africa, 1454–1578, London 1937; Peter Russell, Prince Henry ‘the Navigator’: A Life, New Haven 2000; C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire 1415–1825, London 1969; Eric Axelson, Congo to Cape: Early Portuguese Explorations, London 1973. R.S. Whiteway, The Rise of the Portuguese Power in India, 2nd ed., London 1967; Sanjay Subrahmanyam, Improvising Empire: Portuguese Trade and Settlement in the Bay of Bengal, 1500–1700, Delhi 1990.

1

2

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Equally, to reach the Pacific by sailing westwards one had first of all to evade the Spaniards and the Portuguese, and then find a way round the long American double-continent. Numerous attempts sent out from Britain had failed in searching for a North-West Passage north of America, or a North-East Passage north of Asia, so the only recourse was to go south, where a passage through the American continent did exist, known since the time of Magellan, and another, somewhat easier, in the Southern Ocean, past Cape Horn. But the passages were fearfully difficult, the Cape Horn Passage was the scene of great storms, and the Magellan route led into the largest ocean in the world, where the prevailing winds and currents perversely took ships clear of all, or almost all, the islands where refreshment could be obtained.3 For a century after the discoveries of the 1490s and after, therefore, the Spaniards and the Portuguese largely had these oceans to themselves, without any serious interruption to their trading and conquering from other Europeans. But it was this very success in trading and conquering (and looting) which alerted other Europeans to the possibilities of also getting rich. Mexican and Peruvian silver, spices from the Indonesian islands, riches from India and Japan and China – all these were quite sufficient temptation for European sailors to risk the wrath of Spain and Portugal, a long voyage in an unhealthy ship, and the strong possibility of death at any time, from disease, battle, storm, or starvation. And so the first English sailor to reach the Pacific, Francis Drake, did so with the express intention of looting his way along the Spanish coast of western America, and the first English expedition into the Portuguese Indian Ocean, commanded by James Lancaster, fought his way into that ocean, attacking Portuguese ships wherever he found them.4 The cost of such behaviour as it turned out, was very great, in sailors’ lives and in ships: although Drake returned rich, Lancaster did not. Between them they lost six ships and the great majority of their crews. And yet it was Lancaster’s voyage, and its apparent failure, which was the inspiration for the next stage in the British exploitation of eastern waters. The real value of these two voyages, and the circumnavigation by Thomas Cavendish in the 1580s, was to show that the voyages could be done, even at great cost, and, by returning, they brought back valuable information about the oceans and the lands surrounding them. Cavendish had set out to emulate Drake, which he did as far as the Pacific coast of Mexico. There he captured the Manila Galleon, released the crew, and took his pick of the cargo before burning the ship. He also kept a few of the galleon’s passengers, two Japanese, a Filipino, and the Spanish pilot, and took them back across the Pacific. He travelled by a more northerly route than 3

4

Magellan’s voyage was the archetype; most later voyagers followed his route and suffered much the same fate; J.C. Beaglehole, The Exploration of the Pacific, 3rd ed., London 1966, ch. 2; O.H.K. Spate, The Spanish Lake, Minneapolis 1979. See chapter 1.

Introduction

3

Drake, reached and refreshed at Guam Island, inspected the Philippines, and returned home, like Drake, by way of the Indian Ocean. Between them these three voyages had revealed several possible routes of entry into the two oceans for their successors to follow. Drake, Lancaster, and Cavendish were not, of course, in the Royal Navy, if such a term can be used at this time, though the first two fought against the Armada in 1588. And yet all these voyages did have a semi-official air about them, as Drake’s reception and knighting by Queen Elizabeth at Greenwich on his return demonstrated; the follow-up to Lancaster’s voyage, more productively, was the foundation of the East India Company, which, like Drake’s exploit, was a semi-official organisation from the time it received its Royal Charter, through which the Company claimed a monopoly on trade by the English in its chosen region. This was granted by the English government, and the Company was linked very closely with the foreign affairs of England, and later Britain, from the start – Spain and Portugal (linked in a single monarchy at the time) were active enemies in these years. Indeed, the Company later became an actual and overt official organ of the British government, which only emphasised the situation as it already existed, but hardly changed it. It seems therefore reasonable to begin this account with these three men’s voyages (chapter 1). Their successors, as did these men, used their guns to gain access to trade which was blocked, where possible, by the Portuguese. Between them these men had revealed the broad outlines of the Pacific and Indian Oceans, located some of the best places for acquiring goods, notably silks, cottons, and spices. Putting the stories of the voyages together, as did Richard Hakluyt in his Principal Navigations,5 it was possible for the keen merchant, or an intelligent sailor, to understand the basic weather patterns and currents of the oceans, and to locate the most favourable time of year to sail, the best routes to follow, and the best trading places to which to sail. For a century after these early voyages, therefore, the primary English presence in eastern waters was that of the ships and traders of the East India Company, which had to fight its own battles against Indians, Japanese, Chinese, Portuguese, and Dutch enemies, against pirates and empires, as well as against ‘interlopers’ and rivals from Britain itself. At the same time its men were seeking, or fighting, to maintain its fragile monopoly of trade between England and the Indian Ocean countries. Only after all this did a decisive change in its organisation, and in the attitude of the British government, led it into less dangerous waters. This coincided with the union of England and Scotland to form the United Kingdom, not really accidentally. In the meantime, the Company fell into conflict with yet other enemies, above all the French, but also with Indian powers. The increasing inter-mixture of Company and government in the eighteenth century led inevitably in the end to the Company’s subordina5

Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations of the English Nation, Glasgow 1904; the continuation is Samuel Purchas, His Pilgrims, Glasgow 1905–1906.

4

The British Navy in Eastern Waters

tion to the British government; by that time they were both imperial powers, and during the next half-century and more the Company’s purpose gradually shifted away from commerce to the problems of ruling its conquests. The Company had repeatedly to adapt itself to new and changing conditions from its very beginning, both at home and in the east, and its own activities helped to bring those changes about. The Company had necessarily been a naval power from the start, and as such, and as a pseudo-agent of the English state, then the United Kingdom, it earns its place as a precursor in eastern waters of the British Royal Navy. The result of the gradual series of changes which the Company underwent is that the naval history of Britain in the east is a similar gradual evolution from isolated exploratory campaigns (by Drake and Lancaster). It began with the Company’s early, similarly isolated, exploits, then to the Company as a naval power, through its great trading ships and its Bombay Marine, and finally, by way of the Royal Navy rendering assistance to the Company, to the Indian Navy, which, like the Bombay Marine, was always subsidiary to the Royal Navy. This gradual alteration follows the adaptations by the Company, and is reflected in the organisation of this book, in which the East India Company, the Bombay Marine, the Royal Indian Navy, and the Royal Navy must be seen as a continuous sequence of overlapping naval powers and activities, active from the Tudor period to the achievement of Indian independence, and from St Helena in the South Atlantic to Alaska and Chile in the ‘eastern waters’ of the Pacific – and with a continuing, if fairly minor, presence and activity in these waters to this day.

Part I

The Company and the Bombay Marine

1 The Company’s Early Struggles (1600–1625) The great circumnavigation voyage of Francis Drake between 1577 and 1580 took him across the Pacific to the Spice Islands, then across the Indian Ocean to South Africa, and north along the length of the Atlantic to triumph and a knighthood at Greenwich, with his one remaining ship ballasted and loaded with gold and spices. This was the first seaman-like view of the Pacific and Indian Oceans by an English captain. The first voyage of James Lancaster between 1591 and 1594 went in the opposite direction, south along the length of the Atlantic, round the Cape of Good Hope, into the Indian Ocean and across to Indonesia, returning much the same way. It produced no wealth, and came back with a small sickly crew in a ruined ship, though Lancaster did gain a knighthood eventually. Drake had lost four out of his original five ships one way and another; Lancaster’s voyage started with three ships and ended with one. And yet, despite the contrast in their immediate fortunes, there was no follow-up to Drake’s voyage, other than some looting expeditions which were less than successful, and Cavendish’s circumnavigation, which was useful and profitable. Lancaster’s voyage, on the other hand, was the origin of one of the most remarkable and successful commercial ventures in world history, for it led to the formation of the East India Company. Drake had followed Magellan’s route to Patagonia, then through the Strait which his predecessor had discovered, north along the Spanish South American Pacific coast, looting and burning towns, capturing ships, and filling his hold with stolen wealth. This part of the voyage was in relatively familiar territory by this time, as his activities showed. If he is to be credited with an exploratory voyage, it was only after Mexico that he found anything new. He careened his ship somewhere on the upper Californian coast, possibly near San Francisco Bay (which he missed), and from there struck out across the Pacific for the Spice Islands, which he located by an admirable feat of navigation. He started this Pacific crossing further north than the Spanish ships usually did, and sailed by the trade wind route, briefly calling at the Palau Islands, and then at Mindanao in the Philippines. He made no wholly new discoveries in that island-littered Ocean. He investigated the Portuguese and Spanish positions in the Spice Islands, made friendly contact with the Sultan of Ternate, and secured a cargo of spices. Then he struck out directly across the Indian Ocean for South Africa. In navigational terms this was a remarkable voyage, 7

8

The British Navy in Eastern Waters

for he reached his Indonesian and African destinations with no difficulty at all, but then he was travelling in worn paths from the Philippines onwards.1 Lancaster set out over a decade after Drake had returned, but his purpose was to investigate trading conditions in a particular region of the world, the Indian Ocean. Like Drake any new discoveries he made were quite inadvertent. Drake may have attacked any Spanish ship he came across and sacked Spanish towns, so that since England and Spain were at peace during his voyage he was necessarily classified as a pirate. Lancaster sailed once the war between England and Spain/Portugal had broken out (he had fought in the Armada campaign), and he was therefore entitled to attack any Spanish or Portuguese ship he met, and he did so. He did not necessarily seek them out, but rather seized the opportunity to loot them when they came into his view. He also, in some desperation for want of food, attacked some Arab ships he came across. Drake’s exploit had firmly pinned the Spice Islands onto the map as known in England, and he had discovered something of the methods of trade by which he and other interlopers into this Portuguese private domain could acquire spices. Lancaster’s voyage went into more detail about the Indian Ocean, even though his outward voyage was accomplished only by a series of mistakes. He sailed round the Cape of Good Hope and north through the Mozambique Passage between the mainland and Madagascar, which later became the favoured route for English ships heading for India and Arabia and Iran. After a call for refreshment and repairs at Zanzibar he followed the East African coast almost to Socotra Island before catching a north-west wind. He missed India and Ceylon, though he had intended to waylay any Portuguese ships off the southern point of Ceylon; instead he sailed directly east towards Sumatra. He visited Malaya and Acheh in northern Sumatra, and in Acheh he found a cheerful sultan willing to trade. He captured and looted several Portuguese vessels, one of them very large. His aim all along was to seize Portuguese ships and their cargoes rather than seek out a cargo to purchase. The fact that the sultan of Acheh was willing to trade seems to have been a lucky accident.2 The circumnavigation by Thomas Cavendish (1586–1588) had added more useful information about the Philippines than Drake had supplied, and discovered a good deal about Japan and China as well; both Chinese and Japanese ships and merchants were present in the Philippines; he had also taken a Japanese sailor from a Spanish ship captured near Mexico back across the Pacific.3 Between them these three – Drake, Cavendish, and Lancaster – had collectively revealed to English merchants’ eyes a good deal of the possibilities of trade in the Indian Ocean region in many other goods besides spices. They 1 2

3

Kenneth R. Andrews, Drake’s Voyages, London 1967, ch. 4, with a listing of sources on p. 75; also G.M. Thomson, Sir Francis Drake, London 1972, ch. 10. Michael Franks, The Basingstoke Admiral: A Life of Sir James Lancaster, Salisbury 2006, 64–77; Bailey W. Diffie and George D. Winnow, Foundations of the Portuguese Empire, 1415–1580, Minneapolis 1977. Sir William Foster, England’s Quest of Eastern Trade, London 1933, ch. 11.

The Company’s Early Struggles

9

were travelling through a busy and well-populated trading area, where not just the Portuguese, but many other peoples were actively sailing and trading. It was the Portuguese, however, who were the main problem, for they claimed the exclusive right of trading by Europeans along the ocean’s coasts, while at the same time enforcing their control over local Asian trading. It is worth remembering that even the Portuguese were late-comers to Indian Ocean navigation. The ‘secret’ of the monsoon climatic regime had been ‘discovered’ by Greek sailors in the second century BC, though in fact, like the Europeans later, their discovery was actually the realisation that Arab and Indian sailors were utilising the monsoon winds. Throughout the centuries since then trading voyaging had been constant, by every community along the shores of the ocean, from local fishing to trans-ocean expeditions.4 Even the Chinese had come to be involved in the first half of the fifteenth century, characteristically sending enormous expeditions which the emperors fondly believed were establishing Chinese supremacy, though they were forgotten by the locals as soon as the ships returned to China. Since they gave out presents and accepted ‘tribute’, the voyages were expensive and could easily be discontinued; this was no way to establish a permanent presence or interest in the Indian Ocean where the basis of relationships was trade. The voyages were abruptly discontinued in 1433, and had no long-term effect.5 Lancaster discovered that the Portuguese had built themselves a powerful position in India and further east based on their sea power. In the Indonesian area their centre was at Malacca (Melaka), from which their ships could reach most of the islands, and north to the Chinese coast and on to Japan. In India Goa was the seat of their viceroy, and from there they operated a system of aiming to control all seaborne traffic in the Indian Ocean – or as much as they could reach. Their posts, from East Africa, where Mombasa was their centre, along with Sofala in Mozambique, to the Moluccas, were collectively the Estado da India. The system was the forced selling of cartazes, passports whose possession supposedly guaranteed the possessor against theft, piracy, and looting, at least by Portuguese ships.6 This had become the major source of the Estado’s revenues, alongside profits from trade. Besides Goa, the Estado included several port cities along the Indian western coast.7 In many ways the later Europeans – the Dutch and English particularly – followed the Portuguese both in their geographical and economic activities and practices. What 4 5 6 7

George F. Hourani, Arab Seafaring (ed. by John Carswell) Princeton, NJ 1995; Admiral G.A. Barnard, Rulers of the Indian Ocean, Boston and New York 1928, ch. 1. Louise Levathes, When China ruled the Seas: The Treasure Fleet of the Dragon Throne, 1405–1433, Oxford 1994. K.S. Mathew, ‘Trade in the Indian Ocean and the Portuguese System of Cartazes’, in Malyn Newitt (ed.), The First Portuguese Colonial Empire, Exeter 1986, 69–84. N.K. Chaudhuri, Trade and Civilisation in the Indian Ocean: An Economic History from the Rise of Islam to 1750, Cambridge 1985, ch. 3; Anthony Disney, ‘Goa in the Seventeenth Century’, in Newitt (ed.) First Portuguese Colonial Empire, 85–98.

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these English (and Dutch) voyagers were discovering was not so much the ‘new’ lands and seas of the east as the Portuguese system of imperialism in the east. Drake and Cavendish had found that the Spaniards had built their own equivalent system by taking control of parts of the Philippines, and by the institution of the ‘Manila Galleon’. The galleon, a huge vessel designed mainly to carry as much merchandise as possible, sailed west from Mexico – Acapulco was the preferred starting point – to Manila in the Philippines, following a route close to the Equator, using the South Equatorial Current and the accompanying trade wind – much the same route which Drake and Cavendish followed; for a sailing ship of the time it was the only practicable one. The Spaniards under Miguel Lopez de Legazpi had established a degree of control over part of the Philippine archipelago, and had quickly worked out the system of trans-Pacific trade winds. At Manila a great market and fair had developed to which came merchants and their goods from China, Japan, and South-East Asia, as well as the Spaniards from America. The Spaniards purchased what they wanted with silver dollars – the silver having been mined by Peruvian and Mexican slaves at Potosi and Zacatecas. The galleon – stuffed full of silks, spices, gold, ivory, precious stones, elegant pottery, and so on – sailed back to Mexico, using the North Equatorial Current and its accompanying wind. In both directions the journey was a killer, and more than one of the annual galleons lost most of its crew to thirst, starvation, and disease. It was the capture of just one of these galleons each by Drake and Cavendish which made their fortunes. From Acapulco the merchandise was transported to a fair held near Mexico City, whence some of it at least went to Vera Cruz on the Atlantic side, and then, pirates permitting, to Spain.8 Both Portugal and Spain, therefore, had fixed on methods of enrichment which had allowed them to profit from the existing trades in Asian waters, without involving themselves too deeply in the affairs of the mainland states. The Portuguese had taken over a series of coastal bases and had begun to annoy both the Ming regime in China and the growing Mughal Empire in India by their assertiveness. The Mughals had expanded their control over north India during the sixteenth century, and objected to the cartazes being levied on Mughal ships (that is, ships of Mughal subjects) and above all on ships carrying the pilgrim traffic to Mecca. The empire was still expanding, and during the seventeenth century it spread its power south into the Deccan. It was during that time of expansion that the East India Company’s ships began to arrive to trade, discovering that the political situation in India was constantly 8

Ernest S. Dodge, Islands and Empires: Western Impact on the Pacific and East Asia, Minneapolis 1976, for an outline of the system, pages 234–237. The museum in the fortress of Acapulco shows samples of the goods received from China, which clearly did not go any further; the Spaniards in Mexico benefited very well from this trade, often purchasing Chinese goods cheaply.

The Company’s Early Struggles

11

changing, and that while the Mughal authorities objected to the Portuguese, the Portuguese objected to both the English and to the Dutch who arrived at much the same time as the Company. The expeditions of the first English voyagers are the best known of the early English exploratory reaches into the Indian and Pacific regions, but there were others, including a trading voyage by James Welsh who returned to London in 1591 with a cargo including pepper and elephant tusks (though he may have only gone as far as West Africa – he also had a cargo of palm oil). Ralph Fitch travelled to India and other parts of Asia overland in the 1580s, and his report was the more valuable in that he could indicate some of the political issues involved in dealing with the mainland states.9 Altogether the merchants of London, Plymouth, Bristol, and Southampton – and the English government – could accumulate a considerable quantity of information about the lands around the Indian Ocean, some of it at first hand from sailors and travellers, some at second hand from travellers’ tales, or from the published accounts of Portuguese or Dutch voyages. A voyage to visit China under Benjamin Wood set out in 1596, carrying letters from the Queen to introduce the merchants, but it was not heard of again after passing West Africa. This vanishing, and the high costs of the earlier voyages, emphasised the difficulties involved even if the potential profits, as Drake and Cavendish showed, were great. But then a second voyage by Cavendish was also lost. The Portuguese carracks Sao Felipe and Madre de Deos, captured by the English in the last stages of their voyages home during the Armada War in 1587 and 1592, demonstrated the great wealth that was available in the eastern trading regions. The most important lure, however, was not the information these voyages and travels collected, which those in England must have known was incomplete and probably often inaccurate in details, nor the minimal wages paid to sailors, but the riches which seemed to be available to be gained by the men in England who stayed at home and invested their money in trading voyages. The return of Dutch voyages to the Spice Islands during the 1590s further enhanced the reputation for wealth.10 Sufficient wealth had been collected by English merchants, above all in London over the previous generation or so, to justify the funding of a trading voyage into the Indian Ocean. The wealth was derived above all from the profit on trades in Europe and the Mediterranean – notably trade with Russia and Morocco, and especially with the Levant; loot acquired by such men as Drake and Cavendish helped as well, as did the profits gained from privateering against Spanish shipping on both sides of the Atlantic. Each of the trades had been organised as a chartered company after some exploratory voyages, the company being granted monopoly rights to the trade of a particular region, as

England’s Quest, chs 7, 8, 9. Ibid, 136–137, 144; C.R. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, London 1965, 24–25.

9 Foster, 10

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a means of ensuring profits, which, of course, were taxable. Even the privateering voyages were organised on a company basis. Those involved in trade with the eastern Mediterranean as members of the Levant Company were the men particularly behind the urge to trade directly with India and Indonesia. They knew the value of the goods involved and understood to some extent how they were transported; they also understood the great mark-up and customs costs which they were charged in getting the goods through the corrupt officialdom of the Ottoman Empire in Iraq, Syria, and Egypt. The Levant Company had organised regular fleet voyages to the lands of the Ottoman Empire, where they bought produce which had been brought from further east. It was therefore very natural that the new Company which they set up, the East India Company, should adopt a similar pattern of organisation and practices to those used in the Levant Company. The aim was to sell English produce – woollen cloth, lead, and tin were the goods most usually exported – and to buy whatever was available, but they were most seriously thinking in terms of spices, perhaps jewels, and Indian cotton cloth. These goods were to be bought close to the sources of production, and therefore at a lower price than that paid in the Mediterranean by cutting out the numerous middlemen involved in the Indian Ocean crossing. The experience of the exploratory voyage by Lancaster demanded that a careful preparation be made by the Company for its own voyages. (The first Dutch voyages also saw very high costs, as was well known in London.) This required a good spread of investors, so that none of them need be ruined if the venture failed, large, well-armed ships, an experienced and imaginative commander (Lancaster was the obvious choice), and a defined aim, though not one which was too restrictive. The organisers were about two hundred merchants, many of whom had experience in the difficult trade of the Levant Company. The process of organisation took some time, because of all these factors, but in September 1600 the investors constituted themselves as a formal group, and on the last day of the year (and of the century) they received their charter from the queen. Goods valued at £27,000 were loaded in the four ships, which were to make the voyage: Red Dragon (600 tons), Hector (300), Ascension (260), and Susan (240), altogether crewed by about five hundred men; a victualler was to accompany them part way. It had been clear from earlier attempts that the voyage would take several months to reach the east; Lancaster had been away three years, and the Dutch voyages had taken about the same. The merchants were clearly risking a lot, for their investment might never be repaid, never mind not attract any profit; the men were risking their lives.11 11

A brief account of the formation of the Company is in John Keay, The Honour­able Company: A History of the English East India Company, London 1991, 9–14; a recent discussion, in much more detail, is Rupali Mishra, A Business of State: Commerce, Politics, and the Birth of the East India Company, Cambridge, MA 2018; the London merchant background is discussed in Robert Brenner, Merchants and

The Company’s Early Struggles

13

The initial costs, besides the freight, included the purchase of the four ships, which would need to be armed. Not only were the Portuguese hostile, claiming their monopoly of all trade between Europe and the Indian Ocean, but, as their successful voyages showed, the Dutch were becoming active in that region as well. (The Dutch East India Company (the VOC) was organised by 1602.) James Lancaster had been the obvious man to command the First Voyage, and he had with him John Davis, well known as an Arctic explorer, but who had already, like Lancaster, been to the Spice Islands, in his case as a member of one of the Dutch crews. This First Voyage was a modest success. The ships stopped at Table Bay in South Africa to refresh – a fifth of the crews were already dead by that time, though the men on Lancaster’s ship, Red Dragon, who had been dosed with lemon juice as a regular duty, were mainly healthy – and the sick recovered with fresh food and rest on shore. Supplies were bought cheaply from the local Africans, and when a small Portuguese ship was captured the supplies on board were annexed. The victualler was sent back to England, and when the voyage resumed further stops to refresh and resupply were made at Madagascar, the Comoro Islands, and Zanzibar; then Lancaster took the fleet directly across the Indian Ocean to Sumatra. Lancaster reached Acheh, where he had been welcomed on his earlier voyage. The ships he led sought out Portuguese vessels and seized their cargoes, so that soon two of his ships could be sent back to England loaded with spices; the other two, the largest ships, Red Dragon and Hector, moved on to establish a base, later called a factory, at Bantam in western Java, and collected a further spice cargo there. Lancaster also sent his ships on to Prianam on the Sumatran west coast for still more spices, and a locally acquired pinnace went to buy cloves at Tidore and Ternate, the archetypal Spice Islands. The ship failed to reach either island; instead they bought a cargo of nutmeg at the island of Pulo Run nearby. The capture of Portuguese vessels is a process glossed as ‘privateering’ or ‘piracy’ by modern historians, but since England was still at war with Portugal/Spain at the time the captures were perfectly legitimate. But this practice was not going to be a dependable method of providing cargoes to be taken to England in the long run, since the Portuguese ships would simply keep to the ports, or fight back; they also had well-developed bases from which to operate. Lancaster was no doubt aware of this, hence his copying of the basic Portuguese organisation by establishing the factory at Bantam and trading at forts and islands not occupied by any European power. He brought back both of his larger ships after three years, this time carrying a substantial cargo.12 Revolution: Commercial Change, Political Conflict, and London’s Overseas Traders, 1550–1653, London 2003. 12 Franks, Basingstoke Admiral, ch. 9; Foster, England’s Quest, ch. 15; Keay, Honourable Company, 14–25.

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The voyage paid a return on investment of 98 per cent. It was followed by a Second Voyage, separately financed, but using two of the same ships; a further profit was made.13 This therefore became the initial pattern of trading: each voyage was separately financed (though investors were often constrained to carry forward their investment to one of the subsequent voyages). Later, as confidence grew, voyages overlapped, but this had the result that the voyages competed with each other to buy cargoes, which of course increased the prices paid at the source; another was an oversupply of particular eastern goods reaching England, which reduced the selling price. Combined, this sensibly reduced the Company’s investors’ profits.14 It was only during the Third Voyage (1607–1609) that one of the Company’s ships called at Indian port. Surat was the main westward maritime outlet for the Mughal Empire. More research had evidently been done by the English, and the Company had decided that good relations with the Mughal Emperor were to its advantage. The captain of Hector, William Hawkins, had a letter from King James I for the emperor, but this brought him into collision with the governor of Surat, who exercised his gubernatorial right to take some of Hawkins’ cargo and personal baggage as his fee. Hawkins found, or claimed, that the Portuguese in the city had access to the governor and had egged him on into hostility to the English – unless Hawkins, a hasty man, decided that this was the reason for the governor’s actions, which indeed were customary. Hawkins aimed at sowing dissension in the relationship between the Mughals and the Portuguese, not a difficult task.15 There had been clashes with the Portuguese at sea even during Lancaster’s preliminary voyage, so it would hardly be surprising if the word had spread that the English were hostile, and that the governor of Surat should know about their poor relations. It made no odds that, as Hawkins pointed out, England and Spain/Portugal were now at peace in Europe; he was discovering that the relations between European countries in the east were rarely influenced by those ‘at home’, especially if, by ignoring the situation in Europe, advantage could be gained in the east. The Company found itself in conflict not only with the Portuguese, who were apparently solidly established in the region, but also with the Dutch, who were also hostile to the Portuguese. There were also the states of Indonesia and India, numerous rajahs and sultans in Indonesia, the growing Mughal Empire in India, and the substantial states of South India, and in the Middle East the Shah of Persia and the Ottoman Empire. Not every one of these powers and states was hostile, or at least was not hostile all the time, but they were not necessarily friendly all the time either. By adopting Surat as its principal trading base the Company was preferring the friendship of the Mughals to that England’s Quest, 160–172. Honourable Company, 99–100. 15 Ibid, 76–80; Foster, England’s Quest, 184–189. 13 Foster, 14 Keay,

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15

with any other Indian state – though this would automatically entail the other Indian powers’ hostility. There was therefore great possibilities of alliances, intrigues, fights, and betrayals in the political affairs of the east. The Dutch, for example, could at times be counted on as allies against the Portuguese; the Mughal Emperors were becoming increasingly hostile to the Portuguese, so that alliances were clearly possible. The greater land powers tended to find the merchants a nuisance and ignored their presence until something happened which directly affected their empire. There was plenty of scope for temporary alliances of convenience almost anywhere. But such alliances required the Company to be armed and ready, and this would limit its trading activities, and, of course, affect its profits – and the Directors in London soon made it clear that it was profits realised in London they were interested in, an attitude they maintained throughout the next two centuries. Therefore, from the very start the Company found itself in a bind in its eastern operations – having at times to decide whether to trade or to fight, to buy or to negotiate, or to cut and run. Just one of these powers, the Portuguese, was consistently hostile for the Company’s first thirty years, but as the established seapower in the Indian Ocean, they were everybody’s enemy, and they were finished off fairly quickly and reduced to a power which would finally come under English protection (as was the Portuguese homeland from the 1660s in Europe). This left the conflict between Dutch and English exposed, and that was a very different matter. From the start, therefore, the East India Company had to perform two very different tasks in the Indian Ocean: it had to trade, which may be taken as its primary function, but it had also to fight, which was largely a consequence of its attempts to trade. Furthermore, as it became successful in its trading, and the producer and possessor of considerable wealth, it had to fight a different, political, battle in England, where governments were always short of money and repeatedly seized on some of its reserves, usually in the form of loans which were never repaid; in addition, merchants excluded from its activities became jealous of its wealth, hence intrigue in England as well as in the east. The close relationship, for want of a better word, between government and Company in England meant that whatever it did anywhere in the world was of interest at home. In the Indian Ocean the fact that it was a commercial company scarcely registered; it was always taken to be what it was in reality, a branch of the English state, whereas in England it was regarded by both government and people with considerable suspicion. It was a private organisation which deployed heavily armed ships in pursuit of great gain, and was very wealthy. The early modern state generally frowned on independent armed power within its borders, and great wealth always excited similar suspicion, not to mention governmental avarice. The consequences of that in England were frequently unpleasant: the Wars of the Roses, rebellions against Henry VIII, Edward VI, and Elizabeth I in various regions, were enough to convey a clear warning. It is something of a surprise to find that the Company actually

16

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lasted as long as it did, given that circumstance, but then it was never a wholly independent commercial organism; from the start it was intimately involved in government affairs and subject to repeated government interferences – and when government wanted to tax it, the Company grumbled but coughed up. The Indian perception of the Company as essentially a wing of the English government was not wrong. In the east the repeated conflicts with Portuguese ships indicated the advantage of an alliance with the Dutch, or at least working together with them when necessary. The Estado da India was by this time in steep decline, in part due to the weakness of the Portuguese at home. The union with Spain (1580–1640) was one of the main causes of that weakness. This involved the Portuguese too much in European affairs, and made them a target for both the Dutch and the English. The Portuguese in the east, however, put up a fight, and were well enough established to do so. They had bases from Mozambique and Mombasa to Goa in India to Malacca in Malaya and on to the Spice Islands where they had alliances with local rajahs, and on to Macau in China, and they had strong contacts for a time in Japan. Examination and testing, however, revealed that their system was fragile.16 The Dutch had already partially driven the Portuguese from the Spice Islands, and when the pinnace which Lancaster sent there on the Company’s First Voyage arrived at Tidore the men found the Dutch in control, and could not acquire any spices. They therefore landed at Pulo Run, an island which was not dominated by either Dutch or Portuguese, and gained a cargo of nutmegs. The whole Indonesian region was large, complicated, and varied enough in its products and its polities for the English to fit themselves in at places such as Pulo Run without annoying others, at least at first.17 The Dutch in the Indonesian islands were awkward and then hostile, so from about 1610 the Company’s attention was directed towards Indian ports. But, as Hawkins at Surat discovered, India was exactly the area where the Portuguese presence was at its strongest and their sensitivity greatest. They had several well-established bases in both eastern and western India and were intent on holding on to their trading dominance. The Company fleet which sailed in 1610, the ‘Sixth Voyage’ under Sir Henry Middleton, first ran into difficulties at Mocha in Yemen (Middleton was imprisoned there for six months) and then, when it reached Surat in western India, it faced a Portuguese fleet which was disputing its presence in alliance with the city’s governor; the English ships were forced to retreat.18 During the Eighth Voyage, which was sent out in 1611, one of the ships reached Japan, where the presence of an Englishman, Will Adams, who was living there, assisted in making a trade. Adams had (like John Davis) sailed east with a Dutch fleet, but had been wrecked on C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire, 1415–1825, London 1969, 47–48. Honourable Company, 21–22. 18 Foster, England’s Quest, 193–195. 16

17 Keay,

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Kyushu; he had made himself useful to the Japanese and now did the same for the English ships; later he became a factor for the Company.19 The success of the Portuguese in hindering, if not wholly blocking, English access to Surat and western India therefore compelled them to seek out trade elsewhere, in Japan, in Persia, and the Red Sea. A permanent post was also established at Petapoli (Nizampatnam) on the Bay of Bengal, on the borders of the Golconda kingdom, which was a well-established and religiously tolerant state independent, for the moment, of the Mughal Empire.20 It was not long before it became clear that it was better to accumulate goods in storehouses in several ports around the Indian Ocean where they could be picked up by the next fleet which arrived. Indeed, this had been implicit as early as the First Voyage, when Lancaster established the post at Bantam and left an agent in charge there. This process involved forming bases, or factories, where factors were stationed to guard and collect the goods; the factory at Bantam was reinforced, and soon others were formed. For a time these factories were spread from Arabia to the Spice Islands, but it soon also became clear that simply collecting goods in the Indian Ocean and shipping them to England was not necessarily the best way of approaching the problem of trade. Not everything in the region was worth taking back to England, whereas some goods produced in the east could be more easily sold within the Indian Ocean region, where a market for Indian goods was already well developed. In addition, the goods sent out from England – woollen goods, lead, tin, iron – found a very limited market in the Indian Ocean countries, so the only sure method of acquiring goods in the east was to pay cash, gold and silver, which the English government did not like to see exported. Indian cotton and silk goods had a ready market in Indonesia, where most spices originated, so the most sensible trade was to collect cotton goods from India and, in effect, exchange them for spices in Indonesia; it was the spices which were wanted for the English market, at least until the value and convenience of cotton goods became appreciated there; in this, as in so much else, the English – and the Dutch – were copying the Portuguese practice. The Dutch had been concentrating on expanding their grip on the Indonesian region, the source of most spices. In 1612 the English Company encroached, planting an improved factory at Bantam and a new one at Macassar on Sulawesi, and more in the Spice Islands.21 This was disputed by the Dutch, so while the Company was engaged in conflict with the Portuguese in India and the Arabian Sea, they became involved in another contest, with the Dutch. C.R. Low, The History of the Indian Navy, 2 vols, London 1877, 1.12–14; Foster, England’s Quest, 217–224; Keay, Honourable Company, 54, 57–60. 20 J.F. Richards, Mughal Administration in Golconda, Oxford 1975; the single reference to the Company in this account, covering the whole seventeenth century, is an indication of the lack of impact it had in India. 21 Foster, England’s Quest, 252. 19

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The British Navy in Eastern Waters

The wars against the Dutch and the Portuguese proceeded in parallel. There is no other word for the contests, though it is not usually used, this being seen merely as a squabble between rival commercial organisations. But it was lethal for many men, and the result was a division of the eastern world which has lasted to this day. The Indonesian region had been strongly influenced by Indian culture for 1000 years, and it was from India that it had received its successive religions as well as its culture – Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam.22 India and Indonesia were therefore, along with South-East Asia, a single huge cultural region. The conflict between the European companies decisively divided this cultural area into two parts. The Tenth Voyage which the Company sent out, commanded by Captain Thomas Best, sailed early in 1612, arriving in the east just as the Company was expanding into Indonesia. It consisted of just two ships at first, Red Dragon (600 tons), once Lancaster’s flagship, and Hosiander (213), but Best was soon joined by two more, James (600) and Solomon (400). It seems that both mentally and materially Best was prepared for a conflict. Middleton’s failure to challenge the Portuguese blockade at Surat was a major restraint on the Company’s affairs, and it had to be effectively broken. It may be presumed that Best had some idea of what he was getting into, and that the instructions in London had been explicit, if perhaps oral. When he arrived at Surat, he was blockaded by a Portuguese fleet of four warships and twenty local craft of the type called ghurabs, commanded by Admiral Nuno da Cunha. This was exactly the situation which had been faced by Middleton, and from which he had recoiled. The Portuguese, that is, had decided that a repetition was sufficient. The difference between the two forces in this fight, English and Portuguese, lay not in the size of their fleets or the numbers of their men, but in their experiences of naval warfare. The English had, until eight years before, been fighting at death’s grip with Spain, the mightiest sea power in Europe and from it they had learned plenty of lessons in fighting at sea, among them the value of close action and the decisive use of broadsides. The Portuguese in the east had, for the last century, been fighting frequently in Indian waters but mainly against local Indian ships, which were relatively small and poorly armed, so that both Portuguese and Indian sailors fought at a distance and often with little actual violence until they came to close grips by boarding. The early ruthlessness of the Portuguese had convinced the Indian Ocean sailors either to avoid any contact with the Portuguese, or to submit quickly. One result of this was that the experience of the several collisions between English and Portuguese ships in the east had revealed the poverty of Portuguese tactics in facing European forces. (The same did not apply to land warfare, where the Portuguese were still formidable.) More widely and diplomatically, contact with the Mughal 22

André Wink, The Making of the Indo-Islamic World, c.700–1800 CE, Cambridge 2020, ch. 7; Bernard H.M. Vlekke, Nusantara: A History of Indonesia, The Hague and Bandung 1959 (originally Cambridge, MA 1943), chs I–IV.

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court and the Surat governor had revealed to the English Mughal antipathy towards the Portuguese, and this predisposed the Mughals to see enemies of the Portuguese as probable allies. These conditions proved to be favourable for Best’s enterprise. At Surat, when Best’s ships arrived, there was some manoeuvring by both sides at first. Best soon realised he was facing a fleet unaccustomed to serious, European style, fighting. He drew back his ships until several of the Portuguese vessels ran aground, where they were then battered by broadsides from Best’s two biggest ships, causing considerable Portuguese casualties. After a pause of some days the fighting was renewed. The English ships again tackled the Portuguese by closing and firing broadsides into them. When a fire was started on the Portuguese flagship, the whole Portuguese fleet retired.23 This discomfiture of the Portuguese was noted by the Mughal Emperor, and forthwith the Company was granted the right to establish posts at three other places in Gujarat, at Ahmedabad, the main city of the province, and at Cambay and Gogo on the coast. In effect this was an alliance between the English Company and the Mughal Emperor, a relationship which continued, with occasional breaks, for two centuries; already the Company was lined up to be one of the empire’s successor states. By contrast, the Portuguese (and the Dutch) confined themselves to establishing posts in territories independent of any Indian power, and usually well away from the Mughal lands. Meanwhile, a deliberate attempt was being made to establish English posts in the Indonesian islands. This was seen as a challenge by the Dutch, a reaction which the English surely anticipated. By 1610 there were about a hundred Englishmen scattered through the islands acting as factors and agents, clerks and soldiers. Factors had already been placed in Acheh in Sumatra and Bantam in Java, and another was in Ceram, one of the Moluccas; now new posts were established near Jakatra (now Jakarta) in Java (close to Bantam), on the east coast of Malaya at Pattani, and at Macassar in Sulawesi. These were placed at points where neither the Dutch nor the Portuguese had a presence. The Dutch were annoyed at this considerable expansion of the English Company’s range and activities, though for the moment they were unable or unwilling to retaliate. The wider ambition of the English Company had become very evident.24 The Portuguese defeat at Surat had not finished the conflict in India. In 1614 a new English fleet under Captain Nicholas Downton was menaced by a Portuguese blockading squadron at Surat. After Best’s fight the Portuguese had found themselves at war with the Mughals, but when the emperor required English help Captain Downton found he was unable to comply by his instructions from the Company. The Portuguese went on to destroy over a hundred Indian ships and ravaged the countryside around the town and port of Gogo, Honourable Company, 36–43; Foster, England’s Quest, 198–207; Low, Indian Navy, 1.12–15. 24 Keay, Honourable Company, 96–99; Low, Indian Navy, 1.17–23. 23 Keay,

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where the English Company had established a factor. The emperor, clearly annoyed at this, placed a ban on English trading as a result of Downton’s refusal to assist, and the Portuguese came up to Surat with a fleet to take advantage of this apparent English disadvantage; Downton therefore had to fight after all, but at least it was in defence, and so not in conflict with his instructions. In the fighting which followed one of Downton’s ships, the Merchant’s Hope (533), was attacked and boarded by two of the Portuguese when it ran aground. Incendiary gunfire set all three ships ablaze. The Hope, presumably better built and certainly with a better trained crew than the Portuguese ship, was rescued; the Portuguese vessels were burnt out. The Portuguese commander, the Viceroy Hieronimo de Azevedo, continued to maintain the blockade for the next two months, but a fireship attack he launched was a failure. In the end Downton, with the assistance of the Mughal governor, collected a full cargo for his ships from the Surat factory, simply sailed out through the Portuguese ships’ blockade. Azevedo turned to follow, but was soon deterred when Downton turned his ships, formed line in the fashion of European battle, and ran out his guns. Azevedo gave up.25 The Mughal emperor was pleased, once again, at the discomfiture of the Portuguese, and the ban on English trade was ended – it had clearly been ineffective in that the factory had already collected a good cargo for Downton’s ships, while in the fight the English had defended the city as well as themselves. The arrival of Sir Thomas Roe as an envoy from King James I was therefore opportune, and he was able to conclude a treaty of sorts, though the emperor scarcely noticed Roe’s presence at his court. The Company agreed, in exchange for a guarantee of the trading rights it already enjoyed, to guard Mughal ships against the Portuguese and against any pirates. This was, therefore, hardly a negotiated agreement, more a Mughal diktat.26 The Company effectively became a subordinate ally of the Mughal Empire, a position which the emperor felt it should have occupied all along, though this is not how the Company saw it. Its denials in England of subordination were overridden by its acceptance of the reality in India.27 The Company’s penetration into Indonesia in search of a means of purchasing spices directly from the producers had sparked a hostile Dutch reaction. Captain Samuel Castleton with four ships was deterred from approaching the Moluccas by a larger Dutch fleet; a little later Captain John Jourdain succeedIndian Navy, 1.17–23; Foster, England’s Quest, 241–243; Keay, Honourable Company, 97 (calling Downton ‘Richard’). 26 Keay, Honourable Company, 100–102; Ramakrishna Mukherjee, The Rise and Fall of the East India Company, New York 1974, 96–101; Foster, England’s Quest, 280–287. There are varying estimates of the worth of Roe’s work, from failure to success. 27 Sanjay Subramanyam, ‘Frank Submissions: The Company and the Mughals between Sir Thomas Roe and Sir William Norris’, in H.V. Bowen et al., (eds), The Worlds of the East India Company, Woodbridge 2002, 69–96. 25 Low,

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ed in reaching Pulo Run and made an alliance with the local rajah, who was unhappy with Dutch dictation of the prices of the spices they bought. A fort was built, and Nathaniel Courthope was left as factor and commander. Alliances with local rulers were evidently the most promising approach, since the Dutch had built up a considerable force of resentment amongst the producers by their strong-arm methods; an alliance with the Dutch meant Dutch political dictation as well as Dutch control of prices.28 There followed several years of intermittent conflict between the English and Dutch in and about the Moluccas. The Dutch were commanded by Jan Pieterszoon Coen, who proved to be capable of both locating the crucial points of conflict and in enforcing discipline on his unruly compatriots; he was also unusually ruthless and prone to violence, even more than was usual amongst the Dutch in the east. The Company’s posts in Indonesia were supervised by Jourdain, and in a way the conflict became one between Coen and Jourdain. The fort at Pulo Run, captained by Courthope, was put under siege, and when most of his English garrison mutinied and left, the Dutch blockaded the anchorage. The conflict spread. The English post at Jakatra in Java was burnt; a full-scale straggling battle between Dutch and English fleets off Java resulted in an English victory – or, if you were Dutch, a Dutch victory – but the Dutch did succeed in maintaining the siege of the fort at Pulo Run; the English returned to the attack on the Dutch at Jakatra. The fighting was joined by two local rajahs, each claiming that the Dutch and English forts had been built on their land without their permission. So for a time two sieges, one by the Dutch at the English fort and the other by the English at Jakatra, were proceeding at opposite ends of Indonesia. The Dutch in both cases were victorious, the basic reason being that the Dutch invested much more in ships and soldiers, while the Company did neither.29 Jakatra became a Dutch city, Batavia (now Jakarta). At Jakatra the English had fallen to quarrelling amongst themselves. The two principal captains, Sir Thomas Dale and Jourdain, disagreed on what to do. Dale withdrew to India, to the factory at Masulipatnam in Golconda, looking to recruit the reinforcements which he knew were approaching; Jourdain went to Pattani in Malaya to pick up a cargo. Coen followed Jourdain to Pattani and destroyed or captured his three ships; Downton died in the fighting. By their quarrel the English had allowed the Dutch to inflict a series of defeats on them, and left their Javanese allies to face the Dutch alone; the Dutch soldiers had little difficulty in defeating them. Coen proceeded to capture English ships wherever he found them, eleven altogether.30

Honourable Company, 42–47; Giles Milton, Nathaniel’s Nutmeg, or the Incredible Adventures of the Spice Trader who Changed the Course of History, London 1999 (entertaining if over-blown). 29 Jonathan I. Israel, Dutch Primacy in World Trade, Oxford 1989, 174–176. 30 Foster, England’s Quest, 271–274. 28 Keay,

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At Pulo Run several attempts by English ships to relieve the siege were defeated by the Dutch blockaders until the English garrison surrendered. Coen headed for Pulo Run – where Courthope was already dead – only to be intercepted by news from Europe, where the two companies had come to an agreement. The English would pay some of the costs of the Dutch forts and would share in the product; it was an agreement with no basis in trust in the east on either side, and with an obvious potential for further conflict. The Dutch, controlling the buildings and stores, tended to annex most of the goods, and excluded the English from the forts and from their own stores. By 1622 the conflict had re-ignited.31 While the uneasy truce in Indonesia continued, the English war with the Portuguese in Indian waters culminated in another siege. A Portuguese fort was maintained on the island of Hormuz, at the mouth of the Persian Gulf, as a means of maintaining a hold on the silk trade out of Persia, and on the transit trade between Iraq (through Basra) and the countries of the Arabian Sea, above all, India. The Portuguese had chosen a key strategic point for controlling several trades and trade routes (as they had at Goa and Mombasa and Malacca). A British envoy, Edward Connock, contacted the Safavid ruler, Shah Abbas, in Isfahan, who was only too pleased to see a chance to free himself from the Portuguese stranglehold on trade. This produced a protest from King Philip III of Spain and Portugal, but the Shah rejected it, tearing up the letter and throwing back the fragments in the envoy’s face. After a delay, more thought, and further negotiations, the Shah awarded monopoly rights in the silk trade to the English.32 The Anglo-Persian treaty angered the Portuguese, who developed a fort at Qishm on an island adjacent to Hormuz as a further means of maintaining their control. Together Qishm and Hormuz were two fortified towns which now formed a major power centre, dominating the passage at the entrance to the Gulf. Further discussion between the English (Connock was now dead, but Thomas Barker continued his work) and the Persian Shah produced a military alliance. The Persians would provide a land army, the English armed ships which would transport the army to besiege Qishm, then Hormuz. A new transshipment and customs point at Gombroon on the mainland would replace Hormuz; on the mainland it would be much easier for the Persians to control events. The Company President at Surat sent a five-ship squadron, commanded by John Weddell, as the Company’s contribution to the siege. This in turn produced a Portuguese fleet of five warships commanded by Ruy Freire de Andrade. These were to reinforce the fort on Qishm Island, and block any attempt by Company ships to collect any silk. The English ships blockaded Qishm harbour, into which the Portuguese ships had been moved, while the 31 32

Ibid, 275–276. Ibid, 300–307; Keay, Honourable Company, 102–104.

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23

Persian land force, said to be 50,000 strong, laid siege. A complicated series of manoeuvres resulted eventually in a joint Company-Persian attack on the Portuguese fort, which fell quite rapidly. Then the whole force moved across to Hormuz Island. There the town was taken, looted, and burnt, and the siege concentrated on the castle. The Portuguese defended stoutly, largely from fear of the Persians, who were as ruthless in victory as the Portuguese themselves. English sailors led the way in preparing explosives and digging mines to bring down the wall. A fireship were sent in amongst the Portuguese ships in the harbour, destroying the San Pedro, which had been the commander’s flagship. This gave the English ships under Weddell control of the harbour and of the sea approaches. In the end, when it was clear that another mine was about to be exploded, which would open up yet another gap in the wall, and so led to an assault, the Portuguese admitted defeat. They surrendered to the English, who organised their evacuation, having guaranteed their lives, though the Persians stripped them of all possessions, including their clothes. This victory proved to be the effective end of Portuguese domination of any trade in Persia and the nearby regions, and it was a serious blow at the general Portuguese trading system in the Indian Ocean.33 The Portuguese did not give up easily. The next year another squadron set out to recover Hormuz, but was intercepted by a joint English and Dutch fleet. The English and the Dutch might be at odds in Indonesia, but they were quite capable of joining together to fight the Portuguese in the Gulf. The immediate object of the attackers was the mainland port, Gombroon, to which the entrepôt had been shifted. The English, with only four ships, were well outnumbered by the Portuguese, but the arrival of the Dutch with four more ships brought the allied squadron to approximate equality. The fighting lasted three days, until the Portuguese withdrew. They returned later, once more, and pounced on a single English ship, Lion (386), which survived, though battered and partly burnt; the Portuguese attacked again, this time successfully, when the ship sailed from Gombroon. It was then the English turn to seek revenge, and they did so by a destructive raid on the Portuguese island of Bombay. The whole series of events shows a steady escalation from the confrontations at Surat to the sieges in the Persian Gulf, and on to the destruction at Bombay.34 In Indonesia Coen had never accepted the validity of the agreement made in Europe, the Anglo-Dutch Convention of 1619, for the sharing of costs and products, and he knew that his distance from Europe gave him a great deal of autonomy in his dealings with the English, and with the Indonesians for Honourable Company, 106–108; Low, Indian Navy, 1.36–43; Foster, England’s Quest, 295–312. 34 The central position of Hormuz in the Portuguese trading network in the Indian Ocean is the main argument in Niels Steensgaard, The Asian Trade Revolution of the Sixteenth Century: The East India Companies and the Decline of the Caravan Trade, Chicago 1973. 33 Keay,

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that matter. He understood that success was the only thing which counted, and that his methods, and any failures, would be overlooked when that final success was gained. Success to those in Amsterdam meant profitable trade – a sentiment they shared with the men in London – and in pursuit of profit they would ignore Coen’s methods; this was also the English attitude and reaction. Coen was in the stronger position, having more ships in Indonesia that the English, and implemented the agreement with as bad grace as he could. He did not directly provoke a renewal of hostilities for the moment, but his sour example was followed by his subordinates. Reports of the difficulties faced by the English reached London, where the Directors decided that the attempt to trade in the islands in direct competition with the Dutch was too much trouble, and they would withdraw their factors from the Moluccas. The English post at Amboyna in the Moluccas was overshadowed in all senses by the Dutch factory there. It was manned by only two soldiers, with some clerks and servants under the factor Gabriel Towerson, fourteen English in all. The Dutch commander, Herman van Speult, suspected the existence of a plot against the Dutch and set about proving his suspicions by torturing the Japanese soldiers in his own employ, whom he thought were part of it. When a dispute broke out between an Englishman and a Dutchman, van Speult claimed that this was part of the plot, and arrested and tortured all the English. The torture was effective in bringing confessions, but, of course, having been obtained by torture it is now impossible to know whether or not there really was a plot. Having obtained his ‘evidence’, van Speult executed all the English and the suspect Japanese, twenty-four men in all. This was widely reported in England with great indignation, coming as it did after the suppression of the Company’s post at Pulo Run. The details of the torture may have been invented, and none of the Englishmen survived to testify, but they were certainly exaggerated in the telling. Some information, statements by some of the English claiming innocence, was found on scraps of paper and written in the prayer books left by the English prisoners, and the Dutch did report the killings, maintaining their claim of a plot. Altogether the event – the ‘Amboyna Massacre’ – the exaggeration, and the great fuss made of it in England, were successful deterrents to any new English adventures in the region. The English rumours and exaggerations were therefore working for the Dutch. It also hid the decision which had already been made by the Directors to withdraw the factor, so that it seemed that the English had been driven out. It was an incident which was held against the Dutch by the English for at least the next fifty years.35 35

John Keay, The Spice Route, a History, London 2005, 243–245; Keay, Honourable Company, 46–50; Foster, England’s Quest, 277–278; D.K. Bassett, ‘The “Amboyna Massacre” of 1623’, Journal of Southeast Asian History 1/2, 1960, 1–19; Holden Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in the Orient, 1600–1800, Oxford 2004, 48–49; Alison Games, ‘Anglo-Dutch Maritime Interactions in the East Indies during the Early Seventeenth Century’, in P.C. Marshall and Carole Shammas (eds), Govern-

The Company’s Early Struggles

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The siege at the fort of Hormuz ended in 1622; the massacre at Amboyna took place in 1624 – an English victory and an English defeat, as seen from England. In this three-year period, therefore, the pattern of the next centuries was set. The Dutch were to become paramount in the Indonesian islands, maintaining a virtual monopoly of the collection of spices from the Spice Islands. Very slowly they extended their direct control throughout the archipelago, though it was nowhere near complete even in 1900.36 The English retained a foothold on the island of Sumatra, at Benkulen on the west coast, for a century and more, but found themselves expelled from the rest of the islands, post by post. Similarly, the Dutch and the Portuguese retained footholds in India, though they were both slowly squeezed out, and the Indian trade became a virtual English monopoly. And so the second language in Indonesia is now Dutch, and in India English.

ing the Sea in the Early Modern Era: Essays in Honor of Robert C. Ritchie, San Marino, CA 2015, 171–195; Professor Games gives references to the English and Dutch discussions on the episode and its aftermath, especially in England, in her notes 56–60; Mishra, Business of State, ch. 8, is also most concerned with the Company’s reaction. 36 M.C. Ricklefs, A History of Modern Indonesia, London 1981.

2 The Company Survives (1625–1680) The Company may have won the victory at Hormuz, but that did not end the struggle with the Portuguese, though to have alliances with the Shah of Persia and the Mughal Emperor was helpful. These rulers regarded the Company as a subordinate rather than an ally, of course, and the alliance with Shah Abbas was terminated with his overthrow late in the year of the Hormuz victory. In 1630, a Portuguese fleet once again aimed to prevent the Company from using Surat, but was again defeated. This pleased the Mughal government, which had already engaged the Company to transport its envoy to Persia. The emperor also gave permission for the Company to capture any Portuguese ships it met; it is unlikely that such permission was really needed, but it was good to have an imperial licence for its normal practices.1 The relations with the Mughals were sufficiently close that the Company was granted the privilege of constructing its own warships (in 1633);2 from London came permission to fortify the main factories, though since Surat was part of the Mughal Empire and under a Mughal governor, this was confined to a stout building in which to store the Company’s goods. Conflict with the Dutch alternated with occasional co-operation. Fighting between the Dutch and the Portuguese continued – they were again at war in Europe from 1621. This state of affairs brought the Company’s President at Surat, William Methwold, to negotiate with the Portuguese at Goa, aiming to bring an end to their conflict; he could point to their mutual hostility to the Dutch as an inducement for a truce. This led to a convention by which the Portuguese in Asia in effect accepted English Company protection (the Convention of 1635, sometimes called the Anglo-Portuguese Truce). After the conclusion of this agreement President Methwold seriously, but unsuccessfully, suggested that the Company limit its trading to four ships per year, which would call at Portuguese Goa for much of the goods it collected, so making the Estado da India a junior trading partner.3 Surat was not fortified by the Company. Mughal disapproval was decisive here. The Company’s storehouse was well built, more to deter theft than anyIndian Navy, 1.47–50. Philip MacDougall, Naval Resistance to Britain’s Growing Power in India, 1660– 1800: The Saffron Banner and the Tiger of Mysore, Woodbridge 2014, 26–27; Low, Indian Navy, 1.16–17. 3 Keay, Honourable Company, 108. 1 Low, 2

27

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The British Navy in Eastern Waters

thing else, but it proved strong enough in the event to withstand attack, even when the rest of the city was captured, as in 1664. Portuguese posts elsewhere, however, had long been fortified, as were the Dutch posts. On the east coast the Dutch had a fortified factory at Pulicat (‘Fort Geldria’) which the English were supposed to share by the Convention agreed in 1618; the English contributed a third of the costs and upkeep for the fort in return for a third of the spices, but the Dutch excluded them from the fort and forced them to operate outside the walls. Since the Dutch had built the fort and it was their headquarters for the other posts along the Coromandel coast, their attitude is understandable.4 A succession of English bases along the Coromandel coast were tried – Masulipatnam, Armagaon, Pulicat, San Thome – until in 1640 Francis Day, the factor with responsibility for the area, purchased a square mile of land at a village called Madraspatnam. It was later said he did this, close to San Thome, so that he could the more easily visit and ‘interview’ his mistress who lived there. The land he acquired was flat, dusty, dry, uninhabited, and windblown, though it was protected, in a sense, by small rivers to the north and south of the site. There was no easy landing point, for the sea was shallow for some distance from the shore, and a heavy surf was not uncommon; lightering between ship and shore was necessary for both goods and people, and disasters were not uncommon. Hence no doubt the need for the pleasantly salacious story of the place’s origin, since no rational geographical explanation seemed possible. Day may not have been able to find anywhere else where he could purchase such a plot; the seller was a local chief, impoverished and of little importance, who was no doubt pleased enough to find a new fort rising close by, and equally pleased to receive the purchase money. Day, evidently a consummate conman, made all sorts of promises to the Company in London about financing the building of the fort, and continued building despite the Company’s disapproval, protests, and instructions to desist – but the Company did grumblingly provide the finance when compelled. Above all, this established the Company firmly at the region, and when English interlopers arrived on the coast, it was Day’s fort which had become the unassailably secure Company base. It soon attracted a busy and enterprising Indian population.5 The number of bases, or factories, fluctuated almost constantly, both in India and in Indonesia. Surat became the seat of a President, supervising the Indian posts; a second Presidency was established at Bantam but was soon reduced to an ordinary factory. Madras, for some reason, perhaps because it was such a difficult site that no one else wanted it, became firmly established Dutch Primacy, 103, 175; Keay, Honourable Company, 67–68. Rival Empires, 71–72; Keay, Honourable Company, 68 – 69; Philip Stern, The Company-State: Corporate Sovereignty and the Early Modern Foundations of the British Empire in India, Oxford 2011, 19–20, rather implies a more enthusiastic appreciation of Day’s work by the London Directors.

4 Israel,

5 Furber,

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29

and soon began to flourish, and was soon elevated to a Presidency. Its fortune was made, in a sense, when in 1664 the Portuguese, who had been long at San Thome, Madras’s southern neighbour and competitor, were expelled by the Golconda king; the Hindu merchants who had used the Portuguese fort shifted to Madras.6 Other places were abandoned quite readily, partly as a result of internal problems inside India, and not infrequently because of inefficiency or embezzling by the English factors. The Mughal Empire regularly went through violent episodes, either attempting conquests of its neighbours, or internal disputes over the succession. Any inland factories were always vulnerable to wandering armies in such conditions. The wider background to events in India in the 1630s, including the Convention of 1635 with the Portuguese, was a climatic disaster. The monsoon failed in 1630, and this was followed by floods in the next year, so that famine spread throughout much of north-west India, affecting Gujarat especially, and therefore the Company’s trade through Surat was hurt. The whole crisis lasted until 1633.7 For the Company this meant that the goods available in Surat were fewer, though the organisation of the Company was strong enough to survive such temporary disruptions. The trading system of the Indian Ocean had been in existence for centuries, even from long before the advent of Islam.8 The Portuguese in effect adopted it as their own, and seized control of the key central points from which to establish control over the system: Malacca, Goa and several Indian ports, Mombasa, and Hormuz. From these places they had preyed on the Indians and Arabs and Indonesians who formed the most active trades connecting the many productive regions around the ocean, not trading so much as seizing cargoes of merchants as they sailed (just as Lancaster had seized Portuguese cargoes), a method which had involved with the issuing of cartazes, permissions to sail.9 More competently they had extended their commercial reach to Macau in China, and Japan, whence they were eventually expelled.10 The English and the Dutch quickly located the Portuguese key points, and they were able to cooperate in the reduction of Hormuz, but this was the extent of their cooperation. The Dutch took Malacca in 1641, severing another link of the Portuguese system. The local merchants and shipowners carried on despite all this, in part because the Europeans were principally interested in carrying goods to Europe, though they did quickly adapt themselves to the

Rival Empires, 34. Honourable Company, 115–117; Furber, Rival Empires, 66–67. 8 Kenneth McPherson, The Indian Ocean: A History of People and the Sea, Oxford 2004, chs 1 and 2. 9 Ibid, 167–174. 10 Ronald P. Toby, State and Diplomacy in Early Modern Japan: Asia in the Development of the Tokugawa Bakufu, Stanford, CA 1991, 4–9; Michael Cooper SJ, Rodriguez the Interpreter: An Early Jesuit in Japan and China, New York 1974. 6 Furber, 7 Keay,

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oceanic trading practices and moved in on them also – this was known as the ‘country trade’. The major source of power at sea for the Company was, of course, as with its European competitors, its great merchant ships, well-armed from the start because of the understood dangers from European enemies, whose ships were the only ones which could present serious opposition. So the fighting against the Portuguese and Dutch was conducted in European terms, as, for example, at Hormuz and Jakatra, and by Downton off Surat, when he, pursued by a larger Portuguese fleet, deliberately turned and formed his ships into lineof-battle, inviting a European-type battle, which the Portuguese declined. But these ships were here today and gone away soon afterwards, for, though wellarmed, they were all primarily carriers of Indian cargoes to Europe. The threat of the Portuguese was constant in Indian waters, and in Indonesia the Dutch had seventy ships available, and proved strong enough to exclude anyone else. To protect itself and its factors, therefore, the Company in India soon developed its own ‘Marine’, composed of locally acquired ships, which were employed at and about the port of Surat and later elsewhere; the ships are usually described as ‘pinnaces’, and sometimes in the Indian version as ‘ghurabs’ and ‘galivats’, which to Europeans would be small and medium-sized sailing vessels. In 1633 the local Mughal governor gave the President at Surat (Methwold) the right to build Company ships and to arm them.11 This was the origin of the later (and present) Indian and Pakistani Navies, by way of several changes of name, size, and function. The Mughals would clearly benefit at their major western port of Surat from the presence of the Company, its ally/subordinate in defending the place against any attack, particularly against the Portuguese – Mughal officials had watched the English–Portuguese fights and this result with some satisfaction. The condition of affairs in the Indian Ocean was compelling the Company to expand its range, its powers, and its shipping well beyond its original intentions. Just as the Company’s presence and activities in the east were steadily changing under the pressure of local events, so in England it was being forced to change as well. The system of individually organised and financed voyages was replaced in 1613. (It was at the same time that the Surat factor began to employ local vessels as the incipient Indian Navy.) The Company now employed a modified version of the system of separate voyages, called the ‘First Joint Stock’, in which investors invested their money for a time in the Company rather than a particular fleet, and the Company dispatched a succession of fleets, usually annually. The practice in the east of gathering exportable goods into store clearly also affected the Company’s practice in London, and using distinct fleets eliminated inter-English competition in the east. This new arrangement lasted initially for four years, and allowed dividends to be returned to investors annually (and to retain a reserve of finance in the Company’s 11 MacDougall,

Naval Resistance, 26–27.

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31

hands); besides eliminating competition between ‘Voyages’, it allowed better financial planning in London.12 In the Indian Ocean region this amounted to a continuous Company presence of well-armed vessels rather than unpredictable fleet arrivals and departures, and it prompted the growth of a permanent administrative structure, headed by the Presidents at Surat and Bantam, the first at Surat being William Keeling. At this time also Sir Thomas Roe went as ambassador to the Mughal Emperor, acting in the name of King James I but financed by the Company. Again the curious interrelationship between the English government and the Company and Indian politics is emphasised; the Company was acting simultaneously both as an independent naval and military power in the Indian Ocean, as an agent of the Mughal Empire, and as an agent of the King of England, while in England it was behaving as a peaceful commercial organisation.13 This intertwining of activities would never end. The Company was parsimonious in its payments to its most junior employees,14 and this parsimony extended to its own officers in London, who for most of its first five decades operated from a few rooms in a private house – a proper regard, one might say, for subduing overheads and expenses.15 By contrast, its ships were among the best of their day, well-armed, and larger than most merchant vessels, though the use of the very largest ships was ended fairly quickly. At first the Company purchased its ships, but there were very few available in England of the right size and armament – it was competing with other companies who also required large ships, including the Levant Company (of which many Company members were also members). The Company switched to building its own ships in its own dockyard at Deptford and then at Blackwall on the Thames estuary. In the 1620s it owned over thirty ships, mainly between 300 and 500 tons burden, and its dockyard system – wet and dry docks, highly skilled workmen – was state-of-the-art, in part because it was able to provide more or less continuous work for the workmen in order to build up its fleet, and for the maintenance and repair of returning ships. The conflicts in the east were, of course, the main reason for using large well-armed vessels, though considering the riches which the ships transported, even if the east had been much more peaceful than it really was, no doubt the Company’s ships would always be large and well-armed.16 But the largest 12 Keay, Honourable Company, 99; H.V. Bowen et al., Monsoon Traders: The Maritime

World of the East India Company, London 2011, 38–39. This relationship is described by Mishra, Business of State, 154–156, without noting the result of Roe’s mission. 14 Sir Evan Cotton, East Indiaman: The East India Company’s Maritime Service (ed. Sir Charles Fawcett), London 1949, 29–31, 81–82. 15 Keay, Honourable Company, 111–112. 16 Ralph Davis, The Rise of the English Shipping Industry in the 17th and 18th Centuries, Newton Abbot 1962, 258–259. 13

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ships carried the largest and richest cargoes, and the loss of one meant the loss of that cargo as well. The object lesson was The Trade’s Increase, a ship built in the Company’s yard, about 1,300 tons burden. But its size made it difficult for local pilots in the east to control it. On its first voyage, in 1609, it went aground in the Red Sea, and had to be unloaded to get it floating again, which meant that the unloaded cargo became prey to looting by the local Arabs; in Java the ship went aground again, this time on a reef; it heeled over and was then burnt out by the Javanese, after being looted.17 It was accompanied on this voyage by Peppercorn (342), whose smaller size allowed it to survive; only two more of the greater size were built.18 The Company continued to build its own ships until 1654, when it sold its Blackwall yard to its chief shipbuilder, Henry Johnson, and from then on its ships were either built to order by Johnson or hired on charter – the chartering was usually arranged by a small group of the Company’s own members. The members were fully alert to all possibilities of profit, especially to themselves, in what the Company did.19 The First Joint Stock was succeeded by the Second, which operated from 1617 to 1622, and so on. The reduction of the Company’s trading area by the decline in the English presence in Indonesia led to a concentration on India and Persia, which meant that pepper and silks were now the Company’s primary imports, and the prices of both fell all through the 1620s and 1630s. Fewer ships were dispatched and smaller cargoes returned.20 Partly this was due to the Dutch success in Indonesia, but it was also the result of increasing costs in the east – a permanent establishment with a President at Surat was not cheap – though the main reason for the decline in the Company’s fortunes was an over-supply of its small number of its imported goods which forced the prices down. It helped that the Dutch were engaged once more in their war with Spain in Europe (from 1621 to 1648), which distracted those in the east into a campaign to remove Portuguese competition – they took Malacca in 1641. This partly calmed the hostility with the English Company, whose subordination of the Portuguese was confirmed in further treaties in 1654 and 1661,21 and then by an ongoing political alliance after the English Restoration – the country had successfully broken away into independence from Spain once more in 1640, and the alliance in Europe was aimed at helping it main17 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.7, 9, 11–12.

18 Davis, English Shipping Industry, 259; Jean Sutton, Lords of the East: The East India

Company and its Ships, Greenwich 1981; Cotton, East Indiamen, ch. 1. English Shipping Industry. 20 Keay, Honourable Company, 113–114. 21 Noted by Mukherjee, Rise and Fall, 99: the author’s comment is apposite: ‘Thus, having beaten down the previous foe [the Portuguese], the crafty English could now use him to crush the other formidable European rival in India [the Dutch]’. In fact, the treaties were the result of the changing regimes in England and in furtherance of Portuguese independence (and the weakening of Spain). 19 Davis,

The Company Survives

33

tain that status – to English profit, of course. Hostilities in the east were thus to a degree reduced. The decline in the Company’s profits in the 1630s was aggravated by further problems at home, for during much of the rest of the seventeenth century it had more trouble at home than in its trading activities in the east. It was an extremely wealthy organisation, even when its trade was less than expected, and so were many of its members, and it therefore found itself compelled to ‘loan’ sums of money to the several successive governmental regimes which took power in England in that century. It (and other wealthy companies of the same sort) were regarded by the English governments as useful sources of emergency cash. The capture of Hormuz produced some creative thinking in the English court whereby the Duke of Buckingham, in his office as Lord High Admiral, mulcted it of £10,000 as his share of the loot as prize money (of which there had in fact been very little after the Persians had finished their own looting), and another £10,000 went to King James for his expenses involved in his diplomacy in fending off Spanish annoyance.22 Charles I took £40,000 from the Company in 1641 as a ‘loan’; it was, of course, not repaid. Oliver Cromwell negotiated a peace with the Dutch after his Dutch war, and this included the payment of £85,000 as compensation for Dutch unpleasantnesses in the east in the past; when the members could not agree on how it should be divided, he took over £50,000 of it as another loan.23 Under Charles II the Company repeatedly subsidised the king’s expense account, though the pain was less this time since the Company’s profits steadily increased throughout the reign. At the same time its wealth created much jealousy and enmity amongst those outside the magic circle of shareholders. The Company was not only preyed on by all seventeenth-century English governments, all of which were short-lived and whose debts were never honoured, it also faced a series of competitors, individual voyagers to the east, or organised rival companies. Not having the same overheads either in England or in India, these ‘interlopers’, as the Company called them, could often undercut the Company itself. The Company’s troubles, of course, were only part of those in the country as a whole, for the escalating political and religious problems of the home country inevitably had their effect on the Company’s internal politics. The Company was seen by its enemies in England as far too close to the royalist government in the 1630s, partly because of the ‘loans’ it made. Through the 1640s and the Civil War, there were repeated attempts by non-Company merchants and interlopers to intervene in the eastern trade. Most East Indian merchants were royalists throughout the Civil War period,24 and yet it was mostly those in and about the royal court who urged on the leading interlopers. This was Business of State, 194–205. Honourable Company, 106, 125: Low, Indian Navy, 1.45, 53–54. 24 Brenner, Merchants and Revolution, 374–381, and table 7.1. 22 Mishra, 23 Keay,

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curious, since the king was expected to be a supporter of the Company, and the Company paid a large tax bill. The interlopers were in fact inspired by the king himself. Charles I sent out a ship privateering into the Red Sea to seize and plunder ships in that area – but not to trade. The Company, as the understood agent of the English government was held responsible locally for acts of piracy by any English ships, not just their own, and had to pay restitution. Needless to say the king did not acknowledge any responsibility, though he did send a letter of apology to the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan.25 Other interlopers were thereby encouraged, of course, and the Company continued to suffer (while still making very large profits). The activities of interlopers had begun as early as the 1620s, and had been organised into a rival company, led by the London merchant Sir William Courteen, by the 1630s. ‘Courteen’s Association’ was largely staffed by men who had learned the technique of trading in the east as employees of the Company, including John Weddell the victor of Hormuz, and for a time it operated in areas which the Company had not reached, or had abandoned or ignored, such as Malabar or the estuary of the Ganges-Brahmaputra; Weddell himself was the first English captain to attempt to trade in China.26 Courteen’s was not, however, a very successful organisation, and as the market for eastern goods in England contracted seriously during the Civil War, the two companies were eventually united – or perhaps reunited. At least the two companies did not fight each other. The ‘united’ Company was operating by 1650, but had to struggle against the anti-monopoly instincts of the English Republicans, and Oliver Cromwell in particular. The Republic’s Dutch War (1652–1654) brought the rival Dutch and English East India Companies into conflict, but this was hardly a new situation. The fighting was in regard to access for both to the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea, and despite three battles between the two forces, the result pleased neither of them, neither being clearly victorious. No doubt the Company was pleased enough by the concessions Oliver Cromwell was able to gain in the peace treaty, but they hardly affected either company in the east. The Commonwealth period therefore saw the approval of individual interlopers once more. Their ships were rather more numerous than those of the Company at the time, which in turn was thoroughly demoralised by the competition and by the lack of governmental support. (Cromwell had, of course, already ‘borrowed’ most of the compensation extracted from the Dutch.) This situation brought the Company to the verge of extinction in 1657, faced by a hostile, or at least a dithering, government and Lord Protector, and by the 25

Ibid, 170: Keay, Honourable Company, 123. Rival Empires, 69–70: Keay, Honourable Company, 121–125: Low, Indian Navy, 1.51–52; John E. Wills jr, ‘Maritime Europe and the Ming’, in John E. Wills jr (ed.), China and Maritime Europe 1500–1800: Trade, Settlement, Diplomacy, and Missions, Cambridge 2011, 24–78, at 72.

26 Furber,

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35

activities of ‘interlopers’ or ‘free adventurers’ in competition in the east. The Company had sold its shipyard in 1654, and early in 1657, beset by enemies and problems, it resolved to dissolve itself. This finally forced the government to come to a decision about its future, after several years of continuing discussion and increasing confusion. The Company and the ‘adventurers’ agreed to join together into a new Company which was awarded a new charter, in which the succession of ‘joint stocks’ was replaced by a permanent, ‘new general stock’. The charter granted the Company the right to fortify its ports in the east, among other minor changes. As soon as this was agreed and the charter issued (in October 1657) a new subscription was solicited and raised no less than three-quarters of a million pounds. In the next few months thirteen ships set sail for the east, more than twice the size of annual fleets sent out earlier.27 For the second time in a decade the Company had absorbed its competitors; the process yet again demonstrated the close links between the Company and any English government. The Republic fell during the next three years, and the monarchy returned. Charles II swiftly reissued Cromwell’s charter in his own name (and renewed the Portuguese treaty). The king was in desperate need of cash, and the customs duties paid by the eastern trade were a major source of funds, not to mention Company presents to the king personally. Overseas the results were immediate. An expedition had been organised in 1659 to re-establish English power at Pulo Run, which had achieved mythical status as a symbol of foiled English enterprise in the east, but the expedition’s target was changed before it sailed, to St Helena in the South Atlantic. This was to be developed as a Company refreshment station, an alternative to the Cape, which was now controlled by the Dutch, who seized it in 1652, during the First Anglo-Dutch War. They had a tendency to exclude non-Dutch ships, so St Helena became the main refreshment point for voyages in both directions. One of the results of the Dutch–Portuguese conflict had been the Dutch conquest of the Portuguese posts in Ceylon, as well as the seizure of Malacca; with these two strongpoints, and the Cape of Good Hope, the Dutch had effectively replaced the Portuguese in command of much of the Indian Ocean. No wonder the Portuguese were keen to accept English protection at home and in the east. In 1662, by the marriage agreement between Charles II and the King of Portugal, the dowry payments included the city of Tangier in North Africa and the island of Bombay in western India. The king had no use for Bombay (though he held on, expensively, to Tangier for most of his reign); in 1668 he transferred the island to the Company in exchange for an annual rent of ten pounds in gold. The king had found it, like Tangier, an expensive acquisition, though he had sent out soldiers as a garrison and a governor to take control. Honourable Company, 127–129; H.V. Bowen, ‘“No Longer Mere Traders”; Continuities and Change in the Metropolitan Development of the East India Company, 1600–1834’, in Bowen et al. (eds), Worlds, 19–33.

27 Keay,

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The Company did not really want the island, but the king insisted. A secret agreement accompanied the transaction, in which the Company, as in the Convention of Goa in 1635 and the Anglo-Portuguese treaty in 1654, in effect took the remaining Portuguese posts in the east under its protection, and so it accepted another unwanted responsibility. (One result was that the Portuguese posts survived in Portuguese control longer than India in British.) Altogether these various acquisitions of posts and responsibilities made the Company a much more important player in events in the east.28 The acquisition of Bombay, which became the Company’s own possession, without any obligation to any Indian state, coupled with that of Madras, purchased a generation earlier, was decisive in establishing the East India Company as a major sea power in the Indian Ocean. It happened in one of the intervals in the sequence of three wars between England and the Netherlands (1652–1654, 1664–1667, 1672–1674), which were, necessarily, sea wars, particularly as the basic cause of the quarrel was trade rivalry. They were followed by three French wars (1678–1679, 1688–1697, 1702–1713), and by the end of this sequence of wars France was exhausted, the Netherlands had been reduced to a secondary power, and Britain (as it had become in 1707), was on the way to greater power than ever. The Company had begun developing its navy in the Indian Ocean from about 1610, with the purchase of some ‘pinnaces’ at Surat. These were ships, small but nimble, armed only lightly, which could tackle the local Indian ships. Ghurabs were vessels of up to 300 tons and armed with up to twenty guns; and galivats were smaller, with up to half a dozen guns, and were often powered by oars. Indian, and above all Chinese, merchant ships might be larger than these, but usually unarmed, and their crews were untrained in war. For comparison most Company ships were well over 300 tons, and up to 500, with larger ships being used later; they each had twenty or more guns at least.29 Once Bombay had been secured, after 1668, its more advantageous geographical position and its sheltered harbour, and the fact that it was not subject to any control by the Mughal state or any other Indian power, made it a much better naval base than Surat. The Marine, as the Company’s nascent navy was called, which had been based at Surat, was transferred to Bombay. There were thus now two rival sets of Company ships: the ‘Marine’ (or Surat Marine, or Bombay Marine later) was the armed force for use in Indian waters, and elsewhere in the east eventually, manned by European officers and Indian – ‘lascar’ – seamen. The greater ships – the ‘Indiamen’ – carried goods and passengers in a stately way, often outfitted in some luxury, and these were the Indian Navy, 1.54–56; Keay, Honourable Company, 131–134; MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 45–48. 29 MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 28; Cotton, East Indiaman, 143, pointing out that the Directors in 1676 ordered ships of 500 tons and above to carry at least twenty-four guns. 28 Low,

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37

‘maritime service’. The two did not mix, and tended to rather despise each other for their differing roles. The presence of the Company at Bombay attracted the attention of the local Indian powers which had some seagoing capability, and the Company’s known friendly relations with the Mughals rendered it an object of fear and suspicion to many of them. The island, though soon built up, populated, and fortified, was a target, as were the ships which used it. Further, it was another of those places where the presence of the Company attracted a new population (Surat to some extent, but Madras after Day’s foundation of the city, and most spectacularly, of course, eventually Calcutta). This provided the usual urban services, and the new inhabitants were free of the burdens of being the subject of an erratic and greedy Indian state. The Company, heeding the warnings from India of local hostility, sent out a naval architect, one of the shipbuilding Pett family, two prefabricated brigantines, and soon added two more. Along with the pinnaces from Surat, this was the nucleus of the Marine.30 The main threat of trouble came from the local Indian ‘pirates’, as the Company called any Indian naval enemy, which may or may not be agents of an Indian government. Ships were deployed by Sivaji, the able and ambitious leader of the Marathas, who was leading an anti-Muslim rebellion, or a movement for independence, against the Mughals. His capital was at Puna, at the northern end of the Western Ghats, the hills above Bombay. He was, unusually for an Indian ruler, alert to the possibilities of using sea power. Technically the Marathas at this point were rebels against the Mughal Empire, but that empire had, as is the way of empires, over-extended itself in attempting the conquest of South India, and was suffering several rebellions and succession disputes as a result. Sivaji’s hostility to the Company was because it was seen, correctly, as an obedient subordinate of the Mughal state, or even as an agent of it – in a sense, that empire’s maritime arm. It was based at Surat, a Mughal city; its ships escorted Mughal vessels on the pilgrimage to Mecca; its President at Surat was clearly subject to the orders of the Mughal governor, who had jailed more than one president in the past. Surat was important as the empire’s primary maritime outlet to the west. English sources, however, assume that the Maratha attacks on the city were aimed at the Company, not at the Mughal presence. But the Company was also a subsidiary target, hence Sivaji’s repeated attacks on that city, and his raid on Bombay, both of which were sources of wealth and bases of his enemies. Yet the known political alignment of the Company with the Mughals did not help when the Mughals demanded to use Bombay as a base, for their troops were as destructive as any Maratha occupation. But the possession of Bombay did provide the Company with a way out of the Maratha–Mughal conflicts, since it was an island which the Company held independently of all Indian powers and in independent sovereignty. It did not 30 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.58–59.

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take long for the Company to move its headquarters and the Presidency to the new possession, a clear attempt at semi-detachment from the Mughal embrace. Meanwhile Bombay came under repeated attacks, from the Marathas, from the Dutch, even, it must have seemed, from the Mughals. Sivaji had appreciated the possibilities of the use of seapower, and assembled a naval force from the fishing and merchant communities along the Malabar coast. This attacked Bombay in 1665. He also attacked Surat by land in 1664 and 1668. His development of a rudimentary navy had, however, compelled his Mughal enemies to do the same, and soon the Bombay Marine was vastly outnumbered by both of these naval forces. The naval potential of the major Indian powers was overwhelming. The Third Anglo-Dutch War in Europe (1672–1674) spilled over into Indian waters, and a Dutch fleet from Europe sailed against Bombay in 1673, but decided that the place was already too well fortified to be worth attacking. Sivaji had control of the adjacent mainland. He loaded 4000 troops on his ships, and undertook a maritime campaign, though it was more in the nature of a raid than a deliberate campaign. (His method of land warfare was much the same, relying on speed and ravaging rather than conquest and the retention of territory, until the victims tendered their submission, usually in advance of the next raid.) He was fully aware of the politics of the various European companies; at Surat the city and the English factory were both attacked in 1664 (and, according to English sources, heroically defended), but the Dutch and French factories were left alone; the Persian factory was raided, no doubt mainly for religious reasons, since Maratha motivation in fighting the Mughals was as much as Hindu believers as a means of independence and conquest.31 Fighting between Dutch and English had hardly ceased since they had arrived in the east, but the Dutch wars in Europe gradually absorbed that conflict, and this put activities in the east under rather more control from Europe. A Dutch fleet of twenty-two ships was sent out in 1673 to attack the Company’s bases. It brought on a battle of sorts, between a Dutch force and a Company fleet of twelve ships. They met off the Coromandel coast in 1674 (the Dutch could base themselves in Ceylon) and the fight resulted in the capture of two disabled English ships. (Technically these were commercial vessels, but they were, of course, as well armed as any warship.)32 The peace agreement in Europe in 1674, whereby King Charles II deserted his French ally and made peace with the Dutch, leaving the French and Dutch to fight on, was observed in the east. The intimate links between Company and government in all the European states is again clear, but the men in the east were still liable to act on their own initiative when advantage could be seen. Naval Resistance, 50–51; Low, Indian Navy, 1.56–62. Indian Navy, 1.62; Femme Gaastra, ‘War, Competition and Collaboration: Relations between the English and Dutch East India Companies in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries’, in Bowen et al. (eds), Worlds, 49–68.

31 MacDougall, 32 Low,

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The French developed their own East India Company which was seeking to establish bases for trade in the usual way. In 1672–1674 they were allies of England, but after Charles II’s desertion of that alliance, the two countries developed the enmity which became a basic point of European diplomacy for the next two centuries and more. The French company was badly funded and built up a presence only slowly, but they had strong royal support. The French were certainly, despite problems, aiming to establish themselves in the east. The contest between Mughals and Marathas involved the Company at Surat and Bombay, partly in Maratha raids on Mughal Surat, but also in the Marathas’ campaign against Bombay. Gerald Aungier, President at Surat from 1669 to 1677, negotiated an agreement with Sivaji which in effect made the Company neutral in the greater Indian conflict; George Oxenden used the Bombay Marine to contest the Maratha advance, but then adopted a neutral stance, and negotiated with Sivaji. The rival Indian fleets, fighting to gain control of strategic islands close to Bombay, were each very much larger than anything the Bombay Marine could mount. For the monsoon season of 1678 both Mughal and Maratha fleets occupied Bombay harbour, contesting the possession of one of the islands of the bay. The Bombay Marine was outnumbered by each of these; its neutrality was, therefore, hardly of much use. One reason for the Company’s ships barely involving themselves in the fighting was that the Directors in London had one of their periodical fits of economy, and decided that expenses in India had to be reduced. A limit on the budget for the Marine was imposed, so the Marine gave up its galivats. This is a convenient explanation for Oxenden’s neutrality, but it is not wholly adequate, for it is clear that Oxenden in Bombay was negotiating all along with the Marathas, while the opposing Mughal fleet was divided in its allegiance between two antagonistic commanders, so that it was not clear who was in overall command. Under these confusing conditions, neutrality made sense, since to take on one side would bring retribution from two other enemies.33 Despite this partial disarmament and helpless neutrality, there was a spirit among the British and in some of their officials in India which led to arrogance. It was surely obvious to anyone in Bombay, if not elsewhere, that Mughal and Maratha power was great even at sea, and that both were decisively greater than the Company. And yet the assumption was that English grit and English trade and enterprise had brought such prosperity to India that Indians could not do without it; the Company therefore believed that it had a power over and beyond what it really possessed. This seems to have been the belief of certain powerful Company men, in particular Sir Josiah Child, who was dominant among the Directors in London in the 1680s and 1690s. It was certainly true that some Indian regions had begun to specialise in products for export to Europe, but it was hardly the case that the condition of Indian commerce, no matter how aligned to the Company and England, had any great effect on the 33 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.64–70.

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imperial government. In 1688, guided by Child, who was an old India hand, now at the head of affairs for the Company in London by his own personal influence and drive, the Company provoked a war against the most powerful of all the Mughal emperors, Aurangzeb. In this Mughal–Company War, the Company found itself unsurprisingly humiliated. Its island of Bombay was invaded, devastated, and occupied by a Mughal army, all except the castle, which was besieged, and only able to survive by soliciting help from the Marathas, and by sending out its few ships to capture Mughal supplies; so much for the value of both trade and neutrality. The Company’s envoys who were sent to the Mughal court to seek peace were two of its merchants, George Weldon and Abraham Navaar. At the court they were bound and forced to prostrate themselves when they pleaded for peace, as clear a demonstration of Mughal victory (and contempt) as one could find. The men survived, but the Company was compelled to relocate the President back to Surat, where he would be under close Mughal supervision; it was fined 150,000 rupees, and was forced to pay restitution for ships captured and damages caused. Aurangzeb correctly saw the attacks on his territories and subjects by the Company as a rebellion by obstreperous subjects and dealt with the Company in those terms.34 The Mughal–Company War was also fought in Bengal. The Company had a series of agents and factors spread along the valley of the Ganges from Dhaka to Patna and Allahabad, with the chief factor located at Hughli at the head of the Ganges delta. This was actually somewhat awkwardly placed for a maritime company, a hundred miles upriver, where the larger ships could not reach, so Balasore, just outside the delta, was used as a transshipment point. The Company had traded in Bengal since the 1640s, gradually expanding its geographical range and the Bengali products it bought, from saltpetre, the earliest product it valued, to raw silk, cottons, muslins, and rice. In return these were paid for, not with English products, for there were few English products which Bengalis wanted, but in silver and gold, exported from England. Most of this precious metal eventually reached the imperial Mughal government in tax payments, and was used to fund the constant Mughal warfare. Within this trading system the English factors and agents did their best to profit privately. It was quite reasonable in the circumstances for those in London and Surat to believe that the Mughals were always eager for precious metals and had become dependent on British trade, though, of course, they greatly exaggerated its effect. The dominant person in the Company in Bengal was Job Charnock, an irascible, awkward, wayward man who had been in the area for thirty years. He is credited in most accounts as the founder of the city of Calcutta, though this 34

Alexander Hamilton, A New Account of the East Indies (ed. Sir William Foster), London 1930 (reprinted Amsterdam 1970) 1.128–129; Keay, Honourable Company, 145–147; Low, Indian Navy, 1.74–77.

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happened only by accident. He did choose the site for the city, but only after a ludicrously confused ‘war’ in which little fighting was done, and none to the purpose. It is not worth reciting the complicated events, except to note that, since the Ganges River and its delta were central to the operations of the Company in Bengal (and everyone else) most movements relied on water transport, and in the final phase of the conflict an armed Company ship was involved. The actual conflict was between the Englishmen in Bengal, a few hundred individuals, and the forces of the Nawab of Bengal, Shaista Khan, Emperor Aurangzeb’s governor. As soon as the nawab had gathered his army, the English scuttled away, eventually ending under siege on a fever-ridden island at the mouth of the delta, where the majority died of sickness, and the survivors were eventually rescued by a force of sailors who were landed from the Company ship Defence, under Captain William Heath. Heath was operating on out-ofdate instructions from London, which directed him to establish the Company at Chittagong, but that attempt failed. He refused to follow Charnock’s ideas, and eventually extracted the surviving English and landed them at Madras. The President at Madras, Elihu Yale, was technically in charge of the Bengal stations as well as those on the east coast of India, though communications were always difficult in the distances and erratic winds of the Bay of Bengal. Eventually the refugees returned to Bengal and Charnock planted his new headquarters at Calcutta, a desolate low plateau next to the river amid the tropical forest. He had tried that site already (as well as a couple of others) and for a time it consisted of no more than a few huts and tents – and fever – and in the dry season the stench of rotting fish from those which had been stranded in the drying pools. It was not clear that Charnock had the permission of any authority in India – emperor or nawab – to take over that position, but once established the trading quickly resumed, to mutual profit for Company and nawab, a new (or returning) Indian population was soon attracted, and permissions were ignored. An opportunistic alliance with the nawab against some rebels eventually produced something resembling an official permission for the Company to settle at the place, and the rebellion was used as an excuse to establish a fort – Fort William – in the city. By 1700 it had been made into a presidency, at last free of supervision from Madras.35 The results of the Mughal–Company War were therefore different at the various centres of the Company’s work in India. In Bengal the destruction of the Company’s position had compelled a complete reorganisation, the removal of several agents, and the foundation of a new fortified town as the Company’s local base, soon to be called Calcutta. At Madras little hostility emerged, no doubt because the Mughal conquest of Golconda was only just being completed. At Bombay near disaster was avoided only by a rather late submission to the emperor, who forced the return of the President to Surat, the better to control the Company in the future. The experience of the war was one the Com35 Keay,

Honourable Company, 155–164.

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pany and its people did not wish to repeat, and a moment’s thought will have made it clear that a mercantile Company, no matter how important it thought it was, needed to reckon the odds much more carefully when involving itself in Indian conflicts. In the previous generation, before the Mughal War, the activities of the Company, originally with ambitions to be active from the Cape of Good Hope to Japan, had gradually contracted geographically until it was established firmly in India, at Surat and Bombay and Madras (and less securely in Bengal), though clearly only at the permission of the Mughal emperor. Ventures to east and west withered: the Persian trade by-passed Hormuz; the Dutch dominated the Mesopotamian trade through Basra; at Gombroon, Hormuz’s replacement on the mainland (and so under much easier control by the Shah or his local governor), there were difficulties in enforcing the agreement over customs duties, since the Shah with whom the agreement had been made had been overthrown by an invader. The pilgrimage traffic through Surat to the Red Sea and Mecca was technically under Company escort, but the prospects of profit in Arabia were few, and for many of the voyages the Company escort was absent. The surviving Company factors in Indonesia were gradually excluded. Macassar lasted until the 1660s; Pulo Run was never re-established; the Bantam factory was finally closed down by the king of Bantam, partly under Dutch pressure, in 1683, after fifty years of slow decline. All that was left east of India was the factory at Benkulen on the Sumatran west coast, where a plantation system producing pepper had been established, very much on the Dutch pattern.36 The Company had early sent out exploratory trading expeditions beyond Indonesia, always lagging behind the Portuguese and the Dutch, though rarely learning from their experiences. In Japan, their ships arrived when the Dutch were well established at Nagasaki, and when the Japanese had finally decided that the Portuguese missions to convert their people to Catholicism were too disruptive to their society to be endured. The claim that the English were Protestant rather than Catholic, and therefore more acceptable, was countered by the Japanese by simply pointing to the St George’s flag, with its red cross, which they flew. By 1623 the Company gave up the struggle to trade there (Adams, their local helper, had died in 1620). It was to be two and a half centuries before the English could make any impression on Japan.37 A factory was established in Siam (Thailand), but once again the Dutch were more successful, politically and economically; the English factory, though it continued, sank into unimportance and fell into a long unprofitability. The New Account, 1.115 and note (Bantam); 2.61–63 (Benkulen); Anthony Farringdon, ‘Bengkulu, an Anglo-Chinese Partnership’, in Bowen et al. (eds), Worlds, 111–119. 37 Keay, Honourable Company, 64–66. 36 Hamilton,

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king of Siam became increasingly annoyed by Dutch monopolistic methods and by the 1670s was looking to welcome a competitor. At first his choice was the English Company, but its factors were inefficient, lazy, undisciplined, drunken, and noisy, and many of them detached themselves from the Company to operate independently. One man, Samuel White, built up his position at Mergui on the Kra Peninsula to such a degree as to seriously undermine the Company’s position in the area, and operated so obnoxiously as to bring Siam and Golconda close to war, which was quite a feat for they were separated by the Bay of Bengal. The French sent out a serious expedition under royal patronage, but it included a Jesuit party charged with the aim of converting the king to Catholicism, and a strong force of soldiers, neither of which was welcomed. The Siamese became steadily more annoyed at Western pretensions, at French ambitions, and English bad behaviour. In the end the Siamese threw out most of the foreigners, allowing only a small Dutch factory to remain, which faded away through failure of trade. Like Japan, Siam closed itself off to Europeans, and just as successfully.38 The first connection of the Company with China, indirect though it was, was unfortunate in a different way. The ship Dragon, captained by John Weddell, who had earlier commanded the fighting at Hormuz for the Company, but who, by the time he reached China was acting as an agent for Courteen’s Association, reached the Pearl River leading to Canton in 1637. Weddell had all the usual arrogance of the English and soon clashed with Chinese officialdom, which, to be sure, was an enervating and exasperating experience. He ended up fighting a minor battle. The Portuguese had had a post at Macau for a century, which the Chinese permitted to remain, and the Dutch had succeeded in trading, but only at the cost of continuing hostility from the Chinese court because of their dictatorial and forceful campaign to ‘persuade’ the empire to accept trade. That was in the 1630s, in the last days of the Ming regime; by the 1680s, the new Qing (Manchu) regime was in power and the Dutch found themselves fully constrained; they withdrew almost completely from the China trade. The English attempt at trade was only minimally successful – Weddell had tried force, and his ships were driven out. The English were instructed forcefully not to return; they were identified with the Dutch – ‘red hairs’ to the Chinese. The violence of both had prejudiced the Chinese against all pale-skinned Europeans. The English did not return for almost fifty years.39 A second English venture, this time sent by the Company itself, developed trade with Formosa (Taiwan), which at that time was under an independent king, Zheng Chenggong (‘Koxinga’ to Europeans) who also held the port of J. Anderson, English Intercourse with Siam in the Seventeenth Century, London 1890; Keay, Honourable Company, 198–204. 39 Keay, Honourable Company, 123; Wills, ‘Maritime Europe’, 71–72; Furber, Rival Empires, 70; Michael Greenberg, British Trade and the Opening of China, 1800– 1842, New York 1951, 6. 38

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Amoy on the mainland. He was regarded by the Manchu regime as a pirate, the usual designation for any maritime enemy of the regime, including the Dutch and the English. The English factory at Amoy operated successfully for perhaps twenty years. Again they were following the Dutch who had established a fortified base, ‘Fort Zeelandia’, at the south end of Taiwan, and had driven away Spanish attempts (from the Philippines) to overthrow them. Eventually the Manchu conquerors succeeded in eliminating the independence of Taiwan (in 1683) and Amoy fell to them at the same time. The English factory at Amoy survived, but the change of rule provoked a reconsideration of its value by the Company; it was judged that Canton would be a more profitable place for a factory. Captain Heath in the ship Defence was sent from his fumbling assistance in Bengal to begin the process of opening trade at Canton. Heath, somewhat indecisive in political matters, was hardly the right man for the task, and the attempt degenerated into a brawl near Macau – just as Weddell’s attempt to trade fifty years before had also ended in a fight. There were fatal casualties on both sides, making the Chinese angry. Until the fight broke out – largely the fault of the English – the factor, Thomas Yale, had made good progress in penetrating through the dense barrier of Chinese regulations and officials, and had begun to load his cargo. Heath had refused to take his ship into the estuary, so the goods had to be loaded at Canton and then transshipped into Defence at the mouth of the river. Heath had clearly been leery of sailing up a strange river, for which one cannot altogether blame him, but the brawl was largely his fault. Some progress was being made, and the Amoy factory continued to produce profits, though not sufficient for the Company’s greed. Into the situation now came ships from the New East India Company, formed by former interlopers. A new set of interlopers had developed from the early 1680s, growing from a scatter of individuals operating in the east (such as Samuel White) and private trading by the Company’s own officials, to a full-scale rival organised operation. By the time these events in Java, China, and Thailand had blunted the English desire for trade in the countries east of India, the Company had been in existence for ninety years or so. That existence had at times been precarious, its factors undisciplined, its monopoly under more or less constant challenge at home, and its relations with the succession of changing English government regimes were erratic, to say the least. And yet, in spite of all hazards, in England, China, India, from the Dutch, the Mughals, the Marathas, the Portuguese, the Company had survived and hugely prospered. The prosperity and the trouble was to continue for the next thirty years after the Mughal War. The Company’s trade was now heavily concentrated in India. Its ludicrous declaration of war on the Mughal Empire when that empire was at its greatest extent and ruled by one of its toughest and most capable emperors, implied a highly deficient political judgment at all levels. And yet, the result was to return the Company to a species of Mughal protection, while its

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Dutch competitors had begun to fade in India in order to concentrate their activities in Indonesia, and its Portuguese competitors had sunk into a condition of negligent protection by the Company. It had, however, developed a small fleet of active coastwise warships, the Bombay Marine which could dominate the local waters, while for real power the great trading ships of the Company were now constantly present in Indian waters.

3 Interlopers and Union (1680–1710) The last years of Charles II and the reign of James VII/II (1680–1688) saw varied pressures mounting on the Company. It had by 1680 existed for eighty years, but had suffered repeated buffetings during that time, including the near-death experience of constant governmental and parliamentary hostility in the 1640s and 1650s. This was due to its simultaneous relationships with the English royal (and republican) governments and the Mughal imperial government in India; the Company was in effect serving two masters. Both of these were extravagant spenders of tax money and the Company was wealthy, so it was inevitable that these relations would continue, and that the hostility of those who disliked those governments would also continue. Then in the thirty years after 1680 the Company went through its most serious crisis since the time of the English Commonwealth, when it came, once again, within an inch of dissolution. It survived, once again, and came through into calmer waters after 1710 (as it had before 1680), but this was only because it outlasted its two masters, one of which (the Mughals) collapsed, while the other (the English) went through a revolution during which a better source of funds for the government to spend was devised than intermittently harassing the Company. The Company had made enormous profits in the reign of Charles II,1 but by 1680 there were increasing doubts in England about the propriety of such an organisation having the right to wage wars, build forts, maintain an army and a navy, coin its own currency, and generally to act, as it was seen from England, as a sovereign state in the east. These doubts were, of course, voiced chiefly by those who felt excluded from its affairs and jealous of its profits, but there is no need to doubt their concerns. Accordingly, challenges grew to the Company’s rights and duties, above all to its monopoly of eastern trade, and these disputes were fought by foul means and fair on both sides. The Company was well supported by the last two Stuart kings to whom it ‘loaned’ substantial sums of money – £170,000 to Charles II during the course of his reign. This, of course, marked a substantial change from the sabotaging of the Company by their father in the 1630s. Hostile critics, in the form of numbers of pamphleteers, private traders, political enemies, and interlopers, were increasingly vociferous during the 1680s, and, as in the previous revolutionary period between 1630 and 1660, they seized the time of confusion and 1 Mukherjee,

Rise and Fall, 75–76; Keay, Honourable Company, 169–170.

47

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demoralisation in the Company and the new revolutionary period after 1688 to launch a powerful attack on its privileges; the Company replied to this by using its financial and legal muscle to the utmost.2 There had been, as a counterpart to this dispute, which was conducted at Court, in Parliament, and in the law courts in London, a steadily increasing assault by the Company on the individual interlopers. The Company, empowered by a judgment in its favour, set about suppressing these interlopers not only in England, where up to fifty men were arrested and fined,3 but also in the east where rather more vigorous measures were required, or at least were employed. Their efforts were seconded by the arrival in the Indian Ocean of the Royal Navy ship Phoenix (42 guns, Captain Tyrrel), sent out by Charles II in gratitude for the large subventions of East India Company money he had received.4 This was probably the first time the Royal Navy had ventured into the Indian Ocean. The ship arrived at Bombay in September 1685, with the aim of helping to suppress a complex ‘rebellion’ by some of the Company’s men, led by Captain Richard Keigwin.5 Rather than simply accepting the royal orders and the offer of a full pardon, those who were in dispute with the Company insisted on written guarantees, implying that the dispute had been an internal affair, and that their actions had been fully justified. Captain Keigwin also took advantage of the offer of a passage for his (free) return voyage.6 The main point here, however, is that a Royal Naval vessel was used in open support of the Company. It would not be the last such mission; the ‘rebellion’ would also not be the last of such events, which recurred throughout the Company’s time in India. With the expulsion of James II in 1688 (just when the Company was fighting its war with the Mughals), the Company’s position was greatly weakened. The overthrow of the Stuart regime by the Glorious Revolution of 1688–1689 began a period of two decades in which the question of the East India Company’s monopoly, and of its very existence, were raised yet again. The Company’s close connection with the Stuarts between the Restoration and the Revolution made it a prime target for the Stuarts’ opponents, and the old hostility to monopoly was always present. Its prosperity in Charles II’s reign made it a target for those who were excluded from membership. It was therefore hardly surprising that it became a target for the new revolutionary regime once James VII/II had been superseded. The crisis for the Company in Britain also saw it facing great problems in India and elsewhere in the east. The two crises were Honourable Company, 174–176; Furber, Rival Empires, 97–99; Stern, Company-State, ch. 7. 3 Keay, Honourable Company, 175. 4 William Laird Clowes, The History of the Royal Navy from the Earliest Times to 1900, 7 vols, London 1897–1903, 2.458–459; Keay, Honourable Company, 175– 176. 5 Stern, Company-State, 62–65. 6 Keay, Honourable Company, 139–140. 2 Keay,

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partly connected, and partly separate, but together they battered the Company almost to destruction. The Revolution in Britain occurred just at the time the Company made its futile challenge to the Mughals, and its defeat and the complications which followed did not help its reputation in England. It took until the mid-1690s for the Bengali establishment to be secure – the death of Job Charnock, erratic to the end, helped in that stabilisation; his son-in-law Charles Eyre succeeded him as the leading factor and provided a steadier hand at the local tiller; he was the effective organiser of the new settlement after Charnock’s death. Fort William was built in the 1690s, giving the Company a much more substantial base from which to operate. On the other hand, the requirement that the President on the West Coast should reside at Surat firmly subordinated the Company there to the Mughal regime. The removal back to Bombay took place gradually in the years after the enforced return to Surat. Bombay was clearly a safer place to be, well away from Mughal power, and on an island in which the Company was fully sovereign, and which it had already fortified, something it could not do at Surat. The succession crises in the empire which followed Aurangzeb’s death in 1707, and which distracted all the Mughal contenders, allowed it to accomplish this move. As an island, Bombay was also a more convenient place for storing goods and docking and loading ships than Surat. By 1700, the three main bases of the Company in India, Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay, were secure behind their walls and guns. This development was the real foundation of the Company as an Indian power, and was its emancipation from Mughal authority. The effect in England of the Mughal victory over the Company – particularly since Sir Josiah Child announced the end as a happy victory, only to be corrected later by the truth – was to so damage the Company’s standing in London that the private traders were much encouraged. Its reputation as a loyal Stuart satellite prejudiced the new regime of King William and Queen Mary against it, and in 1694 the House of Commons passed a resolution which would prevent the outlawing of the activities of the interlopers. The Company’s charter was renewed, but only after Child had dispensed large amounts of money in bribes – and then the story of the bribery came out, so that he and the Company became embroiled in a parliamentary enquiry lasting several years.7 The Revolution in Britain brought the three countries into the war which had broken out between France and a coalition of its enemies, a war in which Britain and the Dutch were on the same side for once. The French attempt to establish sea command in the English Channel failed with the defeat its fleet suffered in the battle of Barfleur-La Hougue in 1692, and from then on the 7

Philip Lawson, The East India Company: A History, Harlow, Essex 1993, 53; Keay, Honourable Company, 181.

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French naval effort was confined mainly to the guerre de course, dispatching dozens of privateers to intercept enemy ships and disrupt its enemies’ trade, which meant mainly English and Dutch ships, including Company ships. The war in Europe spilled over into the east. The adoption of privateering as the preferred method of fighting by the French made it inevitable. On the other hand, the Company’s ships were well armed and did not make easy targets. In 1690 it took a squadron of six ships to destroy the Herbert (750), which in the end blew up. (Low calls the six a ‘French fleet’, but it may well have been a fairly informal gathering of privateers.) Two years later the Elizabeth (280) was captured, not far from Bombay, after a fight against what was clearly an official French force, consisting of four ships of 66, 60, 40, and 20 guns respectively. The privateers, however, preferred to capture Indiamen close to England, as they approached fully laden, and could be taken easily into a nearby French port; in 1694 the capture of five Company ships off western Ireland cost the Company about £1½ million.8 These losses, though normally it was only one ship at a time, came just at the time when the Scots were developing their own East India Company, so threatening to join the private traders to compete with the Company. This came in part in reaction to the Commons resolution favouring the private traders, but it hardly took such an event to impress the Scots. Scotland was still an independent kingdom, though having the same monarchs as England. Their company was founded in 1693, and was bitterly opposed by the English Company, it but it collapsed with the failure of its venture to found a trading colony in Panama, at Darien.9 The Scottish company did make several attempts to break into the eastern trade, mainly by commissioning voyages by individual ships. The company would receive 5 per cent of the profits in exchange for permitting the goods to be sold in Scotland duty free and under its protection. But only one voyage seems to have been successful, and that only to the Gold Coast in Africa. Another voyage aimed at trading at Macau failed to reach that place; it was caught in a typhoon, and finally ran aground and was wrecked at Malacca. Two vessels went to trade in Madagascar, but this was a pirate lair and both ships were taken by the local pirates; one was burnt because it was ready to sink, the other reached India but there was also burned. These were not voyages by inexperienced captains (like the Darien venture), but they did demonstrate the difficulty of single voyages, and the need to use well-armed, well-found ships, and to be thoroughly alert to local conditions.10

East Indiamen, 153–154; Low, Indian Navy, 1.37. John Prebble, The Darien Disaster, London 1968; Douglas Watt, The Price of Scotland, Edinburgh 2007; Stern, Company-State, 159–162. 10 See the summary in the Oxford Encyclopaedia of Maritime History, 4 vols, Oxford 2007, 1.605–615. 8 Cotton, 9

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Other East India companies were emerging. The French company had begun in 1664, but had been rather lethargic in its trading, being state controlled. It was to be refounded in 1719 on a more secure financial basis, having suffered severely from the British dominance at sea in the wars from 1678 to 1713. The Danish company had existed since 1616 and was reorganised in 1732; its captains were quite liable to turn pirate at times (not something peculiar to the Danes, of course). In the period of European peace between 1713 and 1739/1740 the Ostend Company (the Austrian Habsburgs ruled Belgium from 1713) and the Swedish East India Company were both founded – the first was financed mainly by British investors and largely staffed by British sailors, and the second mainly a vehicle for disappointed English interlopers. This was an indication perhaps of the continuing dissatisfaction in Britain at the monopoly of the English Company.11 The threat to the English Company’s position for some years seemed to include King William III. In 1698, after much argument and some temporarily effective delaying tactics by the official Company, Parliament passed a bill to establish a rival, usually called the New Company, and authorised the transfer of the charter for monopoly trading rights to it. For some years it looked as though the ‘Old’ Company would go the way of the Scottish company, but it had substantial resources, and its employees had much expertise in eastern trading – they were also mainly loyal, not perhaps specifically to the Old Company, but because if the New Company succeeded they would be dismissed. So the Old Company fought back, helped by the fact that it already controlled the main trading bases in the east (and excluded the New Company’s ships from them), and by its greater financial resources. By 1700 it was supposed to be wound up, but it had succeeded in gaining a three-year extension to the period in which it was to close down; during that extension it bought itself into the New Company. There had been a bidding war of rival offers of loans to the government, which the New Company ‘won’, by offering £2 million. When it made a call to its supporters to raise the money, the Old Company subscribed £300,000. But the loan effectively cleaned out the New Company’s coffers; financially the Old Company was in control.12 Meanwhile, the New Company sent out a governor to take over the forts and factories it thought it had acquired from the Old Company. In the east, however, the existing Presidents and factors bluntly and unanimously refused to hand anything over without instructions from London – which, of course, thanks to the three-year delay and other delaying tactics, were not forthcoming. An appeal in person by the designated governor to the Emperor Aurangzeb achieved nothing but expense. Aurangzeb continued to see these companies as little more than occasionally useful nuisances, and any English appeal was bound to fail after the Mughal–Company War; it is doubtful if those in Delhi 11 Watt,

12 Stern,

Price of Scotland, ch. 16. Company-State, 156–158.

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appreciated the conflict being waged between the two companies in England – in Indian eyes they were probably equally obnoxious, and Indians may never have distinguished between them. The arguments in London did not prevent interlopers making attempts to cut into the trade. The activities of these private traders hurt the Old Company’s profits, but they were nowhere near as expert in their trading as the Company’s factors – the same problem as that which was being discovered by the New Company’s men. The records of the interlopers’ activities are few, but it does seem that they were largely unsuccessful in trading compared with the Company’s men, in much the same way as the Scottish company’s commissioned voyages had failed in the east; with their eyes on the potential profits, they could not see the obstacles in their way. The New Company, which lasted less than ten years, has not been studied with the same avidity as the Old Company, which could claim a life extending for over two and a half centuries. But there are certain indications which suggest that the New Company men would have been successful, if they had had the time. (Many of them, of course, had learnt the techniques of trading in the east while working for the Old Company.) Aurangzeb clamped down on the Old Company in 1701 and ordered the arrest of all Englishmen in India, and in this considerable numbers of New Company men who were working as agents in the Ganges valley cities were also collected. The New Company governor may have failed to take over at Bombay or at Surat, but at a lower employee level the agents were having some success.13 One of the New Company’s targets was to open trade with China. The Old Company had made several attempts but had generally failed. The Defence under Captain Heath had made an attempt in 1689, producing a disaster. Ten years later the Macclesfield (310), a New Company ship, sailed direct from London to Macau and was welcomed by the Chinese traders of Canton. There were difficulties, of course, with officials and others, but in the end the profit on the voyage approached 100 per cent.14 The company was encouraged to attempt in 1702 to settle the island of Pulo Condore, in the South China Sea off the coast of Cambodia, and to develop it as an entrepôt much closer to China (and other likely trading targets in the region) than Madras, but after three years the Bugis mercenaries it had recruited as a garrison turned on the English and killed everyone; the fault seems to have been with the English who had reneged on the mercenaries’ contract.15 These instances were therefore not necessarily always successful ventures, but that had been the fate of numerous Old Company ventures during the previous century – China, Japan, and Thailand may be recalled. What it did suggest was that the New Company was exhibiting a vigour and resource Honourable Company, 192. Ibid, 208–209. 15 Hamilton, New Account, 2.110; Keay, Honourable Company, 210. 13 Keay, 14

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which was now largely absent from the Old Company, which had become fat and complacent during the period since the Restoration; it had grown rich by its normal activities, so innovation did not seem required. Clearly, there were plenty of opportunities still available for exploitation in the east. One such opportunity, for example, was to expand the trade in tea from China, away from the original concentration on silk (which anyway was laid under effective prohibition by Parliament in 1699 to support the nascent English silk industry). In India other crises developed during this same time. The problems in Britain, and the divisions on the ground in India, had encouraged the growth of piracy, though the Company officials extended the description from true pirates to less dubious enemies. This was a problem particularly in the Arabian Sea, where many so-called pirates were in fact agents of legitimate governments. Some of the true pirates were men who had been driven out of the Caribbean, where piracy was being suppressed; others were pirate hunters gone rogue, including at least two East Indiamen; most of those designated as pirates by the Company were in fact Indians, particularly from South India, and this aspect will be discussed in the next chapter. The most spectacular victims were ships belonging to Indian merchants which were captured by the former Caribbean pirates, particularly ships belonging to Abdul Ghafar, the leading merchant at Surat, who could direct his complaints to the Mughal governor of the city, with some hope of recompense and/or retaliation. But it was the capture and looting of the Ganj-i-sawai, a ship belonging to the Emperor Aurangzeb himself, and carrying a cargo of ladies on pilgrimage to Mecca, which caused the Company the most grief. One of the passengers is said to have been a princess of the royal family, who suffered assault and rape and robbery along with all the other women on board, pilgrims, and slaves.16 The pirates were usually based in the Comoro Islands or Madagascar (as were those who captured the two ships commissioned by the Scottish company). There they were usually well away from the threat of retribution and close to available supplies. The Mozambique Passage, between the island and the Portuguese-dominated East African coast, was the normal sailing route for ships heading for India, so their victims quite often simply arrived in their neighbourhood, in some distress and searching for fresh water and supplies. One of the earliest notices about the pirates is from the Revd John Ovington, a chaplain of the Company, who heard of three pirate ships which were waiting at St Augustine’s Bay in Madagascar; they had been raiding in the Red Sea, and had captured Indian ships operating between Surat and Mocha – which is where the Ganj-i-sawai was taken.17 St Augustine’s Bay is in the south of

Peter Earle, The Pirate Wars, London 2004, 116–117; Colin Woodard, The Republic of Pirates, New York, 2007, 20–23. 17 Keay, Honourable Company, 184. 16

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Madagascar, and a second pirate base was at St Mary’s Island, off the east coast, but these were not the only ones.18 The period of European piracies in the Indian Ocean was relatively brief, but it caused the Company, embroiled as it was with several other crises, much difficulty. The standard reaction of the Mughal regime to the news of the pirating of Indian ships was to assume that English ships and men were at fault, and therefore this meant the Company’s men and ships. In 1685, when two Danish East India Company ships plundered some Indian vessels, the English were blamed, and the factory at Surat was blockaded by Mughal troops, forcing the suspension of business; this lasted until it was proved that the perpetrators were Danes, or at least not English.19 The close relationship of the Company and the Mughal regime, consequent on the previous arrangements between them, and the factors’ strong presence at Surat and in Bengal, had put the Company into the position of a Mughal subordinate and agent, though a restless one, and more than once it had been assigned the task of escorting Mughal ships to Arabia for the pilgrimage. This political position had been re-emphasised by the conditions imposed at the conclusion of peace at the end of the war in 1690. So when in 1695 the Ganj-isawai was taken by English pirates and treated so evilly, the instant local reaction was to arrest and imprison the President at Surat, Samuel Annesley, and his factors, partly as hostages, and partly to protect them from a raging mob. They stayed there for nine months, and were released only after agreeing to a new scheme in which the English, Dutch, and French companies would cooperate to supply escorts for the Meccan ships; dealing with the pirate menace was also to be their responsibility when a final agreement was made. The Company in London wanted the government there to assign naval vessels to hunt for the pirates, but ships could not be spared during the French war. (The combination of the three companies’ ships to form the escorts for the pilgrimage ships while their home countries were at war was a clear sign that such wars were beneath Aurangzeb’s notice.) Instead a syndicate was formed in New York, and the Adventure Galley, under Captain Kidd, was sent out; but he turned pirate as soon as he reached the Indian seas. This desertion was hardly surprising since New York was the prime centre for financing piratical voyages. In 1698 Kidd captured another of Abdul Ghafar’s ships, the Quedah Merchant, stealing its cargo valued at £30,000. The factor at Surat ended up in prison again, and the capture and looting of another pilgrimage ship soon after made matters much worse.20 Mervyn Brown, Madagascar Rediscovered: A History from Early Times to Independence, London 1978; chapter 7 is on the pirates; St Augustine’s Bay had been the site of a failed English colony in 1644. 19 Hamilton, New Account, 116; Keay, Honourable Company, 176; David Wilson, Suppressing Piracy in the Early Eighteenth Century: Pirates, Merchants, and British Imperial Authority in the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, Woodbridge, Suffolk 2021. 20 Earle, Pirate Wars, 119–121. 18

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The attraction of the Indian Ocean for the European pirates was precisely the presence of such ships as the Ganj-i-sawai and its fellow pilgrimage ships, and the Quedah Merchant. They were wealthy, carrying rich cargoes, and they were large, up to 1000 tons. In theory they were fully armed, but the crews were relatively small and the men were untrained in fighting. Clearly the ships were very vulnerable. (The captain of the Ganj-i-sawai dressed up slave girls as pretend-soldiers to attempt to dissuade any boarding by the pirates.) Their cargoes would include silks, gold, silver, diamonds, spices, and other high-­ value, low-volume goods. The pirate ship Bachelor’s Delight raided several small Indian ships; its men each received £1100 in prize-money at the end of the voyage, at a time when a sailor’s wage might be only a few pounds a year.21 The piracies in the Indian Ocean were intimately linked with slave trading; both St Augustine’s Bay and St Mary’s Island off Madagascar did double duty as pirate and slaving bases. Corrupt officials, particularly in the American colonies, contributed to the business, and profited from it. Reports to the government in London were detailed and specific as to who was involved, both captains and officials, and what ships were complicit. Kidd was betrayed by his New York associates, and executed in London. Next year, 1701, the Piracy Act, together with the information gathered by the government, made it easier to convict pirates, and a clear-out at New York suppressed the financial backing available to them.22 Eventually the government in London had to become directly involved, given the geographical spread of the problem to North America, the Caribbean, Madagascar, and India. The Indiamen were slow sailing ships, as were the Indian merchants’ vessels, whereas the pirate ships were speedy to enable pursuit and escape; the contest was uneven and demanded a more official and concerted response. Once the French war was over (in 1697) the Admiralty had ships available. A squadron of four ships, Anglesea (44 guns), Hastings (32), Harwich (48), and Lizard (24) was sent out under Commodore Thomas Warren (though he died at Madagascar and was replaced by Commodore James Littleton). They combined offers of free pardon directed at the ordinary sailors, with the destruction of any pirate ships they could find, and raids on the pirates’ Madagascar bases.23 In addition, any Company ship which was attacked would fight back. Two Company ships turned pirate, the Mocha Frigate (150) and the Josiah (570). The career of the former lasted three years, but neither was nimble enough to emulate the normal pirate vessels and they could not deliver any of the larger dividends. The difficulty was illustrated in the case of the Josiah, whose mutineers-pirates went ashore at the Nicobar Islands, leaving just two men on board, both of whom were reluctant pirates; while they had the chance Honourable Company, 185. Pirate Wars, 119. 23 Ibid, 122–123; Clowes, Royal Navy, 2.499. 21 Keay,

22 Earle,

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they cut the ship’s cable and sailed to Acheh; the mutineers were thus marooned.24 The combination of pardons and force used by Warren and Littleton, the Piracy Act, and the execution of Kidd and other pirates caught in the net, successfully suppressed most of these piratical activities in the east from 1701. This change was assisted by the revival of the war with France, which absorbed many would-be pirates into the analogous, but legal, profession of privateering, or into the Royal Navy. It is noticeable that in all this furore over piracy, the Bombay Marine played little part. It was still a small force with relatively small ships, and was responsible mainly for patrolling the coast about Surat and Bombay, and it did not have ships and guns of sufficient size and force to tackle the pirates. These, based usually in Madagascar, were active above all in the wider ocean and in raiding ships in and about the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea. There, the only vessels under the Company’s control which could make an effective defence against a pirate ship (or ships – they sometimes worked in groups) were its larger vessels. Into this set of difficulties for the Company came local Indian ‘pirates’, as the Company called them. Some of these, stimulated no doubt by the success of Europeans at sea, emerged from the Arab shores of the Persian Gulf. Organised by the Sultan of Oman, they were launched into a successful campaign to cut the Portuguese down to size in East Africa. This was in large part a reaction to Portuguese activity on the Omani and Persian Gulf coasts of Arabia. The Portuguese expulsion from Hormuz in 1622, which the Company was, of course, in part responsible for, was followed by their expulsion from Muscat some years later. An appeal for help from Mombasa, another Portuguese base with a Muslim population, brought the Omani ships to East Africa. There followed a generation of war, culminating in the Omani conquest of Fort Jesus in 1698. Here therefore was a new seaborne power, the Sultanate of Omanand-­Zanzibar, its parts linked by sea, and potentially dominating the western Arabian Sea and the entrance to the Red Sea.25 In India, ships, designated as usual by the Company as pirates, came out from the ports of Malabar (the coast of southern India facing the Arabian Sea) to attack European and Mughal shipping. These ships may or may not have been licensed in some way by the rulers of the cities and kingdoms from which they came, but they certainly were more or less official. They began to capture Mughal ships in particular, but did not disdain European ships – Portuguese ships, with the history of imposing cartazes on Indian ships, were prime targets. For the Company, using large well-armed vessels, this threat was not too East Indiaman, 146. Indian Navy, 1.80; G.P.S. Freeman-Grenville, ‘The Coast, 1498–1840’, in Roland Oliver and Gervase Mathew (eds), History of East Africa, vol. 1, Oxford 1963, 129–168, at 141–142; Richard Hall, Empires of the Monsoon: A History of the Indian Ocean and its Invaders, London 1996, 313–322.

24 Cotton, 25 Low,

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serious, but the local Indian trading ships, including Mughal vessels, tended to be smaller and less well armed and frequently fell victim. Aurangzeb had extended his power deep into South India in the 1680s, conquering Bijapur in 1685 and Golconda in 1687, but had not fastened his authority on the conquered regions with any firmness, so that authority throughout the south was fragmented, and unrest, resistance, and rebellion were endemic. This was a region which had been part of the Vijayanagar Empire, a militantly Hindu enemy of the Muslim sultanates to its north; a Muslim imperial conquest revived the old militancy. The Marathas, even more militantly Hindu, were in full-blown rebellion, and had taken to the sea, even though Sivaji’s son and successor, Sambhaji, had been captured and executed in 1689.26 Aurangzeb had enough authority to attempt to stifle the English Company after the pirate problem arose, in 1701 ordering all Europeans to be arrested, their goods seized, and their trading prohibited.27 The weak position of the Company was quickly revealed. In Bengal the Old Company men were fairly safe in Fort William, but the New Company men, who were excluded from Calcutta and were scattered in several of the cities along the Ganges, were quickly collected. At Surat, the factory was closed down and its people locked up. Bombay was ignored, partly because it was not within Aurangzeb’s jurisdiction, and was an island which was fortified, and anyway it was subject to Surat’s control, at least in theory, and if the President at Surat was in detention, Bombay was theoretically paralysed. Madras, however, was different. Madras was already fortified, but now it faced an attack by the governor of the Carnatic, the Nawab Daud Khan, on instructions from Aurangzeb. The city – it had already gathered an Indian population of up to 80,000 people living in the suburbs – was under the rule of the Madras President Thomas Pitt, a former interloper who had joined the Old Company; he was a man with a keen eye for personal gain – he had gathered one fortune as an interloper, and had bought himself a seat in Parliament for a time, but was now gathering another fortune. He was nicknamed ‘Diamond Pitt’ from his avid collecting of diamonds (mined in Golconda), but he also had much common sense and experience with regard to Indian affairs. His cunning and resource enabled him to fend off the nawab’s siege.28 The different fates of the four places the Company used as its bases showed the need for security at all of them, and in the increasingly disturbed condition of India after 1707, they became four properly fortified bases. This was the essential Indian political background to the naval threat which was to develop in the eighteenth century. Aurangzeb had invaded the south, J.F. Richards, The Cambridge History of India, vol. 5.1, The Mughal Empire, Cambridge 1993, 223–224; J.F. Richards, Mughal Administration in Golconda, 35–74; a summary is in Jos Gommans, Mughal Warfare, London 2002, 187–199; Vincent A. Smith, The Oxford History of India, rev. ed., Oxford 1958, 420–423. 27 Furber, Rival Empires, 101–102; Keay, Honourable Company, 192. 28 Hamilton, New Account, 1.201, 202; Keay, Honourable Company, 213–216. 26

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where well-established states, the Sultanates of Bijapur and Golconda, had occupied much of the Deccan for a couple of centuries. Their Hindu rival and enemy, the Vijayanagar Empire, had been brought down in the mid-sixteenth century, and Aurangzeb’s invasion of the south eliminated the two Muslim sultanates, as well as some others in the northern Deccan. The major beneficiaries were the Marathas in the centre, and a series of small kingdoms emerged in the south. These fought each other for territory and gradually drove Mughal authority away northwards. When Aurangzeb died in 1707 his sons fought over the succession, thereby permitting all these states in the south to flourish and expand. By a quarter of a century after Aurangzeb’s death the empire had been reduced to the city of Delhi and its environs; local officials had seized the opportunity to secure control over their provinces, and though they implied loyalty to the empire by continuing to use the titles of nawab or nizam, they did nothing to restore it.29 It was a situation which loosened and upset the traditional political arrangements. Already in the 1660s the Marathas had taken to the sea and had challenged the European companies and colonies; other Indian coastal states now did the same. This was to become the major problem for the Bombay Marine in the next generation. It is not usual in studies of this period of the Company’s history to link events in India directly with the events in London and the dispute between the two companies, but the vulnerability of the New Company men to Mughal annoyance was clear in 1701, when the Old Company men in Surat were locked up. The new crisis over piracy had been building for several years, to the background sound of a steady drumbeat of Indian anger. This produced a threatening accompaniment to the internal English disputes, and it all compelled attention among the disputants. The main intention in Britain, by almost everyone involved in the problems in London, was that the two companies should unite into a single Company. The Old Company had been the largest contributor to the finance call by the New Company in its loan to the government, and King William had repeatedly intervened in the interests of calm and of promoting union between the rivals through negotiations. With royal persuasion not working, a royal instruction finally got the companies to begin serious talks – both of them had used the three-year stay to attempt to improve their separate positions. King William had been hostile to the Old Company at first, not surprisingly since it had been so close to Charles II and James II, but he came round to the idea of unification before he died. It was royal pressure which got the two companies talking about a merger, and royal pressure again which made sure that those talks continued. The approach of another war, this time against both France and Spain, which had already in 1701 broken out in fighting between France and Austria in northern Italy, helped to clarify minds. The ease with 29

Muzaffar Alam, The Crisis of Empire in Mughal North India: Awadh and the Punjab, 1707–1748, New Delhi 1986.

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which Aurangzeb had beaten the Company in their war, and had now caught up so many of the factors and agents of both companies and had confiscated their goods, exerted more pressure. The piracy in the Indian Ocean was another issue which could best be dealt with by a united company. The pirates had flourished in part because the rivalry of the companies had inhibited their response, and the French war made it impossible to use the Royal Navy to suppress it. The swift success of the Warren/Littleton squadron of only four ships made it clear that the renewed absence of the Royal Navy, which was quite likely once the war began again in Europe, might well be disastrous. All these pressures, royal, Indian, war, piracy, navy, brought a resolution of sorts; just before the European war involved England in early 1702 the two companies accepted their unification in principle. They then had to get down to negotiating the detailed terms and process. The king’s intervention produced the procedural result that a third company was formed, which was intended to take over both the Old and the New, so for a few years there were three East India Companies in existence. Their discussions, with large amounts of money involved, took a long time. It helped that the most obdurate member of the Old Company, Sir Josiah Child, who had also been the instigator of the Mughal War, and had gathered into his possession a large fraction of the Old Company’s shares, died in 1699. The death of King William in 1702 did not derail matters, since Queen Anne was just as determined on a resolution of the problem, and with the establishment of the third company, this was actually at last in sight. And there was war with France from 1702 to distract attention, not to mention a continuing constitutional crisis between England and Scotland – one element in this had been the foundation of the Scottish East India Company, which was a clear threat to the English one. Nevertheless it was five years before the negotiations were concluded to everyone’s satisfaction, or at least to a point where the conditions were accepted.30 The answer which eventually developed – and which had been the underlying aim of the manoeuvres all along – was to bring the two companies, ‘Old’ and ‘New’, into the third. After the long negotiation this took over both of the others, and thus became the ‘United’ Company. It was rather more open to outside influences than either of the others, which satisfied the New Company people, while the members of the Old Company were relieved to continue as members and shareholders and dividend receivers. But the fact that the English government had been heavily involved in the restructuring of the three companies into a single united one was yet another clear indication that the Company, Old, New, or United, remained an arm of the English/British state, if one which was kept at arm’s-length.31

East India Company, 51–57. Company-State, 161–163.

30 Lawson, 31 Stern,

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There were therefore large problems to be dealt with by the new United Company, which was finally fully organised by the acquisition of the Old and the New by the agreement of 1708 – the United Company appears to have operated as such from 1709, but the agreement was actually arrived at in 1707. This was also the year when the constitutional union of England and Scotland was accomplished, after a similarly long period of negotiations. Further, 1707 was the year of the death of Aurangzeb, after a reign of fifty years. As usual in most empires, the death of the emperor was followed by a fight for the succession among his sons. The emergence of the United Company therefore came just in time to face the new problems in India, when its problems in Britain were, if not yet over, at least approaching their conclusion. The union of the companies was a crucial element in the health of the British (not just the English) economy. It was one of a series of changes which collectively made up the English Revolution, which began with the overthrow of the Stuart regime in 1688. The political element in this was the establishment, after a century of struggle, of the supremacy of Parliament in public affairs, together with the removal of the dynasty of Stuart kings and their absolutist preferences. The economic element in the revolution was the development of the Bank of England as a stable source of government finance, and a stabilisation of the tax regime; into this the reform of the East India Company, the wealthiest economic entity in the country (and perhaps in Europe), and one devoted to maximising the trade of the country, fitted very well. The constitutional union of England and Scotland, together with the forced subjugation of Ireland, constructed a political stability for all three countries, and it included one of the largest economic internal market units in Europe. The year 1707 was therefore a crucial one for Britain, as for India. Aurangzeb’s death was followed by the immediate collapse of the Mughal Empire into a civil war from which it never recovered, and this implied the later collapse of India into a condition in which it became possible for outsider conquerors to make significant inroads – in the next half-century, British, French, Afghan, and Persian powers all invaded to add to the internal turmoil. The contrasting constitutional union of England and Scotland was the foundation of the wealth which was generated in the joint country, and of its political power for the next two and a half centuries. This last phase, in 1707, therefore, saw exactly opposite political developments in Britain and India, one unifying, the other disintegrating, and the resolution of the organisational problem of the East India Company/Companies in the same year began its further contribution of wealth to Britain’s economy. The year 1707 was a year after which all three entities were set on new futures. There was one other item which had occurred during this long series of interlocked crises, and which was a sign that a further development was imminent. One of the Warren/Littleton ships, the Harwich, was despatched to Amoy in the company of a New Company ship commanded by Captain Alexander Hamilton, whose book on the East Indies is the source for the story of

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the events. At Amoy Hamilton’s ship got into the harbour without difficulty, but the governor of the city was at first unwilling to allow a warship into the harbour, though he did eventually get permission from his superior, the provincial governor, for the Harwich to enter. There were four other European ships in the harbour, three from the Old Company (Hamilton was a New Company man), and Hamilton accused them of bribing the city governor to deny Harwich entry. (The bribery story was an invention, designed to put the Old Company in a bad light.) Captain Cock of Harwich wanted to repair his ship, and while waiting he went to a local island to careen it. The governor finally insisted on Cock bringing his ship into the harbour, in case he might be accused to his superior of incivility to a guest, but when Harwich was being refloated the ropes broke and the ship was wrecked. The governor found himself hosting a hundred shipwrecked mariners, but solved the problem by allotting a third each to the English ships in his harbour, to return them at least to India.32 This was the first Royal Navy ship to reach Chinese waters, though it was hardly a successful introduction. Several trading ships were there already, and the Chinese governor was clearly willing to help; he treated everyone with due courtesy. On the other hand, the English sailors were liable to behave badly, and the ships’ captains were at odds, liable to accuse each other of lying and bribery. In the end, it took main force by the governor to insist that at least one of the ships’ captains accept the marooned men for the passage to India. The behaviour of the two sets, English and Chinese, did not bode well for later Anglo-­Chinese relations. Amoy was closed down as a trading port the next year, and European trade was thenceforth to be concentrated at Canton.

32 Hamilton,

New Account, 2.136–142, corrected in notes on 195–197.

4 Wider Interests, Greater Threats (1710–1750) The ships which sailed to eastern waters from European ports had a choice of several routes in the Indian Ocean, depending on their destinations and on the state of the monsoon. The monsoon blew from south to north from June to September, the Indian hot season, and in reverse from December to March, but the winds originate south of the equator, so in the south in the hot season they began by blowing south-east to north-west, and swing round to southwest to north-east after the equator. The cool season winds are less powerful, not being so much heated by the sun, and begin over land as dry (and cold) winds: they begin by blowing from north-east to south-west, but then shift round at the equator, and then meet the south-westerly trade winds there. Ships heading for India, therefore, would be well advised to arrive off South Africa during the south-west monsoon, say in June, but not too early since this could be a time of violent weather. Company ships called at St Helena for fresh supplies; Dutch ships used the Cape, which was usually available in peacetime to others. From there the choice of routes from South Africa depended on the ship’s destination. Ships heading for Bombay or Surat could use the Mozambique Channel, or possibly sail east of Madagascar, passing the islands of Bourbon and Mauritius. Ships heading for Madras or Calcutta found it best to sail due east along the line of 40 S from the Cape and swing north at about 80 E, and then sail due north; this would save them having to negotiate a passage round southern India and Ceylon. The Dutch had long used an even longer easterly track to reach their part of the East Indies, heading for one of the passages through the Indonesian islands, so much so that several of their ships collided with Australia, to their grief.1 Returning to Europe was somewhat easier, since the north-east monsoon was less powerful, though there was an area of doldrums along the equator which might delay progress. There were variations on all these routes, including using the southern trade winds to sail north in the hot season. By the eighteenth century ships were well enough constructed and had sufficiently flexible sail plans that they could sail relatively well against the wind by tacking and shading their directions, so the monsoon climate was not quite so dictatorial as it had been. It was, nevertheless, a long and tedious voyage. Six months from Britain to India was the normal expectation, but it could take much longer, 1 Cotton,

East Indiamen, ch. 5, for the routes of voyages.

63

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and the longer the voyage, the more unpleasant in terms of tedium and health for all those involved. There were, of course, other dangers. When sailing the Mozambique Channel, between the African mainland and Madagascar, a ship risked meeting pirates based in western Madagascar and the Comoro Islands, at least in the early part of the eighteenth century – or meeting the islands themselves. The islands were useful, however, as refreshment points, as was Madagascar itself. British ships which had refreshed at St Helena usually needed more fresh food by the time they reached Madagascar, if they missed calling at the Cape. There were other islands lying in wait for ships scattered throughout the Indian Ocean – the Seychelles, Mauritius and its attendant islands, the Chagos Archipelago, and, like a well-laid minefield, there were the Maldives and Laccadive Islands, low-lying and attended by reefs, lying parallel to the Malabar coast of India; the line of the islands stretched from the equator due north through fifteen degrees of longitude, with just two straits through them; India could be reached by sailing inside these reef-ridden islands, or by finding the gaps; not an easy task either way. To reach Calcutta it was necessary to navigate between several reefs and shifting sandbanks – evocatively called the ‘Sandheads’ – before entering the Ganges Delta, which itself was fairly shallow, and whose mouths and channels constantly shifted with the deposition of mud and sand; a pilot was essential, or the ships could stop at Balasore and transship passengers and cargo to smaller craft. Reaching China was an even more difficult task. As the fate of the New Company’s fatal post at Pulo Condore implies, the original route was through the South China Sea, using the monsoon winds. But if coming from India this involved passing the Straits of Malacca, which is shallow in places, an area notorious for its pirates even today. Coming across the Indian Ocean from the Cape – a horribly long voyage which played havoc with the health of the seamen – the passage was through Indonesia by way of the Sunda Strait between Sumatra and Java. Both of these passages went through Dutch-­controlled seas, which might, depending on the attitude of local Dutch officials, or on the state of war and power in Europe, become hostile and dangerous. The South China Sea was littered with islands and reefs, all of which were at or just below sea level.2 The destination for the China ships after 1700 was always Canton, the only port which the Chinese government permitted foreigners to use. This route was also subject to the monsoon climate, which dictated the season of the sailing, and to irregular typhoons (also a problem in the Bay of Bengal). In 1759 Captain William Wilson in the East India Company’s ship Pitt worked his way through the Indonesian islands west of Sulawesi and east of the Philippines, reaching Canton six months earlier than expected. This was 2

These have been seized recently in many cases by China and ‘developed’; as a result, paradoxically, they are more visible and less dangerous to shipping, an inadvertent Chinese service to mariners, which, no doubt, they did not intend.

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a route which needed constant watchfulness to avoid the many islands (and the local pirates, and Dutch officials), but at least it did not depend too much on the monsoon. There were thus multiple routes from the Indian Ocean to Canton, none of them easy. By the end of the century, the Dutch from 1793 being hostile, and the China ships sailing direct for Europe, this route was also being used in reverse.3 All this demanded accurate seamanship and much sea-knowledge in the captains and mates of the ships. It was sometimes possible to find an Indian, an Arab, or a Chinese pilot, or, as in the early days of the China trade, to sail along with a Chinese junk, widely admired as good sailing ships, whose sailors were expert and knew the dangers. Indeed Vasco De Gama at Malindi found a pilot to take his fleet to India.4 Captain Wilson, most unusually, took the advice of Alexander Dalrymple, who had made an academic study of the area, and could quote accounts of earlier Dutch and Spanish voyages through the Indonesian islands.5 Getting into harbour, especially at Calcutta or Canton, also demanded local pilots, and captains who attempted to get in alone often ran into trouble, as Weddell at Macau had in the 1630s. Madras was perhaps worse, for ships had to anchor well away from the land; goods and passengers had to be rowed ashore and carried through the surf – with the inevitable accidents and casualties. There was yet another difficulty for the seamen. In the three decades after European peace was restored in 1713–1714 there were few conflicts between the Europeans in eastern waters, but, just as there might be neutrality agreements between the rival companies, there might be hostilities at almost any time and place. The Europeans, after all, were invariably threatened by the events and internal conflicts in India after Emperor Aurangzeb’s death. It was also well to steer clear of islands and ports under the control of another European country or company, just in case. The Dutch aimed to exclude other European companies and ships from the Indonesian islands, and they also controlled the coastlands of Ceylon, including at least three useful ports at Colombo, Galle, and Trincomalee, which were helpful as way stations and as naval bases, but inaccessible in times of war. The French attempt to gain power in Siam had failed, as had that of the Portuguese and Dutch in Japan, a country which, like China, had largely closed itself off. The Dutch had a post on an island in Nagasaki harbour, Deshima. The French held the well-situated island of Bourbon and took over Mauritius 3

4

5

Jean Sutton, ‘Lords of the East: The Ships of the East India Company’, in Richard Harding et al. (eds), British Ships in China Seas: 1700 to the Present Day, Liverpool 2004, 17–34. He was either a famous Arab pilot, Abd al-Majid, or a Gujarati seaman called Cana; his identity, that is to say, is not at all clear; but he existed, and successfully brought the ships to Calicut. Howard T. Fry, Alexander Dalrymple and the Expansion of British Trade, Toronto 1970, 16–19.

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in 1715 after the Dutch abandoned it. And the Dutch controlled the African entrance to the Ocean at the Cape of Good Hope. The Portuguese were still ubiquitous on a small scale from Mozambique to Goa to Timor to Macau, small territories but strategically placed to tap into or control trade, and they continued to claim monopoly rights in voyaging and trading throughout the region, a claim which continued to be ignored by everyone else. All of the Europeans had stations along the Indian coasts, east and west, and in Bengal, and were intensely jealous of each other and their commerce. Almost anything could spark a fight. In 1735, in a period of apparent friendship between the British and French companies, the Company’s brigantine Amity was seized at Mauritius for some unknown reason; such crises could happen at almost any time; suspicion lay lurking in every friendly face. One result in this case was that the Company sent out extra troops to India just in case the crisis got worse.6 An opening of trade with China had been attempted by Company ships more than once before 1700. The port of Amoy had been used for twenty years, but was now unavailable since the conquest of the dissident regime in Formosa (Taiwan); Chusan (or Ningpo) proved to be impossibly corrupt for any trade to be conducted there. In 1699 when the New Company’s ship Macclesfield had tried hard to open trade with China at Canton, it faced steadily increasing difficulties; and yet, at the same time, a French ship, the Amphitrite, was smoothly acquiring a rich cargo of Chinese goods at the same place, not being burdened by Chinese memories of English rudeness and violence in the past.7 This was a clear sign that, at least in the brief period of peace in Europe, the French East India Company, founded in 1664, but moribund during the European wars, was active again. It had even more problems of continuity than the English Company, being firmly under the fist of the French government, and subject to failure and revival under a slightly different name every so often; it was repeatedly handicapped by the new wars and that which began in 1702 proved to be exceptionally difficult. It was eventually refounded in 1723 as the Compagnie Perpetuelle des Indes, and lasted longer than its earlier incarnations. It was assisted into stability by the maritime peace in Europe between 1730 and 1740, and even made a moderate profit in that time. By then it was clear that the original intention of the English Company to trade British goods for Chinese goods was failing – so repeating the experience of its start in the east. There was no market for British goods in China, though several Chinese products such as porcelain, silks, and lacquered furniture, were worth transporting to Europe, for a wealthy, but obviously limited, market. And there were other obstacles. The Macclesfield, for instance, after all its problems, had acquired a cargo of wrought silk, but this turned out to be 6 7

Bruce Lenman, Britain’s Colonial Wars 1688–1783, Harlow, Essex, 2001, 90–91. John L. Cranmer-Byng and John E. Wills jr, ‘Trade and Diplomacy with Maritime Europe’ in Wills (ed.), China and Maritime Europe, 183–254, at 200.

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unprofitable because a new Act of Parliament of 1699, which prohibited the sale of all silks, except Italian, in England, so as to give protection to a nascent British silk industry, which, with this assistance, soon produced an early version of the factory system.8 In 1664 the Dutch had begun to bring tea to Europe, and sent a parcel of 30 ounces across to London as a taster. The coffee house culture in the capital slowly took to tea as well as coffee, and the market expanded slowly as the price declined, first reaching to the middle classes, then to the whole population, along with the need to possess, besides the tea itself, the cups, saucers, plates, teapot, and other necessary equipment; sometimes these were imported from China along with the tea itself. Tea became a major trade item after 1700. However, the only way to acquire Chinese goods was to pay for them in silver, usually in the form of Spanish American dollars, though there was a certain Chinese demand for Indian cottons and spices, which assisted in financing the purchases of tea and porcelain. This relieved the Company of some of the obloquy of exporting silver, regarded as a drain on home country wealth. But tea proved to be an almost infinitely expandable market. The 30 ounces of 1664 had become 2,500,000 lbs by 1760, and was still rising; the search was on for another way of financing the trade than by sending silver to China.9 China and the rest of the Far East (so named from the European point of view) had always been approached by way of India since that was the first destination for ships of trade from Europe; China was an extra, after India and the Spice Islands. But during the early eighteenth century revived interest in the route across the Pacific Ocean resulted in a series of westward voyages from Europe by way of America. The original crossings had been by Spanish expeditions in the sixteenth century, as a result of their exploitations and conquests in America, but Englishmen (Drake and Cavendish) and Dutchmen (Horn and others) had followed in their wake.10 As a result something was known of the ocean, its size, and some of its islands – and the Manila galleon sailed across annually, both ways, but on the same track each year, so a large area of ignorance remained. One of the problems in aiming to cross the Pacific was that it was necessary to approach by way of Cape Horn or the Magellan Straits, and this compelled ships to follow much the same track after entering the ocean. The first necessity was to turn to the north, sailing parallel to the coast of South America in order to escape the powerful westerly winds circling the earth south of the 8

Silk importations had been controversial in mercantile circles for a century: E. Lipson, The Economic History of England, 3 vols, London 1956, 3.20–21, 36–38; the Act cannot have been a surprise, and clearly existed before the ship left England; another Act of 1697, was even more restrictive. 9 Cranmer-Byng and Wills, ‘Trade and Diplomacy’, 207–211. 10 Spate, The Spanish Lake; Jan TenBruggencate, Dutch Pacific Voyages of Discovery, Lihue, Hawaii 2018.

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Cape, though that voyage north was assisted by the cold Humboldt Current. Searching for an east wind took ships to the latitude of the Tropic of Capricorn, where the Trade Winds and the South Equatorial Current would carry a ship steadily westward, without serious effort on the part of the seamen, but slowly. This route, which all ships from Magellan onwards approximately followed, usually trending a little to the north along the way, took them away from most of the islands in the ocean, north of New Guinea and towards the Philippines and Indonesia; for the seamen this long slow voyage resulted all too often in starvation and scurvy, not to mention tedium. The voyagers in the second half of the eighteenth century were often British, and, if British, they were almost exclusively from the Royal Navy. It was obviously possible for a non-naval vessel to risk the journey, but such vessels were normally seeking to make a profit, as merchants, privateers, or pirates, and there was no profit in crossing an empty ocean. Byron, Carteret, Wallis, Cook were all naval officers with secret instructions for exploration, and all sailed between 1764 and 1780. But before them there were William Dampier, a buccaneer and wanderer, and George Anson. From the point of view of Britain this had become a naval responsibility; no one else would or could do a serious job of exploration in the immense ocean; even Dampier was a naval officer for a time, and was so when acting as navigator on the circumnavigation under Woodes Rogers, who had made his fortune as a privateer, and who went on to exercise official power as governor of the Bahama Islands in an attempt to extirpate the pirate colony which had developed there. Dampier’s own navigations led him to suggest an official expedition sponsored by the Admiralty to explore the coast of Australia, then simply called New Holland. He approached from the west, and sailed along much of the coast of Western Australia. He could have sailed on further east into the Pacific, but his ship was rotten, his crew mutinous, and disappointment had been general. The account he published of his diary became a bestseller in its day when he returned to England, and it certainly drew attention to the existence of the Great Southern Continent, of which this Australian land was believed to be part, together with New Zealand, found by Tasman fifty years before, and certain Pacific Islands, which were believed to be headlands of the ‘continent’.11 Anson’s voyage was different. He took a whole squadron with him, though, like Drake and Magellan, he ended with only one ship still afloat, Centurion (60). His voyage was undertaken in wartime, as a naval expedition to damage the enemy, Spain. The aim was to intercept and break the Spanish treasure line which crossed the Pacific from the Philippines to Mexico, emulating Drake’s exploit nearly two centuries earlier. And this is what Anson did. The crossing of the Pacific was the cause of many deaths among the crew, as was every other 11

William Dampier, A New Voyage Round the World, ed. N.M. Penzer, London 1927; Beaglehole, Exploration, ch. 9.

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crossing until Cook. Anson managed to avoid the normal route and moved further to the north, calling and refreshing at Tinian Island, and reached Canton in China, passing north of the Philippines. His aim was the Spanish treasure galleon which sailed east from the Philippines for Mexico every year or two. Calling at Macau allowed him to recover his crew’s health, gather fresh supplies, and collect intelligence. He was thus able to intercept and capture the Covadonga galleon as it came out of the Philippine Archipelago. Having done so he returned to Canton, to Chinese horror and disgust when they learned of his exploit, but he did manage to persuade them to replenish his supplies, partly because he used his crew to help extinguish a fire in the city, and partly because the Chinese were eager to get rid of him. He returned, more or less as Drake had, by way of the Sunda Strait and Cape Town, crossing the Indian Ocean, and sailing the length of the Atlantic, without stopping anywhere except Cape Town; he avoided a French fleet in the Channel at the end (though unknowingly – it was hidden in fog), and arrived at Spithead not long after the new French war began in 1744.12 The voyage had taken over three years; without the capture of the Acapulco galleon it would have been a waste of time and ships and men. As it was, it made his name and his fortune and gained him promotion. Yet the cost had been so heavy that it was unlikely that such an exploit would be soon repeated. India collapsed into unending warfare after 1707. This, of course, would disrupt Indian production, and the protection extended over the Company by the Mughal regime was no longer effective, but the need to defer to imperial authority also ended. The emergence of a host of local powers, unstable and fissiparous, might in places open up a market, or a source of goods, but it might at the same time create impossible difficulties. The threat to Company profits was clear, and the possibility of the threat posed in the west of the country was reduced in significance, even as the conflicts with the Malabar sea powers continued to be a nuisance. The potential loss of its ports, strung along the Indian coasts, was apparent even to the Directors in London. So, while from a European point of view, the Indian region partook of the peace which existed between the maritime powers in Europe, within India a variety of local conflicts emerged, and these were often encouraged, or exacerbated, by the ambitions of local European individuals, whose personal interests easily overrode those of the companies which employed them. Bombay, easier for the Company to control since it lay under direct Company ownership, became its most important port. It had a bigger and better harbour than any others along that coast; there were others, usually small and often little more than trading posts, such as Tellicherry; their value from the point of view of the Company lay in that very reason. For the Company had to keep reminding itself it was a trading concern, while its people in India saw 12

S.W.C. Pack (ed.), Anson’s Voyage round the World, West Drayton, Middlesex 1947; Glyn Williams, The Prize of all the Oceans, London 1999.

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also the need for military and naval preparedness, increasingly so as fighting spread and intensified in the interior. Every so often, in a fit of economy, orders came from London to cut expenses, particularly spending on the Bombay Marine and on the armed forces which were maintained by the local Company officials. But then another problem would arise, which required an armed response, even if only to guard a trading post, and without any reference to London funds to deal with the new situation were spent. The Directors might choose to believe they were in control of the Company, but in India matters went their own way. The Indian west coast, from Surat to the southern tip, proved to be the major problem for the Company during the period of peace with the other European maritime states. The Maratha adoption of sea power in the later seventeenth century had been moderately successful, if limited in scope; maintaining the unity of the Maratha state was less successful. Just as the Mughal Empire was disintegrating, so its main enemy was subdividing into several large sections. Collectively these several Maratha kingdoms controlled most of central India and much of the north by the 1740s, but each section, under hereditary rule, faced its own enemies and acted independently. In the process direct control by the Maratha over their sea commanders, the Angres, was largely lost. The sea strategy of the Marathas had been to intercept and capture ships of those states they considered their enemies. This was clear enough when it was a matter of interfering with, for example, the Mughal pilgrimage traffic between Surat or Gujarat and Arabia. For the Company, however, this meant that, since it had long been tied closely to Mughal policy, and had in fact made an agreement to protect this pilgrimage traffic, it was identified as a Maratha enemy. The Company did not see it that way, claiming to be an independent agent, but by failing, or refusing, to make a treaty of neutrality with the Marathas which it could honour, it was aligning itself with the Mughals – even at the time when the Mughals were manifestly failing. The friendship which had existed for a time in the 1690s between the Company and the Marathas soon began to fray; a treaty agreed in 1698 did not last more than two or three years. The Marathas claimed the right to control shipping along their coast, from Surat southwards almost to Goa, and they used a version of the old Portuguese cartaze, called the dashtak, as an enforcement method. The Company by its treaty with the Marathas in 1698 had gained exemption from this charge (thereby acknowledging its legitimacy), but then extended it to include all native Indian ships which were allowed to fly the English and/or Company flags. To this the Marathas vigorously objected.13 It was much the same system as that operating in the Mediterranean to protect ships from attack by the Algerine ships, a system the British operated out of Gibraltar, but which was unscrupulously extending to provide British protec-

13 MacDougall,

Naval Resistance, 42–43, 74–75.

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tion over all sorts of other non-British ships.14 And of course as soon as this became known, all sorts of ships used the flag. The Marathas were in effect claiming sovereignty over their coastal waters just as European states did over their territorial waters, but the Company had no intention of accepting this as a reasonable practice in India. The rival interpretations of the matter soon resulted in the frequent capture of miscellaneous ships claiming the Company’s protection. If they resisted, or fled, they were chased and often captured. If they succumbed without resistance they were taken into a Maratha port and examined. The Marathas being short of guns and gunpowder, these items were immediately confiscated, a fine was levied (and possibly a dashtak was purchased).15 The Company could not retaliate in kind since the quantity of Maratha shipping was so much smaller. So its only recourse was to mount raids on the Marathas’ sea-bases. The Angre family had started as appointees of Shivaji, the real organiser of the Maratha state. Kanhoji Angre was the first naval organiser, appointed Sukhail, or Admiral, in the 1690s, and was in control of the system until his death in 1729. A series of forts and dockyards along the Maratha coast – Sinduburg, Kalyan, Kolaba, Suvarnadrug, and others – gave the Marathas control of the coast and of the well-constructed naval facilities, including dry docks and shipbuilding, in those places. These were all well-built and impressively fortified, and had been developed before the Company became fully aware of their existence or the threat they posed.16 The Company’s reply to the threat only began after a dozen years of ship captures and fights. Usually the Company’s ships were able to fight off an attack, being much larger and much better armed than the Maratha ships, and this comforted the Company. The Marathas used ghurabs and galivats, and by a steady programme of building were able in 1715 to make a good attempt to capture the President, a substantial Company ship of 540 tons, though the attack failed;17 next year Success, defined as a ketch of 250 tons, was taken. These two attacks seem at last to have moved the governor at Bombay, Charles Boone, to mount some retaliation. As a result an attack was mounted on the Angre castle at Gheriah (now Vijayadurg), but it failed, and next year a raid on the island of Kenery, one of Bombay’s archipelagic islands which Kanhoji Angre had captured and had colonised, was also defeated.18 These failures can be put down to a lack of preparation, a lack of military skill, and a lack of military manpower. A group of merchants was clearly not likely to achieve much success in warfare, particularly in protracted siege warJohn D. Grainger, The British Navy in the Mediterranean, Woodbridge 2016. Naval Resistance, 75–76. 16 Ibid, 62–63, drawing on M.S. Naravane, The Maritime and Coastal Forts of India, New Delhi 1998. 17 Low, Indian Navy, 1.71 and 98; Low gives two almost identical accounts of this action, dated to 1683 and 1715. 18 MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 59. 14

15 MacDougall,

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fare, under any conditions. The Bombay governor appealed to London to send professional help. After some time and some negotiation, a small squadron of Royal Navy ships was sent out, supposedly to assist. It was commanded by Captain Thomas Matthews, whose ships were Lion (60), Salisbury (50), Exeter (44), and Shoreham (20). This was a formidable force in Indian waters – even the Shoreham was better armed than most ghurabs and all galivats, and with 24-pounder guns on the big ships, they should have been able to inflict serious damage on both the Angres’ ships and the fortresses chosen for attack. The targets were Alibag, on the coast some miles south of Bombay, and the island-castle of Kolaba nearby, a very powerfully fortified position. This had been Kanhoji Angre’s principal headquarters, and as such was an obvious, but well-chosen, target.19 An alliance was made with the Portuguese, who were suffering as badly from Maratha pressure as the Company, and each ally provided a squadron and 1500 soldiers; the Company sent ships of the Bombay Marine and Matthews’ Royal Navy squadron. What was missing was any coordination between the several forces, and any overall or intelligent system of command. The historian of the Indian Navy, C.R. Low, gives an unconvincingly bland, uninformative, and inaccurate account of what happened, carefully omitting any details of the action, attempting to disguise the comprehensive defeat suffered by the allies. The result of the action was an explosion of anger by Matthews, whose force had hardly been used, and a definitive split between the Portuguese and the Company. Matthews’ anger was presumably also intended to deflect any criticism of him; he was the senior officer, at least on the British side, but seems to have played no part in the attack. The longer-term result was a continuous war between the Bombay Presidency and the Angres for the next thirty years.20 The relations between Matthews and the Company at Bombay had been poor from the time of his arrival. He had forbidden the use of British colours on ships of the Marine, or on those ships attributed to the Company, which no doubt riled the objects of his scorn, and this largely set the pattern of Royal Naval attitudes for the future. (Matthews’ departure in 1723 was, no doubt, the moment when the Marine and others resumed the use of the forbidden colours.)21 Nor were relations with the Angres assisted by the persistent British reference to them as ‘pirates’. This, of course, helped the Company’s men in India to gain sympathy in London, in the Company’s headquarters and in the Admiralty, but such an attitude, which could not possibly be confined to correspondence with London, was a hindrance in any negotiations. It would certainly have been possible to reach agreement between the two sides, with

19

Ibid, 70–71. Ibid, 76–78; Low, Indian Navy, 1.101. 21 Cotton, East Indiamen, 107. 20

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some goodwill, but the only diplomacy attempted by the Company was a mission to Kolaba designed to stir the pot of an internal Angre dispute.22 Neither side could prevail. The Company was incapable of mounting a serious attack on the Angre bases, thanks to its lack of expertise and manpower, and perhaps its lack of will; the Angres had no real wish to carry the fight to the enemy, partly because their captures were sufficient for their needs, and partly because they were constantly distracted by the demands and intrigues of their Maratha associates in their ambitions on land. Collisions between Angre fleets and squadrons of Company ships were rare only because the Angre ships swiftly took refuge in shallow water where the British ships with their deeper draft could not reach them. The Angre ships, always outgunned and therefore vulnerable, were quite unwilling to be attacked if they could avoid it; similarly they were quite willing to attack isolated Company vessels. The Company wanted to destroy the enemy; the Angre method was similar to the French guerre de course, and aimed to capture Company vessels of any size, and to survive. The two sides were operating diametrically opposing tactics – Angre ‘brown-water’ versus Company ‘blue-water’.23 On Kanhoji’s death in 1729 his territories, or perhaps his command, was divided between his two sons, Sambhaji in the northern part and Manaji in the southern. The two branches of the family soon fell into dispute. The Company’s men at Bombay sought alliances elsewhere, and an ever-changing series of temporary alliances and brief periods of fighting lasted through the 1730s and 1740s. Along the Indian west coast other maritime communities emerged: to the north of Bombay the Peshwa (senior minister) the Maratha ruler, a position now hereditary in the family of Baji Rao, took control of several ports and developed a raiding force; to the south, between Manaji Angre’s coast and Portuguese Goa, the Sawantwadi held about ten miles of coast and sent out raiding ships; south of Goa the surviving ships of the Sidis, the former Mughal commanders, did the same. This was not really to the liking of the Angres, who disliked the competition, but it is, in its skewed way, a tribute to both to the maritime wealth sailing close before the eyes of these people, and the success of the Angres’ maritime methods.24 An overture for peace in 1739 from Sambhaji Angre, who commanded from Kolaba over the northern part of the Angre region, was rejected by the Bombay Presidency. The proposal was that all the Company’s ships, which must mean the European ships and the Indian ships which were permitted to use the Company’s or the British flags, should acquire a dashtak, and that the Company should pay 2 million rupees annually for free navigation in Angre’s coastal waters.25 This came after a series of captures by Sambhaji’s ships – Indian Navy, 1.114. Ibid, 1.107, is an example of Angre tactics. 24 MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 128. 25 Low, Indian Navy, 1.107–108. 22 Low, 23

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the Derby (480) in 1735, the Company ghurab Anne, and several smaller ships ‘with rich cargoes’.26 Possibly Sambhaji thought such losses in only two or three years might have weakened the Company’s resolve, especially since it was doing hardly any fighting. At the same time Manaji Angre, Sambhaji’s rival and brother, was able to capture several ships bringing grain supplies into Bombay, followed by two more in the Surat area; the Company replied by sending its Bombay Marine against Caranja, which Manaji had just captured. The Marine fleet included eight galivats and thirteen fishing boats; Manaji’s reply was to capture the island of Elephanta in Bombay harbour. In effect, the Company failed to reply to this, and instead made a ‘hollow peace’. It is evident that the Company in Bombay was in regressive mode.27 The Marathas in this time began a campaign of systematically demolishing the small Portuguese posts, one of which had been Manaji’s capture, Caranja. Of several in the neighbourhood of Surat, Tanna was taken in 1737, Tarapur soon after, and Bassein in 1739; the captor was acting on behalf of the Peshwa. This was not to the liking of the Angres, since these places had been developed as fortified naval bases and they hankered after using them themselves. The Portuguese repeatedly asked Bombay for help, but were always refused, though in 1740 Lieutenant Inchbird of the Marine mediated the transfer of Choul and Mhar, two more Portuguese forts, to the Marathas.28 Company relations with the Portuguese had varied constantly between alliance and hostility, with indifference usually preferred, but the elimination of the Portuguese posts, achieved by siege and assault, was a clear warning of the ambition and capability of the Maratha land power; the hostility of its sea branch was developing, and was a threat to both Angres and the Company. Soon the only non-Maratha posts on the west coast were the Company’s, apart from a couple of posts for other European companies, and, for the moment, the Angre territories. The threat should have been obvious. On the Coromandel Coast, a new development brought the Company’s full attention, and provoked the arrival of another Royal Naval squadron. The south had been the scene of much fighting over the Mughal fragments. A senior Mughal official, the Nizam al-Mulk, had established himself in what became the kingdom of Hyderabad and claimed suzerainty over all the south in the name of the emperor, citing bureaucratic inheritance from the Mughal period. The region of Karnataka, called the Carnatic by English speakers, sandwiched between the coast and the Eastern Ghats for 500 miles, was under the authority of the Nawab of Arcot, who in turn was theoretically under the authority of the Nizam at Hyderabad (and theoretically an appointee of the Ibid 1.107; for the Derby, ‘Philoleuthus’, A Faithful Narrative of the Capture of the ship Derby (belonging to the Honourable East India Company, Abraham Anselm commander) by Angria the Pirate on the coast of Mallabar, December 26, 1735, London 1738, reprinted Miami 2017. 27 Low, Indian Navy, 1.108–109. 28 Ibid, 1.110–112. 26

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emperor), but both had gradually worked their ways into effective independence. Both lands saw infighting within the families of the founders during the 1740s, with extensive casualties and frequent changes of ruler. The Company, with its principal posts at Cuddalore (‘Fort St David’) in the far south and at Madras (‘Fort St George’), felt threatened and had recruited a small armed force to defend itself. In London, the Directors, more directly, feared French intentions as French hostility steadily increased in Europe, where Britain was at war with Spain and France with Austria; they began sending out reinforcements to Madras. This at least preserved Madras when the Marathas campaigned through the Carnatic in 1741–1742. The French East India Company had its primary post at Pondicherry and took control of another post at Trichinopoly; now it went one stage further, involving itself in the Indian succession wars. An army of Indian soldiers was recruited, drilled and trained and armed by them in the European fashion.29 In 1739, meanwhile, the invasion of North India by the Persian Nadir Shah captured Delhi and systematically stripped the city and its citizens of anything valuable. Imperial authority throughout India collapsed. The Nizam of Hyderabad and the Nawab of Arcot and the other ‘officials’ of the empire became truly independent as a result, whether or not they had been moving towards this. In the French company one man, Joseph Dupleix, went the same way as the Indian governors, and sought to use the confusion in South India for his Company’s advantage, but most of all for his own advantage and enrichment. As governor of Pondicherry from 1742 he had control of the new, trained, Indian soldiers – called sepoys – and began meddling in the affairs of the greater states of Hyderabad and the Carnatic. He was overtaken by the outbreak of war between Britain and France in Europe, news of which arrived in the area in September 1744.30 Gradually the two original wars in Europe melded into one, producing as confused a situation as that in South India. The news of the new Franco-British war was hardly unexpected; in India negotiations for a neutrality agreement between the companies came close to success, but it became known that naval forces from the two Admiralties were on their way from Europe, and the governors at Madras and Pondicherry could not lend their names to neutrality, since they were unable to bind the naval commanders to such an agreement – and, of course, each hoped that the naval reinforcement will be decisive. The French Admiralty had intended to send out a squadron of five line-ofbattle ships to be based at Mauritius (‘Ile de France’) and so able to intervene in India or Indonesia, as opportunity offered. It was to be commanded by Mahe 29 Lenman, Britain’s Colonial Wars, 92, crediting the invention to Dupleix’ predeces30

sor, Dumas; but it was Dupleix who used the new force effectively. See, for the convolutions of activities on both sides, H.A. Dodwell, Dupleix and Clive, London 1920.

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de La Bourdonnais as both governor of Mauritius and fleet commander. The squadron set sail but was soon recalled when the merchants connected with the Paris end of the French East India Company feared that its presence in the Indian Ocean would simply provoke their Indian enemies, particularly the British Company, to retaliate. La Bourdonnais, however, went on with one ship, Achille (74), and at Mauritius he set about gathering an ad hoc local fleet from the local shipping.31 Both La Bourdonnais and Dupleix were, partly due to their own characters – though they did not get along with each other – and partly because of the distant and slow connections with Europe, able to act independently, just as did the Nizam and the Nawab. This also necessarily applied to the Company; it had long been the case in Bombay, in its war with the Angres, and at Madras, and was soon to develop in Bengal. The British Company had reacted to the possibility of a French war by asking the Admiralty for a squadron of professionals to provide backbone and reinforcement for the local forces. Their naval force in the east was the Bombay Marine, but this had only relatively small ships, and was fully occupied with the problems of the west coast, where the Angre principalities and others were still active and threatening. The Company’s richest posts, by contrast, were at Madras in Coromandel, and above all at Calcutta. The former, though fortified, was particularly vulnerable to French attack, since its fortifications had been allowed to decay through the usual Company parsimony – though the same condition applied also to the defences at French Pondicherry. If Dupleix could gather an alliance with a major local Indian power, such as the Nawab at Arcot, Madras was clearly in danger. The Admiralty responded by sending a squadron of five ships commanded by Commodore Curtis Barnet, which sailed in May 1744 for the Indian Ocean. The difference in commitment at home between the British and the French is demonstrated by the recall of the French squadron, but the despatch of the British was unaltered, even when the recall of the French ships was known. These preparations had mainly taken place before any formal declaration of war between France and Britain, but tensions in Europe had been steadily building after a failed French attempt to launch an invasion of England early in 1744, and the declaration came in April 1744. Barnet, first in the field, and stronger than La Bourdonnais, captured a number of ships, French and Indian, and then, based at Acheh in Sumatra, he intercepted the French China fleet, and captured several French Indiamen returning to Europe with full cargoes.32 His independence of action, and his failure to coordinate with the governor of Madras on his arrival – he was obviously hunting prize money – made it clear that the failure of the neutrality negotiations had been inevitable once the royal navies were involved.

Britain’s Colonial Wars, 92. Royal Navy, 3.119–120.

31 Lenman, 32 Clowes,

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Barnet took his ships to Madras, where his presence deterred any French attack by La Bourdonnais by sea or by Dupleix by land. This was a situation which obtained frequently in the Franco-British wars in India. The European posts were inevitably on the coast, and the big guns of the ships were able to dominate and reach the besieging forces, while the disciplined sailors could be landed to reinforce the beleaguered towns. The navies were the key to the land war. La Bourdonnais brought his motley fleet to the Coromandel coast in June 1746, by coincidence (or was it?) only a month after Barnet died. His replacement, Captain Edward Peyton, now acting as Commodore, saw numbers of ships and men rather than guns and power, and calculated that he was facing a larger fleet than his own. He faced up to the French fleet, but was clearly making calculations as he did so. La Bourdonnais, who commanded an inferiority of guns, tried to get close enough to use his manpower to board the British ships; Peyton stayed clear, a sensible tactic in the circumstances. He had one ship of 60 guns, the Medway, three of 50 – Preston, Winchester, Harwich – and one of 40, Medway’s Prize (the former French Favorette, captured earlier by Barnet). La Bourdonnais had one ship of 60 guns, Achille, which he had brought from France, and seven with between 24 and 36 guns. Most of these French ships were in fact equipped to carry more guns than they had, though Peyton could not know this when he counted their gun ports, so he believed he faced a more powerful fleet than it was. In terms of actual guns the two fleets were more or less equal – 270 British and 282 French – but the French had more men, more ships, and looked more powerful, while Peyton’s five ships were the only British ships in the region. The two fleets came close enough to fire at each other in the afternoon of 25 June, and each fleet suffered some damage and some casualties. Both fleets retired to make repairs, the French to Pondicherry, the British much farther away, to Trincomalee in Dutch Ceylon. Peyton brought his fleet north again in August, and the two fleets manoeuvred against each other once more, but then Peyton withdrew to Pulicat, thirty miles north of Madras. La Bourdonnais, much more enterprising, seized the moment, landed troops and guns from his ships to form a siege, and bombarded Madras from the sea. Madras was held by only a minimal garrison, less than 200 soldiers. Peyton meanwhile retired still further north, going as far as Bengal, citing the need for repairs to Medway’s Prize, which was certainly in a bad way. Madras fell to the French on 10 September 1746. Then La Bourdonnais received a reinforcement of three ships from France, another 74 and two of 50 guns. His sea superiority was now overwhelming. Accounts tend to blame Peyton for pusillanimity, cowardice, irresolution, and whatever terms the store of naval invective can provide, yet had he remained at Madras, he would have been caught between the fleet of La Bourdonnais and the reinforcements, which together would have outnumbered, outgunned, and probably overwhelmed him. His successor, Commodore

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Thomas Griffin, who arrived not long after the loss of Madras, sent him back to England under arrest, but he was not tried. This was a time when courts martial happened with great frequency, on the flimsiest of pretexts and for the most minor causes, and if Peyton was not subject to that ordeal, it suggests that his conduct was not seen as heinous in the Admiralty.33 Three weeks after the surrender at Madras, the French fleet was almost destroyed in a great storm – did Peyton anticipate this? A storm on the Coromandel coast was to be expected at this time of year. La Bourdonnais withdrew first to Pondicherry with his booty, then to Mauritius, and finally to France. The surviving French ships prepared to attack Fort St David at Cuddalore, but the British squadron, now under Griffin and refreshed and repaired, returned to the Coromandel coast, and by its mere presence deterred the attack from taking place. He caught the French Neptune (34) off Madras and burned her, but made no attempt to recover the town.34 A new French squadron of six ships was organised for India, and sailed in company with a larger squadron destined for North America. This joint force was intercepted off Cape Finisterre by a British fleet under Vice-Admiral George Anson, and most of the French ships were captured. One of the captains involved in the fight, Edward Boscawen, was promoted soon after to Rear-Admiral and was sent out to the Indian Ocean with a larger fleet than either Peyton or Griffin had commanded. He brought out Namur (74), six ships of between 50 and 60 guns, and three frigates; on the way he collected six Dutch Indiamen at the Cape, and convoyed them as far as Mauritius before they went on to Batavia, and he also convoyed eleven British Indiamen carrying 1500 soldiers to India. Arrived, he added the surviving ships of Griffin’s force to his. This was the biggest European naval force so far to be active in the east. The troops were also a major European military force; together with his marines and sailors Boscawen disposed of a land force amounting to about 5000 men. It was evident that the Admiralty and the Company were determined on decisive action.35 Boscawen prospected Mauritius, but decided not to risk an attack on the island, for the defences looked more formidable than they really were. (There were eleven captured Company ships visible in the harbour.) He looked in at Madras, but decided to reinforce Cuddalore first, and then to attack Pondicherry. But the siege he mounted was conducted badly, and sickness amongst the troops, the failure of the engineers to make any progress, and floods, all persuaded the British to withdraw, despite the presence of their relatively powerful land force. Then, before more could be attempted, word came that a truce 33

Ibid, 3.120, leaving Peyton’s condemnation suspended over his reputation. Ibid, 3.121–122. 35 An entertaining diary of the voyage and the events in India is in Journal of a Voyage to the East Indies and back to England …, by a Gentleman who was in the Expedition, Edinburgh 1756 (reprinted c. 2020); the author is suggested to be Captain Alexander Grant. 34

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leading to peace had been agreed. Boscawen remained on station until the definitive peace had been agreed, and spread his ships as far as Acheh in Sumatra and Trincomalee in Ceylon to avoid too much damage in the monsoon; however, when the ships were all reassembled at Cuddalore they were hit by a storm anyway; two of the naval vessels, including Boscawen’s flagship Namur, two of the Company’s Indiamen, and a hundred country ships were wrecked. The peace when finally ratified included the mutual restoration of Indian conquests, so Madras was returned, though the town and fortifications had been dismantled. Boscawen’s fleet went back to Britain.36 It was not to be long before a new Royal Naval force would be sent out to India, again in a time of peace. Events in India were, as usual, proceeding with their own momentum, and with only tangential reference to European events – the same was happening in North America – just as the greater conflicts within India were following their courses. The squadrons and fleets which had operated in Indian waters between 1744 and 1749 were the largest and most powerful ever sent from Britain. There had been others before that, Warren and Littleton’s squadron thirty years before, and that of Matthews in the 1720s, which mainly operated in support of the Bombay Presidency, but neither were more than four ships of middling size. Occasional ships which can be described as naval had turned up on other occasions, especially in the reign of Charles II. But from 1744 onwards it was clear to the Admiralty and the British government that they had to take account of the ongoing situation in India as well as in Europe and America. By developing a European-style military in India, the French had forced the British to retaliate, just as the French merchants had pointed out when La Bourdonnais sailed. It was impressive that Boscawen’s fleet had assembled a force of ten major warships in Indian waters, even if it was not much used and was unsuccessful in its only enterprise. That gathering of ships was only possible because the French Navy had been battered and blockaded at home for the previous four years, losing many ships in the fighting during that period, and had been out-built in the naval arms race which went on at the same time. The commitment of such a major force, nevertheless, was a sign of serious British interest in events in India, and the French, both in France and India, followed suit, though rather less enthusiastically. And what the French could also do in conjuring up a force of sepoys, the British could do. Peace may have been made in Europe, but it hardly had any effect in India. This period between 1740 and 1750, was decisive for the future of European activities in India, but not because of Boscawen’s 5000 troops and ten ships. European warfare in the east was a consequence of the collapse of the Mughal Empire. For the British Company this removed its, rather distant, protector, and forced it to turn for help to the British government; these East India Companies always required a powerful protector. While the Mughal–Company 36 Clowes,

Royal Navy, 3.125–126, 130–132.

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connection had annoyed the minor seapowers on the Malabar coast and provided them with a good excuse for attacking the Company’s ships, it had clearly assisted the Company overall for a century and a half. The Mughal Empire had preserved most of India in relatively peaceful conditions until its collapse, so that Europeans could trade without interference (though that was hardly the Mughals’ purpose). The collapse of the empire encouraged Indian lords to seek independence and European companies to seek riches. The result was the arrival of men like Dupleix, the militarisation of the companies and the arrival of European forces, soldiers and warships. European warfare in India and Indian waters was one of the conflicts which grew out of the collapse of the Mughal Empire, not a consequence of the warfare in Europe.

Part II

The Bombay Marine and the Royal Navy

5 British Dominance Established (1748–1763) Peace being established in Europe in 1748 did not mean that peace existed outside Europe. In both North America and India, and in the West Indies and the Pacific, contests for local control, domination, and influence went on with scarcely a break – as it did in Europe. The indecisive end of the wars of 1739–1748 meant that, both in the distant lands and in Europe, war by another means went on. In Europe continual rearming, rebuilding of naval forces, and the search for allies produced much activity.1 In North America the contest between France and Britain culminated in the British attacks on the French fort at Fort Duquesne in 1754, in the West Indies the clandestine infiltration and unofficial colonisation of the Neutral Islands by the French began as soon as the war ended; the Pacific had to wait some time to see evidence of the contest, but Anson’s voyage had stimulated academic work on the ocean, and at least two compendiums detailing past explorations and discoveries came out in the period between the wars (1748–1756); these emphasised the gaps in knowledge and, by implication, the possibilities of discoveries and so the extension of national trades, influence, and conquests.2 There were two separate wars being waged by the Company in India in this period, as before: one was on the west coast, from Gujarat to Malabar, where the enemies were the small communities of predators – ‘pirates’ – from the small coastal states, with the Maratha state in the background; the other was on the Coromandel coast where the enemy was the French East India Company, a contest which involved a variety of Indian powers, notably, as before, the Nawab of Arcot and the Nizam of Hyderabad, again with the Marathas in the background, and the Sultan of Mysore as well. Until 1755–1756 there was virtually no connection between these wars on opposite coasts, other than the largely disengaged and partly disunited Marathas, but then a brief connection came into existence, though it was only personal. 1

2

The French Navy had 30 line-of-battle ships on 1 January 1744, and 57 six years later: Jonathan R. Dull, The French Navy in the Seven Years’ War, Lincoln, NB 2005, 258–260. John Harris, Navigatium atque Itinerarantium Bibliotheca, or, A Complete Collection of Voyages and Travels, 2nd ed. by John Campbell, London, 1744–1748; Charles de Brosses, Histoire des navigations aux terres Australes, Paris 1756; discussed, with others, in Beaglehole, Exploration, 184 and 187–190.

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In Coromandel the governor of Pondicherry, Joseph Dupleix, seized the moment when Admiral Boscawen took the Royal Naval ships away to continue his work of expanding French influence throughout southern India (following, as it happened, a similar move by the British to gain influence in Tanjore). Dupleix had a force of trained Indian soldiers, sepoys and Europeans, and a couple of good French commanders, notably the Marquis de Bussy. He set himself up as a military entrepreneur hiring out his soldiers in exchange either for grants of land and the revenue they produced, or straight cash. His services, after a short time, earned him an appointment by the nizam as the viceroy for all southern India, with his own nominees in position as nawab and nizam –Bussy was his representative in Hyderabad. Dupleix’s land grants included a set of revenue-producing villages which just happened to block off the British Company’s post at Cuddalore from its hinterland of cotton producing villages; the grant of the port of Masulipatnam put the French in control of Hyderabad’s main port and its hinterland; this was later extended to include all the Sarkars, the strip of coastal land stretching north from Masulipatnam for 500 miles or so. The British reacted to this French encroachment with violence, as the only way of breaking through what was seen as a deliberate attempt to throttle their lands in the south and to drive them out. They supported a rival candidate in the Carnatic (Karnataka), so involving Dupleix in a long and complicated armed struggle. It was in this fighting that Robert Clive, who had already distinguished himself as an ensign in the fighting at Pondicherry, emerged as an inspiring and intelligent commander, and the conflict is often portrayed as one between him and Dupleix. From the viewpoint of this account, however, this war was confined to the land, and, in the absence of the deployment of serious sea power in this area, it could be nothing else.3 The war was for control of the Carnatic, with rival nawabs being supported by rival company armies. It was a complicated and difficult war, but at the end the French candidate was murdered. At that, the French company in Paris became sufficiently exasperated at Dupleix’s conduct that he was peremptorily ordered back to France. His policies and methods had brought the Compagnie Perpetuelle to the verge of bankruptcy; it was then followed by the strain of the next Franco-British war; Dupleix’s extravagant political-cum-administrative system in India also proved to be built on sand.4 Neither Madras nor Pondicherry was directly involved in these wars, though considerable numbers of European troops and European-trained sepoys did take part. With Dupleix’s removal, the steam went out of the French intrigues, though Bussy had established a powerful French influence in Hyderabad. The French company in Paris, like the British Company’s directors in London, 3 4

Henry Dodwell, Dupleix and Clive, London 1920, is a detailed account, though almost as confusing in print as it must have been in reality. S.P. Sen, The French in India, 1763–1816, 2nd ed., New Delhi 1971, 44–45.

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were not impressed by all the fighting, which seemed to be endless and inconclusive, but they were very impressed by the mounting costs. Both companies were quite properly obsessed with the trading opportunities and profits that they scented, but which seemed to be elusive. This pursuit of profit, after all, was their purpose. The results for the two companies were directly opposite – the French gained influence, with extensive grants of territory, but the revenues from these lands were used to support that influence, and to pay the professional soldiers under Dupleix’s and Bussy’s command. The costs of all this absorbed the local revenues, and there was nothing left for Paris; the British Company, on the other hand, had gained fairly small territories close to Cuddalore and Madras, which were productive of cotton, in which the Company mainly traded in India and the Indian Ocean lands at this time, so that Madras’ revenues had trebled since 1748 by the time the fighting died down. This was what impressed the men in London.5 In the west, along the Malabar coast the fighting was just as continuous, but it was conducted largely by sea. The ships of the Bombay Marine replied to the activities of the sea raiders by fighting them where they could find them, though this only rarely had a result which lasted for more than a single season. A series of fights against the ‘Coolies’ out of Gujarat in 1734–1735 resulted in the capture of fourteen small ships, while fifty more were burnt by the Coolies to avoid being captured; six months later a convoy escorted by the Antelope, a Bombay Marine galivat, was decoyed into an ambush, Antelope was attacked and destroyed, and the ships in the convoy largely captured.6 This continuing indecisive result was the normal pattern of fighting, not wholly unlike that which was being conducted in the 1740s on land in Coromandel. Similar accounts of fighting between Company ships and other sea raiders all along the west coast can be found. A small detachment of the Bombay Marine was stationed at Gombroon (Bandar Abbas) to protect visiting Company ships from ‘pirate’ attacks from across the Gulf. Whereas in India any interruption in the fighting along the west coast was seen as no more than a brief cessation, with a resumption expected fairly soon, in London the news of a success was too often understood to be a definitive end to a conflict, and reductions in military and naval spending were ordered, so that ships were decommissioned, and sailors and officers dismissed. Never large, the Marine could thus be rendered almost powerless by a relatively small reduction. This happened in 1742. Before the reduction the Marine had two main ships, Resolution (44) and Neptune’s Prize (28), manned by a total of just over 200 sailors. These were the only ships large enough to take on the ghurabs of the Angres; in addition, there were four ships with up to 18 guns, twenty galivats, and six bomb ketches. This was the existing

Honourable Company, 290–292. Indian Navy, 1.116–117.

5 Keay, 6 Low,

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number from which reductions were then made. And, of course, the cessation of fighting soon itself ceased.7 During the war with France which began in 1744, the arrival of just two French privateers in 1747, which hovered off the coast, paralysed trade at Bombay. The only reply the Council could make was to send out small vessels to warn approaching ships of the danger. The Marine was therefore then enlarged once more, but none of its ships was large enough to face a well-armed European vessel. Three were ships each of 28 guns, but these would not have been able, for example, to challenge either of the two French privateers, which had 50 and 40 guns.8 With the ending of the war with the French the next year, two ‘reforms’ were instituted: promotion was to be by seniority in the service rather than the earlier ‘system’ of favouritism, or informal promotion; this would at least ensure a certain competence in the higher ranks. Officers were decreed a uniform for the first time, similar to, but rather more ornate than that which was becoming fashionable in the Royal Navy. Rather more important, and partly as a result of a serious mutiny, the Mutiny Act which was passed annually in Britain to impose civilian control over the military, was extended to cover the military and naval forces of the Company as well as the British forces in India;9 It was another small incremental increase in British governmental control. The main improvement in the Marine, however, was not these relatively superficial matters, but the appearance of a commander of the Marine who could impose discipline, gain victories, and had the confidence of the London Directors. William James joined the Marine in 1747 as a junior officer after an interesting career as ploughboy, sailor (he took to the sea at the age of twelve and served for a time in the Royal Navy), merchant ship captain, and prisoner of war, none of which experiences had dented his evident practical good sense and intelligent seamanship. He rose rapidly to command of one of the ships of the Marine, the Guardian (28), and proved his capacity by defeating an attack by the ships of Tulaji Angre on a convoy he was escorting. The fleet was going from Bombay to Tellicherry when attacked; James put his three escort vessels in line-of-battle and sent the convoy onwards to its destination. Several of the Angre ships were sunk, and the seventy ships of the convoy all reached the Tellicherry destination. A man able to do this was valuable; he was soon promoted to Commodore and made commander-in-chief of the fleet.10 (So much, incidentally, for promotion by seniority.) This victory, together with some assiduous patrolling, kept the Angres mainly at home for the next few years, though Tulaji spent the time enlarging his fleet, including the construction of a ship of 74 guns. Meanwhile the 7

Ibid, 1.118. Ibid, 1.119–120, 122. 9 Ibid, 1.118, 122–123. 10 Ibid, 1.125–127. 8

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Peshwa of the Marathas, Balaji (1740–1761), the son and successor of Baji Rao, had contacted the Bombay President, Richard Bouchier, with a view to suppressing their mutual enemy Tulaji, who had in effect detached himself from Maratha authority. He had continued raiding by sea, though with less intensity than before. The suppression he had endured by the Marine’s assiduous patrolling had only made him more anxious than before to resume his activities. The new allies settled terms, by which they would first attack Tulaji’s fortress at Suvarnadrug, about halfway between Bombay and Goa. After victory, the Company would receive the island of Khanderi, and the land and villages around Bankot, thereby enlarging Bombay’s territory. Further allies were then gathered. The arrival from Britain late in 1755 of a new Royal Navy squadron commanded by Vice-Admiral Charles Watson was one. Watson had four lineof-battle ships and two smaller vessels with him, much the same force, that is, as those sent out before, such as those had been with Littleton and Matthews earlier in the century, or Peyton or Boscawen in the recent war. The French had originally intended to send out a squadron, but again changed their minds when Dupleix was ordered home. Watson brought out a regiment of the British Army, which was destined for Madras. Having arrived at Bombay, he was not averse to helping out while there. Before Watson’s ships arrived, James and his force of four small ships (Protector (44), Revenge, Bombay, and Guardian (all 28s) and two bomb vessels), had boldly entered Suvarnadrug harbour to investigate the strength of the fortress. He came to the conclusion that its fortifications actually only looked formidable, but were really vulnerable; they were of the curtain wall type, well able to fend off light arms, including even small cannon fire, but could be battered down by the heavy guns of James’ ships, and still more so by concentrated fire from Watson’s bigger ships and guns. Covered on land by a force of Maratha cavalry, which protected the ships from attack from the land side, James used his heavy guns to batter one particularly weak bastion, and his bomb vessels sent mortar fire and heavier bombs into the interior. Part of the parapet of the bastion was soon in ruins, then a lucky hit by one of the bombs on the fort’s magazine caused a fire and the explosion of the main magazine. The garrison soon surrendered. After years of assuming that the fortress was powerful – which was quite correct, in Indian terms – and invulnerable, which it was clearly not in the face of the Royal Navy’s heavy guns, it was conquered in a single day’s fighting.11 The capture of Survarnadrug was followed by an attack on Vijayadrug (also called Gheriah), a much more formidable proposition. This time there were fewer Marathas involved, but Watson’s squadron had now arrived and he joined forces with James. From Coromandel came Colonel Robert Clive, another warrior, like James, who had gained rapid promotion by displaying intelligence and capacity, and by winning victories. He and Watson and 11 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.129–131; Keay, Honourable Company, 266–267.

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James cooperated very well. James had boldly sailed into Vijayadrug harbour to make a quick survey, which, to his surprise he was allowed to do without interference or opposition. Presumably Tulaji or his fort commander did not understand his purpose. James had come to the conclusion that it was as vulnerable as had been Suvarnadrug. Clive had brought from the east coast a force of 800 European (the 79th Foot) and 1000 Indian soldiers – at last some sensible cooperation existed between Bombay and Madras. One notes that sea power – these forces, of course, came by sea – was being used sensibly. James had noted the depth of water in the harbour during his survey; it was deep enough for his and Watson’s ships to get close enough to the walls to bombard them effectively. Modern investigations have revealed that the fortress was equipped with an underwater breakwater, which was designed to prevent ships such as those of the Company and the Royal Navy, which required a deeper draft than the Indian ships, from approaching closely enough to bombard the walls. This defence may have been installed later than 1755, as a result of the experiences of the Suvarnadrug conquest, or, if it existed at the time of the attack, it was ineffective. The fortress, with three parallel circles of walls and two dozen bastions, was a formidable proposition.12 The hills on the mainland were also reckoned to be high enough and close enough to be used as artillery platforms. The Marathas had successfully captured a string of small ports held by Tulaji along the coast, and now took control there. This was the last of Tulaji’s forts, and the prospect of its loss sent him ashore to attempt to negotiate with Balaji. But Balaji could also see the prospect of conquest and Tulaji’s attempt at diplomacy was pre-empted by defeat. In the event any elaborate plans for assaults and bombardments were rendered null by the naval attack. Watson had a powerful force; the four line-of-battle ships – Kent (70) Cumberland (68), Tiger (60), and Salisbury (50), and two smaller ships, together with James’ four ships and four ghurabs – and these were joined by four ghurabs and fifty galivats of the Marathas. A company of artillery was carried as well. Tulaji, as his other ports and forts along the coast had been lost, had perforce concentrated all his vessels into Vijayadrug harbour. The initial fighting was therefore between the British ships and Tulaji’s ships – nine ghurabs and sixty galivats, all well-armed. These were blocked into the harbour by the British, and were lashed together to form a fighting platform, the intention evidently being to fight as if on land. The crucial moment was when one of Tulaji’s ships, a former Bombay ship called Resolution which he had captured, was set on fire, either deliberately to prevent its recapture, or in the course of the fighting. The fire spread to others of his ships, all the quicker since they were 12

The survey is reported in Sila Tripati et al., ‘Marine Archaeological Expedition and Excavation of Vijaydurg – A Naval Base of the Maratha period, Maharashtra, on the West Coast of India’, International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 27, 1998, 51, summarised in MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 108–109.

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lashed together, and the embers flew up into the fort, exploding the magazine, as at Suvarnadrug. The ships burned; the fire in the fort spread throughout the buildings and burned all night. There was, next morning, 14 February 1756, nothing more for the attacking force to do but gingerly occupy the still hot ruins. Once again one of the strongest fortresses India had been captured in a single day’s fighting.13 The Company received its reward, Barkot and Khanderi, extending its territory around Bombay to include the revenue-producing villages. The two Angre forts were handed on to the Marathas, who continued to maintain a small fleet – and installed that underwater defence at Vijayadrug. The marine ambition displayed by Tulaji – one of his ghurabs had 74 guns – was not taken up by the Maratha conquerors; in 1773 the Maratha fleet amounted to four ‘pals’, ships of 10 to 14 guns, and twenty smaller ships, ghurabs and galivats with four guns or less.14 This was a force sufficient for patrolling, but little else, and no threat to Bombay. This is the definitive event for maritime control in western India and beyond. The Bombay Marine had now achieved a degree of naval superiority in the Arabian Sea, having reduced the major threat of the Angres to the minor problem of the Marathas. Its ships were in the Persian Gulf to deter ‘piracy’ there and to protect ships visiting Gombroon (now rather declining in importance), and they patrolled the length of the Indian coast from Gujarat southwards. But the lesson of the Angres’ period of success, while lost on the Marathas, who became fully engaged with their problems on land, was noted by a new power developing in the south, the kingdom of Mysore, a surviving fragment of the former Hindu Vijayanagar Empire, which fell under the rule of a new and vigorous Muslim ruler, Haidar Ali Khan, who had displaced the former ruling Hindu dynasty about 1755, and called himself sultan. The two European powers involved in India, Britain and France, had fallen into a new war in Europe and America during 1756, and had both begun to build up their naval forces in the Indian Ocean. The French base was to be Mauritius, as in the previous war, but the British, who had sent out their force under Watson before the French, were based at Madras and Cuddalore, for it seemed that most of the action would take place in the Carnatic and off the Coromandel coast. Watson had also brought out the 39th Regiment of Foot under Colonel John Aldercron. They were not used at Vijayadrug, but were now taken round to Madras. They had been sent because news had arrived that the French were sending out their own forces, supposedly 3000 men. Admiral Watson, taking Colonel Clive and his soldiers and the 39th Foot with him, left Bombay late in April and reached Madras in May; Clive was Naval Resistance, 120–121; Low, Indian Navy, 1.133–136; Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.143–144; Keay, Honourable Company, 267–270; Nirad C. Chaudhuri, Clive of India, London 1975, 143–144 (very brief). 14 MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 121–123. 13 MacDougall,

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appointed deputy governor at Cuddalore. The Council at Madras had been planning an intervention in the affairs of Hyderabad, where Bussy was still in post with his sepoys and some French troops. (Incidentally this was clearly a local initiative, another indication that the Company men in India were acting on their own.) Then came news of trouble in Bengal, where fighting had begun between the forces of the Nawab Siraj ad-Dawla and those of the Company. This also concerned the Madras Council, which had a vague suzerainty over Calcutta, and which was the only presidency with a disposable force of soldiers. Watson was requested (he was a royal officer, so the Council could not order him) to go to Bengal’s assistance.15 The central place of Madras in the Company’s affairs in India is clear in these events of 1755–1756. It was the only post with an armed force available for use elsewhere in India; neither Bombay nor Calcutta controlled a serious military force, though Bombay did have its Marine. So in 1755 Watson had called first at Bombay when he arrived, and Clive and his soldiers sailed round from Madras, taking soldiers from Madras with him, and both participated in the capture of the Vijayadrug. Returning with the soldiers to Madras, Watson could intervene in Bengal from there. And the Council at Madras was certainly actively considering intervening in central India, using its armed forces to do so, as Clive well understood. This central military–naval position for Madras did not last, thanks to Clive’s actions in Bengal, which shifted the Company’s power centre there from 1757, but it was always the case that in naval terms the ships should be located in the south, so enabling them to intervene the more easily in other regions, East or West or South of India. For the same reason the French used Mauritius as their naval base, one from which other parts of the Indian Ocean could be reached, using the now-understood wind system. Watson agreed to go to Bengal on 21 September, after considerable discussions in the Madras Council, and on the news from Britain that war with France had not begun when the messenger ships had sailed, several months before. But then there was a disagreement between Clive and Colonel Aldercron, commanding the 39th Foot.16 Like Watson his royal commission put him in an independent position: the Madras Council’s persuasion had worked with Admiral Watson; it did not do so with Colonel Aldercron, who therefore has the reputation of an obstructive pest. No doubt he was interpreting his instructions strictly, and would object to serving under Clive, a Company officer. He certainly objected to Clive’s appointment – he had refused the job, as had two other more senior officers – and now he required that the stores belonging to his regiment, which were on board the ships, should be replaced by Company stores. At Madras this exchange necessarily took a long time, since the stores had to be lightered back and forth.

Royal Navy, 3.160–161; Chaudhuri, Clive of India, 145–146. Spelling here is a problem – Aldercron or Adlercorn; I prefer the former.

15 Clowes, 16

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The expedition, Watson’s four line-of-battle ships and some smaller vessels, at last reached Bengal in December, and sailed into the Hugli River as far as Futla, about halfway to Calcutta, by the middle of the month. (Cumberland (80) had to be left outside the river, having too deep a draught for the river). Watson’s ships, carrying Clive’s force, moved on to capture a series of small places and weak forts, first Fort Baj Baj (a capture initiated by the antics of a drunken sailor). The army under Clive was then landed and advanced in parallel with the ships towards Calcutta and Fort William, which was bombarded and taken on 2 January 1757. An attempt by the nawab to recover the town was defeated, and Clive and Watson turned to take Chandernagar, the French factory, the news of the French war having now reached them. Again a bombardment brought a swift capitulation. Intrigue and discussion and occasional fighting went on until July, but then Clive’s forces met and defeated those of the nawab at the battle of Plassey, and Bengal progressively fell under British control. Marines of the fleet, and part of the 39th Foot, Aldercron’s instructions having included that the regiment could be employed as marines, were also part of Clive’s forces. Admiral Watson died of fever soon after the victory.17 Watson had participated in all this under a number of threatening clouds. He had been ordered back to Britain a year earlier, in May 1756, but had decided to ignore the orders since they were so out of date and had been given in ignorance of the situation in India as it was developing. Before he sailed for Bengal he had heard of the approach of the French expedition, which was headed for Pondicherry. This force consisted of nine line-of-battle ships, one from the French Royal Navy – Zodiaque (74) – and the rest belonging to the French East India Company, whose ships were usually very well armed, and could be used as line-of-battle ships, at least in the Indian Ocean.18 The French fleet also brought out four battalions of European troops. The fleet commander, Comte Anne-Antoine d’Ache, however, did not agree with the proposals of the army commander, Lieutenant-General Thomas Lally, baron de Tollendal. The news that these ships had sailed persuaded the Admiralty in London to send out four more line-of-battle ships to assist Watson – Elizabeth (70), Yarmouth (70), Weymouth (60), and Newcastle (50) – under Commodore Charles Steevens. Meanwhile Watson’s flagship, Kent (70), had suffered much damage in Bengal and was effectively out of action; Watson’s place was taken by his second-in-command, Rear-Admiral George Pocock.19 In reply to Clive’s seizure of Chandernagar the French at Masulipatnam seized the Company’s post there. Meanwhile ships were on their way from both Britain and France to reinforce their respective small naval and military Royal Navy, 3.160–164; there are, of course, numerous accounts of these events; I concentrate on the naval aspects. 18 Dull, French Navy, 117. 19 Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.164; Dull, French Navy, 117. 17 Clowes,

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forces in India. The first to arrive was Captain Frogier de l’Equille with three line-of-battle ships from the royal French navy, Minotaure (74), Actif (64), and Illustre (64), together with Fortune (54) from the French East India Company. (The Admiralty sent another two ships, Grafton (68) and Sutherland (60)). Arriving at Pondicherry, the French ships drove off Commodore James who, with two small ships, Revenge from the Bombay Marine, and Triton (28) sent to him from Pocock’s fleet, had come round from Bombay and had instituted a blockade of the French port.20 Meanwhile, Commodore Steevens had arrived at Bombay with his four ships, but did not get round to Madras until March the following year (1758). The two British squadrons joined forces when Pocock’s ships arrived from Bengal; he then had seven line-of-battle ships. Less than a month later, d’Ache, with the ships from France and Mauritius, arrived off Pondicherry. He sent one line-of-battle ship to carry Lally to take up his post at Pondicherry, leaving him with eight. The British fleet arrived just as that detachment was made. After all this voyaging and joining and separating the two forces fought each other throughout 29 April. Both admirals had difficulty in gathering all their ships into the fighting line, and in persuading some captains to fight. Casualties were greater among the French, and one of d’Ache’s French Company ships, Bien-Aime (58), was so damaged and out of control that it drove ashore. On the whole, the battle was a draw, if anything.21 After Plassey, Clive sent Colonel Francis Forde and a detachment of troops by sea to Vizagapatnam, which had been taken from the French by the local rajah, a British ally; the aim was to recover Masulipatnam. This had been the plan made in Madras before he went to Bengal, and now it was useful as a way of preoccupying the French in the Sarkars and Hyderabad, especially since Bussy was recalled by Lally to the Carnatic. Forde proceeded to roll up the French position in the Sarkars, culminating in a pitched battle alongside the Rajah of Vizagapatnam at Rajamundry. This all took time, ranging over a campaigning field 500 miles long, but Forde retook Masulipatnam at the same time that the two fleets were fighting each other in the Bay. He then made a treaty with the Nizam of Hyderabad to expel all the French troops from his country. At one stroke the French position had been reduced to Pondicherry and little more. The British took possession of the Sarkars.22 The two fleets repaired their damages and collected manpower reinforcements to replace their casualties. Lally meanwhile captured Fort St David and Cuddalore, but then he turned south against Tanjore, whose Maratha ruler, Pratap Singh, was a British client. D’Ache determined to withdraw for the monFrench Navy, 116; Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.164; Triton was soon lost, burnt to prevent it being captured. 21 Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.174–178; Julian S. Corbett, The Seven Years’ War, London 1907, reprinted 2001, 259–261. 22 Chaudhuri, Clive of India, 258; Keay, Honourable Company, 342. 20 Dull,

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soon season to Mauritius, but when Pocock heard of this he sent the French admiral what amounted to a challenge, and d’Ache delayed his departure to respond. They met, after some manoeuvring, off Negapatam on 3 August, seven British ships against eight French, with the weight of guns also somewhat in the French favour. In the fighting the French ships suffered a series of accidents and critical damages, and d’Ache took them out of the battle late in the afternoon. After assessing the condition of his ships he resumed his intention of leaving for Mauritius.23 Pocock took his fleet to Bombay for the monsoon season; this was also the one place under British rule which had good dockyard and ship-repair facilities. In the Carnatic Lally was now without naval support; nevertheless he laid siege to Madras late in 1758. He could do this because the British fleet had left, and he clearly expected that the formal siege he conducted would ultimately succeed by its inexorable mathematical processes. However, his supply route from Pondicherry was harassed by a British force left at Chingleput, and Madras was resupplied from Bombay in February by a small fleet under Captain Richard Kempenfelt, and reinforced by a battalion of the 79th Foot under Colonel William Draper. At this Lally confessed defeat by breaking up the siege, leaving a good deal of his equipment behind when he withdrew. Kempenfelt’s relieving ships were all small, and laden with supplies; such a force – if that is a suitable word for it – would have been highly vulnerable to an enemy ship of any force and could only operate in the absence of d’Ache’s ships.24 Both admirals received significant reinforcements during the months of repair and replenishment in the monsoon season. Pocock received the two line-of-battle ships, Grafton (68) and Sunderland (60), which had been sent out months before; d’Ache received the three line-of-battle ships, Minotaure, Actif, and Illustre under Frogier de l’Eguille, which he had been expecting for some time. Both sides were making use of Dutch neutrality. D’Ache, short of supplies in Mauritius, sent ships to South Africa to buy more from the Dutch at Cape Town, and collected still more from Madagascar. Pocock had watered before at Trincomalee in Dutch Ceylon, and after waiting for several weeks at Madras for d’Ache to arrive, he did so again in July 1759. He had returned to Madras in April, but d’Ache, with farther to sail and having to wait much longer for his African supplies, did not arrive until August. D’Ache watered at Batticaloa in Ceylon, while Pocock was at Trincomalee. The two fleets came out almost together, and manoeuvred against each other for some time, but d’Ache, anxious to reach Pondicherry, broke contact. Pocock followed and caught up with the French off Pondicherry. The two fleets fought for the third time on 10 September, not far from Pondicherry. They fired at each other for eight hours; between them the two fleets suffered 2000 casualties to achieve no result. The French returned to lie off Pondicherry; Royal Navy, 3.178–181; Corbett, Seven Years’ War, 262–263. French Navy, 141; Keay, Honourable Company, 339–342.

23 Clowes, 24 Dull,

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the British repaired themselves close by at Negapatam. Pocock then returned to Pondicherry and lay off the port all day, in effect inviting d’Ache to come out to fight; the invitation was declined. Pocock took his ships to Madras for supplies and left for Bombay for the monsoon. On the way he met his replacement, Rear-Admiral Samuel Cornish, with three more line-of-battle ships. It was the news of the approach of these ships which convinced d’Ache to leave once more for Mauritius. There his fleet was virtually destroyed in a typhoon.25 The one line-of-battle ship under d’Ache’s command which survived the typhoon at Mauritius was commanded by Captain the Comte d’Estaing. He had Conde (50) and the Expedition (14), and he sailed to attack the Company’s position in the Persian Gulf, on the way capturing several ships.26 Cornish’s line-of-battle ships joined those which had remained after Pocock left, though Pocock had lost four of his ships to yet another typhoon.27 They were blockading Pondicherry, which Colonel Eyre Coote was besieging by land. The arrival of Cornish’s ships replenished the British force, and Pondicherry surrendered late in January.28 This completed the British conquest or capture of the French posts in southern India, Karikal, Jinji, and Thiagur in the Carnatic, and Mahe in the Malabar coast, had all been taken already. The fighting in India therefore ended, at least between the British and the French, but there was more for the Bombay Marine to do, and for the surviving French ships. Comte d’Estaing, detached on his raiding cruise, attacked the Company factory at Gombroon, bombarding it from his smallest ship, which was the only one able to get close enough to hit the fort. One of the Company’s ships, Speedwell, was seized and taken out of the harbour in a night-time raid, then burnt. The factory was defended by only a couple of dozen seamen and sepoys, and it quickly surrendered. D’Estaing himself was not in command, at least in theory, but he clearly was in fact. He was actually on parole after being captured and paroled at Madras and was travelling as a passenger, supposedly returning to France by way of Basra, though no one doubted that he was actually in command. Now he released his prisoners in exchange for his own release from parole.29 The factory at Gombroon was effectively destroyed; it had been declining in importance for some time, and this was almost the final blow. D’Estaing took his little squadron to a set of other isolated Company properties in Sumatra. There he first captured two small posts, Natal and Tappanuli, resupplied at the Dutch post at Padang, and went on to the main British post in the region, Bencoolen (Bengkulu), officially called Fort Marlborough. The fort was on the

Royal Navy, 3.197–199; Dull, French Navy, 141. French Navy, 141. 27 Clowes, Royal Navy, 225. 28 Dull, French Navy, 173; Sen, French in India, 31. 29 Low, Indian Navy, 1.152–153. 25 Clowes, 26 Dull,

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hill above the port,30 and was captured easily, at the first bombardment, and was then badly damaged. Like Gombroon this was a post the Company had kept on almost for traditional reasons, and because of an unwillingness to give anything up. It did produce a steady supply of pepper from well-tended plantations, but the costs were often greater than the revenue. The original intention had been that it would be a useful staging post on the route to China. This had not developed, for it was in the wrong place to reach either of the straits for access to the South China Sea.31 How useful all this minor French activity was is not certain, since the main issue of the war in the east was always India, and none of the places d’Estaing attacked was anything but marginal, but it certainly annoyed the British, and made the captain’s reputation. Those in India scoffed at the ‘siege’ of Gombroon, with its dozen men in the garrison, assailed by a regular siege and bombardment, but the campaign in Sumatra was not easy, and was certainly annoying. D’Estaing had been able to resupply at Padang, just as d’Ache had done at Batticaloa in Ceylon and the Cape of Good Hope, because in this war the Dutch were neutral; the British made use of such places as well. But this was the Indian Ocean, and the rules of European warfare did not strictly apply; the war was at base one between trading companies rather than their home states. The news of Clive’s victories and intrigues in Bengal had stimulated the interest of the Dutch East India Company in Java, and it was felt that the Dutch could emulate his achievement, at least in the way of intrigue. They already had a post in the Ganges delta at Chinsura, and from there they contacted the Nawab of Bengal at his capital at Murshidabad, who seriously considered their proposal to assist him but decided to wait to see how the Europeans’ contest came out. He already knew about Clive, which was enough to make anybody careful. Warren Hastings, the agent at Murshidabad, kept Clive fully informed about Dutch (and French) intrigues. The Dutch sent an expedition of seven of their company’s ships with a detachment of troops, Europeans, Malays, and sepoys. It sailed into the Hugli River, but Clive knew of it before it became established. He took it very seriously, fearing that if it succeeded in detaching the nawab from the British alliance all his own work could unravel. He blunted their progress, sending ships (under Captain Wilson of the Company) to interrupt the Dutch ships’ advance, carefully using only Company ships. The Dutch landed their soldiers, but the ships were then captured. The troops, and the factory at Chinsura, were then defeated and captured by Colonel Francis Forde in a sufficiently decisive Patrick Crowhurst, The Defence of British Trade, 1689–1815, London 1977, 237– 240. 31 For descriptions of the place now see Nigel Barley, The Duke of Puddle Dock, London 1991, and P.M. Schnitger, Forgotten Kingdoms of Sumatra, Singapore 1989, 155–157. 30

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way as to end all Dutch ambitions on the spot. A peace agreement followed, with the Dutch paying compensation and then receiving back their captured ships. Chinsura was to be allowed to continue trading, but it was disarmed and its fortifications destroyed – in this it was treated in the same way as the French post at Chandernagar.32 Clive’s careful, if decisive, activities in the face of the Dutch expedition had preserved what peace there had been. By using their companies’ ships and troops, both sides showed clearly that they were fully conscious of the international ramifications of their dispute, and neither had any wish to bring their home countries to the point of war. Dutch neutrality in this war was one more stage in that country’s move away from being a firm British military and naval ally towards an alliance with France. The British–Dutch connection had been weakening for the previous generation, and the Dutch had been only a very reluctant participant in the Austrian Succession War. They were to be at war with Britain in the later European wars from 1780 to 1815. Had Clive been more brutal, and less fastidious, in his treatment of the Dutch in Bengal it is clearly possible that the shift into hostility might have begun there and then. But it was clear that Dutch neutrality was useful to both sides in this eastern war. D’Estaing’s presence in the Indonesian islands had immediate repercussions for the Company’s China trade. The year before, in 1759, Captain Wilson had, with much courage, diplomacy, and careful seamanship, pioneered the new route to Canton, and had produced charts for the voyage which could be copied at Madras and at Canton. For 1760 the captains of the ships going to China were ordered to go by his islands’ route rather than through the South China Sea. The Dutch, already annoyed, of course, by the events in Bengal and at their defeat there, took exception to this use of ‘their’ waters. The Warwick (499) was stopped off Tidore in 1761 by an official who claimed that because the islands were Dutch, so were the seas. The captain, and the Company, ignored this claim, though the Dutch did destroy one of the bases the Company established on a small island off the western end of New Guinea.33 Another imperial state which had remained neutral so far in this war was Spain. Unlike the Dutch, who cannily employed their company’s ships and men to probe the British position, Spain decided in 1761 to join in the war actively. As it turned out, this was a disastrous decision, primarily the result of French harping on about the Family Compact, an informal alliance between the two branches of the Bourbon family. The British, with some relish, set about their traditional practice of attacking Spanish colonies, but in this case with much more success than ever before; in America Florida and Cuba were conquered; in the east an expedition was launched against the Spanish PhilipClive of India, 259–260; the usefulness of Dutch neutrality is illustrated in that Clive sent a substantial part of his personal fortune to Europe in a Dutch ship, which would normally be safe from capture. 33 Crowhurst, Defence, 228–233. 32 Chaudhuri,

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pines. This made a certain amount of sense now that Captain Wilson (who had also been active in driving back the Dutch ships in the Hugli) had pioneered the ‘new’ route to China. This took the Company’s China ships – those which followed the new route, that is – past or through the Philippine archipelago; with Spain at war, this was now a dangerous route, despite the absence of any serious Spanish naval power in the islands. Actually the idea of the raid came from a suggestion by Colonel William Draper in India, who had spent some idle time investigating conditions in the islands, and the Spanish ability to defend them; he related the plan to Admiral Anson at the Admiralty on a visit to London. Anson was, after all, one of the few – vanishingly few – British sailors who knew anything about the Philippines after his trans-Pacific voyage in the previous war. Capturing the islands, or at least Manila, would certainly cut the valuable trade between Mexico and the Philippines, a legitimate wartime measure; the prospect of the capture of another Spanish treasure ship was no doubt also in the forefront of all minds. The expedition was entrusted, of course, to Colonel Draper, who took his own regiment, the 79th Foot (600 men), 300 Company troops, and a company of artillery, and supplemented these in the landing force with 1000 seamen and marines from the ships. The naval contingent, under Rear-Admiral Cornish, consisted of seven line-of-battle ships, two frigates, and two sloops. This was almost the whole of the Royal Naval force in India; the expedition could only have been mounted once the French naval presence had been eliminated, as it had been by the Mauritius typhoon. Draper’s plan was accepted in a rush of enthusiasm by the British Cabinet at the same time as they agreed to the attack on Havana (commanded by Admiral Pocock).34 The expedition sailed from Madras on 1 August 1762, called at Malacca (another Dutch port) for water and supplies, and reached Manila on 23 September. The Seahorse (20) was sent in advance to intercept any ships heading for Manila who might warn the Spaniards, so they had not even heard of the outbreak of war when the expedition arrived. The troops’ landing was therefore unopposed, and when the artillery was in place and two of the line-ofbattle ships had been brought in for flanking fire, the bombardment began. A breach made, it was stormed, and soon after the citadel, including the governor, was surrendered. The surrender terms covered all the islands. The fighting had taken little more than a week. There followed a demand for the ransom for the city in lieu of a sack and looting, and the capture of another treasure galleon leaving for Acapulco – though the ship which arrived from Mexico was missed (it was hidden successfully amid the islands). There followed much Spanish procrastination, and many quarrels amongst the British about the distribution of prize-money – business as usual, therefore, on both sides. The final settlement of these matters was interrupted by the news that peace had been made, after which the 34 Corbett,

Seven Years’ War, 545, 549–550.

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Spaniards simply refused to pay any further ransom, and denied the right of the British to loot (not that this stopped them). The East India Company made a claim against the British government for its expenses.35 In western India the Bombay Marine had been victorious against the old Angre enemy, but the reduction of the Angres’ fortresses and their transfer to the Marathas, whose fleet was relatively small, left a whole series of other matters which had to be attended to in its region. The Bombay Marine turned to suppressing other groups of ‘pirates’ when they appeared. In the north this should have been the work of the Sidi, the Admiral of the Mughal Emperor. The latter, however, had faded into insignificance after the sack of Delhi in 1739, and the Sidis were therefore fading as well. By 1759, the surviving Sidi, with only a small set of vessels, was based at Surat, where he fell into dispute with the Nawab Novas Ali Khan, another Mughal official who was largely cut loose by the empire’s collapse. The two of them, in effect, had become predators on the trade of the city; the Sidi was failing to exercise his protective functions, nor did the nawab exercise his governmental functions with any diligence. They were quarrelling, in effect, over the revenue to be expected from the trade which still passed through Surat in some quantity. The Company and the Dutch East India Company both had factories there, and their trade was clearly endangered. The dispute turned violent in 1758 when the Sidi seized the city and appointed a new nawab. Right on cue, the displaced nawab, Novas Ali, appealed to the Company in Bombay, which seized the opportunity of imposing itself on the city. A small fleet of five ships and a force of 2000 soldiers was dispatched. They laid siege to the city, pounding the wall with fire from two 24-pounders. The Sidi relied, not without good cause, on the city walls for his protection, and made little other active resistance. After a few days’ bombardment, with no impression made on the wall, the Bombay Marine’s ships came up and enfiladed the defences of the wall. A landing was made, commanded by Commodore John Watson, who was the senior officer of the Marine now that Commodore James had left. The landing succeeded in capturing the town and the nawab’s palace. The nawab was thus reinstated by his ally, but he had handed over his power to the Company in exchange. The nawab’s troops joined with the Marine’s soldiers in attacking the Sidi in the citadel, and he then also surrendered, accepting in compensation an estate on which he could retire; two of the Company’s enemies were thus eliminated at one stroke.36 Surat therefore now became the Company’s, another piece of India taken over thanks to its interference in another inter-Indian dispute. It also inherited the post of the Mughal Emperor’s Admiral from the Sidi; one of the officers 35

The documentary record of the expedition, and the Spanish records, are collected in Nicholas P. Cushner (ed.), Documents Illustrating the British Conquest of Manila, 1762–1763, Camden 4th Series, 8, London 1971. 36 Low, Indian Navy, 1.148–150.

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of the Marine held the post every year for the next seventy (at a salary of no less than £10,000), but at least he patrolled the river and kept down the local pirates. That salary came out of the customs’ revenues. The difference from the predation by the Sidi and the nawab was perhaps no more than a careful bureaucratic accounting; it cost the Company a little less, perhaps.37 The nawabs continued to enjoy their office with little effort or responsibility, as did the Sidi’s family on their estate. The Company, four years after eliminating Kanhoji Angre and two years after securing the revenues of Bengal, had taken over yet another patch of India. Not only is this war notable for the beginning of the British conquest of India – Surat, the Sarkars, Bengal – even if by way of financial shenanigans – Bengal, Surat (as might be expected of a trading company) – it was also the occasion of the imposition of Royal Naval control over the Indian Ocean. This was, of course neither overt nor permanent, as the next fifty years of wars would show, but from now on it was up to other states to challenge that dominance, and for the Royal Navy to defend it. The cooperation of Company ships, ships and commanders of the Bombay Marine, and the great ships of the Royal Navy, had been created during the several wars which had gone on – against the Angres, against the French, against the Dutch, at Surat, in the Philippines. This cooperation had been, if at times acrimonious, at least generally successful, helped of course by the fiction that the Company was operating as an independent agent. The basic conditions for nautical domination in the Indian Ocean were set. The only up-to-date dockyard in the ocean was the Company’s, at Bombay; the Company’s ships traded in Africa, in the Red Sea, in the Persian Gulf, in all the Indian seas, in China, and, increasingly, now that Captain Wilson had made the breakthrough, in Indonesia. The major base was India, where even control of a few ports had been sufficient to establish British domination of the local seas; other countries’ bases – the French at Mauritius and Pondicherry, the Dutch in Java and Ceylon and Cape Town – were politically, commercially, and geographically peripheral to the centre of power that had to be located at India. That is, the British had replaced the Dutch, who had overtaken the Portuguese (who had displaced the Arabs), as the dominant sea powers in the ocean; that history suggested that the British dominance would also be only temporary (though it lasted almost two centuries, in contrast to the centuries for the Portuguese and for the Dutch). Meanwhile new wars threatened, and the new dominant force would have to fight to maintain that dominance.

37

Ibid, 151.

6 The French Threat Continues (1763–1782) As if to deny the victories of the Seven Years’ War, the British Admiralty recalled back to Britain all the Royal Navy ships in the Indian Ocean when the war was over. This did not happen all at once, but the big ships were recalled by 1764, leaving two frigates and one sloop in 1765; only one frigate was left the following year, and this was withdrawn in 1767. This was part of an extreme programme of cost reduction, aimed at reducing the National Debt, but it reduced the Royal Navy to little more than its frigates and smaller ships.1 The maritime wing of the Company was thus once more only the Bombay Marine, without any support from larger ships of the Royal Navy. Its capture of Surat, and its participation in the events of the recent war had shown that the Marine was capable of activity on a small scale by itself, but its ships were still small and were not numerous. It was, in fact, capable of little more than local campaigns against coastal towns along the Indian west coast, unless it was supported by bigger ships. These might be forthcoming from the great trading ships, but not always. It was not long before the absence of the Royal Navy was felt, and requests for support were dispatched to London. The Marine would rarely act aggressively. Instead it reacted to what was seen as a threat – its purpose, after all, was the defence of Bombay and the trading ships, and no more, though this did include overseeing the Company’s establishments overseas. In other words, the driving forces of Indian history which were the greater events in the interior were not its, or Bombay’s, direct concern. Those conflicts were beginning to sort out the new political condition of the country after the Mughal Empire’s disintegration; how far the Company should become involved was a question. For the Bombay Council this meant watching the actions of the Peshwa of the Marathas, based in the hills above Bombay at Pune, and the rise of the kingdom of Mysore. Both of these were neighbours to the Bombay Presidency’s coastal factories and posts. The Mysore dynasty was a long line of Hindu rajahs (originating in 1399) who had been a constituent part of the Vijayanagar Empire until it collapsed. The dynasty had survived the imperial collapse, and had been beginning to lead the revival of Hindu power in the south, just as the Marathas were doing 1

Sir Herbert Richmond, The Navy in India, 1763–1783, London 1931, reprinted 1993, 34–36.

101

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so in the centre. It devolved, however, into a disabled king and a child in the 1750s, with the result that, as had happened with the Marathas, the chief ministers had succeeded to the political power, and had become dynastic in their turn, but, again as with the Peshwas, without removing the old dynasty. The curious result therefore was that all the Indian states of the south were ruled by deputies – Arcot and Hyderabad by deputies of the emperor; Mysore and the Marathas by chief ministers in the room of kings. The same could even be said of the British and French companies, whose headquarters were on another continent. In 1755 Haidar Ali, a Muslim, seized power in Mysore as the Minister-ruler. He was ambitious and began aggressively extending his power over the ports along the Malabar coast. The threat of a rival to the maritime authority of the Bombay Marine developed quickly. Haidar Ali, at Onore (Homawar) and Mangalore (renamed Jalalabad, but now Magaluru once more) began developing a navy, clearly inspired by the fifty-year career of Kanhoji and Tulaji Angre; at the same time, at the Maratha fortified ports of Malwan and Rairee, sea activity by those whom the Bombay Council decried as ‘pirates’ was continuing. In fact, these last two ports were part of the lands of the Sawantwari, vassals of the Marathas, whose narrow coastal lands between the coast and the Western Ghats virtually impelled them to take to the sea. Part of their activities, like those of the Marathas, involved the capture of ships passing their coasts, though both tended to avoid the larger Company ships. The Bombay Marine attacked the two Sawantwari strongholds, Malwan and Rairee, and imposed a peace treaty requiring the payment of an ‘indemnity’ and the destruction of the warships which had survived the fighting. This was done, but as soon as the Marine withdrew, construction of new ships began again; these could be described as fishing craft, but they could also be quickly converted into raiding vessels. The Sawantwari continued, on a minor scale, their ‘piracies’ for the next half-century.2 The Sawantwari territories ran for twenty or thirty miles along the coast north from Goa. (The Portuguese were often their allies.) South of Goa the coast was becoming Mysorean, as that kingdom expanded to absorb smaller independent places. Haidar Ali had begun constructing his own navy at Mangalore and Onore, no doubt inspired by the successes of the Bombay Marine, which looked on at his naval activities with its usual suspicion.3 Inland, the three main southern Indian powers, Mysore, the Nizam of Hyderabad, and the Nawab of Arcot, performed a diplomatic and military dance which involved the first two attempting to unseat the third, who was an ally of the British Company in Madras. The success of Haidar Ali in the land fighting persuaded the nizam, threatened by the Marathas on his northern flank, and Naval Resistance, 128–129. Denys Forrest, Tiger of Mysore: The Life and Death of Tipu Sultan, London 1917, 34–35.

2 MacDougall, 3

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somewhat dismayed by the martial abilities of the Mysorean forces, to switch sides. Haidar Ali was nonetheless able to force the Company to make peace, when his army camped in the suburbs of Madras.4 The Nawab of Arcot, Muhammad Ali, did survive, though he was even more under British suzerainty than ever. On the west coast, the Bombay Marine involved itself in the war, and used it to capture the Mysorean naval bases, in the process capturing forty or so ghurabs and thirty galivats. This was thought to have crippled Haidar Ali’s naval ambitions for the future.5 The sea campaign was assisted by the defection of many of the Mysorean ships’ captains at Onore who had been in dispute with Haidar Ali. Garrisons were put into the two fortresses, but Haider Ali turned up with his army and recaptured both places with ease, the garrison of Mangalore fleeing Sawantwari as soon as the Mysore army appeared.6 This futile expedition, like that against the Sawantwari, is another sign that the Bombay Presidency, despite its earlier cooperation with Madras, was pursuing its own policy, acting as an independent power. The growth of Mysorean power had now necessarily brought both the Bombay and Madras Councils into a sort of alliance, though they were not really capable of cooperation unless a greater power – such as a Royal Naval admiral, or a commanding general – compelled them. Meanwhile, Bombay operated its own policy. In 1772 it launched an attack on the city of Bharoach, a little north of Surat, in pursuit of a dispute with the local nawab. The attack was defeated and the expedition had to be repeated. The city was eventually captured, the Bombay Marine carrying the troops to the war. The council now turned its attention to the islands of the archipelago surrounding Bombay Island; in non-Company hands their proximity was a constant threat, and their territory would be exceptionally useful as a source of supplies for the growing city. If they were anybody’s, they belonged to the Marathas. It so happened that the succession to the Peshwa was in dispute at the time, so the Council intervened, offering support to the candidate who was out of power, Rahunath Rao, in exchange for the desired islands. The Portuguese at Goa apparently heard of this Bombay plan. They had originally possessed two of the places the Council wanted, Salsette Island and Bassein, a port on the mainland, and retained a claim on them – Bassein had only recently been taken by the Marathas. They organised a maritime expedition of their own, which was designed to seize these places before the Bombay expedition set out, and in fact the Portuguese turned up in Bombay harbour only a day after the Bombay expedition sailed to seize the places. These were secured, the Marathas were defeated, and the Portuguese foiled. Another of the Bombay expedition’s objects was the mainland post of Tanna, another former Portuguese post. The assault was successful, but the victory was marred by the 4

Ibid, 33–34. Indian Navy, 1.153–154. 6 Ibid. 5 Low,

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massacre of the Maratha garrison, and by the death of Commodore Watson.7 Two of the Marine’s ships, Revenge and Bombay, classed reputedly as a frigate and a ghurab, fought a Maratha fleet of twenty-three ships, ranging from galivats to the Shumsher Jung (46 guns); the inept tactics of the Marathas made their ships easy victims for the better-handled Marine ships.8 The interference of Bombay in the Maratha succession dispute began an exceedingly complex series of campaigns and intrigues and negotiations which made it clear that Bombay had taken on a task it could not complete. This also opened the way for the revival of French influence in India, and in the end the council had to acknowledge that it would no longer be able to act autonomously. The Governor-General in Calcutta from 1772, Warren Hastings, though burdened by a persistent opposition group in his own council, was able, by exploiting Bombay’s mistakes, to impose, if distantly, his authority on the Bombay Council. The series of wars between 1756 and 1780 among the several southern Indian polities, among which the Company’s presidencies of Bombay and Madras must be counted, had the characteristic of internal disputes which attracted external influences and interferences in all of them – by or in Mysore, the Carnatic, Hyderabad, the Marathas, Goa, and Bombay. It took a master intriguer to come out of this complex situation with advantages, and there were two such men involved, Haidar Ali and Warren Hastings. The next phase of Indian history, almost inevitably, involved the collision of these two. The Bombay Marine became involved, through the insistence of other authorities, in the affairs of the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, rather expanding its sphere of authority, though it had some interest already at Gombroon. In both areas it was called on to take measures which were thought to be necessary to protect the Company’s interests. In Yemen the problem was the result of a riot in Mocha provoked by a ship’s captain whose slave had run away; the captain found him and flogged him, doing so in the public street. Since the boy had converted to Islam in order to gain local protection, the captain swiftly found his belongings stolen in a mob sacking of the Company’s factory. In an action all too common in the next century or so, the reaction in India was to send two Marine armed ships to threaten a bombardment. This was bought off by a bribe of 4000 dollars. One may note that the captain was in the wrong, deserved what he got, and that the reputation of the Bombay Marine was now less than savoury in the Red Sea lands.9 The Company’s ships traded at Mocha for the local coffee, which preceded tea as the fashionable non-alcoholic beverage in London. Jeddah, halfway along the Arabian coast northwards was another Red Sea trading destination. In formal terms non-Muslim ships were barred from trading there at times 7 8 9

Ibid, 1.156. Ibid, 1.156–157. Ibid, 1.161.

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since it was the port for the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, but the Company’s goods were valued, especially food and spices. Neither of these trades was large, but they were sufficiently profitable to be continued. At the north end of the Red Sea, Egypt went through a coup d’état in 1766, in which one of the Mamluk lords, who collectively controlled the country under the suzerainty of the Ottoman Sultan, seized local power and made himself free of Ottoman authority. This appeared to open Egypt to trade, and in particular to a possible communication route connecting London with India – by sea to Alexandria, by land to Suez, by sea to India. This was called the ‘overland’ route. Since the growth of British power in India, the year-long period of communication between India and Britain had come to seem awkward and restrictive, especially in time of war. The route through Egypt cut the time for messages in half, to three months each way. Warren Hastings showed particular interest, and sent a ship to Suez to discover the Egyptian attitude. The word got out, and other ships sailed there, assuming that Egypt was now open to trade. In London the East India Company was hostile, since sending trade through Egypt would be outside its control, and would break its monopoly; cheaper goods could be introduced to the Indian area. Nevertheless messages got through more or less easily, and this the Company did like. By 1777 the route was working with some efficiency; the Company used it for messages while remaining hostile to actual trade. This innovation, however, relied on the continued existence of the breakaway regime in Egypt, and this began to crumble, so that by 1776 Ottoman rule had been reimposed. The Ottoman government had always been hostile to the use of Suez and the Red Sea by others, and had repeatedly issued decrees prohibiting the presence of Christian shipping north of Jeddah. The use of the armed sloop Swallow (14) to bring dispatches from India to Suez made Ottoman condemnation the more angry, since the Sultan was even less welcoming of armed ships into his seas than Christian merchant vessels. By about 1780 the overland route had been closed down. (Swallow was sold to the Danish East India Company.) The fact that the route had worked briefly, however, and the instability of Egypt, helped to attract the attention of Europe.10 In the Persian Gulf the Bombay Marine and the Company had long been involved, most recently in the suppression and destruction by d’Estaing of its factory at Gombroon. This was largely replaced by a factory located at Basra, which was in Ottoman territory, as Ottoman trade became more valuable than Persian. The Gulf was another area of instability which drew in the ships of the Marine, first against a rebel against Persia who turned pirate, then to Basra when that city was attacked and besieged by a Persian army. The pirate proved to be particularly difficult to remove; he eventually faced an internal rising, fled, was captured, and executed. The war at Basra included Persian naval ex10

H.L. Hoskins, British Routes to India, New York 1928, 5–25.

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peditions which the Company’s ships in the Shatt el-Arab drove away. That is, the Company had taken the Turkish side; and yet the Persians won the war. If the Turks thought they had a working alliance with the Company they were wrong; having removed themselves from the scene of war and seen the Persian victory, the Company’s ships left the scene.11 The period of the Seven Years’ War and the decade or so following, therefore, saw the Company and its Bombay Marine extend their activities – military, naval, and trading – west to the Red Sea and Egypt, north-west to the head of the Persian Gulf and Mesopotamia, east to the Philippines and China, and into Indonesian waters with the new route to China. The minimal Bombay Marine was becoming one of the major maritime powers of the Indian Ocean, and was based on just two polities, Bombay and Madras, which were in effect city-states; in this they resembled the Portuguese system, also based on coastal cities, Goa, Malacca, Mombasa. The Bengal Presidency was, by contrast, overwhelmingly concerned with internal Indian affairs. The Bombay Marine was able to extend itself so widely only because it faced no European naval opposition. Its use of small ships is reminiscent of the pre-Portuguese period, when it was the small Arab ships which plied these waters; it may be concluded that this was the default position of Indian Ocean sea power and warships, and that the larger warships of the Europeans counted as temporary intruders. It is easy to forget in these extensive events that the Company in London was still thinking of itself mainly as a trading concern, and this attitude is reflected in the essentially short-term calculations of the Madras and Bombay Councils. But trading companies have fluctuations in their fortunes, and the Company went through one of those in the early 1770s. It was close to bankruptcy at times, partly because of the corrupt and greedy activities of its own servants in India, inspired by Clive’s acquisition of great wealth, who diverted a large part of the product into their own possession, and happily accepted bribes from Indian rulers. In 1773 the Company was bailed out by the British government, and in exchange the government took on powers to control the Company. The Regulating Act of 1773 was the legal instrument which Warren Hastings used to enforce his authority over Bombay. These were scarcely detailed in the Act, but in the hands of a forceful Governor-General its vagueness became the foundation of his new power. From now on the Governor-General in Calcutta had become the controlling voice in British India. In London the government had similarly vague authority with regard to the Board of Directors, but could exert much more pressure on them by sheer proximity. But nothing was clear. The Act by its vagueness had in fact set up a continuing dispute over the extent of the Governor-General’s authority, and in London that of the government there over the Company – which naturally resisted the change. But the result was inevitably to be in the government’s favour, once it had a clear view of what it wished for – direct control over the Company in London, which would 11 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.161–172.

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therefore give it at least some control over Indian affairs. This eventually came in 1783–1784 with a new Act, passed under a more clear-headed Prime Minister, William Pitt (grandson of a former and successful Governor of Madras – ‘Diamond’ Pitt) when he was also free of the American War.12 As ever, the distances involved – six months for a letter to travel one way, and six months for a reply to be received – meant that, even after the 1784 Act, officials in India remained largely in local control of events. It was Warren Hastings who insisted that Bombay withdraw from its Maratha War, even though the Directors in London had signified their approval, and had suggested that the attempt could be made to gain control of the Bombay Archipelago in the first place. That part of the Company’s affairs which pertained to the China trade, however, still remained largely separate, probably because it did not involve wars and political disputes with European rivals. It was also becoming the prime source of profit for the Company, as the demand for tea steadily expanded. In India, despite coming into possession of Bengal, the wealthiest part of the country, the Company discovered that administering an empire was an expensive business, while much of its profits were being siphoned off into its own servants’ pockets – hence in part the near-bankruptcy. Importing tea and such things as porcelain dishes and Chinese silks, turned out to be more profitable. (And not only for the Company; a good half of the tea consumed in Britain had been brought to Europe by other countries’ ships and then smuggled into Britain.)13 The problem of financing the trade, which had long involved payments of silver to Chinese merchants, was being partly solved by the exports of tin, mined in Cornwall, and of opium and cotton cloth, produced in India. The China trade was generally peaceful, disputes were minor, and the procedures on both sides of the counter were by now well understood. Occasional hiccups in the process, mainly personal disputes, did not seriously interfere with the trade.14 The products on both sides began to vary, and equalised in value, with Indian cotton being increasingly accepted in China in much the same way that opium was, if in fairly small quantities until about the end of the century. In this late eighteenth-century period the Chinese authorities were attempting to impose greater control and restrictions on the European trade, while at the same time that trade was becoming more concentrated into British ships. This change began the process which would lead to tension later. By then access to China had become more convenient and understood, more products became involved in the trade – sea otter furs from the North Pacific 12 Keay, Honourable Company, ch. 17; Chaudhuri, Clive of India, part 3; P.J. Marshall,

East Indian Fortunes, Oxford 1976; P.J. Marshall, Problems of Empire: Britain and India 1757–1813, London 1968 is a useful collection of documents; Keith Feiling, Warren Hastings, Hanover, CT 1967, chs 8 and 9. 13 Cranmer-Byng and Wills, ‘Trade and Diplomacy’, 198–210; F.P. Robinson, The Trade of the East India Company from 1709 to 1813, Cambridge 1912, ch. 5. 14 Cranmer-Byng and Wills, ‘Trade and Diplomacy’, 239–241.

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waters, for example – and the quantity of shipping involved increased as the prospects of profit expanded. The process perhaps had begun with Commodore Anson’s arrival in Canton in 1744, which certainly did nothing to dissuade trade. He arrived, of course, after having crossed the Pacific Ocean, and he was only one of a number of trans-Pacific voyagers from several countries in the first half of the eighteenth century. After the Seven Years’ War was over Britain and France both set about a more systematic process of exploration of the ocean. In 1764 Captain John Byron (a survivor of Anson’s voyage) having looked at and located the Falkland Islands, and decided that another supposed South Atlantic island (‘Pepys’ Island’), did not exist, then circumnavigated. He crossed the Pacific by the usual route, through the Strait of Magellan, then north and on to a path a little north of east, to reach the vicinity of the Philippines. This was the same track, more or less, which almost everyone else since Magellan had used, dictated largely by the winds and currents. (Byron was then placed in the post of commander-in-chief of the diminishing Royal Navy fleet in India for a year or so.) He was followed by Captain Samuel Wallis and Lieutenant Philip Carteret, who began by sailing in company, but became separated once they got to the Strait; both continued independently and circumnavigated, following much the same path as Byron. The French Captain Louis Antoine de Bougainville, sailing about the same time, deliberately sought to rediscover the islands found by the Spaniards two centuries before. In the process he found Tahiti and the Great Barrier Reef, amongst other places, though the reef blocked his possible discovery of the Australian East Coast. He overtook Carteret, who was in the old and near broken-down ship Swallow. When they met Bougainville pretended he was on a French East India Company ship from Sumatra, though one of his sailors told a British sailor who spoke French where they had really been. Bougainville’s obfuscation was a clear sign that the European rivalry which existed in Europe and India was applying also in the Pacific.15 These four voyages all took place in the years 1764–1769, Carteret’s being the last to return to port. By then the problem of the Pacific had become defined. First, there was the track they had all roughly followed, which compelled the ships to keep well to the northward along the line of the equator, more or less. Second, were the many islands which were ‘discovered’, which might be islands, some of them mountainous, but equally might be the capes of a larger land. And then there was the record of the earlier voyages, those of the Spaniards in the sixteenth century, and that of Tasman and other Dutch mariners in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, whose records had to be added to those of these more recent eighteenth-century voyages; all of them, having Exploration, ch. 9; for Bougainville, see Jacques Brosse, Great Voyages of Discovery: Circumnavigators and Scientists, 1764–1843, trans. Stanley Hochman, New York 1983, for a French view of these expeditions.

15 Beaglehole,

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kept to much the same track (except Tasman) meant they were ‘discovering’ and rediscovering the same places, and then giving them different names.16 The theory which developed and which was publicised particularly by Alex­ ander Dalrymple in 1769 (though his account was written before 1767), was that there was a ‘great southern continent’.17 This was delimited by joining up the dots on the map formed by the discovered or sighted or assumed islands, and which were taken to be evidence of the continent. Its western coast was New Holland, fairly well known to sailors and geographers, and it was thought the continent might extend eastwards as far east as close to South America. If so it was a very large continental area, and was likely to be rich in resources, and well worth locating and seizing. The theory did ignore some inconvenient facts, such as Tasman’s discovery of New Zealand, and the weather system of the southernmost Pacific, but it seemed to fit most of the known information, with a bit of prodding and teasing. Actually finding this continent, however, was unlikely if the discoverers’ ships approached through the Magellan Straits, since the currents and winds took them northwards at once. The approach must now be from the west. This was to be the task of Captain James Cook, the master navigator, and the most accomplished explorer of them all. There is little point in detailing his voyages, since there are plenty of accounts describing them.18 In effect, he demolished the great southern continent theory on his first voyage (which in fact followed the traditional route). He did so by calling at, and sailing round and accurately charting, New Zealand (discovered originally by Tasman), and sailing along the east coast of Australia, at first south of, and then within the Barrier Reef, already noted by Bougainville. He therefore demonstrated that New Zealand and Australia were separate islands and had no connection with any other continent. On his second voyage he showed that the South Pacific was in fact littered with islands, many of which his predecessors had found, sometimes more than once, and he sailed all over the sea where the great southern continent had been supposed to be. On his third voyage, from 1776 onwards, he located the north-west coast of North America, sailed through the Bering Strait and showed it only led to the north polar icecap, and thereby demolished the theory of an accessible NorthWest Passage through to the Atlantic;19 he also found the Hawaiian Islands, The Spanish Lake, discusses the Spanish discoveries; for the Dutch voyages see tenBruggencate, Dutch Pacific Voyages. 17 Alexander Dalrymple, An Account of the Discoveries made in the South Pacifick Ocean previous to 1764, London 1967; Fry, Alexander Dalrymple, ch. 5. 18 Notably Beaglehole, Exploration. 19 See the several essays in James R. Bennett and David L. Nicandi (eds), Arctic Ambitions: Captain Cook and the Northwest Passage, Seattle 2015, and Nigel Rigby, Peter Van der Merwe, and Glyn Williams, ‘“Acquiring a more Complete Knowledge”, George Vancouver in the North Pacific’, in Pacific Explorations, Voyages of Discovery from Captain Cook’s Endeavour to the Beagle, London 2018, 178–198. 16 Spate,

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where he was killed. After his death, his captains, and later George Vancouver notably, continued his work; it was perhaps the most notable tribute to Cook himself, that they did so. They coasted along the coast of Siberia and Japan. His voyages left only details to be explored, and opened the Pacific and its coasts to commercial exploitation, including the sea otter fur trade, and to political expansion. These explorations, above all those by Cook, at last fixed the issue of the great southern continent by abolishing it, but, in compensation for its non-­ existence, there was the revelation of a fertile Australia, and of a fertile New Zealand in a latitude which promised a climate most congenial to Europeans. The potential for settlement, and the exploitation of new resources, was of interest; the potential for expanding political power was perhaps even greater, for example in the extension of French influence into the Pacific. Carteret’s encounter with Bougainville had already suggested this. But while Cook was on his last voyage the political conditions in Europe had changed, and France was about to gain its revenge for its defeat in the previous war. In the collision of the Bombay Council with the succession dispute to the Peshwa in the early 1770s it had been understood that a French agent had arrived at Pune. Soon there were more rumours of French intrigues elsewhere in India. Extra troops and ships arrived at Mauritius, agents were said to be in Mysore, others were rearming and re-fortifying Chandernagar; all this indicated, even if exaggerated and distorted in the telling, and at times invented, that France was by no means disposed to accept the result of the Seven Years’ War as definitive.20 The Company in India, having seen the last of the Royal Navy leave Bombay in 1767, by 1769 was asking for the comfort of naval ships in the Indian Ocean once more. In June 1769 two frigates, Stag (32) and Aurora (32) were ordered to Bombay. This was no doubt pleasing to the Company, but less so was an instruction to the new naval Commander-in-Chief going out with the ships, Captain Sir John Lindsay, that he conduct an enquiry into the Company’s sources of intelligence and information; the Company meanwhile now asked for two line-of-battle ships to be sent out as well. (Lindsay was to be accompanied by a three-man commission of enquiry, but the Aurora, on which they were travelling, was lost at sea; Lindsay inherited their task of enquiry.)21 Asking for frigates was one thing, for they could be useful in the Bombay Marine’s anti-pirate activities – the Company’s constant classification of its maritime enemies as ‘pirates’ had succeeded in convincing public opinion in Britain. Ships of the line, however, were a different matter. The British government wanted much more information about what the ships would be doing than the Company presented. In India Lindsay’s enquiries got nowhere, for his requests for information were blocked at every request; the Company’s servants had no wish for their more nefarious activities to be revealed, nor to 20 Richmond, 21 Richmond,

Navy in India, 43–45; Sen, French in India, 81–90 (Chandernagar). Navy in India, 37–43.

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have their authority challenged. It did appear, however, that the Company had failed to gather intelligence on French intentions, had failed to communicate such information as it had to London, and had deliberately impeded French trading ventures. It had thus been negligent in all this, and while complaining of French actions in contravention of the peace treaty of 1763, its people had broken those terms all too often themselves. In complaining, for example, of the French re-fortifying of Chandernagar, it had omitted to mention that the French company was doing the work with the Company’s permission.22 Lindsay’s enquiries, nonetheless, did show that Mauritius had been reinforced with both warships and royal troops. The French East India Company had been abolished in 1769, and French trade with India and China was then opened to all participating merchants. This, of course, made it even more difficult for the dilatory Company men to gather information of any usefulness. But it was clear that a substantial force was now available in Mauritius, which could be deployed to India fairly quickly: four line-of-battle ships and up to 6000 soldiers (replaced later by Marines). French agents were known to have contacted the nizam, Haidar Ali in Mysore, and the nawab in Bengal as well as the Peshwa in Pune.23 A crisis with Spain over the Falkland Islands in 1770 produced a sudden mobilisation of the British fleet and the threat of war with Spain and France, but the crisis subsided, partly as a result of that mobilisation. The opportunity was then taken to respond to the French build-up of armament at Mauritius, clearly a threat to India – and to the Company’s pleas for a larger naval presence, by sending out four more ships. Three 70s, Northumberland, Oxford, and Buckingham, and Warwick (50), were dispatched under Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Harland in March 1771. The frigate Stag remained in the east, as did the Dolphin (24), which had arrived earlier to replace the lost Aurora. Two sloops, Hawke (or Hawk) (10) and Swallow (14), completed the squadron, which by this time was about equal to the French naval force at Mauritius. Harland, in accordance with his instructions, and following Lindsay’s lead, steadily refused to involve the squadron in the schemes of either the Madras or Bombay Councils. He pointed out that he was a King’s officer, not subject to the Company’s authority, and that the purpose of his presence in Indian waters was in case of a French war, and his squadron was not to be used in the hare-brained schemes dreamed up in the Company councils; he was scathing in discussing those schemes. Accordingly the squadron had no part in Bombay’s wars with the Marathas, or in Madras’ war with Haidar Ali. Instead Harland tended to base himself at Trincomalee, as the most convenient port from which to intercept the French should their fleet at Mauritius arrive. It was generally assumed that, since they already had bases at places along the

22 23

Ibid, 40–41, 46. Ibid, 62–63; Lindsay investigated Mauritius on his way home in 1772.

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Coromandel coast, at Pondicherry notably, the French forces would head for the Calicut area on the Malabar coast.24 In 1772 the French forces at Mauritius were being reduced, and the island was then struck by another typhoon. The island was already incapable of producing supplies sufficient for the soldiers and sailors stationed there, and one result of the storm was that even more of the agricultural resources were destroyed, so that most of the French forces were withdrawn to France.25 Harland was succeeded at about the same time by Commodore Sir Edward Hughes, who had just one line-of-battle ship, Salisbury (50) and the frigate Seahorse (24); Harland took his larger force back to Britain on the arrival of his relief.26 The policies of Britain and France in the Indian Ocean had thus been a version of an arms race, or perhaps a Cold War. At home the French had been busy rebuilding their navy after the disasters of the Seven Years’ War, and Britain had been watching that process closely.27 The rival increases in the squadrons stationed in the Indian Ocean were a local version of that competition/ confrontation. The French intentions were certainly to return to war when a favourable opportunity arose, and one of their aims was to recover their formerly strong position in India, preferably by a swift seaborne attack from Mauritius which would be aimed at landing a large European force at Pondicherry to conduct a campaign in the Carnatic; the overthrow of the Company’s position by the capture of Madras would be a priority. Their intrigues with the Indian states were part of this intention. The fleet stationed at Mauritius was in a good strategic position to carry out such an attack, as successive British commanders-in-chief quickly appreciated, though the Company officials rarely did. But the scarceness of resources in Mauritius, and the destructiveness of the typhoon, emphasised the slenderness of the French logistical base on the island. These resources, and the island’s defences, were developed and improved after it came directly under the French crown in 1769; but building defences was a fairly straightforward business; improving agriculture was much more difficult and was slow to achieve results.28 When the opportunity came for a war of revenge, it was the unexpected rebellion of the British colonies in North America which provided it, though it took three years for the French to appreciate that the situation was such that they might be able to profit by it; the prospect of supporting rebels against a legitimate king was not something to be liked in Versailles. Nevertheless, from the start they had interfered, supplying war materials for the rebels, both privately and from the royal arsenals, and French volunteers had gone to fight on the American side. This was very a similar policy to the way that the French 24

Ibid, 52–61. Ibid, 63. 26 Ibid, 73. 27 Dull, French Navy, 245–254. 28 Richmond, Navy in India, 44. 25

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had been intriguing in India against the British East India Company’s position.29 By 1778, however, the American victory at Saratoga indicated that the rebellion had staying power, and the French intervened directly by recognising the rebels as independent, producing the inevitable British declaration of war; the news of the new war reached Calcutta in July 1778. This long period of inter-war tension allowed both sides in the Indian Ocean to be prepared for war. Commodore Sir Edward Vernon, the commander-in-chief from 1777, arrived with Ripon (60) a slightly more powerful ship than the Salisbury which had been Hughes’ only line-of-battle ship. From Bombay he received a plea for his presence, the council there assuming (as they all did) that it was bound to be the French forces’ first target. But then a French squadron under Commodore de Tronjoly, including one lineof-battle ship, Brillant (64) and four frigates, had arrived off Pondicherry; Vernon had three frigates as well as Ripon. The Madras land force under Sir Eyre Coote, amounted to 10,000 troops, whereas Pondicherry’s garrison was less than 3000.30 Vernon and the Madras Council agreed that Pondicherry, the main French base, was the place to aim at. Vernon sailed there, and was met by Tronjoly in a fight in which damage was inflicted on both squadrons. They separated in light winds, which prevented any immediate return match. The main result was that Vernon was able to return to the scene first, and to place his ships to blockade the approach to the town, preventing supplies and reinforcements entering. The town’s engineers were captured as they arrived, as was the frigate Sartine (26), and several supply ships. Tronjoly, shut out of the port and his ships badly damaged, left for Mauritius. The British land forces formed a siege; between them the army and the fleet forced the town to surrender on 18 October 1779.31 The difference in fighting tactics between the two navies, where the British fired at the main body of the enemy’s ships, and the French at the masts and yards, resulted in more damage to the French ships, as well as more casualties. Vernon and his fleet recovered, repaired, and resupplied at the neutral and sheltered Trincomalee, and there he was reinforced by the arrival of Asia (64). Tronjoly did the same at far-off Mauritius, and was reinforced by two vessels, Flamand (50) and Consolante (40); he had lost Sartine, captured. He sent two ships to cruise off South Africa with the aim of intercepting British trade, but the only result was the capture of the East Indiaman Osterley, with a cargo valued at £300,000; this may have compensated for not catching anybody else – though the idea was clearly a good one. Meanwhile Vernon assisted in the capFrench in India, chs 5–7, ‘Diplomatic Projects’, covering the period 1763 to 1778. 30 Richmond, Navy in India, 79–85; Sen, French in India, 75–77 who lists the French land force as just over 2000 men; Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.543, has several mistakes. 31 Sen, French in India, 77–80. 29 Sen,

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ture of the French post at Mahe on the Malabar coast. Tronjoly was reinforced by the arrival of L’Orient (74). Both forces were slowly being increased.32 A strong rumour that the French were assembling a squadron of five or six line-of-battle ships to be sent to India brought the Admiralty to agree to send out still further reinforcements, and to re-appoint Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Hughes to the command, Vernon having by then served the usual three years on the station. Hughes was to take out a strong reinforcement of six line-ofbattle ships (Superb (74), the 64s Exeter, Eagle, Burford, Worcester, and Belleisle) and a sloop (Nymph, 14), a battalion of Scots soldiers, and to escort thirteen Indiamen on their way.33 A supplementary instruction was sent to him to recapture Goree, in West Africa, recently taken by French squadron, which he did. Hughes’ squadron reached Madras in January 1780, only to receive orders that three of his warships were to be returned to Britain, since the French force which it had been designed to counter had in fact gone to America. Hughes complied. Meanwhile the French received another ship, Severe (64). The Bombay Council was at war still with the Marathas, and Haidar Ali was unsurprisingly annoyed at the Company’s ignoring his claim to have Mahe under his protection, through which he imported his arms; the land force had marched directly across South India by land against Mahe, and Vernon sailed round to assist. All this, and other annoyances, persuaded Haidar Ali to go to war by invading the Carnatic in March.34 Hughes went first to Bombay, as British fleets usually did. The city had the only dockyard (apart from one at Goa) with facilities and supplies for repairing large ships, and a sheltered harbour. While there, he helped the Bombay Council to capture a hostile fort, but declined to become involved in its Maratha War, citing, as did other sea-commanders, his orders from the Admiralty and the king. The French fleet at Mauritius was also at sea, and arrived off Pondicherry just at the moment when Haidar Ali and Sir Eyre Coote became entangled in their war in the Carnatic. The French arrival upset Coote’s campaign (a perfect example of the effect of seapower on southern Indian events). This encouraged Haidar Ali, so that Coote’s army was driven into Cuddalore, while Haidar Ali occupied Pondicherry, whose inhabitants rose against the British garrison. Coote was desperate for supplies, and a strict blockade by the French fleet would probably have forced his capitulation, but Admiral d’Orves, the French commander, strictly abiding by the instructions he had received from the governor of Mauritius, declined to become involved, and soon sailed away.35 Both European fleet admirals therefore kept themselves clear of the wars of the interior, but their reasons were different – Hughes was clear that Navy in India, 84. Ibid, 91–93. 34 Richmond, Navy in India, 84–87; Forrest, Tiger of Mysore, 42. 35 Richmond, Navy in India, 107–111; Sen, French in India, 322–234. 32 Richmond, 33

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he could do nothing to help in the deep interior, whereas d’Orves made no distinction between helping out in the deep interior and assisting his ally on the coast. Coote was quickly supplied from Madras when d’Orves left, and the coast was then clear of French ships. Hughes sailed round from Bombay to Cuddalore, where he supported Coote, when he fought and defeated Haidar Ali at Porto Novo.36 The arrival in the ocean of French privateers had compelled Vernon and then Hughes to detach ships to escort the China ships on their voyages, especially through the Malacca Straits: Seahorse (24) from Vernon’s squadron, and the Company ship Resolution (40), were used, the Company ships needed to be reinforced with some of his own sailors. Privateers could base themselves in neutral Dutch territories – the Cape, Ceylon, Indonesia – and even the Spanish Philippines, and they used ports in the Irrawaddy Delta of Burma. There was a flourishing local industry of shipbuilding and ship repairing there, using local teak, which both the French and British companies used.37 During 1780 the Dutch joined in the war, having mistakenly believed that they had supportive allies in the Baltic countries of the Armed Neutrality of the North. They thus completed their political journey from British ally in the War of Austrian Succession to neutrality in the Seven Years’ War to British enemy in 1780. However, they soon discovered that they were mistaken in their calculations, and suffered badly from an instant British attack at sea. This was designed to call the bluff of the Armed Neutrality, which collapsed at once. It had also become clear that the Dutch were about to recognise American independence, and when challenged did not deny it; the British attack was therefore pre-emptive. The Dutch colonies now became active bases for the French, and prey for the British. A squadron under Commodore George Johnstone was sent to take over the Cape Colony, seen as the most strategically important of the Dutch colonies from the point of view of India, and its capture by the British would help block French passages into the Indian Ocean. But it had to be taken first.38 Hughes, as soon as he heard of the Dutch involvement, at once sent two ships, Coventry (28) and Chaser (15) to capture the Dutch ships in Bengal, where Chinsura was still their factory.39 In the south two Dutch posts were of particular importance, Negapatam in Tanjore, a hundred miles south of Pondicherry, and now a possible base which the French could use, and Trincomalee in Ceylon, already a fairly well used base by both British and French ships, but now hostile. Hughes sailed south with the main part of his fleet and

Navy in India, 112–116. Honourable Company, 335–338, for the earlier history of the Company in this region. 38 Richmond, Navy in India, 119–128. 39 Ibid, 116. 36 Richmond, 37 Keay,

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raided Negapatam harbour, taking away fourteen merchant ships, which were extremely useful for conveying food supplies from Bengal to Madras.40 Ships in the Indian Ocean now had to be detached to blockade Batavia, the Dutch centre in Java, but this did at least mean that the Dutch prohibition on using the passage to China through the Indonesian islands could no longer be enforced; between 1780 and 1783 this passage became increasingly used.41 In India itself the wars with Mysore and the Marathas meant that Admiral Hughes had to ensure that his ships protected the coasts, both Malabar and Coromandel, to prevent maritime activities by the Indian powers. Warren Hastings in Calcutta had insisted that the Bombay Council make peace with the Marathas, and Hughes had sailed round to Mangalore to attack Haidar Ali’s navy in its base. The ships in the harbour were either captured or burnt, and the Mysorean Navy virtually ceased to exist.42 Commodore Johnstone moved south on his expedition to the Cape fairly leisurely, calling at Madeira and then at the Cape Verde Islands for supplies. At the latter he was overtaken by a French squadron of five line-of-battle ships and a frigate, with troops carried in several transports. The French commander was Rear-Admiral Pierre André de Suffren, like Hughes a man with a long experience of sea warfare. He was also a master tactician and a man capable of seizing opportunities quickly. This he did at Santiago in the Cape Verdes. When he saw Johnstone’s squadron in the Bay of Porto Praya, anchored every which way, busy with loading supplies, and with many of the men on shore, he took his ships directly into the attack; the impetuosity of the attack confused the French commanders, and Suffren was not well supported. No ships were captured or destroyed, but Johnstone’s force was left thoroughly disarrayed. Suffren sailed on, though with one of his ships badly damaged.43 He reached the Cape well before Johnstone, who therefore found it prepared for his attack, and he had to sheer off. He did, however, send on to India 2000 soldiers and three line-of-battle ships, and General Medows, an ambitious, enterprising soldier, as originally instructed. These took some time to get to India, and the warships left the transports behind to make better speed. They arrived in time to link up with Hughes before his collision with the larger French forces.44 More directly, so far as the navies in Indian waters were concerned, Ceylon was now enemy territory. Both sides had used it to resupply and rest, and for the British this alteration in its status was especially a problem. If the French became established in the island as Dutch allies they would have gained a strategic position from which to launch speedy attacks on either the east or west Indian coasts; Mauritius had been too distant for such attacks. The Brit40 Ibid.

Howard T. Fry, How Australia became British: Empire and the China Trade, Stroud, Glos. 2016, 10–13. 42 Richmond, Navy in India, 99–101; Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.545. 43 Clowes, Royal Navy, 545–549; Richmond, Navy in India, 142–147. 44 Richmond, Navy in India, 178–179. 41

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ish would either be divided, and so vulnerable, or if they concentrated their ships, this would leave one of the coasts unprotected. The Sinhalese ports of Trincomalee and Batticaloa, and, on the island’s west coast, Galle and Colombo, therefore became targets for both sides. Hughes, alert to the problem, and closer to it geographically than Suffren, captured Trincomalee in January 1782. Since the Peace of Paris in 1763 the Royal Navy had been in defence mode in the Indian seas, leaving such maritime enterprises as was needed to the Company’s ships and the Bombay Marine. The French response had been a more active attempt, by diplomatic, intriguing, and eventually naval means, to overturn the verdict of the Seven Years’ War. By the time the new war began, France had built up its navy, while Spain, also smarting from defeats in the 1760s, had similarly expanded its naval forces; between them France and Spain now had greater naval power than Britain for the first time for two centuries, and to their strength was added the Dutch ships in 1781.45 These three powers were assisted by a widespread European dislike of the fact that Britain had gained so much land and power as a result of that earlier war. It was hardly surprising that two of Britain’s enemies in the Seven Years’ War joined with the rebellious Americans, nor that the Dutch joined them, nor that the northern powers adopted a pose of hostile neutrality. The result of the hostile combination of France, Spain, the Netherlands, and the American colonies in naval terms was that the Royal Navy had to concentrate in home waters, where the full naval strengths of France and Spain twice reached deep into the English Channel and threatened an invasion; at the same time, large numbers of British ships were deployed to blockade the rebellious colonies; and when the threat of invasion receded, the Dutch came into the war, and then the main naval effort shifted to the West Indies and to the relief of Gibraltar. In such a dire situation of recurrent and widespread crises the demands of India for naval help receded into the background. After all, the Company’s ships were well armed, and there was the Bombay Marine, so the contingent of the Royal Navy sent into the Indian Ocean was always small – but then so was that of the French Navy, which was constrained by other difficulties, notably of supply. But both fleets in the east were big enough to fight battles. The Royal Navy had been able in the time of peace after 1763 to dispense with any real naval power in the Indian Ocean, and its ships were withdrawn by 1767. By conquering Bengal in Clive’s curious way, the East India Company had grown from a minor power to become one of the major competing Indian states, a successor of the dying Mughal empire along with the Marathas, Mysore, Awadh, and the rest. It was fast becoming a land power, with as little concern for or knowledge of the sea as its Indian rivals. The councils in Madras and Calcutta, despite seeing sea-going ships out of their windows all 45

See the lists of naval strengths in Appendix III of N.A.M. Rodger, The Command of the Ocean, London 2004.

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the time, showed little understanding of the operation of sea power. Bombay was little better, despite having its Marine. All the councilmen, of course, were primarily concerned with the Company’s trade. Also all assumed that their particular issues and problems required the full and, if possible, the immediate attention of any available naval strength. They even assumed that the Navy would assist in armed expeditions into the Indian interior. So the British commanders-in-chief, secure in their possession of instructions arriving from a power source completely separate from that of the Company, had to make their own decisions and appreciations, which frequently involved refusing the importunate demands of the councils and governors. It had then taken several years once the new war had begun for the competitors to bring to the east sufficient naval strength to hope for a clear result. The decline in the fighting in North America helped to turn attention to India, where another empire was under threat. The British were on the defensive, and because of the more urgent demands in the Atlantic, they were less powerful in the east than the French. Their aim was to hold on to their new position in Bengal, though it was their position in the Carnatic which was strategically the most important. If the French removed the British from their Carnatic territories, small though they were, their position in Bengal would become vulnerable and unstable. It was in the south that the main recruiting for the Company’s army took place, and so its deprivation of this region would weaken the whole system. The Company’s naval arm, the small Bombay Marine, would be unable by itself to prevent a catastrophe. It played little part in events after 1763, other than marginally in the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, and was composed of small ships. It had little experience of conditions in the Bay of Bengal, or of Bengal itself. Accordingly the fleet collected and led by Admiral Suffren was the best chance France had had since the 1740s to overthrow the British position in India. The reaction of the Indian powers to the appearance off the coast of the French fleet had, as Sir Eyre Coote showed in his fight with Haidar Ali, an instant effect. If the French fleet under Suffren could destroy the British fleet under Hughes, there would be much rejoicing in India, followed no doubt by much fighting. The British position could be destroyed by the victory of the French fleet, and the subcontinent would then strike out on a new path.

7 The Decisive War (1782–1783) Sir Edward Hughes’ seizure of control of Trincomalee in January 1782 followed his earlier seizure of Negapatam. There were now no French or Dutch ports left under their control in India.1 Rear-Admiral Suffren came into the Bay of Bengal with his squadron (which had been enlarged by the capture of the British Hannibal (50) on the way) and a set of transports carrying over 3000 French soldiers, their equipment, supplies, and war material. In South Indian terms this was a major force, given the greater military effectiveness of European troops. Suffren’s aim, therefore, was first to land this force, whose presence would actively preoccupy the British land forces; they could join with Haidar Ali in a campaign, while encouraging others to take up an anti-British stance, if not active measures. He had first to make contact with Haidar Ali, preferably before he landed the troops. Suffren had gone on to Mauritius from the Cape, having left some of his soldiers there to defend the Dutch colony. At Port Louis his senior officer was d’Orves, who conveniently died, putting Suffren in the naval command. In the Bay of Bengal he and his augmented force – ten line-of-battle ships, two 50s, four frigates –fought a series of battles with Hughes for the next year. These are very interesting from a technical point of view. It is theorised that Suffren had developed a new tactical theory, rather like that of Nelson at the Nile, or Rodney in the West Indies, whereby his ships could envelop the enemy by attacking from both sides, instead of lining up parallel to it as was the normal method.2 Hughes, with eight line-of-battle ships, one 50, and a frigate, was considerably outnumbered, and fought in the usual way, broadside to broadside. Suffren, however, rather like Rodney at first in the contemporary campaigns in the West Indies, suffered from idle, disobedient, or uncomprehending or incompetent subordinate captains, some of whom exhibited signs of cowardice, so that enforcing his ideas proved extremely difficult. (Rodney succeeded by taking his fleet on a month’s series of exercises and instilled discipline into his captains; Suffren did not do this.) The prime references for this campaign are G.B. Malleson, The Final French Struggles in India and on the Indian Seas, new ed., London 1884, reprinted 2020, 1–78; Richmond, Navy in India, 181–379; Sen, French in India, 226–388; Clowes, Royal Navy, 3.549–563. Given these sources for little more than a year’s events, I shall not provide detailed references in this chapter. 2 Richmond, Navy in India, 194–197. 1

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Suffren had come to the conclusion that his main object must be to destroy Hughes’ fleet. Only then would it be possible to support the force he intended to land, and so operate against the various forts and posts which the British held. This being the case, he had to divest himself of the troop transports; while he was responsible for them they had to be protected and so they tied him to them. Thus, although he saw his main task was to fight Hughes’ fleet, his first care had to be for the transports. His scout ship, the Fine, located Hughes at Madras, where the British ships were anchored close in under the guns of the fort; this confirmed Suffren in his decision to land the troops first; he sailed past Madras southwards, aiming for Pondicherry, either for information (the town was still largely populated by the French), or seeking an opportunity to land the troops. Haidar Ali’s location was not yet known.3 The Madras Council reacted to the news of the arrival of Suffren’s fleet nearby by demanding that Hughes protect them. They did so in a letter to him which he, and later historians, have seen as patronising, even panicky, and to which Hughes reacted as one would expect an admiral to react when an elaborate letter is sent him containing information he was already fully aware of. The letter was in fact a well-considered survey of the problems as seen from Madras, even if it was all expressed in a way which Hughes and others found and find unnecessarily infantile. Suffren’s object, the council pointed out, was to land his army and then for it to join Haidar Ali’s force; this increase in the Mysorean power would impress the Marathas, who had already beaten back the attack from Bombay, and might persuade them to join Haidar in the Carnatic; similarly the nizam. And from this the Council conjured up an alliance of all southern and central India, plus France, against Madras. The reinforcements expected were valuable, the council pointed out, as if Hughes needed telling, and Madras needed supplies of food from Bengal, now interrupted by Suffren’s presence. The letter concluded in a passage which could have been expressed in a single word: ‘Help’. Pausing only to send an acerbic reply, Hughes went about his business, and followed the French fleet south. Suffren moved his warships away from the coast, but, in the night, the transports became separated from the warships, and stayed close to the land. Whether this was planned is not clear, though it may be that Suffren intended to entice Hughes out to sea, assuming that he had reached the same conclusion that to eliminate the enemy ships of force was the necessary first object, and so he must follow the warships. If he did, the transports would be able to land their cargoes in peace. In fact, all three sets of ships lost sight of each other in the night, but in the morning Hughes found 3

A brief biography of Pierre André de Suffren de St Tropez (1729–1788) is in The Great Admirals: Command At Sea 1597–1845, ed. Jack Sweetman, Annapolis, MD 1997, pages 172–191, and for the campaign, A.T. Mahan, The Influence of Sea Power upon History 1660–1783, paperback ed., London 1965, ch. XII, and G.A. Ballard, Rulers of the Indian Ocean, Boston and New York 1928, ch. 13.

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the transport fleet. He sent three of his ships, Isis, Monmouth, and Seahorse, to head off the transports, and the rest of the British fleet followed to take them in the rear. This manoeuvre worked. If Suffren had hoped to entice the British away from the transports, Hughes was certain that by attacking them, he would attract Suffren’s full attention. While the French warships were trying to catch up, the transport fleet was destroyed. Of the ships, six were captured, and the rest were scattered. One ship reached Pondicherry, and one got to Negapatam – both in British hands; four reached Tranquebar, a Danish (and so neutral) port, and one fled as far as Galle in southern Ceylon. This destroyed the main French intention, since, even if the surviving transports landed the troops, they were only a grievously reduced and damaged force. The two warship fleets approached each other, the French looking to attack, the British getting into line of battle and waiting for them. It took much of the day for the two fleets to come close enough to fire on each other, and when they did Suffren, leading his line in Heros, stopped his advance when he came opposite Hughes’s flagship, Superb. This left four of the British ships, lying ahead of Superb, unattacked, while at the rear of the line Exeter found itself subjected first to the fire of every French ship which passed it, and then was attacked by five ships either simultaneously or in succession. At the rear of the French line, three or four ships apparently did not engage. The battle is sometimes called after a more or less nearby port, Sadras, or just after the date, 17 February 1782. This curious battle has created much discussion. It seems that Suffren was attempting to subject the rear half of the British line to attack from both sides at once, and that the rear of his line was supposed to break off and sail down the lee side of the British line, presumably as far as the Superb. (This was, of course, Nelson’s method at the Nile.) Why this did not work out is the question. Suffren’s instructions were clear enough, but this was a new tactical concept, at least at sea (it was familiar enough in land warfare, and Hughes’ manoeuvre to deal with the transport column was not dissimilar), and perhaps the captains of the rearward French ships did not understand what he wanted. It seems clear that Suffren simply gave instructions, without explanation or discussion. His captains were a group of men, many of whom had been enjoying a life of ease and pleasure at Mauritius before d’Ovres took them off to war, and it seems that they did not much like the idea of a fight. At a council of war held near Madras the council had voted unanimously not to attack; it may be that Suffren assumed that any further council of war would also refuse to fight, so he resorted to instructions instead of persuasion. In the battle none of the French ships closed with their British counterparts. Suffren’s action in attacking Superb, Hughes’ flagship, was in fact the usual action of the commander of a fleet, flagship versus flagship, which traditional captains – many naval captains always deserve such a description – saw as the right thing to do; this will have confirmed them in their equally traditional response to the fighting so that, once Heros ceased to advance, they were left without an enemy to fire

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at. Hughes, for example, clearly thought that Suffren’s tactics were not proper, were perhaps even unchivalrous. It is, further, also possible that the captain of the Annibal, Tromelin, either deliberately misunderstood, or disobeyed, Suffren’s instructions, and held back at the rear rather than leading the latter half of the French ships along the lee of the British. None of these suggested explanations are at all well-founded in the evidence, and too often they are speculations based on what happened rather than what was intended. But one further explanation for what was a poor result from several hours of fighting, was that the French method of sea fighting, by firing at masts and yards, was clearly unsuited to the occasion. There was little wind during the battle, so that disabling the masts of the British ships would simply leave them in position, and will have had little effect on the battle itself. Suffren believed that it was the fault of the captains of the rear division in not obeying his orders. He summoned them all on board Heros before moving on and they apologised and promised to do better next time. This was hardly punishment at all. If the orders were explicit and had been understood, not to perform as instructed was flagrant disobedience, and an example was clearly called for – Tromelin would be the one, since he had been leading the rear group of ships, and at one point he ordered one of them not to break away to join in the fight – that is, to keep his position in the line, another traditional response. But Suffren simply accepted their apologies and sent them all back to their ships, so it would seem that there were some extenuating circumstances. (It may also be that Suffren, new to the command, did not feel fully in control, and so was unable to inflict punishment for fear of a more extensive disobedience, though there are similarities to the fight at Porto Praya in the Cape Verdes.) The fact that at one point five of the French ships were firing on one British, Exeter, rather implies a misunderstanding of Suffren’s orders, rather than disobedience to them, for the orders seem to have been unaccompanied by any explanations of his intentions. The plan would seem to have been something of an improvisation, as at Porto Praya; it had certainly never been practiced in manoeuvres. The real fault was therefore Suffren’s; hence no doubt his acceptance of the apologies. The two fleets separated, both heading south. Suffren had troops on board, whom he intended to land, and presumably he collected those transports which had survived Hughes’ attack and were in the Coromandel harbours, notably the four at Tranquebar. His aim was still to put himself in contact with Haidar Ali, whom he knew was somewhere in the southern Carnatic. Hughes’ ships had suffered substantial casualties in the fighting on top of a large number of sick left on shore at Madras, while two of his ships needed extensive repairs. He wanted to join with reinforcements which he knew were approaching, and to avoid having them fall into Suffren’s hands. The two admirals therefore avoided each other. Suffren searched the Coromandel coast until he made contact with Haidar Ali through Porto Novo, where he spent four

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weeks disembarking the troops, making repairs, resupplying his ships with water and supplies, and making diplomatic contact with the Mysorean ruler. Hughes needed to repair Exeter and Superb, which had borne the main burden in the fight, and had suffered three-quarters of the British casualties. The best place for such work was the harbour at Trincomalee; from there he could also hope to intercept his reinforcements. He took his ships there, made repairs, put a supplement to the garrison in the fort (the place was enemy territory, of course), and went back to Madras. The approaching reinforcements had moved from Bombay to Anjengo, the southernmost port of Malabar, but, learning of the presence of Suffren and his fleet, had been held there. Now in a joint letter Hughes and Coote ordered them forward again. Hughes sailed, intending to meet them at Trincomalee, but they were ahead of him and he met them only a day out of Madras; they had avoided Suffren, no doubt by simply sailing well clear of the coast. Their presence reinforced both Coote’s army and Hughes’ fleet – by two ships, Magnanime (64) and Sultan (74), though they had very large numbers of sick men in their crews. Meanwhile Suffren had received a convoy from Mauritius with supplies and materials. More importantly, the French army which he had landed, having recovered and got itself organised, marched to attack Cuddalore, which was captured. This gave Suffren a usable base on the Coromandel coast at last. Both fleets sailed again southwards, Hughes heading for Trincomalee, Suffren in search of the still-missing transports scattered by Hughes; they were thought to be at Galle. Both admirals were beset by rumours and inaccurate information about their opponent’s location and condition and intentions, but since both fleets were actually not very far apart, and were on the same overall track southwards, inevitably they sighted each other, on 8 April. Hughes aimed to get into Trincomalee harbour, to land some more troops to build up the garrison (which was also threatened by a Dutch force sent from their fort at Jaffna), and intended to land his sick, amounting to several hundred men, particularly from the two new ships, which were almost disabled by sickness. Suffren was also interested in getting control of Trincomalee, and the Dutch force was nearby because he had told the Dutch governor of Ceylon that he aimed to capture the place. No doubt the governor was particularly interested both in expelling the British and ensuring that he could insert a Dutch garrison; there would be no improvement from his point of view if the British were simply replaced by a French force. But for either admiral to succeed, he must, because the fleets were close to each other, first defeat the enemy. Suffren’s fleet was between Hughes’ ships and the Sinhalese shore. Hughes had only nine ships fit to fight against Suffren’s twelve, but the addition of Magnanime (64) and Sultan (74) evened up the numbers somewhat. Hughes wanted to avoid a battle and to reach safety in Trincomalee harbour. Over the next four days, Hughes sailed southwards, with Suffren sailing parallel. Twice Hughes attempted to turn to get to the coast and so stage on into Trincomalee before Suffren could reach him, but on both occasions the wind failed and he

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had to abandon the attempt. By dawn on 12 April he was well past Trincomalee and at that moment he found that Suffren had crossed his track during the night and was now to windward of him, with the British on a lee coast. The two fleets were now so close to each other that Hughes could not reach Trincomalee without fighting. He was off the small port of Providien, which gave its name to the battle. There were no curious manoeuvres this time. The two fleets lined up in parallel to fight broadside to broadside, but the fighting was heavily concentrated in the centre of the line around the two flagships. Several French ships were apparently unwilling to close, despite their greater numbers, both of ships and men. One British ship, Monmouth, received the attentions of two heavier French ships and suffered disabling damage and crippling casualties, so that it fell out of the line, unable to fight on. The British ships, partly covering Monmouth, and partly fearing to get too close to the shore, anchored at sunset. The French pulled out to sea a little way and also anchored. It became still more important that Hughes, reduced to only eight ships capable of fighting, should avoid further battle. The next days were spent by Suffren attempting to induce Hughes to leave his position, a manoeuvre which had succeeded with d’Ache in the last war. But Hughes was no daft feudal lord, but a professional sailor with his head screwed on properly. Hughes brought his ships into a close line-of-battle, anchored them with springs on their anchor cables, and sent all his carpenters and artificers to repair Monmouth. Every effort Suffren made to provoke a fight was thus ignored, and Hughes’ position was too strong to be directly assaulted. Suffren’s ships had also suffered casualties and damage; it seems probable that he underestimated the damage the British ships had suffered, imagining them to be in a better condition than they really were. Meanwhile Suffren’s original purpose in coming south, to collect the transports now in Galle harbour, had still not been achieved. In the end Suffren decided that his own difficulties, which included a lack of ‘capacity, goodwill, etc’ among his captains, as he wrote to Paris, were greater than those Hughes faced, even though of those he was largely ignorant. He took his fleet south to Batticaloa to land his own sick and wounded, and to complete repairs to his ships. Hughes therefore got into harbour at Trincomalee; he had thus succeeded in terms of strategy and intentions despite the marginal defeat in the battle. It was now clear that, above all, Hughes had to maintain his fleet’s existence as a fighting force. His policy became to fight only when compelled to do so, at least while he had less strength than his opponent. Suffren’s policy was the opposite. He had to eliminate Hughes’ fleet so that the French in the Carnatic could succeed. The sea campaign was again crucial for the future of India. For Hughes this solid defensive was not glorious, and his reputation has suffered in comparison with the apparently innovative Suffren, but Hughes did not have to innovate, did not have to invent flashy manoeuvres; he had just to endure, defend his position, and prevent Suffren from a destructive victory; so long as

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Hughes’ fleet continued to block Suffren’s success by being strong enough to go on fighting, Suffren, even if he won battle victories (and he did not), was losing the campaign. And the result fully justified Hughes’ method. The whole campaign was the Providien campaign on an ocean-sized scale, in which Suffren might claim individual victories, but Hughes won the campaign. Those who laud Suffren and denigrate Hughes ignore that essential fact. Licking their wounds, searching for supplies, and tending their sick and dying, both fleets spent the next weeks recovering. The Dutch governor of Ceylon now feared an invasion from India, and General Coote’s army was certainly in a menacing position if that was the British intention. The Madras Council sent out five transport ships with supplies for Hughes, including much needed powder, but four of these were captured, so helping the French instead. Haidar Ali was generous with food for the French fleet; the British had great difficulty getting any food in the countryside round Trincomalee. Suffren, burdened by his prisoners, suggested an exchange, but, receiving no reply other than one from Hughes pointing out that the decision was Governor Macartney’s in Madras, eventually handed his prisoners over to Haidar Ali, who marched them off to jail in Mysore, thus recalling the ‘black hole’ episode in Calcutta to British minds. Suffren left Batticaloa on 3 June, and anchored at Cuddalore on the 20th. Hughes followed, leaving Trincomalee on the 24th, and heading for the nearest British held port in India, at Negapatam. By then Suffren had decided that this was to be his own next target. Hughes arrived first, and on 5 July Suffren’s ships came in sight. Hughes had all eleven of his ships ready to fight, the new ships Magnanime and Sultan now being fit and Monmouth repaired; Suffren had his twelve line-of-battle ships, plus five frigates, which stayed out of the way. As he approached, a squall hit the French fleet, disabling the Ajax, which went to the rear of the line. The numbers therefore, for the first time, were about equal. The two fleets approached but did not engage yet, for Hughes wanted to be sure he had enough time to ensure victory, knowing that night would stop any fighting. In the morning (6 July), they formed their lines of battle and manoeuvred to close, the British holding the weather gage. The British fleet approached at an angle, so that when the two lines came into fighting range, the rearmost ships were still out of range, and engaged only at a distance. This time the individual ships, at first at least, fought their opposite numbers in the line. The great advantage of the fighting lay with the British. One of the French ships, Severe, briefly struck its colours to Sultan; Flamand, a 50-gun ship fighting two much larger vessels, inflicted serious damage on both, but was eventually forced out of the line; Brillant had massive casualties, and lost its main and mizen masts. On the British side two ships suffered sufficient damage to render them disabled – Monarca and Isis. And then into the fight the weather intervened. The wind, which had been light from the south-east, swung round to the south-west and blew up as a squall. What had been two lines of ships, wreathed in gunsmoke, became a mixture of all the ships heading in various

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directions, some of them out of control. The admirals had to devote themselves to attempting to reform their lines of battle. Suffren was a little more successful in this than Hughes, but neither managed to get into a position where they could resume the fighting. The squall was succeeded by calm air, which made manoeuvring very difficult. More or less simultaneously, Suffren and Hughes came to the conclusion that returning to the fight was not possible; both moved their fleets back towards the land, Hughes to near Negapatam, which he still aimed to defend, and Suffren to a dozen miles north of that, and then to Cuddalore. In terms of casualties inflicted the British had the advantage, suffering 320 killed and wounded to the French 780; but in terms of ships the results were about even, with two of each fleet reduced to a disabled condition. Hughes thought he had won, Suffren did not make such a claim, but Hughes had certainly succeeded in foiling Suffren’s intended attack on Negapatam. Suffren, however, still had the use of Cuddalore, to which he went to make his repairs. Hughes, once he knew where Suffren was, could then go to Madras. Suffren had less damage to repair, and more artificers to do the work; he was anchored in a sheltered harbour, and had better supplies than Hughes. Both men set to work to get the repairs made, but Suffren succeeded the more quickly. On 1 August he was able to sail, making first for Batticaloa once more. Hughes, handicapped by a shortage of supplies and by having to work anchored in the open roadstead at Madras, took until the 28th. He knew of Suffren’s sailing and of his direction, so it was a reasonable assumption that Trincomalee was at risk. Both admirals received reinforcements, as well as supplies. Hughes learnt that a squadron of six line-of-battle ships commanded by Sir Richard Bickerton was on the way; one of these, Sceptre (64), had separated from the rest as far back as Ireland and arrived at Madras first. Suffren had received three ships, Illustre (74), St Michel (60), and Consolante (40), together with 600 soldiers and a resupply of materials and food. So, including Consolante in the line of battle, he now had a line amounting to fifteen ships; Hughes had twelve. The two fleets had returned to the proportions as at the beginning of this contest. Suffren acted speedily. He reached Batticaloa on 9 August, received his reinforcements during the next week, and sailed to attack Trincomalee on the 26th. Hughes was beset by light airs and a hostile current when moving south from Madras, and took twice as long as Suffren on a similar journey. He arrived at Trincomalee the day after the place had been surrendered to the French by a garrison which had scarcely fought. Suffren put a rather stronger garrison into his conquest, and scrambled to get his fleet back out to sea. Hughes signalled to attack, aiming probably to fight the French ships as they emerged one by one from the harbour, but the wind faded, and he had to call off his attack. The French fleet came out unmolested. Hughes brought his fleet, well ordered in a line-of-battle, away from the land; Suffren’s fleet followed, but in some disorder, and did not achieve a line

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formation from the first. The two fleets came close enough by about 3 pm to fight, but the French ships did not close, and their line broke up into sections. In the van four or five ships attacked Exeter, and drove it out of the line, but they then followed it so that one British ship was preoccupying four or five French. At the rear two French ships were intended to attack the rear ship in the British line, Worcester, but signalled their intention so obviously that the next in line, Monmouth, joined in; one of the French ships, Vergeur, was set on fire, ran out of ammunition, and withdrew from the line. The main fighting was in the centre, flagship against flagship with two or three others on each side joining in. Suffren suffered from a clear failure of will in many of his captains. Whereas every British ship suffered casualties, six of the French ships suffered only ten casualties between them – four with no casualties at all. The wind died away and it proved very difficult for the scattered French ships to reform a line, so, in some cases, their return to assist the admiral was slow. The fighting went on, somewhat diminished in intensity, until sunset (about 7 pm). Many ships on both sides suffered serious damage. Three of the British ships reported that they were sinking. Many had suffered multiple shot holes in their hulls, suggesting that the French had made a decision to fire at the hulls this time, and not just at masts and yards. The admirals collected reports of their ships’ conditions, and Hughes decided that he needed to make urgent repairs before anything else, and set sail for Madras, the nearest place with the relevant supplies. Suffren, of course, went into Trincomalee, but one of his ships, Orient, was wrecked entering the bay. Trincomalee was not a good place for supplies, as Hughes had also found, the surrounding country being dry and with little agriculture, and when Suffren heard that Cuddalore was under threat, as soon as his ships were able to sail he went to the assistance of his other base. He found that the threat was not serious, but he lost another ship, Bizarre, which was wrecked on a shoal in the harbour. He landed troops as reinforcements for the garrison. His arrival reassured the ailing Haidar Ali, who was at Arcot, and was becoming impatient to receive the French assistance he had been promised. Suffren was nervous of the coming storm season as was Hughes, just up the coast at Madras. Those winter storms would soon strike. If he went back to Trincomalee Suffren’s ships, undergoing repair, would probably be safe in that sheltered bay, but his sailors would go hungry. He was expecting a new French army, commanded by the old India hand Bussy, to arrive at Acheh in Sumatra. The convoy carrying the troops had reached Mauritius, but many of the soldiers were sick, and the expedition would have to wait until they recovered, which probably meant a delay of several months. Hughes had similar problems. If he kept his ships at Madras, they would be exposed to destruction by the first serious storm which arrived. This might happen in September, but would certainly do so in October. His fleet was anchored on a lee shore, all of the ships were damaged in both hulls and aloft, leaking and unable to manoeuvre easily, and incapable of being repaired

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handily while being kept at Madras. Hughes’ solution to the problem was to take his ships to Bombay, where there were docks and material supplies, all of which were unavailable on the east coast. The Madras Council, and Governor Macartney, wished him to remain through the storm season, claiming his departure would leave them unprotected, and the news of Suffren at Cuddalore (though it was thought he was aiming to take Negapatam) sent them into a near panic. Anyone in Madras, however, knew that it was dangerous for any ship to attempt to ride out these winter storms. In an acrimonious exchange of letters, Hughes refused to stay, and sailed as the first storm of the season blew up – Superb lost its main and mizen masts almost at once. In that same storm Suffren sailed from Cuddalore. He had decided to winter at Acheh in Sumatra, where food, water, and materials could be obtained from the Dutch, and where he had arranged to rendezvous with Bussy and his army. So as Suffren’s fleet sailed due east, Hughes sailed south; they did not encounter each other, which was perhaps fortunate for both. At the same time Sir Richard Bickerton, with four line-of-battle ships, a frigate, and a set of transports bringing soldier reinforcements to Madras, was sailing north past Ceylon. He had reached Bombay on 3 September, the day of the last Suffren–Hughes battle, and, pausing only to replenish his water, he had sailed for Madras. He arrived there several days after Hughes had left; delivering his transports and the soldiers they carried at once, he immediately turned round and headed for Bombay. This was another sailor who understood the necessities of the concentration of power, and the problem of facing a storm season on a lee shore. The west coast was also a scene of conflict at sea, but less between the British and French than the British and Mysore. Haidar Ali had developed a navy, based largely at Mangalore. He was pushed into war by the British capture of Mahe, the French trading post on the Malabar coast, but an enclave within Mysorean territory, and a place which he claimed to be under his protection.4 As a result, when Sir Edward Hughes took up the Indian command in 1780, the year after the capture of Mahe, he had been able to launch his raid on the Mysorean ships at Mangalore. Several armed vessels were seized or destroyed, and this removed any threat from Haidar Ali’s navy for the moment, though he was able to build anew. It was fortunate for Bombay that the French at Mauritius did not send any of their larger French ships into the Arabian Sea, but French privateers did arrive. The Bombay Marine sent out ships to intercept them at the mouths of the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, and mounted a watch on Goa when two of them went into that port for repair and replacement. The main task of the Marine remained, therefore, the protection of the Company’s ships, and of British-flagged Indian ships, against the threat of local ‘pirates’, who were still active from the Maratha and Gujarati ports, as well as the French privateers 4 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.177–178; Forrest, Tiger of Mysore, 42.

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who were active in the time of European wars. In any larger enterprise than pirate hunting or convoying they would need support from larger Royal Navy ships, as provided by Hughes at Mangalore, where he commanded from his ship while the fleet of smaller Marine vessels did much of the fighting and cutting out. The Bombay Council made more than one effort to carry the war into Mysore, just as they had into Maratha territory earlier, but generally suffered defeat; its army was small, and the physical difficulties were great for an invasion of the interior; its Marine could raid and blockade, but was never strong enough or numerous enough to do more than that; it was of much the same strength as the ‘pirates’ which were its main enemies.5 Hughes got all his ships from Madras round to the Malabar coast, anchored at the first port he came to, Anjengo, and sent part of the fleet on ahead to Bombay for docking and repair. He left two frigates to assist a British force at Paniani, which was besieged by Haidar Ali’s very capable son Tipu, and himself went to Goa, where there was a dock and purchasable supplies, with the rest of the ships. He was welcomed by the Portuguese governor, who provided all the assistance necessary; his welcome was in strong contrast with the snarling unpleasantness of his compatriots in Madras and Bombay. Bickerton joined him at Bombay; Suffren spent the winter at Acheh; nobody attacked Madras. And, late in 1782, Haidar Ali died. Just as Hughes had been waiting for Bickerton’s reinforcements of ships and soldiers to arrive, so Suffren had been waiting for Bussy to reach Mauritius with his ships and men. Bickerton’s voyage had been delayed in setting out, and slow in accomplishment, but he did reach Bombay on 3 September with four line-of-battle ships and soldier reinforcements; Sceptre was the fifth ship, already arrived, and the sixth, Africa, arrived soon after. He brought 3000 troops. The French reinforcements, however, suffered from what seems to have been an unusually dire case of the friction of war. The French Ministry had worked out a plan to evade the British control of the seas between Britain and the equator. Instead of sending a large expeditionary force, line-of-battle ships, frigates, soldiers, and transports in a convoy, which would be a prime target for an even larger British fleet, the whole French force would be divided into smaller packets, each having two or three line-of-battle ships, and a couple of thousand soldiers in transports. Four of these packets were organised and dispatched separately. The first thing that went wrong was that two of these packets were found by the Royal Navy and scattered or destroyed before they passed Madeira – a thoroughly predictable event. Bussy was to command the land force, and he was to embark at Cadiz, under an assumed name – though Cadiz was in sight of Gibraltar and there were efficient British spies operating in the city. Nevertheless, two of the French contingents, and Bussy, got through as far as 5 Low, Indian Navy, 1.178–183; Richmond, Navy in India, Appendix 1; MacDougall,

Naval Resistance, discusses the Mysorean navy in his chapter 7.

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the Cape of Good Hope. There the Dutch feared that another British attempt would be made to take their colony – and indeed, after Commodore Johnstone’s failure, there was certainly talk in London of a new attempt, though it was abandoned. Bussy appreciated the problem, for with the Cape in British hands French and Dutch access to the Indian Ocean could be blocked, or at least made more difficult; and so their access to food supplies would be very restricted; also, since Mauritius relied on the Cape for food supplies, it would also reduce that island’s usefulness. In Europe the Dutch were dithering about involving themselves in the fighting, though they were technically at war with Britain. They had a fleet of eight line-of-battle ships available, which the French hoped might sail for the east; there was also a squadron of seven line-of-battle ships at Batavia in Java, which it was also hoped might join Suffren. Neither of these possibilities eventuated. The Dutch were wedded to the idea that these forces were defending Holland and Java by their very existence, even though there was no longer any real threat that the British would attack those places. (The Texel force did sail to the Cape to defend it, but went no further; the Cape was not attacked, so they could congratulate themselves on a correct calculation.) So the French forces originally sent to the east were reduced by up to a half of the original intended strength, and there was to be no help from the Dutch. When Bussy understood the danger to the Cape (Bickerton was rumoured to be convoying a force of 4000 soldiers, which might attack the Cape on their way east), he agreed to leave 600 French soldiers with the Dutch to boost the defence (though if the British did intend an invasion they would be likely to bring a considerably larger force than that.) The French army had already lost several hundred men to sickness during the voyage from Europe, and the sickness spread still further during the remainder of the journey to Mauritius – Bussy himself fell ill. Of the original expeditionary force of perhaps 6000 soldiers and a dozen line-of-battle ships, there were, by the time Bussy, at the end of December, was able to leave for his rendezvous with Suffren, only 2500 soldiers, many of them sick, and four line-of-battle ships. Suffren had already left Acheh, and the two French forces joined up at Trincomalee. Bickerton and Hughes similarly joined at Bombay. Suffren sent ships to attempt to intercept the supply line of food which went from Bengal to Madras, organised by Governor-General Hastings in Calcutta. The bonus was that ships captured by the French could be used to supply food for his own forces. Hastings, however, had succeeded in sending substantial quantities to Madras while the fleets were in their winter quarters, well before Suffren attacked the supply line, so that many of the ships the French captured were returning empty to Bengal having delivered their cargoes; a good quantity of rice was, however, secured. So the rice farmers of Bengal ended up supplying both sides in the fighting. The French did, however, also capture the Coventry, a frigate.

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When Suffren and Bussy joined up, the former speedily organised the transport of most of the troops to Cuddalore, and returned to Trincomalee without meeting Hughes’ much larger fleet, though they were seen sailing for Madras – Suffren had only part of his fleet at sea, and prudently kept clear. Hughes had been delayed by slow work repairing and replenishing his ships at Bombay, and by the obstructiveness of the Bombay Council, which clearly did not appreciate the urgency of the matter (any more than did the Madras Council). He sailed for Madras on 20 March. Once again there were several fleets and convoys in the same seas, and most of them missed sighting each other, though Sceptre did capture the French frigate Naiade. Hughes arrived at Madras on 13 April, but it was not until 2 May that he had partly replenished, above all with water, and could sail again, though he was still short of much that he needed. The army in Madras, now commanded by General James Stuart (Coote having died during the winter), marched out on 20 April to besiege Cuddalore. The army was to be supplied from transport ships sailing parallel, and so was lightly equipped, the intention being that the march should be accomplished quickly. But the scheme did not work. Landing supplies from the transport ships through the surf was slow, so that it was not until 7 June that the siege could begin. When Hughes sailed from Madras he went first in pursuit of a French convoy rumoured to be on its way from Mauritius; he looked in at Trincomalee, saw that the French fleet was not ready to sail, but was not vulnerable to an attack, then went on southwards. (The convoy did not actually exist.) Suffren, seeing the enemy fleet passing along southwards, leaving the seas between Trincomalee and Cuddalore free, immediately sent supplies to Bussy. Hughes brought his fleet back to blockade Cuddalore, as had been his original intention before the rumour of the convoy distracted him. He passed Tricomalee once more, and saw that the French fleet was now more or less ready to leave. When he got to Cuddalore he was certain that Suffren would arrive soon. The condition of his own fleet was not good. His ships were even worse off for water than before, and he had many cases of scurvy in the crews; on the other hand, the ships had been recently cleaned and repaired, whereas Suffren’s ships were in less good condition. He was right about Suffren, who had sailed despite explicit orders from Bussy (his commander-in-chief) not to do so. But, like Hughes, Suffren understood clearly that it was the existence of the fleets which was the key to the fighting. He aimed, once again, for a decisive victory. And once again, Hughes was also keen to gain a victory, if he could, but did not actually need one. All he needed was to fight the French and survive; the damaged French might also survive, but Hughes would still stand between Suffren’s fleet and the use it could be to support the French army. The preponderant power on land was British, in part thanks to the haemorrhaging of the French reinforcements coming with Bussy; the British army would conquer so long as it had support from the fleet.

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Suffren’s fleet came in sight of Cuddalore, which Hughes was blockading, on 13 June. Hughes had a group of transports to care for, which were landing supplies for the army just to the north of Cuddalore, and he moved to protect them. For four days the two fleets slowly manoeuvred in light and uncertain winds. On land, General Stuart’s army drove the French from the trenches and confined them to the town, where they could hold out for only a relatively short time. On the 17th Suffren ran into Cuddalore Road to collect reinforcements for the fleet which Bussy had agreed to provide from the army – this despite Suffren’s disobedience to Bussy’s direct and repeated orders not to sail. During the next two days, though aiming to come to battle, both fleets could scarcely move for lack of wind, but on the 20th the French fleet found enough of a breeze to come close enough to fight, though the approach took nearly all day. Suffren had originally aimed to adopt the plan of attacking the rear of the British line from both sides, similar to the plan which he had perhaps attempted in the first of these battles, Sadras, but now he reverted to the traditional system of paralleling the enemy line. Why he changed his mind is not known, but probably the light wind had something to do with it, or the experience of the power of the British ships’ gunnery – the three ships intended to lead the attack were all of frigate size, and by concentrating his heavier ships in the rear, on the windward side, this would leave the rest of his fleet outnumbered and outgunned by the British who were not involved in this rear fight. The inexperience of some of his captains (some of the formerly disobedient and lazy captains had been replaced by more junior officers), was also to be taken into consideration. The fighting began about 5 pm, so there was little more than an hour of daylight left before darkness closed the battle down. The two fleets banged away at each other in the same old way. It would be highly unlikely in the circumstances if a decisive result could emerge; only one ship, the French Flamand, was forced out of line. The French fought with much more determination than before, but with no more overall success, other than to inflict a few more casualties than they received. The fleets parted in the dark and lost touch. Hughes turned away to return to Cuddalore to reinstate the blockade (leading to some to accuse him of abandoning the fight and retreating in defeat, though that blockade was his purpose); Suffren sailed on northwards for two or three days. Thus once more Hughes had succeeded in his aim of forcing the French navy away from the besieged town. On land the army was making progress in the siege, and was about to be reinforced by a detached force, the ‘southern army’, which Macartney had ordered not to join Stuart – but whose commander disobeyed such an order, which Macartney in fact had no authority to give; disobedience was rife in both forces. The British fleet was in dire need of water and fresh food, and on the second day of the blockade Hughes took his ships towards Madras, carrying 500 sick men and with scurvy extending its ravages widely

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and quickly; he had been short-handed even when he left Bombay, and had fought the battle short of about a third of his complement, a deficiency which was increasing daily. Suffren was no more anxious to renew the fight than Hughes. Between them the admirals clearly appreciated that their battle had been a draw, if a result is required to be judged. The two fleets passed within sight of each other, one going to Madras, the other to Cuddalore, but neither aimed to fight, though they kept their guards up. When Hughes reached Madras it was to hear that the Preliminaries of Peace had been signed in Paris six months before. He at once sent a frigate, Medea, to Cuddalore to take the news to Suffren. So ended this series of battles between two roughly equal fleets commanded by contrasting admirals. Suffren, an effervescent Provencal, has in many ways captured the imaginations of historians, particularly British historians, while the more stoic Hughes came from south-east England, not an area noted for exuberance. He was recommended to the command because he would follow his instructions, and this was precisely what was required in the circumstances of the war in the Bay of Bengal; the year-long series of battles he and Suffren fought produced for the British the required result. The fighting ended, if the battles alone are taken into account, more or less indecisively, but in strategic terms the campaign was a clear victory for Hughes and the British fleet. Suffren’s task was clearly the more difficult, of course. His aim had to be to destroy British naval power in the Bay of Bengal decisively; he was handicapped by a shortage of ships for much of the campaign, since an equality of power was never going to produce a decisive result. He also suffered from awkward, disobedient, and lazy captains, and whenever he received reinforcements, he found that Hughes had also received an equivalent. He certainly did well in his fights, but, despite his exalted reputation, his campaign was a failure. Hughes’ traditional methods were quite sufficient to fight Suffren off each time, for all he had to do was prevent a large French victory. He stuck to his task, as typified after the last fight, off Cuddalore, when he turned back to renew the blockade in support of the army. Suffren’s reputation is based on personality and supposed innovative tactics, though these tactics were attempted only once, and failed. In none of the battles can he be seen to have succeeded. His reputation is overblown. In the even longer term, it was clear that the British had retained command of the waters around India and would do so for the future. The combination of local strength, power on land, control of most of the ports, and naval domination by the British fleet in European waters (which blocked any serious enemy attempts to invade the Indian Ocean) prevented the French from gaining the predominance in the east which they had aimed for. Hughes’ strategic victory in the battles of 1782–1783 was the last time the British had to face a major assault on their position in the Indian Ocean for the next century and a half. The only assaults on their position came from occasional minor French forces during the next wars, and one brief Japanese invasion of the Indian Ocean in

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1942, when the British fleet adopted exactly the same policy as Hughes, by, in this case, evading any fight against superior force, and as a result survived. This was enough to ensure continued British domination of eastern waters while the British Empire in the east survived.

8 A Ring of Enemies (1783–1803) The endurance of the British forces in India and the Indian seas and of the East India Company in the face of the French assault between 1778 and 1783 was decisive for British control of India, though only in retrospect. That control was further consolidated after 1783, by the developments during the next ten years, and by the defence, once again, of the British position in India in the succeeding decades of warfare; this included the extension of British control as far as the Indus River. The American War had technically ended with the mutual return of conquered lands between the Europeans, but, as after 1748 and after 1763 this did not mean much in India and the east; for a start it took two years for the terms to be implemented.1 Negapatam was not returned to the Dutch; this was the only territorial change. The successful voyages of the Pitt to and from China through the Indonesian islands in 1759 had been followed by more British ships sailing the same way, and by the Dutch formal prohibition of this, which the British ships, all large and well-armed, could easily ignore. It also emerged that Dutch control of the islands was by no means either universally welcome to the islanders or very extensive, relying as it did on repeated terrorising voyages of destruction, designed to prevent the production of spices in those islands the Dutch did not control; the Dutch may have claimed control of the seas because they held the islands, but most of the archipelago was not under their actual rule.2 With peace in 1763 there had been no political need for this new route, the Eastern Passage, to be followed, since the South China Sea route was then available and reasonably safe, but one or two ships did take it,3 so that when the Dutch joined in the American War at the end of 1780 it was a relatively familiar route to many of the Company’s captains. Participation in this war also produced a British blockade against Dutch traffic through the Malacca Straits and the Sunda Straits, and an almost complete halt to Dutch exports from Java to Europe, for, even if the Dutch ships could get through the immediate blockades, they were very liable to be captured on the long voyage to Europe. The warehouses of Java filled up with local produce, and since the Dutch East India Company was unable to sell its goods, it had no revenue. By the end of

French in India, 379–380. Modern Indonesia, 59–65. For example, by the Princess Augusta in 1764 (Cotton, East Indiamen, 110).

1 Sen,

2 Ricklefs, 3

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the war it was in effect bankrupt.4 The seven line-of-battle ships at Batavia, as Dutch theory had it, may have represented seapower and so prevented an attack on the city, but they did nothing to maintain control of what the Dutch claimed were their waters. The British Company’s ships increasingly used the Eastern Passage pioneered by Pitt in the latter years of the American War – seven ships used the passage in 1780, three in 1781, four in 1782 and five each in 1783 and 1784.5 This was most of the Company’s China ships in those years, and by this time it was clearly a major and familiar route; paradoxically, by passing through the Dutch islands and east of the Spanish Philippines, both hostile territories, the ships were safer than going by way of the South China Sea. The terms of peace of 1783 included a stipulation that ‘country ships’ could travel through the islands, that is, ships owned and operated outside the Company, often by European owners and captains. This was a compromise between the British demand for free access for all British ships, including those of the Company, and the Dutch insistence on complete prohibition. Whatever the precise terms, the Company’s ships continued to use the route without hindrance, and eventually warships did so as well. A French ship, under Captain d’Entrecastreaux on his exploratory voyage, used the route in 1786. The political/diplomatic situation in Europe during the 1780s rather implied a revival of the international political situation which had existed in the last years of the war, by which France, the Netherlands, and Spain were all hostile to Britain, so in case of war all Indonesia and the Philippines would again be closed to the Company’s ships.6 In such circumstances the Eastern Passage might become as difficult and dangerous as the South China Sea route, particularly as all three of the diplomatic friends were building up their sea power.7 One reaction to this was to persuade the Company to begin a series of surveys and explorations with a view to ensuring greater safety for its China ships.8 The coasts of India were, of course, the first priority for survey, particularly the west coast, since the Bombay Marine’s headquarters were at Bombay. Bernard M. Vlekke, Nusantara, A History of the East Indian Archipelago, Cambridge, MA 1973, 217. 5 Fry, How Australia Became British, 254, note 12, calculated presumably from Company records. 6 Ibid, ch. 2, centred on the Dutch crisis; Simon Schama, Patriots and Liberators, Revolution in the Netherlands 1780–1813, 2nd ed., London 1994, ch. 3; for the wider European situation, Paul W. Schroeder, The Transformation of European Politics, 1763–1848, Oxford, 1994, 35–46. 7 See Appendix II of Rodger, Command of the Ocean, where Britain (‘England’) increased its line-of-battle ships by eight between 1785 and 1790 while France, the Netherlands, and Spain increased by twenty-three; in cruisers Britain’s total fell by two, the others increased by fourteen. 8 Low, Indian Navy, 1.185–201. 4

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Makran (southern Persia), Sind, and Kathiawar were some of the earliest to be conscientiously examined and charted – this was the coast along which Company ships regularly sailed, if they had taken the route through the Mozambique Channel and close to the African coast rather than passing close to the French islands east of Madagascar. Then the nearby islands, the Maldives and Laccadives to the west were charted, and Captain John McCluer investigated the Chagos Archipelago. The survey of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands in the Bay of Bengal would normally be outside the range of the Bombay Marine, but by the time this was being done the Bombay Marine was under imperial direction rather than just the Company’s. After the survey by Lieutenant Archibald Blair, the Governor-General Lord Cornwallis was presented with the survey of the Andamans; he arranged for the establishment of a penal colony in the islands as a result; ‘Port Blair’ was the main centre; ‘Fort Cornwallis’ was the penal settlement.9 Examinations of the Dutch islands followed, especially after the Company ship Northumberland blundered into the Arafura Sea between New Guinea and northern Australia in 1783 during its China voyage, and found it difficult to get out, so that it took three years on its voyage from Britain to Canton.10 New Guinea’s north coast was charted, also by Captain McCluer, as part of the concentration on the Eastern Passage.11 An accidental survey of the coast of part of the Malay Peninsula followed (Captain Thomas Forrest was to survey the Andaman Islands, but missed them).12 The annexation and survey of Penang (‘Prince of Wales Island’) by Captain Home Popham came in 1786, with the aim of establishing a factory there; the island proved to be too unhealthy even for the Company; it was nonetheless used by the Royal Navy in the next war and the Company then moved in and established its factory.13 By then the Dutch East India Company was in collapse, so its ports might become available. Lieutenant Hayes surveyed Tasmania, New Caledonia, and many of the Molucca Islands; his cordial and generous relations with the inhabitants of the places he visited puts him in the same rank as James Cook as a surveyor and explorer. His survey took place in 1793, when the Dutch were still neutral in the new war, but by the time he came back into the Indian Ocean, war was on with the French, and when the ship taking his results and charts to Europe was captured, they ended up in Paris.14 These surveys covered many of the coasts the British ships might meet; it was as systematic a programme as the resources of the Bombay Marine allowed. Indian Navy, 1.185–187. How Australia Became British, 52–53. 11 Low, Indian Navy, 1.197–198. 12 Fry, How Australia Became British, 48–49. 13 Ibid, 51–55; Home Popham, A Description of Prince of Wales Island …, London 1791. 14 Low, Indian Navy, 1.200–201. 9 Low, 10 Fry,

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This survey programme was also part of the Company’s search for alternatives to Macau for a forward base for the China trade. The sheer length of the voyage from India to Canton, or, even worse, from Britain to Canton, was time-consuming and expensive in resources and manpower – the Northumberland, stuck in the Arafura Sea, had seventy-five of the crew die on its voyage. For two centuries Spain had used Manila in the Philippines as its base for its profitable China trade, though it did not usually send ships to Canton, instead Chinese ships were welcomed at Manila bringing cargoes for sale. Manila was in an advantageous position in that the Acapulco galleons brought cargoes of silver dollars, which was the currency of choice for the China trade, and returned to Mexico with cargoes of Chinese products. The capture of Manila by the British in 1762 had severely disrupted that whole trading system, largely by curtailing the supply of silver, though the disruption was only brief. (In the 1740s, the Spanish authorities had heard, well ahead of events, through information brought by Chinese merchants from Canton, that Anson’s ship, the Centurion, was intending to attack the galleon, but this intelligence system failed in 1762.)15 The Spaniards clearly had an advantage in the trade with China by holding Manila. The Dutch had also been able, rather less successfully, to use Batavia in much the same way as Manila, though they tended to fall foul of the Chinese and find that their trade was suspended.16 The English New Company had attempted to establish a base at Pulo Condore in the South China Sea, but had mismanaged it. Sixty years later the (now United) Company was persuaded that it would be advantageous to establish a base closer to Canton than its Indian ports. Alexander Dalrymple, who had investigated the region personally, pointed to the northern end of Borneo as a likely area, and in 1763–1764 he persuaded the Sultan of Sulu to grant the Company the island of Balambangan and some mainland territory in North Borneo; the island had a useful harbour, and the mainland could produce supplies of food.17 At much the same time the French were working to gain influence in Cochin China – modern Vietnam – by giving armed support to one side in a long civil war, and looked to come away with a similar grant of Da Nang as their China base.18 Neither of these enterprises was successful in the long run, but the idea of establishing a base closer to Canton than India remained alive. For a time the Palau Islands, east of the Philippines, might have been useful, but they were remote and small, and far out in the Pacific; by contrast, it was its smallness and closeness to enemies which was the downfall of Balambangan.19 Prize of All the Oceans, 169–170; see 121–124 for the routes of the galleons. 16 Cranmer-Byng and Wills, ‘Trade and Diplomacy’, 195–199. 17 Fry, Alexander Dalrymple, chs 3 and 4. 18 Ibid, 170–173. 19 Low, Indian Navy, 1.192–200; Fry, How Australia Became British, 51–52, 69–71. 15 Williams,

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The answer, both for the British and the French, seemed to lie in the large and potentially rich lands located and charted by Captain Cook. In 1785 the British Admiralty learnt that a French expedition to be commanded by JeanFrançois de la Galaup, Comte de la Perouse, was to set out for the South Seas. It was thought that he might be intending to establish a French colony in New Zealand, or perhaps Australia, but he was certainly aiming to prospect the possibilities. The news coincided with the deliberations of a committee in London which was considering the site for a new penal colony, now that Georgia was unavailable since the United States became independent. The eventual prime site the committee chose was Botany Bay in New South Wales, well recorded in the reports of Cook and Sir Joseph Banks (and the latter was still alive to give advice). The place was fertile, possession of it would pre-empt the site against any French attempts at colonisation, and it could be a useful base for the China trade. Which of the reasons was predominant is unknown, but the China trade was clearly as important as any of the others.20 Using Botany Bay would give the China ships a different and safer track, out of reach of potential Dutch and Spanish enemies, by sailing the southern Indian Ocean (pushed by the prevailing wind), south of Australia, then north by way of a refreshment call at Botany Bay, bypassing the Indonesian and Philippine Islands to pick up the Eastern Passage east of the Philippines. It was a longer voyage in distance, but not necessarily longer in time, given the prevailing southern winds. Returning ships might use the north-east monsoon as usual, or possibly, by way of Botany Bay once more, by a circumnavigation track across the South Pacific, using the boisterous winds in the south, and into the Atlantic – another place being considered at the time for settlement as a refreshment port was the Falkland Islands. The ships taking this route would be sailing well away from Dutch and French shipping and distant from the hostility of Dutch Indonesia, while the Spanish threat from the Philippines was not taken seriously, despite the new presence of warships stationed at Manila. It would also avoid any need to establish a new station in any of the Indonesian or Pacific islands, which could be easily wiped out by local or European hostility – as the failed attempts at Pulo Condore, Penang, Balambangan, the French at Da Nang, and others during the past century, had shown. In 1787 the founding expedition sailed, the ‘First Fleet’ of transports, store ships, guard ships and guards, and pioneering convicts. And meanwhile la Perouse had visited New Zealand and other islands, and had then disappeared.21 This was, in theory, for the benefit of the East India Company and its ships, but that was no longer the same entity as the one whose mismanagement had brought it near to collapse fifteen years before. Both it and similar companies How Australia Became British, 54–65. Nigel Rigby et al., ‘The “Spirit of Discovery”: The Tragic Voyage of Lapérouse’, in Pacific Explorations, 116–119; Brosse, Great Voyages, 76–93.

20 Fry, 21

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in other countries had suffered collapse or near collapse – and state takeover or suppression – in the 1780s, almost simultaneously. The Dutch East India Company scarcely survived into the peace. It was, as all such companies necessarily were because of their wealth and economic importance, politically involved in Dutch internal affairs, and Dutch politics were in crisis throughout the 1780s, partly over the question of the control of the company. The net result was that it was dissolved and its assets – for our purposes, its colonies – were transferred to the Dutch state.22 In France, the dissolution of the Perpetual East India Company in 1769 was followed in 1785 by its revival in a successor, but this was directly controlled by the French state; the arrival of the Revolution put its claim to a monopoly of French eastern trade into the revolutionaries’ target zone after 1789, and the abolition of the monopoly, followed by the loss of Pondicherry in 1793, led to the company’s suppression.23 In Britain, the unsatisfactory Regulating Act of 1773 was succeeded by the India Act of 1784, by which all the Company’s territories, and its military, naval, and governmental responsibilities, became subject to closer British government supervision; the Company was left with its trading activities, whose purpose was now to finance the government of the Indian territories and the Company’s wars.24 All the East India Companies therefore suffered the same fate, state takeover or suppression, within a few years; only the British Company survived, much changed, and more closely supervised. The stations, or posts, the factories, and the assets of the companies became parts of the European states; their armies and navies were to be directed by the War Offices and Admiralties of the European states, but the problem of distance still intervened (or the ‘tyranny of distance’, in Australian terms).25 This supervision took place at such a distance that in India they had no option but to operate virtually independently. The disseminated powers of government in British India – the Presidencies of Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay, the separate commands of the Royal Navy, armies, and the Bombay Marines – were not basically changed. The high officers of Presidents, Governors, and Governor-General were appointed in London by the President of the Board of Control – that is, by the British Cabinet. In London the President of the Board had powers to ‘superintend, direct, and control’ the Company’s territories – but at the same temporal distance of six months as before. The change was essentially at the top, and much less so actually on the ground in India, where the Company still operated as the government and as a military and naval power. The extension of the reach of the Bombay Marine during the period from the 1770s, partly by cruises to inflict punishment (Mocha, the Gulf), and partly For Dutch problems see Schama, Patriots and Liberators, ch. 3; for the fate of the company, Fry, How Australia Became British, 31–36. 23 Sen, French in India, 421–425. 24 Documents on the events of 1783–1784 are in Marshall, Problems of Empire, 120– 136 and 152–170; see also Marshall’s introduction. 25 Geoffrey Blainey, The Tyranny of Distance, London 1974. 22

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by its surveys of various coasts from Madagascar to Tasmania, could take place only in a time of European peace. It remained a small force of a dozen or fifteen armed ships of ghurab size, and some smaller galivats, powerful only against pirates using the same sorts of ships.26 Anything larger, which would normally mean a European-built ship, was too much for such ships, just as a Company ship, armed with up to fifty guns, was normally too large for pirates to tackle. The Company built or bought the ships for the Marine in India, hence their description in Indian terms. They were usually built at Surat, at first, where a building yard was sited. The foreman of the Surat yard, Lowgee Nusserwanjee, one of the Parsee community in the city, was persuaded to move to Bombay in 1735, where the new ships were now mainly built. A dry dock was constructed, and was followed by wet docks big enough to hold a large Company ship or a Royal Navy warship of up 74 guns. This equipment permitted the Marine to build larger ships, so that it had a ship of 40 guns by the early 1760s, and the Bombay (38) and the Cornwallis (52) by the 1780s. This was a substantial investment, necessitating the acquisition and storage of masts and yards, stocks of wood, rope, and canvas, and everything else a ship needs. The ships were built by a succession of Parsee shipbuilders, and became well known for their durability and toughness, built as they generally were of teak. They would last a long time.27 The Royal Navy ships in Indian waters were mainly withdrawn back to Britain at the end of the American War for the usual reasons – financial from the government’s point of view, to recondition the ships from the Admiralty’s, and an assumption that peace had arrived by both. Yet it soon became clear that, as usual, this measure was, if not premature, then one which had soon to be reversed by sending out at least a new squadron to India. A new dispute between Tipu, Sultan of Mysore, and the British rumbled on until war developed in 1790. Tipu had been caught in a maze of contradictory treaties concluded by the Madras Council in its efforts to avoid spending anything on defence, and the new Governor-General in Calcutta, Lord Cornwallis, who did not need to pay any attention to the Madras Council’s financial sensitivities, eventually decided that he could not solve the issue by negotiations. He came down in support of the Nizam of Hyderabad in the complex dispute, since he would be the more useful of the disputants for the British in the south. Cornwallis knew full well that this would anger Tipu, and prepared for war before announcing his decision. The kingdom of Travancore, in the south of Malabar, was also in dispute with Tipu, and was given a guarantee of support by the British, so when Tipu attacked it, war with the British was inevitable.28 The importance of Travancore for the British lay in its control of a stretch of the south-west coast of India about 300 miles long. It had access to European Navy in India, appendix 1. Indian Navy, 1.172–177; MacDougall, Naval Resistance, 160–163. 28 Forrest, Tiger of Mysore, 121–123, 126–129. 26 Richmond, 27 Low,

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trade through Cochin, a Dutch factory occupying an enclave of Travancorian territory, just as, a little to the north, the French factory at Mahe gave Mysore access to European goods. It was through Mahe that Haidar Ali and Tipu imported their own European goods, above all arms. Travancore was also in a useful geographical position when the new war with Mysore began in 1790. The Raja of Travancore had constructed a powerful defence system spanning the northern approach to the kingdom from the sea to the mountains, a series of trenches and ramparts which proved to be impenetrable for the Mysorean army. Tipu began the new war by attacking these defences, no doubt concerned that Travancore would be a standing threat from the west in a war with the British of Madras to the east Cornwallis had brought his brother William with him as his naval commander-in-chief. He had a small squadron consisting of the Crown (64), two frigates (Phoenix (36) and Perseverance (36)), and two sloops (Atalanta (16) and Ariel (18)). In 1791 a similar squadron of four French frigates (Cybele, Atalante, Cleopatre, Resolue) arrived at Mauritius, and Resolue was at once sent to Mahe, and so was evidently intended to be in contact with Tipu.29 The Bombay Marine landed troops along the Malabar coast to help isolate Mysore. Commodore Cornwallis sailed round to Malabar, where his task was to support the Raja of Travancore, and prevent any war materials reaching Mysore. It was during the latter stages of the war, that Resolue turned up at Mahe, clearly a surprise to the British, but not in itself dangerous. The arrival of two French merchant ships, however, which Cornwallis thought might be delivering war materials to Mysore, induced him to send two of his frigates to investigate their cargoes. Resolue came out from Mahe, apparently intending to prevent the inspection, which doubled Cornwallis’ suspicions. The dispute developed into a fight between Resolue and the two British frigates, which then continued as a prolonged dispute about whether or not Resolue had been captured. It was, of course, a time of peace between Britain and France, but Britain was at war with Mysore, and Commodore Cornwallis was in effect blockading Mahe to prevent trade with the enemy. The dispute was therefore complicated, and while the captain of Resolue seemed determined to insist that the French had a casus belli because of his situation, Admiral Cornwallis did his best to refute this. The background was also, of course, the contemporary revolutionary situation in France, which had fired up French patriotic feelings. In the meantime Governor-­General Lord Cornwallis, commanding the land forces, invaded Mysore from the east, and laid siege to Tipu’s capital at Seringapatam. Tipu, faced with this, agreed to terms.30 In the peace treaty considerable stretches of Mysorean territory were removed for the benefit of its neighbours.

29

C. Northcote Parkinson, War in the Eastern Seas, 1793–1815, London 1954, 55–56. Tiger of Mysore, 134–201; Franklin and Mary Wickwire, Cornwallis, the Imperial Years, Chapel Hill, NC 1980, 117–170.

30 Forrest,

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Travancore, which had prevented the Mysorean invasion by its stout defence, survived. The end of the Mysorean War allowed the Resolue crisis to die away.31 Commodore Cornwallis ended his command, as a result of the war with Mysore, with a fleet of ten ships, a 50-gun ship, and three more frigates. He began to send ships back to Britain,32 even though the news from Europe was ominous. The collision off Mahe with Resolue was clearly part of the new situation, consequent on the changes in the international situation as a result of the revolution in France. The Company had long been bothered by the presence of French soldiers of fortune employed in command positions by Indian rulers, a concern rising to paranoia at times. The vision which was conjured up was the arrival of a substantial French armed force from Europe, necessarily by sea, and so in considerable naval strength, and its alliance with all the Indian states which had employed French soldiers. There were certainly French diplomatic contacts with several Indian states.33 Retaining Royal Naval ships in the area would be an obvious precaution against the Company’s potential scenario, unlikely as it was. The presence at Mauritius of the small force of French frigates was also something to be watched. But by the time it became clear that a new French war was imminent, most of the British ships had left once more. Uncertainty ended on 19 June, when William Cornwallis, now a Rear-­ Admiral, visiting Trincomalee, received a letter from the Company’s agent in Egypt, George Baldwin, reporting that war in Europe had begun four months before.34 The Dutch in Ceylon did not know, so he left Trincomalee quickly, and when it seemed likely that the French in India did not know either, he headed for Pondicherry. He had only the Minerva frigate of his original nine or ten ships left, but he was reinforced by three Company ships in the blockade of the town. He succeeded in capturing three French ships, which were heading for the place, and in getting the President at Madras to equip three Indiamen for war, while at Calcutta Lord Cornwallis seized a French ship, the Bien-Aime, armed and manned it, and sent it off to help. At least one of the captured ships had been bringing war materials to Pondicherry, which the British now rapidly put under siege. Just as quickly the French and Dutch posts in other parts of India were seized, including Mahe; Pondicherry itself surrendered, after a brief siege, on 23 August.35 The Governor-General, his term of office having expired, went home, not in a great ship as would normally be expected, or in a Company ship in considerable comfort, but in the Swallow packet, escorted part of the way by his brother’s Minerva and the Bien-Aime, the ship he had seized at Calcutta.36 Naval Resistance, 172–176. War, 62–63. 33 Sen, French in India, ch. 18. 34 Hoskins, British Routes, 44. 35 Sen, French in India, 445–447. 36 Parkinson, War, 62; Wickwires, Cornwallis, Imperial Years, 177–179. 31 MacDougall, 32 Parkinson,

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The British strength at sea in Indian waters was therefore reduced to just three warships, only one of them a frigate, but all the French posts on land had been eliminated, and the return of the Governor-General to Britain had not reduced it more than necessary. Commodore Cornwallis also sailed to Britain, in that last frigate, Minerva. The maritime defence of British India was thus left to the Bombay Marine and its small ships and to the armed Company trading ships. The Marine busied itself with the minor but essential tasks which the Royal Navy disdained. It was much concerned with pirates, which were still active in Gujarat and along the Maratha coast – the old names of Gheriah and Severndrug recur in the chronicles. The historian of the Marine, C.L. Low, was much taken by the exploits of Lieutenant John Hayes in the 1790s, and his activities were mainly in that time anti-piratical.37 The Marine, however, was developing considerably greater strength. A frigate, Bombay (38), was launched in 1793, and soon after an even larger ship, Cornwallis (52).38 When the French privateers began operating in the Indian Ocean again from 1793, the Marine’s ships were able to tackle them with some success; when assisted by the Company’s major trading ships, acting as warships, they could be a formidable force. In 1794 the Marine ship Jehangire in company with Exeter and Brunswick, both large vessels of 1200 tons, moved against the French frigates Cybele, Prudente, and Moireau, when they came near to the Surat approaches.39 The Marine’s ships also took to operating much further afield from their Bombay base. There were already familiar with the Persian Gulf and the entrance to the Red Sea, and the group’s activities had widened the captains’ knowledge; now they were operating in the South China Sea, once again against the same French raiding frigates. In September 1793 the Company China ship Princess Royal (800 tons) was captured off Java. Three of the Company’s ships, William Pitt and Britannia (each about 800 tons) and the Bombay Marine sloop Nautilus (14) were sent to the Strait of Singapore to act as guard and escort for the Company’s ships passing through the Malacca or Sunda Straits. They were joined by two more Company ships Houghton and Nonsuch (each 800 tons) off Java when they met the French frigates Vengeur and Resolue; after a fairly tough fight both French ships surrendered.40 Admiral Cornwallis was not, of course, deserting his post when he left in the last Royal Navy ship in the Indian Ocean; he was obeying his orders, which gave him discretion as to when he should return, and since he had been in the east on this station for three years, the normal period of service, he was clearly entitled to leave.41 The defence of India was not being abandoned by the Indian Navy, 1.202–204. Ibid, 206. 39 Ibid, 202. 40 Ibid, 204–206. 41 Parkinson, War, 69–70. 37 Low, 38

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Royal Navy; the Royal Navy’s presence in the Indian Ocean was being reduced once more to the minimum – actually to no ships at all – which had been the normal situation between European wars in the past. The French warships at Mauritius were not about to attack India – four frigates could hardly make a dent in British power there. They were actually more compatible with a quasi-­ privateering role – once they knew that war had begun, of course. This would be at the latest when news of the British seizure of French ships and posts in India reached Mauritius. Cornwallis had vainly chased the frigate Cybele off Pondicherry, whose return to Mauritius may have given the news to the island. The opening of warfare between European powers in the Indian seas was always a slow and ragged process. The Admiralty appointed a new commander-in-chief of the East Indies station even before it knew that Cornwallis was exercising his standing permission to return whenever he wished. It was perhaps assumed that he would be on his way when they began considering who was to be his successor; his elder brother had already returned and may have passed the word. The new commander was Commodore Peter Rainier, who would sail in his ship Suffolk (74), along with a collection of convoys for various destinations. He would separate off with a set of East Indiamen bound for India or China to guard, and he was to collect three more ships for his fleet at the Cape. He took the sloop Swift (16) with him, though two of the ships at the Cape, the frigates Orpheus (32) and Heroine (32), had in fact gone on to Madras and were there when he arrived. The Diomede (44) had been sent out before Rainier had been appointed. When he reached India, therefore, Centurion (50) and Diomede had gone to institute a blockade of Mauritius; Resistance (44) had been sent to guard the China trade. Even without a commander-in-chief present, the Royal Navy’s processes worked automatically.42 Previous experience, and the events on the European continent, virtually dictated the next British actions. Spain joined with France in 1796, which put the Philippines into the hostile camp; the Netherlands were conquered by the French early in 1795 and a new regime – composed of the party which had been defeated in the previous crisis – was installed and eagerly allied itself with the French republic. This meant that, once more, British India seemed to be hemmed around by hostile countries – the Dutch Cape, the French islands of Mauritius and Bourbon, Dutch Ceylon, Dutch Indonesia, and the Spanish Philippines, not to mention the hostile Indian powers which the Company dominated with its armed forces. This was a superficial view, however, and would be quickly succeeded by the perception that a series of a lip-smacking targets now existed for British maritime expeditions. The two large frigates blockading Mauritius were driven off by a sortie by four French ships manned by enthusiastic republican sailors. In the battle the French suffered the greater casualties, but the Centurion was badly damaged 42

Ibid, 74–75.

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and would have to return to Bombay for repairs; the Diomede had scarcely participated in the fight but would have to leave too, since a single ship attempting to maintain a blockade all by itself would be far too vulnerable. (Captain Smith was cashiered for his conduct and dismissed from the service.)43 Admiral Rainier took his own ships east to shepherd the country ships returning from China through the dangerous Malacca Strait. By January 1795 this had all been done, and after his ships were refreshed at Madras and Bombay he took up a position off Ceylon as the place most convenient for intercepting ships, British or hostile, which were making for India. There he heard that the Netherlands had been conquered and were now aligned with France.44 The Dutch settlements and colonies around the Indian Ocean were therefore now under the authority of the French-aligned government in The Hague, but the governors and garrisons might still be loyal to the Stadhouder Willem V, who was in exile in Britain. Willem gave authority to the British government to occupy his colonies, and so protect them against the French. So from August 1795 the attention of Rainier and his ships was directed at occupying Ceylon and Malacca, while an expedition was organised in Britain to take over the Cape. Then there were also the projects of captures and conquests, with prize-money to be acquired in the Dutch Indies, from Sumatra to the Spice Islands (Moluccas). For naval officers the prospect was very enticing. The Cape was assaulted by a considerable expedition commanded by Vice-Admiral Sir Keith Elphinstone and Major-General Sir James Craig. Elphinstone had a squadron of line-of-battle ships, three 74s (Monarch, Victorious, Arrogant), and two 64s (America and Stately); he was joined by the ships of Commodore John Blankett, a frigate and a sloop. Blankett was already at the Cape when Elphinstone arrived. A slow invasion campaign followed, first anchoring the fleet in Simon’s Bay, then landing and negotiating, by which it was hoped the Dutch would admit the British, who had Willem’s authority, as allies or protectors. The Dutch were divided, some were loyal to the Orange family, others keen on the Revolution; hence the long slow process of the imposition of British protection. In the end, when the talks failed, there was some fairly light fighting until, finally, the arrival of new British forces in a fleet of Indiamen persuaded the Dutch to capitulate.45 At Malacca the process was similar but briefer. Captain Newcombe in Orpheus (32) led a small squadron towards the city. He arrived before the rest of his ships, and when Resistance (44) arrived two days behind him he landed the troops from these two ships; the negotiations failed, as at the Cape, but Ibid, 75; Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.487–488. Rainier is the central figure in Parkinson’s history, and a new consideration of his time in the east is in Peter A. Ward, British Naval Power in the East, 1794–1805: The Command of Admiral Peter Rainier, Woodbridge, Suffolk, 2013. 45 Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.280–281; Parkinson, War, 80–81. ‘Capture of the Cape’, The Naval Chronicle, ed. Nicholas Tracy, 5 vols, London 1998, I, 138–143. 43

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the Dutch gave up after only a few shots were fired.46 This was, in fact, the first of the Dutch settlements to be taken, on 17 August 1795. The Cape fell on 16 September. In both places a British garrison was left for the ‘protection’ of the conquests against any French counter-attack. All this was done in the name of the Stadhouder Willem, before any war was declared between the Netherlands and Britain, hence the fiction of ‘protection’. When Rainier came through Malacca a little later he altered the conditions of the capitulation in such a way as to make it clear that the city had been conquered.47 He was clearly, as with those at the Cape and Ceylon, thinking that any further peace would mean that these places might be annexed by Britain. Ceylon was a more difficult place to capture, but only because it was larger, not because the resistance was any more strenuous. The first target for Rainier, who was in command of this expedition, was, of course, Trincomalee, with its valuable harbour. Here, because of the fortifications, the fighting went on for some time. The British expedition, consisting of Suffolk, Diomede, and Heroine with transports and soldiers, along with Bombay and some smaller ships of the Marine, arrived on 1 August and sailed into the bay in the next two days; Diomede struck a rock and sank at once, but the troops it carried were landed safely and the crew rescued. Negotiations for several days followed, and when they failed (as they did at Malacca and at the Cape) the British commenced siege operations. In this case the two forts which the French had taken in 1782 were serially besieged in the same way by the British forces and with the same results. The first fell quickly, the second and stronger, Fort Oosterberg, fell after several days. By the end of August the whole place was under British control.48 But this was just one place in Dutch Ceylon. The Dutch controlled the coastal lands, based at several forts and towns, while in the interior was the kingdom of Kandy, protected by its mountain situation and by treaties, and never yet conquered, neither by the Portuguese (who had preceded the Dutch) nor by the Dutch. The conquest therefore was slower and more complex, and for the time being applied only to the Dutch lands. From Trincomalee British detachments moved out to north and south. Northwards they took Mullaitivu, and then Jaffna at the north end of the island, and the island of Manan on the north-east; to the south another detachment took Batticaloa, a useful harbour. The main Dutch defensive element had been the Regiment de Meuron, a mercenary force. The regiment’s proprietor, Comte Charles de Meuron of Neuchatel in Switzerland, was contacted by a British agent, Hugh Cleghorn, a Scottish professor of history acting as a secret agent, who knew that the Comte was short of money. He persuaded – bribed – him to transfer his regiment to British command. The order came to the regiment’s commander in Ceylon hidden in an Edam cheese, necessary because the Dutch were hindering comWar, 80. Ibid, 93. 48 Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.281–282; Parkinson, War, 78–81. 46 Parkinson, 47

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munications, and the regiment moved out of Ceylon into India. Before the British landed, therefore, the main Dutch defence force had been nobbled and had decamped.49 Meanwhile Colombo, the seat of the Dutch governor, was blockaded by Heroine, Rattlesnake, and Echo (16). On 15 February the ships were joined by five Indiamen carrying soldiers. These were part of the group of Indiamen which had arrived at Cape Town, and had thereby convinced the Dutch garrison to capitulate. Their arrival off Colombo with troops had the same effect. All the soldiers had to do was disembark and march towards Colombo for the city to surrender, on the 16th.50 So within a year (the Cape expedition set out from Britain in April 1795), three of the four centres of Dutch power in the Indian Ocean had fallen into British hands, with scarcely any greater effort than merely sailing there.51 The French ships at Mauritius, reduced to two frigates, Cybele and Prudente, and the brig Coureur, had made a successful raid into the South China Sea by way of the Sunda Strait early in 1795, capturing several ships of various sizes and origins. They had then returned to Mauritius, apparently after capturing a copy of the Madras Gazette in which it was claimed that a British force was heading for the island to suppress them.52 The loss of the Cape meant a major problem for Mauritius, which relied on it for a supplementary food supply. Rainier, partly in response to the French frigate raids, and partly in quest of further British conquests – he mentioned Batavia and the Spice Islands – took his ships to Malacca, leaving India guarded by the usual Company ships and the Bombay Marine. While he was away Admiral Elphinstone arrived at Madras from the Cape. He had been made commander-in-chief of the joint Cape and East Indies stations, an unwieldy command which was soon to be discarded. He found Rainier gone to the east, where he was capturing the Moluccas, taking Amboyna on the same day that Colombo fell. Some of the Banda Islands were captured with little fighting and few casualties, but much prize money was distributed from these captures.53 Elphinstone at Madras had plans to attack Mauritius, and meanwhile he spread his ships to Ceylon and Malacca and Penang with orders to return within a month. By then he had heard the news, relayed by way of George Baldwin in Cairo, though he had perhaps anticipated this, that a Dutch expedition had been sent to recover the Cape and swiftly took his ships back to

Related in ‘Zeylandicus’, Ceylon between Orient and Occident, London 1970, 78, and Geoffrey Powell, The Kandyan Wars, London 1973, 43–44. 50 Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.294; Powell, Kandyan Wars, 42–43, but omitting the naval forces from the Cape. 51 Parkinson, War, 78–80, and Low, Indian Navy, 1.202, are very brief on all these captures. 52 Parkinson, War, 82–83, 93. 53 Ibid, 93–95.

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Simon’s Bay.54 The Dutch arrived on 3 August, and Rear-Admiral Lucas took the ships into Saldanha Bay, a hundred miles north of Cape Town, being short of water; he also needed to consult his council of war, and to gather information. There he was surprised by the sudden arrival of Elphinstone and his fleet on the 16th. The British squadron consisted of seven line-of-battle ships (two 74s, five 64s), one 50, two frigates, and four sloops; Lucas had two 64s, one 54, four frigates, and two sloops. Lucas was, therefore, apart from being caught by surprise, very largely both outgunned and outnumbered. The alternatives were a suicidal fight or capitulation; under pressure from his sailors – this was the navy of a revolutionary state – he chose the latter.55 With these victories under his belt, Elphinstone returned to Britain to collect his prize money and his peerage. The Admiralty had already cancelled the experimental joint command of the East Indies and the Cape in the light of Elphinstone’s and Rainier’s experiences, and its own second thoughts. It was impossible for one man to control the maritime affairs of the seas which spread from Cape Town to the Moluccas, half the circumference of the world. The two commands were returned to the former system once more, so by the time Rainier returned to Madras, he was again commander-in-chief of the East Indies station. One result of Elphinstone’s stay at the Cape waiting for Lucas to arrive, however, was that his intention to assault Mauritius could not be implemented. He had been planning to use the troops which had been intended for India to invade the French islands. He had first used them to conquer the Cape and then retained them as a supplement to the garrison in the face of the threat from Lucas’ fleet. The capture of Lucas’ ships could then have provided him with the necessary transport to carry them to Mauritius. But it took time to organise matters at the Cape, and when he might have been ready it was September, and the hurricane season was approaching at Mauritius, so this was not the time of year to launch an expedition of soldiers onto the high seas. Lucas’ fleet’s desperately slow voyage to the Cape had saved Mauritius.56 It was the first of a long series of accidents and distractions which saved Mauritius from conquest for the next fifteen years. Elphinstone had already learnt that the two parts of his command were to be separated once more, and he had, like Sir William Cornwallis, been given permission to return home whenever he wished. He detached two ships, Trident (64) and Fox (32), to join Rainier in India, and sent five (Jupiter (50), Braave (40), Sceptre (64), Sibylle (38), and Sphynx (20)), to initiate a blockade of Mauritius. Then he returned to Britain.57 So, despite the Admiralty’s division of the station into two, it was clear that the two naval stations, India and the Cape, were still intimately linked. British Routes, 47. Royal Navy, 4.294–295; Parkinson, War, 84–87. 56 Parkinson, War, 88–89, 96. 57 Ibid, 89–90. 54 Hoskins, 55 Clowes,

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Rainier had to spend the rest of 1796 in and about the Spice Islands, since his arrival and the defeat of the Dutch stimulated an outgrowth of hatred for the Dutch, and ‘rebellions’ in pursuit of local independence had spread. He spent the time putting these risings down, seeking supplies, and even sending quantities of spices to Macau to pay for supplies for his ships. He left Captain Pakenham in Resistance on duty at Amboyna with a captured brig (called Amboyna (10), formerly Haarlem) and the Bombay Marine frigate Bombay. Pakenham was given various tasks and instructions, but his main purpose was clearly to keep order in the islands, and to help expedite the flow of spices moving towards India and Britain, where it could be sold for prize money. He also had to extend the British conquest to other islands, including Timor. By way of Macau and Penang Rainier returned to Madras in February 1797, having escorted some of the China trade on its way.58 The captures of Ceylon, Malacca, and the Cape removed the trio of strategic posts which the Dutch had used in the earlier attempt to control the Indian Ocean, which was in turn their version of the former Portuguese system of Mozambique, Mombasa, Hormuz, Goa, and Malacca, which the Dutch had overthrown. It was now in British control and any prospect of another power contesting that control was vanishingly small. The only hostile base left was the French island group of Mauritius and its dependents. This was a nuisance, but never a real threat to British domination and control, which lasted without a break until the end of the British Empire in India. India was always the key, and was to be the origin of numerous expeditions to the countries around the ocean. As such, it was scarcely a British Empire, but an Indian Empire under British management – or, technically, East India Company management. It took until 1801 to capture the last of the Dutch Molucca posts, the fort at Ternate, in which Captain Hayes of the Bombay Marine in Swift (20) and with the brig Star (18) cooperated with the land force in bombarding and taking the fort. Hayes then went to Sulawesi, where local pirates were threatening the Company’s post at Arunang. The Marine’s ships remained in the area of the Moluccas, in effect on sentry, into 1803, and the peace.59 The Resistance also fought some pirates in the Strait of Banka, next to Sumatra, but the ship suddenly blew up, no doubt the result of accident, carelessness, or a lucky shot by the enemy; 332 men died, so it is said, and only four survived.60 In France the wildness of the Revolution subsided in 1795/1796 and a reasonably stable government, the Directory, had charge. The French Navy had also recovered – though it was never as crippled by the confusion on land as is sometimes claimed – the success of the French fleet at the Battle of the First of June in the Atlantic was largely due to the staunch conduct of the French sailors. One result of the revival of government was the dispatch of a squadron of Ibid, 94–95; on Timor, Low, Indian Navy, 1.206–208. Indian Navy, 1.210–213. 60 Ibid, 206–207, note. 58

59 Low,

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frigates to Mauritius, commanded by Rear-Admiral the Marquis Pierre-­CesarCharles-Guillaume de Sercey. He brought the frigates Regeneree (36), Forte (44), and Seine (36) with him; the frigate Vertu (40) came out later; he added others which were already at Mauritius (Prudente and Cybele), and requisitioned a privateer schooner, Alerte, to act as his scout. The French Admiralty, in sending what was essentially a weak force, was presumably hoping Sercey would conduct a guerre de course; such a force was hardly capable of an invasion of India. He sent two of his frigates to cruise in the Mozambique Channel, and took his main squadron of six ships, plus Alerte, to Ceylon, arriving on 1 August 1796.61 He sent Alerte into the Bay of Bengal to investigate the situation along the Coromandel coast, evidently not having any recent information about Rainier’s ships. (As it happened, of course, this was just the time when Rainier was in the Moluccas and Elphinstone was busy at the Cape.) The Alerte fell in with the Carysfort (28), and was captured. Captain Thomas Alexander, on searching Alerte, found details of Sercey’s presence and his plans. There was no higher authority to whom he could refer, so he adopted a ploy which may well have been copied from the French reaction to the accidental case of the discovery of the Madras Gazette the year before. He fabricated ‘news’ that there were four British line-of-battle ships at Madras, and arranged for a native Indian ship to carry this dispatch and to be captured.62 Sercey, without attempting to verify this ‘information’, turned away to go raiding in the Strait of Malacca. But at Penang he really did encounter the British line-of-battle ships, Arrogant (74) and Victorious (74). Orpheus (32) and Hobart (18) were at Penang, but had been badly damaged in a storm and were immobilised; they could not join the bigger ships; Centurion (50) had been sent to escort the China ships on their way. In the battle which followed, therefore, the forces were roughly equal, six frigates against two line-of-battle ships, though if anything the more nimble frigates had the advantage. Victorious was badly battered and suffered serious damage, but Sercey’s frigates were also damaged, and all six of them had to seek shelter in the Mergui Islands by the Malayan Peninsula and spent the next month undergoing repairs. The British ships also needed repair.63 Meanwhile, Rainier had collected the China fleet at Canton and was on his way back to India. With his two warships, Suffolk (74) and Swift (16) he led four Indiamen through the Strait of Malacca; six more Indiamen had separated and took the route through the Strait of Bali. Sercey repaired at Mergui Islands and then reprovisioned at Batavia, where the Dutch were reluctant to help with repairs, but did provide food. He met the squadron of six Indiamen, but mistook them for two line-of-battle ships and four frigates, so once again War, 98–100. Ibid, 101; not discussed by Clowes. 63 Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.502–503; Parkinson, War, 101–105; Fry, How Australia became British, 43, misunderstands completely what happened. 61 Parkinson, 62

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turned away, returning to Mauritius.64 He had been bluffed and humiliated more than once, suffered considerable casualties and had missed several major opportunities to do serious damage to British commerce. The British dominance of the Indian Ocean was in no danger. The absence of British warships from Indian waters during most of 1796 had left the region clear for French privateers, if not for Sercey’s fleet; of these Robert Surcouf is the most famous, but there were a dozen others.65 In the Bay of Bengal Surcouf captured several ships, including the Triton Indiaman (800 tons); Triton had a crew almost 200; Surcouf had eighteen men.66 Captured ships were sent to Mauritius, where any food supplies on board were taken to eke out the local supply (which was also helped out by United States merchant ships bringing supplies from Madagascar). Other goods were dispatched to France, though not all of these actually reached Bordeaux. The number of ships taken by French privateers in the Indian Ocean was clearly considerable – Surcouf was not the only privateer searching these waters – but a goodly proportion were retaken by British ships on the way to Europe, or their cargoes were in French ships which were captured. The privateers were really only a minor problem though a nuisance. The capture of the Triton caused a major shock, especially in Calcutta, but only because it was so unusual.67 Mauritius was racked by internal problems, centred on the orders from France to abolish slavery, which the white inhabitants refused to accept. Sercey was mixed up in this (he was originally from Mauritius, and was sympathetic to the pro-slavery party); he was refused supplies for his ships in order to retain as much food on the island for the inhabitants as possible. Lack of success in his cruise cannot have helped, but it is clear that the Mauritians were as self-centred as colonists everywhere, and as unwilling to obey orders from Paris as any British colony in relation to London.68 Rainier gathered his ships close to India. He had six line-of-battle ships, six frigates, and three sloops, and access to the Bombay Marine, some of whose ships he could also use. Some ships were under repair (Orpheus and the Hobart sloop, damaged), three were with Pakenham in the Moluccas (Resistance, until it blew up), Amboyna, and the Marine ship Bombay), but Rainier had all his big ships at Madras and nearby. He had heard of the outbreak of war with Spain, and had instructions from London to attack Manila, envisioned as an easy repetition of the exploits of 1762. But the Spanish naval strength in the Philippines had been increased, to four line-of-battle ships and five frigates, a force large enough to pose a serious threat to the China trade, and to deter War, 105–106. See the list compiled in ibid, 159–160. 66 His exploits are described, with imaginative touches, by Malleson, Final French Struggles, 82–94. 67 Crowhurst, Defence of British Trade, 243 (a brief survey); Parkinson, War, 107– 111 for more detail; Cotton, East Indiamen, 157–158. 68 Parkinson, War, 96–97, 99–100. 64 Parkinson, 65

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attack, though it is not certain that Rainier understood the new strength of the Spaniards. The Indian government proved accommodating to the plan, and provided five large Indiamen as transports; the 33rd Foot (commanded by Colonel Arthur Wesley – later Wellesley, later Wellington) was sent off to Penang with the first division of warships; three more Indiamen followed carrying a Bengal Marine battalion. This was a force of about 1000 soldiers, the same strength as in 1762, but it looks to be far too small a force for 1797.69 This had all taken three months to organise, but by August (1797) the advance party was at Penang, waiting for the second division of ships and warships. (There is no doubt that the news of this armada was spreading rapidly throughout the Indian Ocean, and that it was known about both at Canton and at Mauritius, and therefore at Batavia and Manila, where preparations to resist were in train; the conquest would have been more fiercely contested than before. On 27 August Rainier wrote to the Admiralty that he expected to set sail any day now. Next day, the Manila expedition was cancelled. News had arrived that the French armies in Europe had defeated the Austrian armies and a truce had been concluded at Loeben in July as a preliminary to negotiating a formal peace. The message came from the British ambassador at Constantinople, by way of Egypt and the Red Sea: the messaging system on the ‘overland route’ was evidently still operating. The French victory and Austria’s removal from the war left Britain as the lone enemy facing triumphant France. The victor of the Italian campaign, General Napoleon Buonaparte, was writing to the Directory at much the same time as Rainier was reporting his readiness to send his armada against Manila, suggesting that Egypt would be a suitable French target. On the whole, it seems probable that the failure to attack Manila saved the expedition from probable disaster, or at least large casualties, given that the Spaniards were well aware of the approaching attack and had made preparations for defence. Rainier would also have found that his main seaborne strength was far to the east when the threat developed in Egypt. He recalled the division at Penang, and set about redistributing his ships. It was fully appreciated in India that India itself was the real target of the French in Egypt, possibly coming through Egypt, but also possibly by way of a great French fleet sailing round Africa. The idea of a conquest of Egypt had been discussed by several pamphlets and authorities in France for the last two decades, perhaps longer, romantically recalling the Crusades, and St Louis in Egypt.70 It was obvious that, if they arrived in Indian waters, they could gather Indian allies; the British had plenty of enemies and fair-weather and reluctant friends in India who would be pleased to use the French to drive out the British. (Whether they would be able to drive out the French afterwards was another matter.) Tipu of Mysore was an obvious potential ally, a ruler whose 69 70

Ibid, 112–118. A summary is in John Marlowe, Perfidious Albion, London 1971, 50–52.

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policy was resolutely anti-British, and there were French soldiers in other Indian states who might be assumed to be friendly towards a French expedition.71 In fact, just at this time, Tipu entertained a French con-man, Nicholas Ripaud, who claimed to be an emissary from Governor Malartic of Mauritius, a ploy which lasted only until he returned to Mauritius with two envoys from Tipu seeking an alliance.72 The British, now with Lord Mornington (later Marquess Wellesley) as an aggressive and competent Governor-General, knew all about this, and stored it up as an issue for later use. In Mauritius, Sercey’s fleet of frigates was gradually reduced. Two of his ships, Vertu and Regeneree, were sent back to France for repair, so he was reduced to four ships plus any privateers who felt like cooperating with him or with Governor Malartic. It was obvious to both French and British that Mauritius and its associated islands were incapable of supporting a serious maritime force, due to their shortage of food and the lack of a maritime or martial population. It was, of course, a slave society, haunted by the constant possibility of a slave rising – the rebellion in St Domingue in the Caribbean was undoubtedly well understood; Mauritius’ population of adult white males was too small to man many ships and stand guard in the island. When Malartic asked for volunteers to go to Mysore to signify his alliance with Tipu, he could recruit only ninety-nine men, despite the obvious attractions of fighting and looting in India.73 So, just as French adventurers were appreciating the global possibilities inherent in their new situation in Europe, their maritime strength in the east was diminishing, their base in the Indian Ocean was disrupted, and their commitment of manpower was minimal. Sercey had sent Preneuse to Mangalore to contact Tipu. Two of his ships, Forte and Prudente, went on a raid into the Bay of Bengal and to interrupt the tracks of the China ships. His ships sailed as commerce raiders, and were gradually captured over the next year or so. All his schemes of Spanish or Dutch cooperation failed – the Europeans in these colonies were as self-centred as the French in Mauritius, or, indeed, the British in India, and cooperation with anyone else was regarded with deep suspicion. In January 1798 Preneuse, and in February, Forte, were captured by British cruisers. Sercey’s squadron was therefore destroyed just at the time when the ships could have been useful to the French in Egypt.74 Forte had had a good cruise, capturing six ships, four of them country ships and one a Company vessel. Eventually it met Sibylle (44), which was smaller and less well crewed, but better armed. Forte was reduced to a wreck, with 170 casualties; Sibylle was 71 Malleson, Final French Struggles, 158–251; see also Herbert Compton (ed.), A Par-

ticular Account of the European Military Adventurers in India from 1784 to 1803, London 1892 and H.G. Keene, Hindustan under Free Lances, 1770–1820, London 1902, reprinted Shannon, Ireland, 1972. 72 Forrest, Tiger of Mysore, 248–254. 73 Ibid; Parkinson, War, 121–122. 74 Parkinson, War, 122–131.

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damaged, with twenty casualties. The wreck of Forte was surrendered; the ship was repaired and reconstructed, and taken into the Royal Navy as a 50-gun ship.75 Ironically Sibylle was also a former French ship, captured in 1794, and taken into the Royal Navy. The threat to Manila had stirred up the sailors at that city to unaccustomed activity. Captain Edward Cooke in Sibylle, with Fox (32), had sailed into Manila harbour in January 1798, his ships disguised and flying French colours. His object was reconnaissance, and he saw that there were no more than two of the Spanish ships in the harbour ready for sea. Having entertained several visiting Spanish officers, who were loquacious to their ‘French’ hosts, he threw off the mask and retired, taking with him three captured boats, and two hundred prisoners, whom he released. He was even able to deceive the French officers on Prudente, which was visiting.76 It is easy to see how it was that his death after the fight with Forte was widely mourned. Rainier, alert to such things as new threats, sent extra ships to escort the China trade westwards. These were Intrepid (64), Fox, which had been at Manila with Cooke, and Carysfort (28); they arrived at Macau in November 1798. Rainier also sent, a little later, Arrogant (74) and La Virginie (38) by the Eastern Passage as further help; they arrived in time to join Intrepid’s group. The country ships had already left under escort of Fox and Carysfort. The three larger ships encountered the Spaniards, two line-of-battle ships, Europa (74) and Montanes (74), two Spanish frigates, Luna and Fama, and two French frigates from Mauritius, Preneuse and Brule-Gueule, all under the command of Rear-Admiral Ignacio de Alava. But neither force was really keen on any sort of a fight, the British because their work was to escort the China ships to India, the Spanish because they were nervous of any sort of fighting; both forces anchored overnight amid the Ladrone Islands in the mouth of the Canton River; in the morning the two forces were out of sight of each other. Each side blamed the other for fleeing the fight, but both were glad enough that no fight had taken place. Intrepid then escorted the Indiamen westwards.77 Meanwhile, Governor-General Lord Mornington had determined that, by his contacts with the French in Mauritius, Tipu Sultan was clearly prepared to join any French eastern expedition; pre-emptively he prepared to launch an invasion of Mysore. Beginning in May 1798, and operating from Madras, where the local council’s notorious contradictoriness and inefficiency could be counteracted by his own energy, Mornington conducted a diplomatic campaign to secure allies to surround Mysore. When ready, in February 1799 he launched an invasion which resulted in the capture and sack of Seringapatam, and the death of Tipu by May. This was purely a land war. It was theoretically Ibid, 126–128; Cotton, East Indiamen, 167; Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.520–522; Sibylle’s Captain, Edward Cooke, died of his wounds later. 76 Parkinson, War, 137–138. 77 Ibid, 157–158. 75

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accomplished under the apparent threat of a French expedition coming from Egypt, but it was conducted so quickly that Tipu was dead long before any French force could have arrived. Admiral Rainier stationed his ships along the Malabar coast, but they were hardly needed.78 The abandonment of the Manila expedition turned minds in India to other possible targets. In October 1799 the Indiaman Kent (755 tons, 200 crew) was captured by Robert Surcouf in his ship Confiance off the Sandheads at the mouth of the Ganges, after a two-hour fight which cost the Kent nearly sixty casualties. This was, if possible, even worse than the Triton capture three years before.79 And in the same month the sloop Trincomalee (16) and Comet, a schooner, met the privateer Iphigenie (18) escorting its prize the Pearl packet in the mouth of the Persian Gulf; again there was a fierce fight. Twice men from Iphigenie attempted to board Trincomalee, by which time Trincomalee’s crew was reduced to just twelve men. Meanwhile Pearl’s prize crew fought off the Comet. A third boarding attempt was made, and at that point Trincomalee blew up, and Iphigenie, alongside, was also destroyed. Two men only from Trincomalee survived, and about thirty from Iphigenie, all being picked up by the prize crew in Pearl.80 So while Calcutta was shocked by the capture of Kent and its casualties, Bombay was equally shocked by Trincomalee’s destruction. Such events drew attention once more to Mauritius, the base of the privateers. Governor-General Mornington turned his attention to the question of the island, and set his brother Colonel Arthur Wellesley to devise invasion plans. However, he and Rainier had been sent orders by Henry Dundas, the President of the Board of Trade in London, to attack Java. These orders were received by both men in early May 1800, and Rainier at once sent a small squadron to establish a blockade of Batavia while he organised a full expedition. This blockading squadron consisted of Daedalus (32), Sibylle (38), Centurion (50), and Braave (38), commanded by Captain Alexander Ball in Daedalus. Efficiently he quickly detained two American ships who were leaving as he arrived, took control of three islands as bases from which to block access to and from the harbour, and sardonically watched as many of the ships in the harbour were run aground to avoid capture. Ten arriving ships (American, Danish, and ‘Moorish’) were captured as they arrived, as were thirty Indonesian praus, who were usually carrying food supplies for the city. Despite these captures, Ball’s ships were running out of supplies by November, and the crews were suffering from fever – Ball lost 151 men to disease. The full expeditionary force did not arrive; Ball abandoned the blockade just as Victorious arrived with supplies but also with orders to abandon the enterprise.81

Tiger of Mysore, 257–296. East Indiamen, 156–157; Parkinson, War, 162. 80 Parkinson, War, 162–163. 81 Ibid, 163–164, 170–172. 78 Forrest, 79 Cotton,

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This abandonment was due to Mornington’s attempt to organise a naval expedition against Mauritius. But Rainier refused to participate, since he had orders to attack Java, and his refusal blocked the incipient plan – he also criticised the plan (produced by a Mr Stokes, who had been a prisoner in Mauritius, but was neither a sailor nor a strategist) as both dangerous and impractical. From Cape Town Admiral Sir Roger Curtis said the same. Mornington abandoned the idea.82 And then the focus shifted to Egypt with further orders from London to seize control of the Red Sea and send an expedition against Egypt. The sequence of plans for expeditions almost paralysed the British authorities with the rich possibilities available. By mid 1799 the war with Mysore was over. The kingdom was then parcelled out into rewards for the Marathas, the nizam, the original Mysorean Hindu dynasty (which had survived during the rule of Haidar Ali and Tipu), and the British. The French threat had by then materialised. In 1798 – after the Mysore war began – General Buonaparte arrived in Egypt with a fleet and an army of 40,000 men, and swiftly conquered the country. He sent out General Bon to secure ships at Suez for some future use, and to build more. The sequence of events – the pre-emptive Mysore War, then the French invasion of Egypt – shows that the British in India were hardly taken by surprise. Nor was the British government in London, which had watched with care Buonaparte’s preparations across the Channel for an invasion of Britain, and then had seen that army disappear, then to reappear in the Mediterranean. Despite the difficulties of long-distance communication, a high degree of coordination between India and London in dealing with the problem was achieved, mainly because the answer to the problem was so obvious, and all authorities in both countries could see what must be done. Nelson destroyed the French fleet at Aboukir Bay, and the resistances mounted by the Ottomans and the Syrians and the Royal Navy to Buonaparte’s further adventure in Palestine defeated him. From both Britain and India came efficiently commanded and organised seaborne armies aiming to remove the French from Egypt.83 The news of the Battle of the Nile was sent by Admiral Nelson to India by land. Lieutenant Thomas Duvall was, of course, unable to pass through French-occupied Egypt, but he went by way of ‘Mesopotamia’, first to Alexandretta in northern Syria, then to Baghdad, and on to Basra. In both Aleppo and Baghdad he reported to the local Ottoman governors, who were more than pleased to hear that Buonaparte had suffered a severe defeat, and who both speeded Duvall on his way. From Basra he took a British packet ship to 82 83

Ibid, 166–169. All biographies of Napoleon discuss the Egyptian campaign; David Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon, London 1966, 205–252; for Palestine, Nathan Schur, Napoleon in the Holy Land, London 1999; for the British conquest, Piers Mackesy, British Victory in Egypt 1801, London 1995.

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Bombay. The whole journey took seventy days.84 The presence of a packet at Basra implies the existence of a reliable regular service. In Egypt the French had captured a consignment of mail destined for India, while at their arrival at Alexandria, a British ship carrying mail barely escaped;85 a more or less regular mail service between India and Britain travelled along both routes. It is, therefore, somewhat surprising in that case that the British government was generally ignorant of conditions within Egypt at the time of the French invasion. The main effort aimed at expelling the French came from Britain, in a fleet commanded by Admiral Lord Keith (formerly Elphinstone) and General Sir Ralph Abercromby (two Scots and friends, which certainly helped them to coordinate their actions). From India came a smaller expedition. Commodore John Blankett had been given instructions in London, based evidently on a map of the Red Sea – there had been several recent accounts by travellers of conditions in Egypt and the Red Sea – that he should seize Perim Island and establish an armed base there from which to control the Bab el-Mandeb, the strait between Yemen and Africa. The island had been a pirate base a century earlier, but what was not understood was that it was a desert island in the most extreme sense, producing nothing, and, more important, having no sources of water. After digging unfruitful wells, the soldiers moved to Aden at the invitation of the Emir of that city; then after a few months they were then moved on because the Indian government did not want even more responsibilities (or expensive posts).86 The force from Britain under Keith and Abercromby landed near Alexandria, defeated the French there, then again at Cairo. Buonaparte left, and Cairo was put under siege by a joint British and Turkish force. After some time the French army, which was much larger than the British, surrendered. This was partly in fear of the Egyptian population, whom they had so efficiently angered and distressed, and of the likely actions of the Turks if they got into the city. The Red Sea had been controlled by the Royal Navy as soon as the French arrived. The ships at Suez which had been seized by General Bon had then been themselves seized or destroyed by the British. The command lay with Commodore Blankett, sent with a small squadron from Britain. He made contact with the nearby political authorities, and by bombarding the French post at Kosseir to destruction he demonstrated what his ships could do. The conquest of Mysore removed the likelihood of any manifestation of Indian support, and Sercey’s ships were almost all gone. In addition, an expedition was organized in India, 6000 troops, British and Indian, under General Sir David Baird. They were brought to the Red Sea and landed at Kosseir, which had been abandoned by the French after Blankett’s bombardment, and then marched across the desert to the Nile. British Routes, 59. Ibid, 57. 86 Ibid, 60, 65; Low, Indian Navy, 1.218–219. 84 Hoskins, 85

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The command structure of the expedition, in the Red Sea at least, was diffuse, with the Navy’s ships and the transports under separate commands, Colonel Montresor in charge at Kosseir, Baird commanding first from Kosseir then at the Nile, and Colonel Samuel Auchmuty organising the transport of men and materials in detachments along the desert trail from Kosseir to the river. In the Red Sea Captain Sir Home Popham turned up unexpectedly, having brought out three more ships with more soldiers from Britain in a separate expedition in the wake of Blankett’s ships, to whom he was junior, but who had no authority over him; both were given appointments independent of Rainier, the commander-in-chief, perhaps the only one of these men who was not bothered by the possible confusion, since he kept well clear of the whole business. In fact the various commands did not get in each other’s way, partly because the navy and the army had separate tasks. (But this group, Popham, Baird, and Auchmuty, were together again in the disastrous and unauthorised expedition against Buenos Aires in 1806–1807, and worked well together in both cases.) The march across the desert to the river was efficiently organised, and was accomplished with few casualties; the local Arabs were conciliated by generous payment for the hire of their camels and donkeys. Supplies were landed by the navy at Kosseir, and then moved on by the army. Boats were collected at the river, and the army was carried downstream to Cairo, arriving after the capitulation of the French. It was all done with considerable efficiency, a tribute to the organising officers, who were mainly Company men. The expedition was also probably unnecessary, given the speed of the French collapse, but control of Egypt was not the main purpose of the expedition, at least not by the time the fighting ended. (On the other hand, it soon was appreciated that an invasion route through Egypt did exist – if an invasion of Egypt from India could be mounted, so could one in reverse; British and Indian interest in the control of Egypt therefore steadily increased afterwards.) The defeat of a successful French army, and its expulsion from its conquest, humiliatingly carried home in British ships after the destruction of the French fleet, was a demonstration that the British had developed forces, army and navy, British and Indian, which were effective, efficient, and could win battles against the French Revolution army’s tactics, in contrast to the recent defeat of the traditional war-centred Austria. By the time the invasion took place it was this which had become the object of the exercise.87 The British forces remained in Egypt until 1803. The higher commanders gradually removed themselves, so that Colonel Auchmuty was eventually the senior officer. They had considerable trouble with the Egyptians, or rather with the Mamelukes, who had ruled before the French came and who assumed that British Victory; Marlowe, Perfidious Albion, 75–98; John D. Grainger, Lieutenant-General Sir Samuel Auchmuty, Barnsley 2018, 66–97; Parkinson, War, 140–155; Low, Indian Navy, 1.219–220; Clowes, Royal Navy, 4.400–407, 454–458.

87 Mackesy,

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they would rule again once the British had left. This was not much to the liking of the Egyptians, who had long been oppressed, or to the Ottomans. Another soldier, Muhammad Ali, an Albanian mercenary, was supported by the Ottomans against the Mamelukes, and to enforce his authority he resorted to massacre. (Buonaparte had massacred Mamelukes earlier, and several of them fell foul of the British as well.) And, of course, Muhammad Ali, having removed the Mamelukes, held on to power and ruled Egypt for the next thirty years, founding a dynasty of rulers;88 the Egyptians themselves did not gain control of their own country for another century and a half. The troubles in Egypt blocked any new attempts to develop or use the country as a transit route for passengers or mail between Europe and India. The route followed by Lieutenant Duvall became the Company’s preferred option, though it was longer and slower and just as dangerous. This preference lasted for the next thirty years, until Muhammad Ali established both a stable regime in Egypt and opted for friendship with Britain. The sequel to the success in Egypt was a temporary peace, the Treaty of Amiens, negotiated by Lord Cornwallis. Neither Britain nor France could now seriously damage the other. The French could be generous with their allies’ colonial territories – the Dutch ceded Ceylon, the Spaniards Trinidad – while in effect reserving to themselves the right to exploit their dominating position in Europe.89 In such a situation no one seriously expected the peace to last very long, and disputes and quarrels soon developed over Malta and the Napoleonic annexations, while the British claimed to be annoyed that they hadn’t gained more from the peace. In March 1803 the British, taking a leaf out of the Napoleonic diplomatic textbook, simply began the war again.

Auchmuty, 92–97: Hoskins, British Routes, 60–61; Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, Egypt in the Age of Muhammad Ali, Cambridge 1984. 89 John D. Grainger, The Amiens Truce: Britain and Bonaparte, 1801–1803, Woodbridge, Suffolk 2004. 88 Grainger,

9 Destroying all Rivals (1803–1811) The Royal Navy had been able to restrict its presence in the Indian Ocean between 1793 and 1801 to a relatively few ships, even in a time of the greatest European war since the Thirty Years’ War, because it was able to prevent its enemies from sending a major naval force into that ocean. This power lay mainly in its control of the waters of Western Europe, that is, the North Sea and the English Channel, and so preventing access to the French Atlantic ports; from there it could also dominate the North Atlantic and the Mediterranean. As further insurance the approaches to the Indian Ocean had been seized – the Cape, the Red Sea, Penang in the Straits of Malacca, Botany Bay – which not only controlled the ‘entrances’ to the ocean, but prevented the entry of enemies by controlling the means of ships’ refreshment. They also acted as bases from which armed forces could sally. But the essential centre of the whole scheme was India, and its two major British naval bases, the cities of Bombay and Madras. The peace of 1801–1803 ordered the restoration of some conquests, but, just as the restitution of Malta to the Knights Hospitaller was deliberately delayed until it became a major cause of the new war, so the restoration of Indian Ocean territories deliberately took a long time, and in some cases did not even happen. The Cape was not returned to the Dutch until late 1805; the Dutch also recovered Malacca and the Moluccas. The French were supposed to recover Mahe, Pondicherry, and Chandernagar, but failed to do so in time; even as they prepared to re-occupy these places, and some others in India, they were conscious that these places would be retaken by the British within days of a new war beginning. Their consolation was their continued possession of Mauritius. The Dutch also retained their Indonesian possessions. The British had meanwhile begun applying the power of a more centralised government in India, but slowly and gradually. This was applied in patches only, but cumulatively, and especially during the rule of Governor-­General Lord Mornington (later Marquess Wellesley: 1798–1805). The Bombay Marine, for example, was reformed in 1798, by decisions of the London Directors, and a regular grading and ranking of its officers was imposed, as was a newly enforced prohibition of private trading by the officers (resulting in a substantial reduction in their incomes). These measures went towards converting the Marine into a regular armed force, as did the construction of larger ships such as Cornwallis and Bombay. (It did not persuade the Royal Navy to be any the less disdainful of the Marine and its officers.) The Bombay Marine’s 161

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tasks as laid out – trade protection, suppression of piracy, convoy, survey – were not in fact dissimilar to those of the Royal Navy, nor different in any way from what the Marine had been doing, though it is noticeable that the influence of the Company’s commercial thinking is prominent in the listing of the work required.1 The Bombay Presidency was threatened with abolition, or rather union with that of Madras, by both Lord Cornwallis and Lord Mornington, on several occasions. The Board of Directors in London resisted this, for once displaying a good understanding of the particular problems and issues associated with the different presidencies. Cornwallis was annoyed at Bombay’s slowness in helping with the Mysore War, but Mornington was more interested in expanding the authority of the office he held. But neither man could actually get up enough resolution to carry through the incipient plan, which Bombay’s opposition would make difficult, nor were they sufficiently persuasive to achieve the Bombay Presidency’s abolition, but the threat remained. Neither man seems to have noted the unusually wide interests of Bombay through its Marine. Cornwallis remarked that Bombay loaded one ship a year and produced minimal tax revenues; Mornington, who should have known better, did not note the wide-ranging work of the Marine under Bombay’s authority: its ships were operating from the Red Sea to China, and were doing much that the Royal Navy could not, or would not, do; its participation in the Red Sea expedition should have alerted him. It was also at Bombay that the Company had developed the main dockyard in India.2 When the opportunity arose, however, Mornington/Wellesley removed the two big ships in the Marine, Cornwallis and Bombay. These had been part of an escort in 1805 all the way to Britain; when they returned they were handed over by Wellesley to the Royal Navy. Wellesley was unhappy with the independence of the Bombay Presidency and the Marine and this was part of his attempt to gain wider control. But he also found it extremely difficult to impose his authority on the Bombay Council. His recall in 1805 put an end to this internal campaign. The Marine’s complement of vessels was replenished by several smaller ships, built at Bombay in the next few years. The economic activities of the Company had shifted during the recent wars. The trade in India had developed towards the country traders, who came to dominate the Councils at Bombay and Madras – this was one of the reasons why the Bombay Marine was made to look more professional. These merchants conducted the local trade around India, and much of it also between India and Britain. The Company now concentrated on its government in India. In trade 1 Low, Indian Navy, 1.213–218 (with a list of the Marine’s ships and officers in 1802). 2

For the threat to Bombay, see Pamela Nightingale, Trade and Empire in Western India, 1784–1806, Cambridge 1970, 46–56, 124–125, 180–181; Andrew Lambert, ‘Strategy, Policy, and Shipbuilding: The Bombay Dockyard, the Indian Navy, and Imperial Security in Eastern Seas, 1784–1869’, in Bowen et al., Worlds, 137–155.

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it was centred mainly on that with China, which was increasingly in the export of Indian products, notably cottons and opium and spices, in exchange for the purchase of tea. Other items were, of course, involved, but it was tea which dominated, so that the Company’s main problem remained the need to find non-Chinese goods with which to pay for it. For a time sea otter pelts – one of the ‘discoveries’ of Captain Cook’s third voyage, though the Russians had been collecting and selling them for half a century – which were hunted off the North American coast, and were very popular in China,3 seemed a valuable trade item, but this was not a trade the Company much participated in; increasingly after 1800 it was opium which was exchanged for tea.4 Opium was, of course, from a purely commercial point of view, an ideal product, since its addictive properties made for a captive market; the Dutch had indulged in the trade for some time before the Company became involved, producing it in Java. It took some time for the moral repugnance of the trade to be appreciated. The Company enforced its own Indian monopoly on the production and export of opium, grown in Bengal and Bihar and in Gujarat, both lands which it either controlled, or came to control by about 1800. (It also had a monopoly on the production and export of saltpetre, a prime ingredient of gunpowder.) It had come to gain a near monopoly also on the production of cotton cloth for export, which was not good news for the spinners and weavers: the Company did not forget that it was in the business of increasing its profits, and thus of decreasing its costs, and the Indian workers were mercilessly exploited. It was, like the expansion of the system of government, another stage in the evolution of the Company from a purely trading organisation into a purely governmental organisation.5 Even so large a trade as that in tea was only a fraction of the total trade of the Indian Ocean, and the protection of that trade could not be done by the Bombay Marine alone, though its ships did much of the necessary work. The Marine counted, in 1802, just two ships of frigate size (soon to be removed from its control), plus a variety of ships of ghurab size carrying between 22 and 14 guns, and a number of even smaller vessels, galivats.6 These could cope with such tasks as the suppression of pirates, the protection of many of the country ships (invariably smaller and less well armed than the Company vessels), and the coastal traffic, and could conduct surveys, which were always best done by 3

4 5

6

Glyndwr Williams, The Expansion of Europe in the Eighteenth Century: Overseas Rivalry, Discovery, and Exploitation, New York 1967, 172, 179; Fry, Alexander Dalrymple, 189–190. F.P. Robinson, The Trade of the East India Company from 1709–1813, Cambridge 1912, 118–136. C. Northcote Parkinson, Trade in the Eastern Seas, London 1937 (reprinted 1966), 78–79; C.H. Phillips, The East India Company, 1784–1834, Manchester 1961; Sven Beckert, Empire of Cotton: A New History of Global Capitalism, London 2014. See note 1.

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the smaller ships; but the protection of the greater ships of the Company and the supervision of convoys had to be done by the ships themselves, or by the bigger ships of the Royal Navy if they were present. Despite the alterations, therefore, little had really changed in the work of the Marine.7 The reorganisation of France accomplished by the dictator-cum-Emperor Napoleon, had an effect in the Indian Ocean. Napoleon accepted that the Indian trading posts were indefensible, and did not waste ships and men on them.8 But he appreciated the geographical situation and warlike potentialities of the French islands, Mauritius and Bourbon and so on; at one remove he also controlled the Dutch colonies, which could provide France with a much larger territorial base for any maritime activity; the Dutch East Indies were also a source of tropical products, which otherwise could only be obtained through British sources. New chiefs were appointed to the French territories in the Indian Ocean. The Captain-General was General Charles Mathieu Isidore Decaen; the naval commander was Rear-Admiral Charles Alexandre Leon Durand de Linois. The two men had independent posts, and independent authority, and were dedicated Napoleonists, but they did not get on well with each other.9 Linois sailed in March 1803 after considerable bureaucratic delay, partly caused by Napoleon himself, with one line-of-battle ship, Marengo, technically a 74 but larger than most of that class, and carrying at least 80 guns; he had also two large frigates, L’Atalante (44) and Belle Poule (44), a smaller frigate, Semillante (36) and transports carrying 1300 soldiers – and Decaen went with him as a passenger. His immediate target was Pondicherry, where some of the troops were to be landed, and Decaen was to take up his post as governor. When the squadron sailed from Brest, it was noted by the British ambassador, Lord Whitworth, that Decaen took with him an unusually large number of officers; his conclusion was that the French aim was to recruit a force in India which these men would command.10 At Trincomalee, Admiral Rainier had collected his own maritime force, somewhat reduced from that which he had commanded when the peace was signed. He now had three line-of-battle ships, Tremendous (74), Trident (64), and Lancaster (64), plus Centurion (50), and five frigates, San Fiorenzo (38), Dedaigneuse (36), Terpsichore (32), Fox (32), and Concorde (36), plus a single sloop.11 The new war began in Europe on 16 May 1803. When Rainier received the news that a royal message to Parliament on 10 March had stated that the Anthony Webster, The Twilight of the East India Company: The Evolution of Anglo-Asian Commerce and Politics, 1790–1860, Woodbridge, Suffolk, 2009, ch. 3 (on 1793–1813). 8 Parkinson, War, 188–189; Sen, French in India, 561–562. 9 Parkinson, War, 195–198, and repeatedly thereafter. 10 Sen, French in India, 563. 11 Parkinson, War, 203. 7

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fleet was being mobilised and the militia embodied as a precaution, he could assume that war was approaching, but the actual news of the preparation for war in Britain only reached him in July – an unusually fast journey of only two months. (The messages were sent by way of Vienna and Constantinople, carried by a relay of Tartar horsemen employed by Lord Elgin, the new ambassador in Constantinople, and then by Duvall’s route through Baghdad and Basra and by ship to Bombay.)12 Rainier had stationed his ships at Trincomalee in anticipation of trouble, as the ideal base from which to intercept approaching ships, friendly or otherwise, heading for the Bay of Bengal or places east, and now he moved them to Cuddalore in preparation for the war’s beginning and the probable arrival of French ships at Pondicherry. So he was able to block in the first French ship which arrived there, the frigate Belle Poule; it was soon joined by the rest of the French squadron. However, this still took place in the period between the arrival of rumours of war and the news of actual war. The French ships slipped away in the night. Rainier did not pursue them.13 The French transports arrived at intervals during August, each was detained briefly, and then released. Finally definitive news of the declaration of war reached Rainier at the end of August, when he was once again at Trincomalee. The news reached Coromandel on 6 September, and therefore Pondicherry about then also. Rainier knew that the French ships had gone to Mauritius, so he was able to spread his own ships to guard vulnerable areas – the China trade, his base at Trincomalee, the Malabar coast. The Royal Navy was adopting a defensive posture, as usual. But two of Rainier’s line-of-battle ships, Tremendous and Trident, had to go into dock at Bombay for extensive repairs, reducing his strength to a single line-of-battle ship Lancaster (only a 64) and his frigates. Some were on the west coast of India, others in the Bay of Bengal and some escorting the China trade.14 Rainier had seen the French force at Pondicherry, where he had a good view of the formidable Marengo, but he did not know whether there were more ships at Mauritius, or more on the way, just as Linois had no idea of the real strength of the British forces – he had seen that Rainier had three line-of-battle ships at Pondicherry, but did not know that two of these were now in dock for repairs, which took several months to complete. Further, neither admiral had any idea what the other intended to do. Perhaps influenced by the abiding fears of the merchants and councils and governors in India, Rainier thought Linois would attack along the Malabar coast; Linois, however, went east to contact the Dutch in Batavia, hoping to collect reinforcements and supplies, and to take prizes on the way. That is, unless captures were made, or reliable intelligence – note the word ‘reliable’ – was received, or, of course, if the two

British Routes, 66–67. War, 25–206, and appendix A; Sen, French in India, 565–566. 14 Parkinson, War, 206–207. 12 Hoskins,

13 Parkinson,

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fleets should meet, neither man could possibly know what to do about the enemy other than follow his instincts and experience. On the news of the new war, the Bombay Marine ships Bombay (38), Mornington (22), Teignmouth (16), and some smaller ships sailed from Bombay into the Bay of Bengal to establish a patrol at the Ganges estuary, to help protect Penang in the absence of Royal Navy ships, and to act as convoy protection. The squadron was commanded by Captain John Hayes, who was now Commodore of the Marine. Bombay and Teignmouth were part of a patrol off the Sandheads, as a defence for the mouth of the Ganges and the approach to Calcutta, an area which had been a haunt of privateers at times. No ships were taken during their time on this duty.15 Hayes took the opportunity to attack the fort at Muki (‘Muckee’) on the north-west coast of Sumatra, where there were stored numerous items of ordnance and stores stolen or pilfered or pirated from Benkulen; the loot was reclaimed and returned to Benkulen.16 But this was just in time for another French raid. Linois stopped at Benkulen on his voyage to Batavia, taking the place by surprise (despite the warning provided by the capture of Muki), and sacked it. No doubt the loot from Muki was either seized or damaged or destroyed in the process. He also captured a ship, the Countess of Sutherland, not as he thought a Company ship, but a country ship, though the mistake was understandable since it was a ship of 1500 tons, unusually large for a country ship but not untypical for the largest Company ships. When he got to Batavia he found that the Dutch ships had already left (ironically they had gone to Mauritius) and there were few supplies available. He did know, partly from information gained from officers on the Countess of Sutherland, partly from his own experience, that the British would be guarding the Malabar and Coromandel coasts, and that Rainier would be sensitive about the China fleet, which it was assumed was on its way west. The news of the attack on Benkulen reached Rainier, perhaps by the Bombay Marine ship stationed at Penang, and at last he knew that Linois had gone east. Two more warships had arrived at Madras to reinforce him, Sceptre (74) and Albion (74), both of them new ships. The governor at Madras, Lord William Bentinck, persuaded their captains to go east to escort the China ships, even though an elementary calculation would have shown that they would be too late to help; they did, however, make an unusually speedy passage to the Strait of Malacca.17 It is noticeable that Low, in his book on the Indian Navy, makes no reference to the complex manoeuvres of the Royal Navy ships, while historians of the Royal Navy such as Clowes and Parkinson similarly make no reference to the actions of the Bombay Marine ships. Clowes concentrates overwhelmingly Indian Navy, 1.221. Ibid, 1.220–221. 17 Parkinson, War, 218–220. 15 Low, 16

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on fights and battles, but even so he omits Muki and Benkulen; Low has little time for the actions of the Royal Navy, and concentrates solely on those of the Marine. The result is a double distortion, since it seems clear that the two forces, to a degree at least, coordinated their actions. It may be noted also that all have a tendency to ignore any actions by the Company ships, and still more by the country ships. (One might also note that throughout this period of the Napoleonic wars, the British government in Ceylon was fighting repeated wars in Ceylon, which resulted in the devastation and conquest of the internal kingdom of Kandy, and its annexation. This provided some of the background to the navy’s use of Trincomalee and other Sinhalese bases.) The China ships which had been heading for Canton had got through without difficulty. It was the returning ships, stuffed with the wealth of China to the value of £8,000,000 sterling, which were in danger from the French ships at Batavia. They had a choice of several straits to thread the Dutch islands and into the Indian Ocean – the Malacca, Sunda, Bali, Lombok, and other straits, all of them narrow, all of them eminently suitable for ambush (as they are still). The Malacca Strait was where they were most likely to find a British escort, at Penang or thereabouts, the Sunda Strait was the most likely to be guarded by a Dutch or French fleet since it was closest to Batavia and provided ships with the shortest route; using the Bali and Lombok Straits would require the ships to sail the length of Java to reach either of them; this was rather like an army marching across its enemy’s front, never to be recommended. Linois in fact laid out his ambush so as to intercept the fleet heading for the Malacca Strait, though he was in a good position to close with the ships if they went towards another strait – unless they came by way of the Eastern Passage which would bring them to straits near Timor, well away from an ambush based on the Malacca Strait. He was well informed of their approach from intercepted ships sailing singly. He knew the names of many of the ships, and when they had left Macau, but was not certain of their precise numbers. He had been told more than once that there were twenty-four of them, but he also had been told that they had some escorts, who could only be major warships if they were to guard no less than twenty-four Indiamen. His own squadron consisted of Marengo, which could tackle any ship in the Indian Ocean, two frigates, and two sloops, and these he spread across the entrance to the Strait of Malacca to be certain of intercepting the enemy.18 The China fleet knew they were likely to be attacked and had taken precautions. When they were spotted by Linois’ scouts the ships seemed to the French to be better armed and larger than merchantmen should be, and there were more than the expected numbers. Then the prey formed into line of battle, which was unexpected. They remained in that position overnight, facing the French ships nearby. Next day, the Commodore, Captain Nathaniel Dance, in the Earl Camden, taking advice from a Royal Naval Lieutenant, Robert Fowler, 18

Ibid, 221–224 on Linois’ activities.

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who was a passenger, and one of his own captains, Captain John Timins, in Royal George, who had served in the Royal Navy, separated off a group of three ships, Earl Camden, Ganges, and Royal George, all of 1200 tons or more, to form a first line of guard ships, and they displayed the blue flag of the Royal Navy instead of the Company’s red flag. Behind them, the Indiamen on the fleet stayed in line of battle, sheltering the country ships in their lee. The three large advance ships, Indiamen pretending to be Royal Navy, approached the French line, which is exactly what naval ships would do, whereas it was normal for Indiamen to turn about and flee as fast as possible when threatened in this way. The two lines of ships fired at each other ineffectively for half an hour or so. The French then withdrew, convinced that they were facing lineof-battle warships. Dance ordered a general chase, by which Linois was finally convinced that he was facing a greater force than his own. It hadn’t been much of a fight, and casualties were almost nil. Bluff and determination had won.19 Once the celebrations were over, Rainier finally appreciated that his enemies were less formidable than had been assumed, and that their intentions were tentative, and less than threatening. The Dutch were completely passive, as in the previous war, and in fact their commanding admiral deserted his post and returned home. The French had not revealed themselves as at all enterprising when facing Commodore Dance and his ships. There were, in fact, very few of them, the earlier possibility that the original squadron seen at Pondicherry might have been reinforced from France was apparently mistaken. Such a small squadron was not capable of any serious attack on India, though it was certainly capable of commerce raiding. Rainier, however, had no reliable information on which to base his own next moves. He assumed that Linois would repeat his raid to the east, perhaps in pursuit of a new success against another China fleet so as to redeem himself. He made his arrangements accordingly, sending out two squadrons of British ships, one each to the Malacca and the Sunda Straits.20 As at it happened, Rainier’ assumption was correct that the French would go for commerce raiding, but guessed wrong where they would do it. Linois in Marengo, with his frigates, had sailed west, swinging round Madagascar and then across the Arabian Sea, past Ceylon and then into the Bay of Bengal. Rainier himself took his ships to Trincomalee and gathered his forces there. Linois passed the British out of their sight, and sailed north while Rainier was heading south. Linois captured the Indiaman Princess Charlotte (610 tons) at Vizagapatam – the ship surrendered even before any shots had been fired, Ibid, 224–231; Naval Chronicle, III, 38–45; Cotton, East Indiamen, 170–173, with a reference to earlier accounts; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.336–339, with a list of the ships in the fleet; Sen, French in India, 569, values the cargoes at only £200,000, which is possibly a case of French sour grapes; the Company gave out £50,000 in rewards when the news arrived, and Dance was knighted (not ‘made a lord’ as in Sen) which implies a vastly greater value for the cargoes then Sen imputes. 20 Parkinson, War, 237–239. 19

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which was much more typical of an Indiaman facing an enemy than Dance’s aggressive reaction. The Centurion, the Indiaman’s escort, and much smaller than Marengo (50 guns against 80) stayed in relatively shallow water where the heavy Marengo could not go. Linois, successfully avoiding all the British warships which were at sea, including the forces Rainier had sent to blockade Mauritius, returned to the island once more.21 The Bombay Marine, meanwhile, had been fighting its own battles against pirates and privateers. In the 1790s the Persian Gulf and been the scene of occasional conflicts between ships of the Marine and the Qasimi pirates based on the Arabian shore west of Ras Mussandam. This was a region long noted for piratical activity, but it only came to outside notice in any forceful way when a leader arose to concert the actions of the several coastal communities which were normally at daggers drawn with each other. The Company had maintained a steady watch of ships in the region to guard the declining trade through Gombroon; with the growth of mail traffic through Basra, there was another reason to place its ships in the Gulf. The pirates seem to have kept clear of the Company ships on the whole, but in 1797 those at Ras el-Khaimah had seized the Bassein (a snow – a substantial merchant ship) carrying mail, but then released it after only two days. The brig Viper (14), at Bushire, was suddenly attacked by a fleet of Qasimi dhows a little later, but fought them off, suffering heavy casualties.22 These were relatively minor conflicts, and the attack on the Viper was a by-product of a completely separate conflict between Ras al-Khaimah and Oman. From 1803, however, a new and charismatic leader appeared among the pirate towns. This was Sultan bin Saqar, chief of Ras al-Khaimah, who dominated the ‘Pirate Coast’ for the next sixty years. He cleverly expanded his authority, profiting from his people’s prowess, he then prevented much in the way of reprisals by his skilful diplomacy. The piracy along the coast became an increasing, if intermittent, problem for the Bombay Council and the Marine. Two of the Marine’s smaller ships were taken. Fly (14), a gun brig, used as a packet between Basra and Bombay (it was in this ship that Lieutenant Duvall sailed with news of the Nile victory), was captured by a French privateer, Fortune (38); Viper was taken by another privateer a little later. And Teignmouth (16) fought a French privateer (whose name is not known), but suffered severe damage in an explosion; the French ship escaped, similarly severely damaged.23 It is a sign of the lesser threat from the French ships that from 1804 the Marine recommenced survey work, which had ceased in the 1790s. Work was done in the southern Red Sea, at the instigation of Lord Valentia, a dilettante who was travelling in the area and convinced Marquess Wellesley to let him War, 238–247; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.348–350. Indian Navy, 1.313–319; H. Moyse-Bartlett, The Pirates of Trucial Oman, London 1966, 23–24. 23 Low, Indian Navy, 1.222–226. 21 Parkinson, 22 Low,

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have a go. He was active especially at the southern area around Massawa and Mocha, where he improved and corrected on an earlier chart produced by Sir Home Popham during his presence in the area in the Egyptian campaign. Concentration on this area is an indication of continued interest in Egypt and its approaches. Despite his dilettantism, Lord Valentia did good work. Another survey was made of the difficult coast south of the Canton estuary and the Paracel Islands and shoals. This was a notorious trap for ships, and other parts of the South China Sea, littered with islands, were investigated at much the same time. Eventually, in 1809, this was institutionalised by the establishment of a Marine Survey Department in Bengal, staffed by men from the Marine.24 Admiral Rainier’s period in command in the East Indies ended when his successor Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Pellew arrived in January 1805. Pellew was appointed in June 1804, and was on board his flagship, Culloden (74) by July, but he had to escort a slow convoy of Indiamen to the east and so he made a leisurely voyage. In the Indian Ocean he went to Penang first, but missed Rainier there, tried again at Madras, where he disembarked the 17th Foot, and then went back to Penang; the two admirals finally met there in January 1805; Rainier left the station in March. The French at Mauritius had heard of the sinking and seizure of a convoy of Spanish treasure ships by the British in the Atlantic (in time of peace). This clearly meant a new Anglo-Spanish war, and the frigate Semillante was sent to warn the Governor-General in the Philippines of this. There Captain Motard was persuaded to sail to escort the Acapulco galleon into Manila when it arrived. But when he reached the Pacific exit of the Strait of San Bernardino, he found two British ships, Phaeton (36) and Harrier (18), lying in wait. Semillante survived the subsequent contest, but was damaged, and Motard made for Mauritius for repairs. He sailed south through the Philippines and the Indonesian islands, and into the Indian Ocean by a passage close to Timor. In effect this was the reverse Eastern Passage, which British Indiamen had been using for nearly half a century; it caused a sensation amongst the French, which implies that the British had kept very quiet about the route, and many French captains had not realised it existed – though d’Entrecasteaux had used it in 1786, presumably without reporting it.25 Pellew had authority to purchase six ships into the Navy to increase his strength. Bombay was the best place for this. Two were bought, at inflated prices, from local firms, three (including Bombay and Cornwallis) came from the Bombay Marine, one was a former Indiaman; the French privateer Psyche, captured after a fight with the San Fiorenzo in the Bay of Bengal,26 was bought 24

Andrew S. Cook, ‘Establishing the Sea Route to India and China: Stages in the Development of Hydrographic Knowledge’, in Bowen et al., Worlds, 119–136. 25 Parkinson, War, 258–259; Fry, How Australia Became British, 66; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.366. 26 Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.355–356.

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from the prize agents. Only one of these ships, Cornwallis, had fifty guns, and the net increase in British naval strength in the region was only three ships. (The whole business was in fact a political dodge; the new government had loudly criticised its predecessor for allowing the number of ships in the Navy to fall below safety level; this was part of the new policy.) In fact, the increase in naval strength was much less than a simple listing would suggest. Cornwallis, renamed Akbar, was converted to a troopship the year after its purchase; Bombay, however, was renamed Ceylon in 1808, and remained in service until 1856. Of the two formerly private ships, Duncan (formerly Carron) was armed with 38 guns, renamed Dover, and was wrecked in 1811 off Madras; Howe (formerly Kaikosroo) was used from the start as a store ship (renamed Dromedary), and then as a convict ship. The Sir Edward Hughes, formerly a Company ship, became a storeship (Tortoise) in 1807, and then a coal hulk. (Pellew thought the ship was a hopeless sailer; since he chose the new names for Duncan and Howe, it was presumably at his initiative that the new name Tortoise was also awarded.) Psyche was used as a frigate until 1812, then sold. Therefore out of the seven ships acquired by Pellew, three only were used as warships, and two of those ceased to be such by 1812.27 The strength of Pellew’s fleet was now five line-of-battle ships, two 50s, a dozen or more frigates, and half a dozen sloops. The French strength was one line-of-battle ship, and three frigates. Admiral Linois must have understood the odds against him. He made another cruise, taking Marengo and Belle Poule with him, around the western Indian Ocean, more or less on the same track as before. He met a cartel ship off Ceylon and took seventy-five French prisoners out of her, quite illegally according to current war-rules. Then he met the Indiaman Brunswick, heading out of Bombay for China, which he captured. He failed, however, to take a country ship, Sarah, which was accompanying Brunswick and which was run ashore on Ceylon to escape capture, so he knew his position would soon be transmitted to Pellew. He sailed due south, and on the way met a convoy of eleven Indiamen, but when he approached to attack Linois realised that the ships had an escort in Blenheim (74), the flagship of Rear-Admiral Sir Thomas Troubridge, and he turned away after exchanging a few shots at long range.28 Linois’ problem, of course, was that with so few ships he could not afford to lose any of them, or to have any seriously damaged; he had to preserve his strength and so his only victims could be isolated ships, like the Brunswick. A voyage beginning with an illegal act had captured one Indiaman, but from then on it had gone, so to speak, downhill. Linois decided to return to France, which in the wider situation was probably sensible, given the lack of French naval strength in the east. Unless a major effort was made, frigates were Details from Parkinson, War, 260–261, and J.J. Colledge and Ben Warlow, Ships of the Royal Navy, 2nd ed., Newbury 2010. 28 Parkinson, War, 266–271; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.367. 27

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the most useful ships for the French to use there; no more than commerce raiding would be possible for them. He headed for the Cape, accompanied by Belle Poule and Brunswick, but there Brunswick ran aground in a gale. The frigate L’Atalante joined him at the Cape, but then it also went ashore in another gale. He left the Cape with just two ships, aiming to cruise off West Africa, where he captured a couple of British slavers; then he met an American who told him that the Cape, which he had hoped would be his base, had been taken by a British expedition. So he headed for France, but in mid-Atlantic he met a squadron under Rear-Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren, which included two ships even more heavily armed than the Marengo – London (98) and Foudroyant (80), plus two 74s. Linois assumed that they were a convoy, just as he had assumed Blenheim’s ships were a convoy, and Dance’s convoy had been under strong guard. He understood his mistake when he came too close to avoid action. Marengo fought London, and the rest, five ships, came up slowly; when they arrived Linois surrendered his ship, which had been dismasted and very heavily damaged. Belle Poule (44) was ordered by Linois to leave, but was caught by Amazon (36), and also surrendered after a brief fight.29 So finally Linois had got into a fight in which he really was outmatched; his mistakes demonstrate the difficulty faced by even well-experienced commanders in distinguishing ships and fleets when at sea; he had also suffered defeats for his two mistakes. Marengo was reconditioned as a prison ship, so it was once again ironically, filled with Frenchman; Belle Poule was reduced to 38 guns and employed as a frigate until the end of the war, after which it was briefly a troopship, then a prison ship. Sir Thomas Troubridge was in the Indian Ocean as part of yet another political game being played in London. Pellew’s command was to be divided into two parts – Troubridge and Pellew were in opposite political camps, and the aim was to boost the reputation of one or other of them, and so the politicians at home could bathe in reflected glory and success. The division was to be by a line drawn due south from Point de Galle in Ceylon, and it included the promotion of Penang to the status of a new Indian Presidency. This is ironic in that Wellesley had been attempting to suppress at least one of the existing presidencies because he could not control it, never mind establishing an extra one. Troubridge’s brush with Marengo had been the final element in Linois’ decision to leave the Indian Ocean in favour of stationing himself at the Cape. There he would at least be free of the hectoring red face of Decaen, the Mauritius governor. But the removal of Marengo also removed the only ship of real force available to France in the east. The frigates could be used for commerce raiding, but the real wealth and power lay in the Company convoys, and all Pellew had to do was provide one or two of his own frigates, or a line-of-battle ship, to escort each convoy, and they would probably be safe – Marengo had 29

Naval Chronicle, III, 271–272; Parkinson, War, 271–274; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.373–374.

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failed to attack Blenheim’s convoy simply because that ship was present, and Linois had avoided Captain Dance’s convoy when he thought he faced determined opposition. The first result of the division of the command was to promote an argument between Pellew and Troubridge, in which Pellew succeeded in retaining the majority of the ships under his own command, when they were supposed to be divided between them. Pellew’s argument was that it was known that a French expedition to reinforce Mauritius was in preparation.30 Troubridge struggled to collect together a useful force, but managed to send off Lancaster (64) with the first instalment of the China fleet from Canton. But then Blenheim, his flagship, ran aground at Macau and suffered crippling damage; it was refloated with great difficulty and limped to Penang for emergency repairs.31 Pellew meanwhile was becoming preoccupied by the privateer threat out of Mauritius, and the arrival of two new French 40-gun frigates, Canonniere (48) and Piemontaise (40), increased the threat.32 The capture of the Cape of Good Hope by the expedition of General Sir David Baird and Rear-Admiral Sir Home Popham in January 1806 was welcome news, but any hope that their forces would then be used against Mauritius, either as a blockading force against a foreign invasion of the island, was dashed when Popham took the ships and soldiers off to attack Buenos Aires. Baird did send a regiment on to India when he heard of the mutiny at Vellore, but the soldiers were swiftly absorbed into the Indian forces.33 The Cape under British control – and the Admiralty was determined to keep it at peace this time – made communications between France and the Indian Ocean very difficult. The ships could find no refreshment station on such a voyage now. With a French army occupying Portugal, Rio de Janeiro was hostile, and so were the Cape Verde Islands. The British held the useful St Helena as well as the Cape, and the Portuguese controlled the continental coast of the Mozambique Passage. Not until Madagascar could a French ship find reliable supplies, and by then it was almost at the French islands. Control of the Cape was one of the main reasons Mauritius became ever more vulnerable, and allowed the British to reduce their naval strength in India waters even more. It was, however, impossible to maintain a blockade of Mauritius with the force which Pellew could deploy from India, given the wide range of duties he had. He sent off three ships on the blockade duty, but this meant tying down at least six vessels altogether, because the three would need to be replaced after little more than a couple of months, and the returnees would need repair, and War, 278–285. Ibid, 291–292. 32 Ibid, 293. 33 Naval Chronicle, III, 281–310; John D. Grainger, British Expeditions to the South Atlantic, Barnsley 2015. 30 Parkinson, 31

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their crews were often sick. Any increase in ships devoted to this task meant in reality two ships for each one off Mauritius. The Admiralty solved the problem of the divided East Indies station by reviving the Cape as a separate station, and allocating it to Troubridge. This might have been done earlier had the sailors at the Admiralty been in charge of these dispositions; the post became available after the recall of Popham and Baird from their unauthorised Buenos Aires exploits, which had resulted in a resounding British defeat – one fully deserved. Having a separate Cape station also suggested that it would soon be possible to organise a more efficient Mauritius blockade, a matter which had been tried before.34 Pellew welcomed the new arrangement, which restored the original geographical extent of his command. In October 1806 he escorted a fleet of Indiamen from Ceylon southwards, and when he released them under the escort of Woolwich (44), he then turned east with his main force – Culloden (74), Powerful (74), Russel (74), Belliqueux (64), Terpsichore (32), and Seaflower (14) – to attack the Dutch in Batavia. The Dutch had four line-of-battle ships – Revolutie, Schikerr, Pluto, and Kortenaar, all 70s – three frigates, and four sloops in their East Indies fleet. They were usually held at Batavia (though two of the larger ships were disabled, and the other two had gone to Griesee at the west end of the island). This, on paper at least, was a fairly formidable force, and Pellew was quite rightly concerned about them. It was possible that they might join with a French force (though the rumoured approach of a new French fleet was by this time discounted – the battle of Trafalgar had seriously reduced French naval strength and willpower). On the other hand, the Dutch had shown no initiative at sea in the east in the last war, and were unlikely to do so in the new one. And yet the mere existence of a considerable force of enemy ships stationed across the line of the tracks of the China ships was a constant irritant and a possible threat, as the Dutch maritime strategy was intended, though as a defence rather than intended aggression.35 The news of the near annexation of the Netherlands into the French Empire, by its conversion into a kingdom for Napoleon’s brother Louis, might bring some invigoration to the moribund Dutch administration of both their territories and their fleet, or an extension of hostility to the new system. Eliminating the Dutch fleet would certainly help relieve a commander-in-chief ’s worries. However, when he reached Batavia Pellew discovered that half the Dutch warships were not there, and those which were present, and many of the merchant ships, were run aground at once – just as had happened with the raid by Captain Ball several years before. The sloop Wilhelmina (14) was captured as the British fleet approached; the boats were sent in and captured another sloop still afloat (William (14)), and burned those which had been run on shore.36 War, 295–296, 299. Ibid, 296. 36 Naval Chronicle, III, 333–334; Parkinson, War, 296–298. 34 Parkinson, 35

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Troubridge at Penang (Batavia was actually in his area) had been informed of the change of stations, and had sailed away to take up his new post without waiting to meet Pellew again, no doubt a relief to both men. But Blenheim, after its grounding at Macau, was in so bad a condition that at Madras the captain protested that it was not safe to sail. Troubridge insisted. The ship, and the frigate Java, also in a bad state, were sunk in a storm near Madagascar. The sloop Harrier, also sailing with Troubridge, was damaged, dismasted, and only survived by throwing overboard several of its guns.37 In effect, a combination of the storm, Troubridge’s anger, the Admiralty, the reef at Macau, and Pellew’s intrigues, had killed the crews and destroyed the ships. Having missed several of the Dutch ships in the raid on Batavia, Pellew tried again at the end of 1807. The missing ships had gone to Griesee, 500 miles west, next door to Surabaya. Pellew succeeded in getting his ships into the difficult estuary of the Surabaya River, and the Dutch ships and the local batteries were burnt and destroyed.38 Meanwhile, even more cause for satisfaction was the news that one of Pellew’s frigates, Caroline, had intercepted and captured the Spanish treasure galleon San Raphael off the Philippines. It had been carrying half a million silver dollars, and a valuable cargo; Pellew’s prize money from this was £26,000. He had sent four frigates into the South China Sea for the very purpose of seizing such a ship. But the price was high; a hundred men in these frigates died, mainly of scurvy or disease.39 In India there had been internal troubles for the British, first a nasty mutiny of sepoys at Vellore, where Tipu’s surviving family members were being held; they had encouraged the mutineers, who were massacred by the British troops at the recapture of the fort; the extreme British reaction revealed the fear of all the British at such events. Another mutiny also happened among British officers in various parts of the country over allowances and pay, and took some time to calm down; there were no massacres of mutinous officers in this case.40 A new Governor-General, Lord Minto, arrived, while Pellew’s replacement as commander-in-chief, Rear-Admiral O’Brien Drury, came out early, so that he would be able to learn the ropes before Pellew left. There was also a perceived threat of a French invasion by way of Persia, with whose Shah Napoleon was allied briefly. This possible invasion distracted everyone, and Napoleon also wanted to send out another pair of frigates to Mauritius to stir the pot. These various threats were quite enough to preoccupy Minto and Pellew – the vagueness of the threats magnified their potency in their minds – so that any aggressions on their part were put on hold.41 (As it happened Napoleon himself suffered his own distractions, in Spain and AusWar, 298–299. Ibid, 301–303. 39 Ibid, 303. 40 I considered these ‘mutinies’ in Grainger, Auchmuty, ch 7, with references. 41 Amita Das, Defending British India against Napoleon: The Foreign Policy of Governor General Lord Minto, 1807–13, Woodbridge, Suffolk 2016, ch. 3. 37 Parkinson, 38

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tria and the Netherlands during 1808–1809, and these prevented his expeditions, if they were really serious.) In India the possibility of invasion disturbed Lord Minto, who authorised an eager army officer, Captain John Malcolm, to go on a mission to Persia in search of information and to make friendly contact with the Shah. He was given the temporary rank of Brigadier General for the occasion and Pellew detached a frigate to escort him to the Persian Gulf. His mission crossed with an embassy from the British government, led by Sir Harford Jones, with more or less the same aims. Jones arrived in the frigate Sapphire just after Malcolm in the frigate Doris had left Bombay for the Gulf, and he decided to wait for Malcolm’s reports before going on. For Admiral Pellew this was tying up two useful frigates, and another, Psyche, was also in the Gulf at the time, as the regular mail ship – the piracy threat in the area compelled the use of bigger ships than before. The Persian mission failed to produce any results, but Napoleon’s supposed invasion of India by way of Persia also failed to appear – Russia and the Ottoman Empire fell into one of their regular wars, and the route was closed.42 The French frigates and privateers – Surcouf was in the Indian Ocean again in 1807 – were moderately successful in catching country ships, though not Company ships. In reply to merchants’ complaints Pellew organised new convoy routes, though this system did not last long. It helped that Terpsichore caught and fought Semillante, which had to go into Mauritius for repairs as a result, and San Fiorenzo fought the three-day battle with Piemontaise, which eventually surrendered.43 Rear-Admiral Drury arrived in mid-1808 and Pellew sent him to Canton to make sure that Macau remain safe from French interference, now that Portugal was definitively on the British side in the European war. Drury became involved in arguments and disputes and threats at Macau, so that the China fleet was delayed in leaving. The Chinese were, of course, not about to allow either the British or the French to gain control of Macau, and a brief consideration would have shown both Pellew and Drury this long before Drury reached the Canton River.44 Also in the farther east Pellew sent his son Fleetwood Pellew, captain (at age 17!) of the frigate Phaeton, to Japan; he had a difficult time with the Japanese, who were very unwelcoming, but at least a British ship had reached Nagasaki, even if its visit was useless.45 With the Cape of Good Hope in British hands, and Rear-Admiral Albemarle Bertie in command there with a reasonable quantity of ships available, a systematic blockade of Mauritius was at last possible. This was made easier by the steady reduction in the maritime capabilities of the French islands as a Pirates, 36–37. Royal Navy, 5.407–409 and 412–413. 44 Parkinson, War, ch. 16. 45 Ibid, 307–308 and appendix H. 42 Moyse-Bartlett, 43 Clowes,

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group. With two frigates captured or damaged sufficiently to be sent back to France, Decaen was left with only one, Canonniere, and the privateers, whose careers tended to be fairly brief. But even Canonniere was at the end of its career and was sold off. From the Cape Admiral Bertie sent Captain Josias Rowley with Raisonable (64), Grampus (50), a frigate, and some sloops to reinstate the blockade. It was not long before Decaen was reporting that Mauritius was in danger of starvation.46 Napoleon answered by dispatching four new frigates to Mauritius, one by one, all of which got through – Manche (40), Caroline (40), Bellone (44), Venus (44). So after two years of virtually no naval activity, suddenly there were busy French frigates attacking Company ships – and these large frigates were quite able to capture large Indiamen, unlike the privateers. Five Indiamen were soon taken in the Bay of Bengal, also a sloop and a Portuguese frigate – but, of course, it was the loss of the Indiamen which finally compelled the Company to take notice.47 The blockade of the French islands was difficult to conduct, even with an increased number of ships, but once again the French strength was slowly whittled down. A force of soldiers from India took control of Rodriguez Island, which provided a local base for the blockading ships, and could produce some fresh food.48 The captain of Otter (18), Captain Nesbit Willoughby, organised a raid on Mauritius, in which a small vessel was captured under the batteries.49 The blockading ships took a much closer interest than before in the defences of the islands, and came to the conclusion that they were less formidable than had been thought. One of the French frigates, Caroline, returned from a raid with two captured Indiamen as prizes, and went into St Paul’s, Bourbon Island, to await the chance to reach Port Louis on the Ile de France. Captain Rowley brought together a coalition of ships and soldiers, including Captain Robert Corbet of Nereide (38) and soldiers from Rodriguez under Lieutenant-Colonel Keating, with himself directing. On 21 September a well-planned operation succeeded in landing the troops, who captured a line of batteries, whereat the ships went in to capture Caroline and retake the two Indiamen.50 The increased threats posed by the new frigates – and more of them might suddenly arrive – together with the successes of the raids, raised the possibility of removing the threat posed by the island and its ships altogether. Governor-General Lord Minto was finally persuaded that the islands should be taken. He suspected, correctly, that Napoleon would further reinforce the islands, at which the difficulties would materially increase once again. He made a plan, first to seize Bourbon Island, and then Mauritius; Admiral Drury did not like 46

Ibid, 364–365. Ibid, 365. 48 Das, Defending British India, 152–156. 49 Parkinson, War, 366. 50 Naval Chronicle, IV, 319–322; Parkinson, War, 366–367; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.444–445. 47

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the sequence, arguing that Decaen on Mauritius would thus be warned, and pointed out that if Mauritius fell, Bourbon would automatically follow. Minto was adamant, and was supported in his sequence by his army commander General Sir John Abercromby. In July 1810 the expedition against Bourbon succeeded in seizing the island.51 By then Minto was gathering a second expedition to attack Mauritius itself. (And Mauritius was awaiting the dispatch of three more warships from France). At the Cape Rowley was sending forward two more frigates to join the three already on duty at the blockade. Convergence of the various forces happened slowly. The frigates formed the blockade, one of which, Nereide, Willoughby’s new command, was used to raid into Mauritius’ ports and bays. Willoughby took his ship into the entrance to the Grand Port, and used his boats to attack points around the bay. But he was caught in the act by the arrival of three French ships, Bellone, Minerve, and Victor, with two prizes, the Indiamen Windham and Ceylon. These ships got into the harbour while he fired at them from his ship and from a fortified island he had seized, but without effect. He was then reinforced by the arrival of other British frigates, and led them into the port to attack the French ships. Two of the British ships, Sirius and Magicienne, ran aground, another, Iphigenia, anchored almost clear of the French; Nereide got close to the French and attacked them, so that all the French fired back at the one ship. The result was that ship’s near complete destruction, with nninety-two men killed, and 140 wounded (out of a total crew of 281).52 Captain Rowley was at Bourbon Island, with Boadicea (38) while this was happening. He was threatened by the approach of three French frigates from Port Louis in Mauritius, but was reinforced by the opportune arrival of two more British ships, Africaine (38) and the brig Staunch (12), with which he sallied out against the French, who turned back for Mauritius. Captain Robert Corbet, in Africaine, the new arrival, caught up with the French and engaged two of them, Iphigenie (the captured Iphigenia) and Astree, simultaneously in a night action. He suffered almost as many casualties as Willoughby, and had to surrender his ship. A revival in the wind now allowed Boadicea to reach the scene of the fighting. Rowley collected Staunch and Otter, and then approached the French frigates and their prize; Astree and Iphigenie retired before this determined approach, and Africaine’s prize crew could only manage a couple of shots before surrendering.53 Tragedy then descended into farce, when Ceylon (formerly Bombay) arrived from India, carrying Major-General Sir John Abercromby to command the land campaign. The ship went too close to Port Louis, which the captain War, 377–384; Das, Defending British India, 159–162; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.457–458. 52 Parkinson, War, 385–393; Naval Chronicle, IV, 355–357; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.459–466. 53 Parkinson, War, 393–394; Naval Chronicle, IV, 352–359; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.466–468. 51 Parkinson,

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thought was under close blockade, and was then captured by the French frigates from the port; in the morning Rowley arrived, retook Ceylon and captured Venus, thereby liberating Abercromby. Rowley, with his squadron strength returned from one ship back to half a dozen, could then reinstate the blockade of Port Louis. He refitted his battered ships with great speed, thereby re-establishing his local maritime supremacy, which had been lost by Willoughby’s murderous berserker zeal and Corbet’s homicidal vainglory.54 The defeat of those two ships was anything but glorious, especially tragic for the 400 men their captains had lost between them; Corbet died, and Willoughby was badly wounded; he was regarded as a hero later, but the aggressiveness of the individual British captains was to be contrasted with Rowley’s intelligent approach, both in casualties and in results. The arrival of Ceylon with Abercromby was the signal that the soldiers were approaching. The senior officers spent several days examining the northern coast of Mauritius, seeking a suitable place at which to land. By the time the troops had arrived they had settled on an unguarded bay fifteen miles west of Port Louis as a suitable place. The landing began on 29 November. The landed force marched towards Port Louis and met a mixed group of sailors, soldiers, marines, and militia gathered by Governor Decaen, about five miles from the town; a single attacking move put the French force to flight. The surrender of the whole island was then negotiated by Decaen, who insisted on all the military trimmings of ‘honour’, and took place on 2 December.55 As so often a project which had seemed daunting from a distance turned out to be relatively easy when actually attempted. The aim had been to suppress Mauritius as a base for French naval activity. One of the frigates which had been sent out to reinforce the island was decoyed into Port Louis and captured; the other three – Renommee, Chlorinde, and Nereide – were more careful and stayed out to sea, then got away. But the senior British officer at Port Louis, Captain Charles Schomberg, worked out that they would go to Madagascar for supplies, since they were all three carrying soldiers – there was nowhere else available – and two of them were captured at Tamatave – Chlorinde alone got away.56 The main aim of these lengthy operations had therefore been achieved, and yet it was clear that, with the Netherlands now an integral part of the French Empire, the Dutch colonies were also effectively French. So, one domino having been knocked over, another stood to block further British progress, and as a threat to British complacency. Drury had already copied Rainier in the previous war by sending a force to seize the Moluccas, where it encoun-

War, 394–395; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.468–470. War, 397–409; Naval Chronicle, IV, 359–361; Das, Defending British India, 162–169. 56 Parkinson, War, 409–410; Naval Chronicle, V, 49–59. 54 Parkinson, 55 Parkinson,

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tered as little resistance as before, though this was no more than a distraction.57 If the potential of the Dutch colonies for causing trouble was to be scotched, it would be necessary to seize Java at least. Having taken Mauritius, Java was clearly the next place to be attacked. Napoleon had appointed a new Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies, General Jan Willem Janssens, who arrived in June 1811, by which time a new British expedition had been organised to conquer Java. This was a new venture for the East India Company, since its conquests so far had been within India, or, if overseas, of small islands only. But Lord Minto was clear that, with the Dutch Indies now flying the French flag, they were a clear danger, as much as Mauritius had been.58 Janssens in fact had set sail from Nantes, with a small squadron of three French ships, as if to emphasise the danger.59 Janssens had faced a British invasion of the Cape in 1806, when he had been governor, and had lost. His attempt to hold that colony had been undermined by the unwillingness of the Dutch of the Cape to resort to the modified form of scorched earth tactics he favoured, and he had been compelled to surrender. In Java he might have a better chance, and his vigour and organising abilities were sure to invigorate the Dutch administration and forces. The British expedition, eighty-one ships of various types, warships, transports, Royal Navy, Bengal Marine, Company ships, moved slowly across the Bay of Bengal, with contingents coming from both Calcutta and Madras. Malacca was the first point of rendezvous, and the several flotillas arrived in sequence.60 The army was the usual mix of British troops and Indian sepoys, the latter numerically predominant, plus marines and seamen from the ships. They substantially outnumbered the Dutch forces, who were hampered by being spread throughout the island. Java was in fact only partly ruled by the Dutch; a good half of the island remained under Javanese monarchies which governed under Dutch suzerainty, but with a significant degree of autonomy. These had to be watched in case they took the British side in hopes of gaining their full independence, so some of the Dutch forces were spread throughout the island.61 A former governor of Benkulen and Penang, Stamford Raffles, was with the expedition as adviser. Lord Minto, most unusually, for a British Governor-General, accompanied the expedition. He behaved as if he regarded the expedition as something in the nature of the holiday, and interfered only occasionally, though he claimed much of the credit later. The naval commander was Commodore W.R. Broughton, who had more experience as an explorer and chart maker in Royal Navy, 5.290–292; Das, Defending British India, 129–191. Defending British India, 181–189. 59 Parkinson, War, 412. 60 This campaign is discussed, in varying detail, in Grainger, Auchmuty, ch. 8; Naval Chronicle, V, 75–78; Das, Defending British India, 193–215; Parkinson, War, ch. 23; Clowes, Royal Navy, 5.297–302; Low, Indian Navy, 1.237–245. 61 Vlekke, Nusantara, ch. 10. 57 Clowes, 58 Das,

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the Pacific than in actual war, though he had taken part in the Mauritius expedition. The army was commanded by Major-General Sir Samuel Auchmuty, the commander-in-chief of the Company’s Madras Army, who, alone amongst those high officials had seen plenty of warfare – in America (he was born in New York), in India, in South America, and in Egypt. Several preliminary probes were undertaken. The Sultan of Acheh in Sumatra was contacted and conciliated, the sultans in the Javanese interior similarly, ships blockaded the island, somewhat loosely – a blockade had been in place since Drury’s time – small landings were made at various points in order to test the state of Dutch preparations. As a result the expedition was provided with plenty of intelligence on the internal condition of the island and the location of the Dutch forces. Janssens had arrived with two French frigates, which had been located, but which disappeared from British view just before the landing. They ‘escaped’, as the British put it, during the campaign. Broughton was superseded by Rear-Admiral Robert Stopford, whose post was commander-in-chief at the Cape; he had heard of Admiral Drury’s death (in February 1811), and had taken it upon himself to sail to India to help out, not at all deterred by the prospect of large quantities of prize-money accruing to the expedition’s leaders. Broughton was furious, and in fact it was he who commanded the approach voyage and the landing, at which point Stopford arrived.62 On land the main work of command was done by Auchmuty, at the capture of Batavia, and the conquest of the entrenched camp south of the city at Meester Cornelis, and again in the pursuit of the surviving Dutch forces along the north coast and the final battle; the campaign was finally concluded in September. In all this there was little for the navy to do, other than convey the expedition from India to Java, and assist in the landing. The ships tracked the campaign along the north coast, where travel by sea was easier than by land, despite the recent construction of a new road by the Dutch (using forced labour). Minto quickly arranged for most of the ships and soldiers to be sent back to India, which was regarded as somewhat less dangerous than Java in terms of diseases, and where their absence might be as destructive of British control in India as their presence was in Java. He put Raffles in as lieutenant-governor, thus providing another man with the opportunity to claim credit for work already done by others, mainly by the Dutch before the invasion. Neither Broughton nor Auchmuty received much public recognition for doing the hard work of command. Broughton made a great fuss over Stopford’s interference, Auchmuty was quietly insistent, to the point of legal action, on his rights and rewards, a much more effective strategy. The prize-money was dished out in penny packets to the soldiers and seamen over the next dozen years, mired as it was in bureaucratic inertia; by the end of it many of the recipients had died.

62 Parkinson,

War, 415–416.

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It is worth noting that in these large expeditions, against Mauritius in 1809–1810, and against Java in 1811, the main naval contribution came from Royal Naval ships, but in both cases the Bombay Marine contributed a large proportion of its own ships. It provided five ships to the Mauritius expedition (including Bombay, now Ceylon) and eight to the Java expedition (including Akbar, the former Cornwallis). These are not particularly large figures within the full total of the ships of the expeditions, but from a force which counted only fifteen or sixteen ships of any strength it counts as a major effort. In neither case were the Marine’s contributions officially acknowledged by the naval commanders, or by Lord Minto.63 As before, the ships of the Bombay Marine had been undertaking the tasks which the Royal Navy felt were beneath it. The problem of piracy had remained its special concern. In this there were, for the moment, two areas of particular difficulty. One was the Persian Gulf where the earlier piracies of the 1790s had become much more serious and organised. This was presumably in part because of the authority of Sultan bin Saqar, but the region was also increasingly important to the Company. With the wider war enforcing the need to communicate more speedily between Europe and India, there was an increased traffic of Company ships through the Gulf. For a time the Bombay Council refrained from any sort of retaliation, perhaps hoping that, as in the past, the problem would die away; in the circumstances it only encouraged the pirates. The increased traffic and the unusual opportunity for loot was no doubt one of the spurs to that increase, while the concentration of the Marine’s main sea strength on the Mauritius and Java expeditions prevented any reprisals when these were permitted.64 The British Navy now dominated the Indonesian islands without question or challenge, as it did also the wider Indian Ocean from its bases from the Cape to Penang. There was no trace anywhere outside European waters of any French ships or bases. Napoleon’s visions of world power – Egypt, North America, India, the East Indies, Africa – had shrunk to Germany and Poland and Italy, and a savage war in Spain. This would be a substantial enough empire, of course, except that he was also surrounded by active enemies – Britain in its islands and the Mediterranean, and Spain – and by inconstant and increasingly suspicious allies – Russia, the Ottoman Empire, Austria, Sweden – and was beset by internal rebellions, from refractaires in France to uprisings by Alpine shepherds and Spanish guerilleros. The destruction of his worldwide ambitions outside Europe was the preliminary to the destruction of his ambitions and empire within Europe, and that was done largely by the British Navy in the Atlantic and the Indian Oceans. After 1811 there was really little left for the Royal Navy to do in the larger war in the Indian Ocean. But in Britain pressure was once again building up 63 Low,

Indian Navy, 1.229 and 1.238. British Routes, 66–67; Low, Indian Navy, 1.317–324.

64 Hoskins,

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to demand a change in the practices and powers of the East India Company. It actually survived, rather surprisingly, for another forty years, but once again it had to undergo major changes. Two centuries before it had originated as a club of merchants in London; by 1811 it was an empire stretching from the Cape of Good Hope to Java and with interests throughout the world. This was surely one of the more extraordinary transformations in world history, but the Company had become too big, too rich, too powerful, and would need to be cut down to size if it was to be controlled by its parent, which was the British government, though this paternity was all too often forgotten.

Part III

The Royal Navy and the Indian Navy

10 The Company Reduced, its Empire Expanded (1811–1838) It took a little time for the Admiralty to react to the elimination of the French threat in the Indian Seas, but then the wider war was still on in Europe until 1814, with a final burst in mid-1815. With peace seemingly assured after the defeat and occupation of France, and with the conclusion of the peace settlement, the Treaty of Vienna, and no naval threat visible after the defeat of the United States’ ships at sea between 1812 and 1814, the naval establishment in the Indian Ocean could be relaxed. The war with the United States had scarcely had any effect in eastern waters. The occasional American ship might penetrate past the Cape or into Indonesian waters, but only one incursion into these seas was seriously attempted, by three ships, President (44), Peacock (22), and Hornet (18), all frigates or smaller, out of New York. President was damaged coming out of New York harbour in a gale, and was quickly caught and captured. Peacock and Hornet left New York a week later, on 22 January 1815, also in a storm to avoid the blockading squadron. They separated, and Hornet met and defeated Penguin (18); Commodore Biddle in Hornet was told that the war was over, but continued firing. They sailed to pass the Cape, but encountered Cornwallis (74), which chased Hornet, while Peacock, a faster sailor, got away. Hornet only survived by throwing overboard its guns and stores, after which it could only go home. Peacock got as far as the Sunda Strait, where it encountered the Bombay Marine brigsloop Nautilus (14), which was defeated, even though Nautilus made it clear to Captain Warrington of Peacock that peace had been made six months before – which Warrington presumably also knew since he had met Hornet which had the news. But Peacock went on firing until Nautilus surrendered. (The ship was returned and compensation paid.) All in all, it was an inglorious end to the inglorious war for the United States’ Navy. For the British it was fortunate that they had secured Mauritius; in French hands, the island would have provided a useful base for the American raiders. The island had to some extent relied on United States’ ships for supplies after the Cape ceased to provide; there was clearly a degree of friendship between the island and United States’ shipping, especially ships from the slaveholding Southern states.1 Royal Navy, 6.173–176; Andrew Lambert, The Challenge: Britain against America in the Naval War of 1812, London 2012, 375; a recent exhibition in the

1 Clowes,

187

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By 1815 the British forces in Indian waters amounted to three line-of-battle ships, frigates and seven brigs and sloops, and this total declined in the following years.2 As the encounters and hostilities with the two American raiders suggested, however, the real maritime guard for India lay at the Cape and the South Atlantic. The only possible challenge to its Indian possessions would come from sea powers based in the North Atlantic, and none of the candidates in 1815 had sufficient ships to mount that challenge. Indeed, Britain could begin the usual peacetime process of retiring unreliable and aged ships and not building new ones. The only state with a capable fleet remained France, where Napoleon had been building ships in all the building yards he controlled in the latter years of his empire, from Danzig round to Venice, but had never been able to concentrate them into a fleet, or give the sailors any proper training – in fact, he could not provide the sailors in the first place. Other seafaring states were, like France, badly damaged by the war’s destructions, and building a navy was then hardly their first priority.3 Britain’s empire, however, essentially a maritime creation, demanded naval attention, since it only existed by sea connections, though the required vessels were not necessarily line-of-battle ships. What was needed were frigates and brigs and sloops to protect commerce in dangerous seas – against nascent sea powers whose early activities might be classified as piracy (as with England in the Tudor period). These existed in the Persian Gulf, parts of India, the Indonesian islands, and the coast of China, to list only the areas of concern to India – there were other similar problems in the West Indies and the Mediterranean. In India the suppression of piracy had long been the responsibility of the Bombay Marine, and its ships continued their work right through the last years of the European war and on through into the succeeding period of peace, as if nothing had changed – as indeed, for the Marine, nothing had. The ending of the greater war had therefore little effect on the Company’s little navy; it did, however, have its effect on the Company itself. It had proved impossible for anyone in London, in the Company or in the Board of Control, to exercise any control over the Governors-General. Wellesley in particular had profligately expended the Company’s funds in his wars, and Minto had been only a little less extravagant. The Company itself, as a commercial enterprise, could see little or no advantage in the conquests in India, and still less in those outside India. As a result it was deep in debt.4 If it had been solely a Naval History Museum at Newport News was comprehensive and even-handed, though overall defeat was not actually acknowledged. 2 Parkinson, War, 422–423. 3 Richard Harding, Seapower and Naval Warfare, 1650–1830, London 1999, table A4, pages 294–295; Richard Glover, Britain at Bay: Defence against Bonaparte, 1803–14, London 1973, documents 18–20, pages 185–191: Napoleon planned to have 104 line-of-battle ships available by 1814, many of which fell to the subsequent royal regime. 4 Lawson, East India Company, 139: Phillips, East India Company, 124.

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commercial operation it could have been successful. It had a secure market for its opium in China; it had good markets in Indonesia and in the Near East for cotton cloth manufactured in India, and had it been able to concentrate on these and other trades, and the export of tea from China to Britain, it would have probably been a commercial success (though it was still protected by monopolies). But not only did it have great debts resulting from the conquests of its Governors-General, it had to pay for the army which was used to make those conquests and to hold onto them, and for the administrators who ruled them. The Company, as a result, had no hope of reducing its debt burden so long as the system imposed in 1784 continued. The main aspect of the Company’s affairs which provoked opposition in Britain was not the conquests or the employment of administrators, but its monopoly on trade. It was assumed that the abolition of its monopoly would reduce costs, spread profits, and increase trade. It was this which informed the new disposition in 1813, when the Company’s charter came up for renewal. The result was a continuation of the monopoly in the China trade, which elements in the British government and Parliament understood was organised in such a way that a free-for-all at Canton was not possible, since the Chinese insisted on knowing who to deal with, and were keen to restrict the merchants’ numbers. But the Indian trades were opened. The Company therefore continued to keep control of the Chinese trade, but none over the Indian trade, while it remained responsible for the administration and security of its territories in India, for its navy and its army, and the defence of its lands.5 It was all wholly illogical and remained open to continued abuse and exploitation, and to attacks based on its monopoly position in China – and to interlopers; the monopoly also, of course, did not deter non-British merchants and ships. The profits of the China trade went towards costs in India; clearly opening the China trade to private traders would be advantageous to consumers in Britain; costs in India would then have to be paid for by the Indians. In connection with the Company’s restriction to the China trade, a new embassy, headed by Lord Amherst, was sent in 1816 to discuss opening further access to Chinese ports. It failed in every respect. Two of the ships of the Bombay Marine accompanied the Alceste (46) and Lyra (10), carrying the embassy. They delivered Amherst near Beijing, and then conducted a survey of the coast of the Shandong Peninsula;6 the main warship of the embassy, Alceste, bombarded its way up the Canton River estuary, supposedly in quest of a place where repairs could be conducted, but having reached Canton, all that was done was to collect Amherst and leave. On the return voyage towards India, the ship struck Pulo Leat in the South China Sea, and the grounded wreck was destroyed by the local Malays (‘pirates’, of course); the

East India Company, 181–197. Indian Navy, 1.395–396.

5 Phillips, 6 Low,

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crew, having fortified themselves in defence, were rescued by the Bombay Marine ship Ternate.7 The Indonesian region where the wreck occurred was the seat of a progressing dispute between the Dutch, whose colonial possessions in the area had been returned in 1816, and the British, who were concerned, so they said, about the access they would have through the various passages from the Indian Ocean to the South China Sea for that same China trade. The Dutch were beginning their century-long attempt to extend their direct control over the Indonesian archipelago, which so far had only ever been limited and partial; the earlier British incursion had resulted in continuing disturbance. The Dutch were also returning to their monopolisation of trade in the region. In particular, the passage through the Malacca Strait was looking uncertain for British ships, since the Dutch controlled the Sumatran coast and the port of Malacca itself on the opposite Malay coast, returned at the peace. In effect, the Dutch were attempting to return to their intention of controlling not only the islands but the seas of Indonesia, or so the man whose primary concern was to expand the Company’s interest in the region claimed.8 Sir Stamford Raffles had ruled Java for five years during the British occupation, and had returned to govern Benkulen in Sumatra after leave and recovery in India and Britain. (He had, like other governors, loaded the Company with debt, and his knighthood from the British government was a sort of compensation for the Directors’ annoyance and their disparagement of him.) He was familiar with much of the area, including Penang and Malacca, as well as Java and Benkulen, all of which he had ruled at one time or another; during the British occupation of Java, subsidiary expeditions had been sent out to several other islands. The Sultanate of Palembang in southern Sumatra was assaulted, and so also was southern Borneo, the latter to suppress the slave trade, and Macassar in Sulawesi. The Moluccas, captured in 1796 and returned at the Amiens peace, were taken again, and then again returned. The British captures had stimulated much unrest among the victims of Dutch imperialist measures. These expeditions were conducted partly by the Royal Navy and partly by ships of the Bombay Marine. Neither these expeditions nor the cruises to Sulawesi and the possession of the Spice Islands resulted in any permanent occupation, though Raffles, when in office again at Benkulen, claimed all sorts of islands and trading posts for the Company, despite their restitution by treaty.9 The expeditions familiarised the British generally, and its navy and officials in particular, with the region. It had become clear in the war years that Penang was less than suitable as a way-station on the route to China; possession of Malacca had been someRoyal Navy, 6.231–233; Low, Indian Navy, 1.271–272. Nusantara, 280. 9 Vlekke, Nusantara, 279–280; Gerald S. Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 1810–1850, Oxford 1967, 338. 7 Clowes, 8 Vlekke,

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thing of an improvement, and, of course, control of Batavia and Java had been better than both. For the Company, therefore, once Malacca and Java were returned, the problem of securing a more comfortable access to Canton than it already possessed returned. Dalrymple’s efforts at Balambangan, the ‘New Company’s’ attempt at Pulo Condore a century before, even the use of the Eastern Passage, had all been attempts at securing either a closer way-station to Canton or a better passageway to it, bypassing Dutch obstructions. Raffles had made some attempt in Java to deal with the issue. One was to annex the island of Banka, off the south-east coast of Sumatra, from the Sultan of Palembang, after the raiding his palace, but this had been returned at Dutch insistence in the peace treaty of 1814. He had seized another island, Billiton, which was also returned, and the naval expedition to South Borneo, ostensibly to suppress slavery, had partly been in quest of one of those stations. In Benkulen in 1818 he came to the conclusion that he, as a Company official, was responsible for a new search, and he persuaded the Governor-General in Calcutta, the Marquis of Hastings (1812–1823), that this was a worthwhile quest. In doing so, he notably annoyed the Dutch, who feared that he would cause a new war with the Company, and they hastened to occupy the places he claimed or might claim – thereby compelling the expansion of Dutch control. Concern was also rising among the higher officials in London and Calcutta as the Dutch asserted themselves. After several lunges into Dutch territory and the Indonesian seas, Raffles located a less controversial region in which to establish a trading post and a way-station. In 1819, a small flotilla of Company ships were gathered at Penang, including Nearchus and Minto, and the survey ships Investigator and Discovery. Nearchus was captained by William Maxfield, an experienced surveyor, who had worked in the Red Sea and on the China coast; Investigator and Discovery had been employed in surveying the islands at the southern end of Malaya the year before, so the region Raffles was interested in was already reasonably well known and marked out. He took with him Major William Farquhar, who had until recently been the governor of Malacca, now returned to Dutch rule. Raffles had had a variety of ideas for where the new trading post he intended to establish should be. At first he thought of Acheh, at the north end of Sumatra, though it was no more suitable than Penang; he thought of Banka once more, and Billiton, but these were now occupied by the Dutch; when he reached the southern part of Malaya, several other islands suggested themselves. Various objections arose to many of them, such as the absence of a harbour, Dutch possession, or other political problems. Eventually he picked on Singapore Island, in part for its useful position (though it was no better than many others of the islands nearby), but mainly because it was involved in a political dispute between several pretenders to power within the Sultanate of Riau, of which the island was part. He contacted the disputant most in need of support, and persuaded him to allot a small area of the island on which to put

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his trading post. He left Farquhar in control, and returned to India to report to Hastings, having stayed on the island only a day or so. He returned for a visit later, but there is no question but that Farquhar was the real founder of Singapore, simply by being there and deterring all conflicting claims. The Dutch, as well as the other pretenders to authority in the disputed sultanate, laid their claims, but they could not demonstrate that they had ever had any real interest, and none wished to tangle seriously with the Company and the Royal Navy.10 West of India, the problem of piracy in the Persian Gulf rumbled on after its revival from 1803. The Bombay Marine campaigned there almost annually. Intermittent naval and diplomatic forays were made, mainly with the object of getting the pirates to refrain from attacking Company ships. This, as might be expected, worked only at times, and there was usually some chieftain with ships and men at his disposal willing to make an attempt, especially when it was established that the Company ships sometimes carried treasure. Low’s History is in this section a string of stories of the encounters between single Company ships and fleets of dhows.11 By 1809 the problem had become so severe that the Bombay Council had to act. It had been unwilling to interfere so long as its mail ships got through, but in that year Sultan bin Saqar at Ras al-Khaimah was detained by the Wahhabis, who now dominated the Arabian interior and the inland parts of Muscat, and it was their fleets which now sailed the Gulf. Their ships were in the hundreds, and Nautilus (14) had been attacked on its mail run. A squadron was assembled, consisting of two Royal Navy frigates, Chiffonne and Caroline, and ten Bombay Marine ships, carrying two British regiments of foot. As it happened the frigates could not get close enough to the shore to be of much use, and the fighting was left to the Marine ships. Ras al-Khaimah was the main target, and after a bombardment the regiments were landed and fought their way into the town, which was then burnt. The squadron then performed the same action at a number of other fortified posts and both sides of the Gulf. Considerable destruction was caused, and plenty of casualties inflicted, but the effect was mainly to enrage the survivors more than to cow them. This applied particularly to the Wahhabis, who considered the fighting a jihad. Considerable numbers of ships were also missed, hidden in unseen creeks and inlets. The ‘lesson’ administered lasted only a couple of years, in effect the length of time it took to rebuild essential services and replace the destroyed ships. The capture of ships carrying British passes began again in 1814, and when the fleets of the Qasimi were once more at sea, incidents of this sort steadily increased. Bombay Marine ships were attacked more than once, and generally Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 340–343; there are numerous biographies of Raffles; C.E. Wurtzburg, Raffles of the Eastern Seas, ed. Clifford Witting, Oxford 1954, is especially useful since it consists mainly of quotations from and about Raffles himself. 11 Low, Indian Navy, 1.310–366; Moyse-Bartlett, Pirates, 32–98; very briefly in Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.234. 10 Graham,

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succeeded in defending themselves and the ships they convoyed, but ships unconnected to the Marine were liable to be attacked and captured. In 1816 four ships out of Surat were captured, at a time when most of the Marine’s ships were in use in Indonesia evacuating the British forces from Java. This particular attack roused the Bombay Council to action once again and another expedition was sent, consisting of a Royal Navy sloop, Challenger (18), and three Bombay Marine cruisers. An attempt to bombard Ras al-Khaimah failed, and then the raids increased, extending throughout the Gulf. Basra was blockaded, the Makran coast as far as Kutch and Kathiawar was raided, the raiders thus reaching only just short of Bombay’s area of responsibility. A protest had been sent to Ras al-Khaimah after the Surat captures, but this produced the reply that they might recognise British passes, but they regarded infidel Hindus and Christians (other than the British) as fair game. Another squadron was sent to the Gulf in late 1818, without any result other than to convince the Gulf Arabs that they had little to fear. Defeat for these Royal Navy ships and their squadrons of boats finally brought an expedition of adequate size – Liverpool (50), Eden (26), and Caroline (18), six of the Marine’s ships, and three Company ships, altogether carrying two British battalions, two sepoy battalions, and the Marine battalion. The target was once again Ras al-Khaimah, and once again it was captured by assault. Of the thousand or so fighting men in the town, 400 died, but many of the survivors retreated to a fort some miles away. They may have done this on the earlier occasion of British conquest, but this time they were followed, and again when they retreated to yet another fort. This was taken by bombardment and assault. The fleet then systematically visited every village along the Arabian coast, destroying ships and enforcing surrenders. Finally a treaty was produced which was solemnly signed by every chieftain who could be corralled. And this was generally observed. It helped that the Wahhabis’ domination of the coast had faded as its state in the interior had crumbled. The Bombay Council may have been slow, even negligent, in turning to real force to suppress Qasimi piracy, but any earlier offensive while the Wahhabis dominated the neighbourhood and could declare jihad, might well have failed. There was a further problem, in that a tribe of Arabs, the Beni bu-Ali, from the interior behind Ras al-Khaimah, became involved in conflict with the British. This hardly involved either the Navy or the Bombay Marine – the Royal Navy ships had left – but it required the soldiers to capture the enemy’s town. Two expeditions were required to accomplish this.12 This 1819 war in the Gulf was the third cooperative expedition in which Royal Naval vessels joined with Bombay Marine ships in the Gulf campaign. The removal of the bigger ships from the Marine by Wellesley had made it necessary in any difficult expedition to have the more powerful Royal Navy ships along. So three times the Qasimi had faced a joint force, as, of course, 12 Moyse-Bartlett,

Pirates, ch. 6; Low, Indian Navy, 1.370–374 and 381–385.

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had the Javanese and their Sumatran and Bornean fellows. But in none of these expeditions had territory been seized; only at Singapore, a purely Company expedition, had this happened. An expedition against the city of Mocha in Yemen was of the same type and pattern, a punishment raid. A dispute had arisen between the Company and the governor of Mocha, who was technically subject to the Imam of Sanaa; he had attacked some Marines who were guarding the local factory. After considerable negotiation the governor maintained his defiance, probably encouraged in this by the Imam, until the Bombay Council sent an expeditionary force of HMS Topaze (38), three Marine ships, and a store ship. One of the Marine ships was a mortar vessel, and carried a detachment of the Bombay Artillery, so the real targets of this force were the forts guarding the entrance to the town, and the composition of the expedition reflected the expectation of this conflict. One of the forts, the South Fort, was fairly quickly reduced by bombardment and the garrison driven out, but at the North Fort the bombardment was not so effective and when a landing party went to take possession they were attacked and driven back to the ships. This encouraged further resistance within the town, until a bombardment brought down the refractory fort. The town itself was then bombarded and the central citadel destroyed. A further bombardment of the town finally brought a definitive surrender.13 The Company government in India fell into war with the Burmese kingdom.14 The two states had been expanding simultaneously since the 1750s, and inevitably they eventually clashed. The Burmese resisted all attempts by the British to establish relations, clearly understanding that to the British such relations – a British resident at the Burmese court, treaties, agreements, and so on – would mean subordination. A series of able kings of a new Burmese dynasty established in the 1760s expanded their realm until their soldiers clashed with Company troops on their mutual boundaries. The decisive collision was over control of Shahpur Island off the coast of Arakan, near the Company’s town of Akyab. It followed several other incidents, including the seizure of a schooner, Phaeton, which sailed into Martaban harbour and was arrested. It is evident that the two sides each considered the other to be aggressive; because the British wrote the history, the Burmese were the aggressors, in Assam, Arakan, and other places, and this is claimed to be the cause of the war. In fact, it was a collision between two expanding empires. The modern (British) accounts repeatedly comment that the Burmese had no inkling of the power of the Company, of its military expertise and the determined nature of the government. And yet in the same breath it is recorded that Burmese soldiers had clashed with Company troops more than once, the Indian Navy, 1.299–309. Ibid, 1.410–473; Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.238–250; Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 346–361; Phillips, East India Company, 253–260, for the politics of the war in London.

13 Low, 14

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Phaeton was taken, British merchants had been visiting Burmese ports for a couple of centuries, and it is supposed that the Burmese planned an attack aimed at taking Calcutta. This suggests clearly enough that the Burmese had a good understanding of British Indian strengths, and of its weaknesses. Suppose a Burmese invasion actually captured Calcutta – and at one time the king deployed an army of 60,000 during the war – there would surely have been a widespread revolt in India as the news spread. This did not happen, but only because the British invaded Burma first.15 True to its basic beliefs in delay and parsimony, the Company was inefficient and careless – clueless even – in its actions, and if the Burmese were supposedly ignorant of British India’s power and resources, so the British in India were ignorant of Burmese capabilities and conditions, largely through the arrogant assumption of superiority among its officials and military and naval officers. For a start, war was declared in May 1824, when the rains were about to begin. Little was understood about the geography, climate, and culture of the enemy, despite several places in southern Burma having hosted Company trading posts in the past, and despite the use by the Navy and the Bombay Marine of harbours in Burma; one place, Negrais, had long been well-known as a shipbuilding and ship repair base. It was understood that the country was seamed with the rivers, and that transport was best done by river boat, but the strength of Burmese resistance was grossly underestimated. The result was a war lasting two years, and which cost thousands of casualties; to the Company’s horror it also cost a great deal of money. It was the prospect of costs which had deterred the government in India from reacting earlier to the confrontations and provocations which were apprehended as coming from the Burmese, and it was the potential cost which limited the size of the expeditionary forces sent to the campaign. Two Indian presidencies, Calcutta and Madras, contributed troops to the expedition, over 3000 from Bengal and over 8000 from Madras – but these totals included the camp followers. The Royal Navy contributed the Liffey (50), though it would not be able to get up the Burmese rivers, Slaney (20), Larne (20), and Sophie (18). The Bombay Marine and the Company contributed dozens of smaller ships, from Hastings (32) to brigs and schooners.16 The Bengal Marine, a mainly small boat organisation operation in the Ganges delta, contributed the wooden paddle steam ship Diana, purchased from its Indian owner in 1824, and the first steamship to be built in India, at Kidderpur, and launched in 1823.17 The use of this ship was very helpful. Captain Frederick Marryat, captain of Larne See, for example, Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 348–349, a typical estimate of Burmese assumptions. 16 Low, Indian Navy, 1.410–412; at least 6000 reinforcements were sent to the army during the war. 17 Ibid, 1.412; Adrian G. Marshall, Nemesis: The First Iron Warship and her World, Stroud, Glos 2016, 66, 267. 15

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(at first – he moved to other ships later) persuaded the Governor-General to purchase the ship and, in a river campaign, it proved invaluable.18 Rangoon was quickly occupied and ships were sent to take Martaban in the south-east (where the Phaeton was reclaimed and the crew released from their chains) and Syriam in the south-west, thus in effect establishing control of the delta coast, but faced serious Burmese opposition at the fort of Kemmendine just north of Rangoon.19 Penetrating upriver was difficult, particularly in the face of the skilful Burmese riverboat men, who employed boats up to a hundred feet in length, capable of moving faster than Diana, though not so relentlessly. The Burmese river tactics included the use of river craft to block channels, landing in the rear of British forces, and the use of fire-rafts aimed at burning British ships. They usually did not succeed in this, but the approach of a flotilla of burning rafts was enough to stop any British advance at once and forced a retreat at times. The Burmese were commanded by a general called Maha Bandula, who was the only man on either side to show any real military ability. When he was killed their campaign fell apart. The efficient and swift capture of Rangoon was the only exploit by the British which could merit that sort of description for some time. Disputes and quarrels, inefficiencies and carelessness, followed. The several navies resented the assumption of control by the army, which was incapable of understanding naval needs and capabilities, though its officers presumed to give incomprehensible orders, and inefficiently administered the distribution of supplies. The inefficiency began at the top, first at the Admiralty in London, which had left the naval command to the commodore who was commander-in-chief of the East Indies station, but he was junior in rank to the army’s general. At Calcutta the Governor-General, Lord Amherst (1823–1828), issued directions which the Navy found insulting. The rains began almost as soon as the force took Rangoon, and brought out the local diseases, typhus, dysentery, cholera, and others, so that, with a hostile climate and the muddle-headed command system, soldiers and sailors died in tens and dozens daily. Almost five months after capturing Rangoon, a northward advance finally began, only to be contested for some time by the Burmese, who had fortified Kemmendine about thirty miles north. After three months of fighting and slow advances, with the Navy’s small ships assisting the army in bombardments and supplies and landings, a more extended advance began, ships in the rivers and soldiers on land moving in parallel. The waterborne force included the paddle steamer Diana (presumably provided with guns, but this is never mentioned), the sloop Satellite (20), two mortar vessels, six gun vessels, thirty armed rowboats, and a wide collection of perhaps eighty ships’ boats, launches, canoes, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 352 and note 3; Low, Indian Navy, 1.412. 19 Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, confuses this fort with Than-tabeen, which was 100 miles to the north. 18 Graham,

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and so on. Of these only Diana, Satellite, and the ships’ boats were Royal Navy, the rest were Bombay Marine or locally requisitioned craft. The advance and breakthrough was in large part due to a new naval commander, Captain Henry Chads, who inherited the main command when earlier commanders had successively succumbed to illnesses; he had the advantage of being apparently immune to the diseases. The advance was slow. It was not until late April 1825 that Prome, a major city about 150 miles north of Rangoon, was reached. This was a significant milestone because Prome was north of the Delta region and the countryside and climate was somewhat less hostile. Then the rains began again, the army went under canvas for the next four months, and remained immobile, suffering the same Burmese diseases once more. These months were also occupied with gathering still more small boats and ships. The final advance began in December 1825, interrupted by a brief truce for peace negotiations, which failed because the Burmese refused the onerous British terms. A further advance to about thirty miles short of Ava, the royal capital, finally brought the Burmese king to accept a new agreement, the Treaty of Yandaboo, in February 1826. The terms were certainly severe, and included depriving Burma of much of its coastal areas in Arakan and Tenasserim, and asserting British control of Assam, which had been in dispute before the war. A large indemnity was demanded, though it went nowhere near paying for the war. It was reasonable that the annexations were mainly to the benefit of the Navy, which acquired several useful harbours. The main cost, of course, was in the lives of the ordinary soldiers and sailors, of whom about 15,000 died on the British side; no attempt was made to estimate Burmese casualties. The Directors in London, and the President of the Board of Control, had both insisted at the war’s beginning that there should be no annexations, but then congratulated Amherst, who had had little to do with the terms, on his ‘achievement’. The East India Company, in other words, was the origin of most of the acquisitions of new imperial territories – Singapore, and now large slices of Burma. Those new acquisitions included a variety of territories partly taken from the Dutch and French at the end of the Napoleonic War, and partly seized in automatic fear of their being taken by a European rival. These were not the Company’s doing, however, but driven from London. The Company was not, for example, involved in the acquisition and settlement of Western Australia, begun by Captain James Stirling in 1830, even though this was originally done with at least half an eye on the Company’s navigational needs. Botany Bay territory, proclaimed as British at the settlement forty years before, had referred to half the island of Australia. After 1815 the French resumed their voyages of exploration. The expedition led by de Freycinet examined the west coast in 1817–1820; a second planned French survey in 1824–1825 set out but did not

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actually reach Australia.20 At the same time, the seizure of Singapore by the Company had provoked a quarrel with the Dutch, whose territorial claims in Indonesia came close to the northern part of Australia; they had known about the northern and western coasts for a long time; the north was significantly called Arnhem Land, while New Holland was the usual name for the west. In 1824 the Anglo-Dutch issue was partly settled by a treaty, by which Malacca and Benkulen were exchanged, and Singapore was recognised as British (actually the Company’s). For North Australia a British settlement was planned at ‘Port Essington’, and Captain Gordon Bremer in Tartar finally annexed the area to New South Wales in September.21 Two years later another French surveying expedition, in advance of the planned establishment of a French penal colony, was sent out to Western Australia. To prevent any French settlement happening, the governor of New South Wales was instructed to plant a new convict colony at King George Sound, in the south-west corner of the continent, the only part of the west which seemed fertile, and to proclaim the annexation of the area by Britain.22 In the late 1820s, therefore, three European imperial powers were eyeing Western and Northern Australia as suitable areas for colonisation. The Dutch confined themselves to western half of New Guinea (West Irian)23 when it became clear that the British had staked a clear claim to the Melville and Bathurst Islands off the north Australian coast, and to the Cobourg Peninsula on the mainland, where Port Essington and Raffles Bay were to be taken up as incipient naval bases.24 Captain James Stirling had explored the Western Australian coast and pointed to the Swan River country as a suitable colonisation point (rejected by a French expedition in 1801). Next door to it to the south was Cockburn Sound, a large sheltered harbour which could be developed as a naval base, he claimed.25 Since Company ships taking the Eastern Passage were liable to pass along the Western Australian coast and then north of New Guinea, his report was an incitement to the Company and the Admiralty to recommend possession and settlement; the longer passage south of Australia and by way of Botany Bay was not in favour now that peace had arrived. The Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 404–405; in greater detail for the French explorations at this time, Brosse, Great Voyages, 139–160. 21 Jordan Goodman, ‘Making Imperial Space: Settlement, Surveying and Trade in Northern Australia in the Nineteenth Century’, in David Killingray et al. (eds), Maritime Empires: British Imperial Maritime Trade in the Nineteenth Century, Woodbridge, Suffolk, 2004, 128–141. 22 Fry, How Australia became British, 156–158. 23 Ibid, 169. 24 Goodman, ‘Making Imperial Space’; Fry, How Australia became British, 163–164; Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 409–419. 25 Pamela Statham-Drew, James Stirling, Admiral and Founding Governor of Western Australia, Crawley, WA 2004, is the authority for the settlement of Western Australia. 20 Graham,

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Anglo-Dutch Treaty which secured to the British the passageway through the Malacca Strait had also included a limit on Dutch monopolisation in the Indonesian islands, and a clear rejection of Dutch claims to sovereignty in these seas, and this meant that the Botany Bay route was extravagantly long. Captain Stirling was sent out as governor of Western Australia and spent the next seven years there establishing the colony. The attempted settlement in the north (Port Essington and so on), failed, and the colonists and naval personnel were withdrawn. But then second thoughts struck those in the British government who were concerned in the issue. In Tasmania the white settlers maintained a campaign of murder and raids to confine the native Tasmanians into a small part of the north of the island, and then to transport the survivors to Flinders Island in the Bass Strait, where they died out through starvation and homesickness.26 Subjected to genocide, so died the last remnants of the original population of Australia, 60,000 years after their ancestors had arrived. This had little to do directly with the Navy, but it is noticeable that the Australian settlements, and the preliminary exploration and investigations of the island, were all conducted by naval officers – Captain Bremer in the north, Captain Stirling in the west, Captain Cook first of all, and the naval expedition to Botany Bay with the first colonists was commanded by Captain Arthur Phillip. While it may have been obvious to contemporaries that a naval commander was the most suitable person to conduct and command such expeditions, since they travelled out by sea and needed a firm hand to establish the earliest settlement, the ubiquity of naval interest in the settlement of Australia only emphasises the strategic importance with which it was viewed in that department. Both the Dutch and the French were successfully thwarted in this colonisation Cold War. The navy was more directly concerned in the acquisition of the Dutch properties. Ceylon, with its useful naval bases, was one, and the interior kingdom of Kandy had been conquered by 1815. And then there was the Cape of Good Hope, also acquired definitively at the peace. The Cape had, of course been under British rule since 1806. It was seen first in Navy terms, as a useful base on the way to India and China, which is why the Dutch had planted a base there in the first place; it was also a defence of the western entrance to the Indian Ocean. But from 1820 onwards it became a target for British emigration, and slowly over the next generation its territory expanded inland. The refractory Boer pastoralists departed in large numbers to the interior, intending to maintain their slave-holding lifestyle without British governmental interference. They founded their own states, having driven out the black population; disturbances resonated throughout Africa as far as

26

Ian Hernon, Britain’s Forgotten Wars: Colonial Campaigns of the 19th Century, Stroud, Glos 2003, 275–295.

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the equator as a result. So far the British navy was scarcely concerned, but the problem was growing.27 The most central concern of all, and for all, in the Indian Ocean region, though it can be forgotten in the lesser activities of seizing colonies and fighting minor wars, was the naval defence of India. After 1811 there was no possibility of an invasion by sea, and the concept of ‘defence’ for the Indian Empire tended to extend well beyond Indian waters. One of the motors behind the Burmese annexations was the naval wish to control the coast beyond Bengal to the east, and the several harbours there, in Arakan and the Mergui Archipelago. Some of these had been used as pirate bases in the recent past, and could become hostile naval bases in the hands of a serious power – the conquest of Mauritius had originated in the same conception. So the naval boundary of India had now extended to the borders of Malaya, and even beyond to Malacca and Singapore. The islands of the Indian Ocean which had been French, Mauritius, Bourbon, and so on, were now British bases. By the 1830s the nearer coasts of Australia were also taken for very much the same reason, once the French showed an interest. To the west, the Persian Gulf was relatively subdued after the pirate wars which had lasted from 1803 to 1820, and the ‘punishment’ of Mocha in 1820 was severe enough that the Company’s ships could dominate the entrance to the Red Sea; this was especially the case when a raid was made on Berbera on the opposite African coast to suppress further ‘piracy’.28 The Sultan of Oman had been made a friend, both by supporting him against the Wahhabi raids from inland Arabia, and by the generous present of a 54-gun ship built in Bombay. He controlled Zanzibar, and had moved there himself, building a new palace and encroaching onto the mainland, and profiting from the slave trade of East Africa as well.29 All this, from Singapore to Mocha and Mauritius, was the area in which the Bombay Marine was supreme, even though its strength was minimal compared with any European navy. In the late 1820s, the Directors once more fiddled with the constitution of the Marine, but with little effect on its operations, though from 1830 it was to be called the ‘Indian Navy’, a recognition, rather late, as usual with the London Directors, of a reality which had existed for the previous century.30 Monica Wilson and Leonard Thompson (eds), A History of South Africa to 1870, London 1982; T.R.H. Davenport, South Africa: A Modern History, Cambridge 1977; Richard Elphick and Hermann Giliomee (eds), The Shaping of South African Society 1652–1820, Cape Town 1979; Eric A. Walker, The Great Trek, London 1965; Norman Etherington, The Great Treks: The Transformation of Southern Africa, 1815–1854, Harlow, Essex 2001. 28 Low, Indian Navy, 1.478. 29 Ibid 1.298; Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 161–196; G.S.P. Freeman-Grenville, ‘The Coast, 1498–1840’, in Roland Oliver and Gervase Mathew (eds), History of East Africa, vol. 1, Oxford 1963, 156–158. 30 Low, Indian Navy, 1.479–499. 27

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The problem of communications continued to concern both the London Directors and the Governors in India. The successful use of the paddle steamer Diana in the Burmese War suggested the possibilities of steam power; in the Atlantic, the ocean had been crossed by the steamship Savannah as early as 1819, and the seas around India were as busy with ships of Diana’s size and power as around Britain.31 In 1825–1826 the steamship Enterprise steamed and sailed from Falmouth to Calcutta by way of the Cape, a voyage seen as a triumph, but it lasted 113 days, consumed vast quantities of coal, and was hardly an improvement on one by an Indiaman under sail.32 There was, however, the alternative of the Red Sea–Mediterranean route, which would clearly consist of two steamship routes, from Britain to Egypt (Alexandria), and from Suez to India. The fruits of that route had been obvious since the 1770s if not before, but only with the appearance of steamships had it really become reliable. The Bombay government was under the direction of governors in the late 1820s who were enthusiastic for steam, Mountstuart Elphinstone, Sir John Malcolm, and, despite enduring a difficult voyage from Suez to India, the Earl of Clare, and the Bombay Marine, which was feeling the displeasure of the Bengal government at its continued semi-independent existence. Establishing a new regular steamship route by way of Egypt was seen as a useful means of defying Calcutta (and London, annoyed as usual at the cost). The little steamship Hugh Lindsay, built at Bombay, made a voyage from Bombay to Suez in 1830, albeit with some difficulty, but then it made regular voyages between the two ports five times until 1835.33 Letters (carried by the ship itself) from London forbidding further ‘experiments’ only produced defiance from Bombay. Once again the governments in India were intent on spending Company money despite what the London Directors said – not by any means for the first time. Another ‘experiment’ examined the Mesopotamian route. This was already, of course, well-established between the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf for urgent messages, using relays of horsemen; a Company ship sailed to Basra regularly to collect the mails at Basra. It was, however, difficult and dangerous, and liable to interruption, by tribesmen on land and by Arab pirates in the Gulf. In 1830 Captain C.D. Chesney was commissioned to follow this route and report on it. The commission, oddly, came from India House in London, the very people who were soon to complain about Bombay’s steamship costs. Chesney had a bad time on the journey, fleeing Baghdad to avoid the plague, 31

A list of steamships operating in eastern seas, 1823–1842, is in appendix 1, table 8 in Marshall, Nemesis; Marshall found fifteen such ships operating before 1830. 32 Robert J. Blyth, ‘Aden, British India, and the Development of Steam Power in the Red Sea’, in Killingray et al., Maritime Empires, 68–83, at 69–70; Hoskins, British Routes, 95–97; David R. Headrick, The Tools of Empire: Technology in European Imperialism in the Nineteenth Century, New York 1981, 133–135. 33 Marshall, Nemesis, 67–68; Blyth, ‘Aden, British India’; Headrick, Tools, 135–137; Hoskins, British Routes, 101–102, 108–109, 121–124.

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and reaching Basra half starved, but in the end he did recommend this ‘Euphrates route’.34 It cannot, however, have assisted in getting his recommendations accepted that there was trouble in the Gulf all through the late 1830s, with several Indian Navy ships involved against both Persians and Arabs. The Hugh Lindsay in 1839 approached Ras al-Khaimah through neighbouring shallow waters which had long prevented a close approach by warships; the threat was potent.35 In 1828 the Marine had a new frigate, Hastings (32) to add to the fleet, which now consisted of four sloops of eighteen guns, four brig-sloops (and one more building), a survey vessel, two schooners, a bomb ketch, and several smaller craft. It was commanded by a Commodore, had 23 captains, 52 lieutenants, and 40 midshipman, all Europeans, that is, almost entirely British. The crews were Indians mainly, referred to as lascars, though the recruitment net was spread wide and any man from Africa to Malaya would be welcomed. This therefore was the ‘new’ Indian Navy.36 It was supported, of course, if at some distance, by the presence in the Indian Ocean of a few Royal Navy ships, and its new Commodore was to be a Royal Naval officer, which might help in coordinating their work; it was another stage in the slow integration of government in India. Since much of the necessary work was done by the Indian Navy, the Royal Naval strength in the region was usually small. It was also small because the only possible threat came from Europe, and the approaches to India’s ocean were under British control. So there were now three naval commands: the Cape of Good Hope, Australia, and the East Indies. The Cape was also the command centre for West Africa, which was the scene of anti-slavery patrols, but this only extended the particular naval net for the defence of India even closer to Europe. A list for 1837, the accession year of Queen Victoria, and just before the development of steam propulsion began to make a serious change in the shape of the Navy, can give some idea of the presence of the Navy in eastern waters.37 The paddle steamer Diana was a straw in the wind, and was widely recognised as such, but it took time for steam power to become efficient with the increase in the power of the marine engine, and to devise a satisfactory means of propulsion. The early steam vessels were not always an improvement on sailing ships; there were no steam vessels on the naval strength anywhere in the east in 1837, despite the Indian Navy’s adoption of several of them. In that year, therefore, with the Indian Navy in much the same strength as in its earlier existence, at the Cape there was one line-of-battle ship, Melville (74), though the flagship which the Admiral in command used was a large frigate, Thalia F.R. Chesney, The Expedition for the Survey of the Rivers Euphrates and Tigris …, 1835, 1836, and 1837, 2 vols, London 1850; John S. Guest, The Euphrates Expedition, London 1992, with a full bibliography. 35 Low, Indian Navy, 2.15–26. 36 Low, Indian Navy, 1.478–479. 37 Naval-history.net – ‘Pax Britannia, 1815–1914’, compiled by Graham Watson. 34

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(46), which was more convenient for work off West Africa. The great majority of the ships on this station were brigs and sloops, again because of the need to employ ships which were more nippy and speedy than a 74-gun line-of-battle ship for anti-slavery work. This force guarded the Cape route into the Indian Ocean, but its prime attention was on the suppression of the slave trade. The Cape squadron was thus much the same as the Indian Navy, with the addition of Melville. The other entrance to the Indian Ocean was past Australia, but this approach was hardly taken seriously as the source of a threat. There were only three ships on the station, the small frigate Alligator (28), built at Cochin in Malabar in 1821 in the new Royal Navy base there, and two brig-sloops, Beagle (10) and Britomart (10), the former being the survey vessel which was currently carrying Charles Darwin round the world on his investigations. Again, this was all a very similar sea-strength to that of the Indian Navy. The East Indies station’s ships mainly operated out of Trincomalee in Ceylon (the island having been annexed in the peace of 1814.38 It also used other bases at Bombay, Cochin, and Madras. Its strength consisted of one line-of-battle ship, Wellesley (74), which was the flagship of the station, three frigates, Conway (26), Rattlesnake (28), and Volage (28) – two others were on their way back to Britain – and eight sloops and brigs. This, it will be noted, was a lesser strength than the Cape station – that is, the Navy, being mobile, could shift its strength from one area of concern to another problem area fairly easily. In the seas east of St Helena, therefore, there were just two line-of-battle ships. It was, if anyone had remarked it, a clear indication of the worldwide power of the Royal Navy, and a telling demonstration that this was based on the heavy ships in the North Atlantic. The affairs of the Bombay Marine/Indian Navy and the Royal Navy in the Indian Ocean very largely went on with only tangential reference to London, the Directors, and the British government. The charter renewal of 1813 had imposed a somewhat greater control from the British government, and the new charter renewal in 1833 eliminated the commercial role of the Company by cancelling its monopoly role in the China trade. The renewal of the charter was a low-key affair. There were was scarcely any argument from the Company in favour of the retention of the China trade monopoly, though this was probably as much because it was realised that such an argument would run strongly against the general political sentiment, particularly in the reforming Whig government of Lord Grey, rather than any conviction that it was wrong; in fact the trade was particularly well-managed and produced a useful surplus both for the Company and for the British government. Nevertheless the

38 Graham, Great Britain and the Indian Ocean, 305–328, a chapter entitled ‘The Rise

and Fall of Trincomalee’, but its ‘fall’ did not come until the 1840s.

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monopoly was abolished.39 The Company lived on as an Indian government, with its own army and its own navy, and this is probably a result of the fear of the British government that the expense of governing India would sink the British budget if the task was taken up, yet it was an anomaly that clearly should have been corrected. It would have been more logical to have taken the government of India from the Company, and left it with its trading role, but logic had never been part of the East India Company’s make up. The abolition of the monopoly was also a direct cause of the war which broke out between Britain and China in 1839, which therefore served the British government right for its illogicality.

East India Company, 156–159; Phillips, East India Company, ch. 10; Anthony Webster, The Twilight of the East India Company, Woodbridge, Suffolk 2009, ch. 5.

39 Lawson,

11 Imperial Warfare (1838–1863) The early and mid-Victorian period covered in this chapter is one of frequent wars and revolutions in Europe, but of even more frequent wars in the British Empire and its neighbours around the Indian Ocean. These imperial wars also involved countries around the whole Pacific region. Histories of the period tend to highlight the American Civil War, and the German wars in Europe, perhaps the Italian unification wars, none of which involved Britain other than diplomatically. In the east, however, the British in India fought China (twice), in New Zealand (twice), Burma (again), in Borneo, South Africa, Madagascar, Sind and the Sikh kingdom, Russia, Afghanistan, Japan, Persia, Arabs in the Gulf, Ethiopia – and its own Indian subjects in the Indian Mutiny. These decades were therefore the most violent of the century, and every quarrel in the region involved or affected Britain and British India. The period before then had seen fighting, as did that which followed, but the thirty years of this chapter were the most violent of all, even more so than the preceding French wars. It is possible to interpret the period as one of British India on the defensive, but in most cases it is difficult to see that a serious challenge could be mounted to its imperial position: there was, for example, no coordination between its many enemies. Those wars which could be clearly described as defensive were confined to India and its borders – the Afghan war, the Mutiny, and the Sikh wars, which did not really involve the Royal Navy or the Indian Navy in any large degree – though naval people were involved in the Mutiny, and the Sikh wars saw the invention of the Naval Brigade. But any other war, from the Russian Pacific to Madagascar and South Africa, needed the Navy, or was conducted by the Navy, and in many cases it was a matter of British aggression; the British Empire was substantially larger in 1871 than it had been in 1839 as a result of these wars. It is therefore astonishing that the Royal Navy deployment in the Indian Ocean and the Indian Navy were little larger at the end of the period than at the beginning. It is worth pointing out that from 1790, or perhaps earlier, besides the Royal Navy and the Bombay Marine, there was also a Bengal Marine. Its vessels were largely river craft, for use in the Ganges delta and river – pilot schooners primarily. Being based inland this Marine is rarely mentioned in the histories, but some of its ships had been used in the Java campaign, and others in the First Burmese War – Diana was a Bengal ship. The quickly appreciated usefulness of steamships in river transport brought the Bengal Marine to some prominence, and it contributed seven warships to the Second Burmese War, more 205

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than either the Royal or Indian Navy. It appears to have remained apart from the Indian Navy (formerly the Bombay Marine) until both fell into the hands of the Royal Navy later.1 These Indian navies were clearly different, both from the Royal Navy, and from each other. Their purposes were different, and their responsibilities were changing. This is the period in which every navy became mechanised, moving from the small steam vessels like the Diana and the Hugh Lindsay, which were mainly of use in coastal and river waters, to major and decisive weapons of war. In 1837, as was noted in the last chapter, there were only small steamships on the naval strength in the east, the single one which had been taken up for active war, Diana in the Burmese War, had been sold off at the end of that war; it continued in use until 1836, when it was broken up, a surprisingly long life for such an early steamship.2 By 1871, on the other hand, the fleet was very highly mechanised, though wind power was not yet wholly disdained. This meant that, despite the non-increase in the number of ships, the two navies, Royal and Indian, were in fact a good deal more powerful and efficient in 1871 than in 1837. Further, steamships were themselves individually more menacing, in propulsion as well as guns, and, of course – their prime sailing advantage – they were largely independent of the weather. This was a world in which a single steamship was more powerful and more agile than a fleet of hundreds of sailing ships – the career of the Merrimac in the American Civil War and the Nemesis in China twenty years earlier showed that. In a way it was a repetition of the situation in the seventeenth century, when the single broadside-equipped line-of-battle ship could defeat – or could ignore – an attack by dozens of ghurabs and galivats. It is worth commenting here on the unusual innovative capabilities of the East India Company in these last years of its existence. After 1833 it was a purely politico/military organisation, its commercial activities much reduced. It was, however, very active in the matter of the problems it inherited; in the 1830s, it was the only political power in the Indian Ocean region to use steamships; the Dutch in Java possessed three small vessels in the late 1830s, though one was wrecked, where the Company had more than twenty. One of the Company’s ships, Forbes, made the voyage from Calcutta to Macau as early as 1830; another steamship, Sarah Jane, got all the way to Australia in 1831.3 The Company was also innovative in economic matters. Its dependence on tea from China led to the investigation of the tea plants which were found growing wild in Assam, and to the acquisition of seedlings from China, collected in the 1830s, apparently without raising Chinese objections rather sur-

1

There is no separate study of the Bengal Marine, but there is useful information on the website dedicated to it: ‘The Bengal Marine’. 2 Marshall, Nemesis, 66 and 267. 3 Ibid, table 8, p. 272.

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prisingly.4 A government tea garden was established to develop the local crop. By 1850 the Indian tea plantations were undergoing systematic development in private hands. An iron works was founded, with government encouragement.5 Shipbuilding had been a major industry at Bombay since the eighteenth century, and in the last years of sailing ships, the Bombay yards were producing large warships up to 100 guns.6 British India had long been a virtually independent state, because of its distance, in time and space, from the British Directors and government. It had its own army, its own navy, its particular government system, and now it was industrialising at the initiative of the Governor-­General’s office, and of Indian entrepreneurs. This was in part the work of the Company, or at least it took place with benign permission and encouragement of the Company. The Company also continued its predatory habits. In the 1830s Portugal went through a prolonged economic, financial, governmental, royal, and diplomatic crisis, and the Company made an attempt to purchase Goa, and later Goa and the other Portuguese territories in the east. The idea was that the purchase price, which varied over time, but eventually reached half a million pounds, could be used to defray Portugal’s substantial debts. This was self-serving in the extreme, since most of the debts were owed to Britain or Britons (including the Duke of Wellington). Had the transaction gone through the Portuguese would have gained very little. They were powerfully attached, however, to the heritage of Vasco da Gama, and the Company failed in its bid. It claimed that Goa was a base used by bandits who took refuge there after raiding within the Company’s territories, but this may have been mainly a cooked-up reason for the attempt to purchase.7 (In the event, Goa remained Portuguese for a decade after India ceased to be British.) The range of naval responsibilities had extended. In 1839 major wars developed with China, and Afghanistan, and lesser wars in New Zealand and Aden, a set of problems located as far apart as could be in the Indian Ocean (and the next year, there was a war in the eastern Mediterranean), spread across thousands of miles of sea. Even when the Governor-General, Lord Auckland, involved himself in war in Afghanistan, the Indian Navy curiously enough given the actual inland location of the fighting, was involved. The Afghan War had begun the year before the period covered in this chapter, but little happened until 1839. It originated in a dispute between the Afghan king and the British in India. For the British army in India it was a comprehensive military disaster, with a famous scene encapsulating the whole adventure, in which Dr Bryden, the sole survivor of the large expeditionary An example of the practice is Robert Fortune, A Journey to the Tea Countries, London 1852, republished 1987; Fortune travelled in China in the 1840s. 5 Smith, Oxford History of India, 711–713. 6 Low, Indian Navy, 2.4 note. 7 Sir Charles Webster, The Foreign Policy of Palmerston, 1830–1841, vol. 1, London 1951, 492–493. 4

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force, staggered out of the Khyber Pass to be welcomed – if that is the appropriate word – by the horrified garrison of a British fort. (Others had survived, however, as prisoners.) From the viewpoint of the Indian Navy, however, the main point is that the ships of the Marine were involved in actions of a minor sort at the mouth of the Indus. Perfunctory surveys had been made of the coast of the country of Sind, through which the Indus River reaches the sea, but it is clear that what the ships now found was largely new to them. Four Indian Navy ships were involved at first, the steam frigate Semiramis, the brigs Euphrates and Taptee, and the schooner Constance. The Constance went first to the river, and Semiramis followed with the 2nd Foot, the Queen’s Regiment, and the headquarters staff of the Army. Only the three smallest ships could get through the Indus delta, but they were soon joined by the small steam tender Snake, which was able to steam well upriver to Hyderabad, but then was quite unable to defend itself when threatened by the ‘Amirs’, the chiefs who collectively ruled Sind, and who not unreasonably saw the arrival of a British armed expedition as an invasion. In a curious episode of misaligned combat, hilarious in retrospect, Snake had to flee downriver from an enemy force of cavalry armed with rifles. The ships thereafter contributed little to the campaign in Afghanistan, though their presence, once armed, probably did deter the ‘Amirs’ from taking the Afghan side. They were used principally for moving supplies and troops.8 One of the ships’ achievements was to locate Karachi, which was discovered to be the ‘second-best’ harbour in India; it had clearly been missed by earlier surveys, hence my description of them as ‘perfunctory’. This discovery was the start of yet another city which owed its present size and importance to British India. It grew from nothing in 1840 to over a hundred thousand inhabitants by 1900.9 The root of the Aden expedition was that the question of the communication route between Britain and India was still not settled. In India, specifically Bombay, which was more attuned to thinking navally than anywhere else in India, the issue was becoming clearer. Chesney’s experience of the difficulties in Mesopotamia, and Indian knowledge of the Egyptian route, inclined opinion decisively towards the Mediterranean/Suez/Red Sea route, particularly since the development of steamships made the awkward wind conditions in the Red Sea much less of a problem. The main issue then became the problem of coal stocks. Half a dozen places had been used by the Hugh Lindsay, which needed replenishment often, but by 1838 more efficient steam engines increased the range of steamship voyages, and the town and harbour of Aden, about halfway between Bombay and Suez, was becoming the favourite for locating stocks of coal. The need for alternatives to Aden was eliminated, and

Indian Navy, 2.99–101. Ibid, 2.99, note; Wikipedia, ‘Karachi’, for the population figures.

8 Low, 9

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this reduced the need for replenishment to a single place, though stocks were also established elsewhere, such as Jeddah. In 1838 a ship, Doria Dawlat, belonging to a niece of the Nawab of the Carnatic but flying the British flag, was wrecked at Aden. This caused a crisis with the Aden authorities at the very time that attempts were being made to persuade the local rulers to allow the Company to establish a stock of coal at the port. The wreck was claimed by the Sheik of Aden, and also by the Sultan of Lahej, his overlord, but meanwhile it was plundered by the locals, who also mistreated the passengers, who included Muslim pilgrims, male and female, and the crew. None of this was unprecedented, but protests from Bombay did not achieve redress. Talks followed, which also covered the Company’s request for the right to establish a coal depot, but the Sultan was very shifty in these negotiations – he clearly did not want the Company to intrude. In the background was the Egyptian ruler, the Khedive Muhammad Ali, who was pushing his forces into Arabia, and it looked as though they might soon take Lahej and Aden. The decision, with for once London, Bombay, and Calcutta in agreement, and the London government promising a subsidy, was to take Aden by force, a Gordian Knot solution to a complex diplomatic problem. The Bombay authorities sent the sloop Coote and the schooner Mahi with some soldiers from the Bombay European Regiment as a show of force to back up their negotiator; they also brought forward a barque with a cargo of coal, rather anticipating the results of the talks, but a broad hint that a refusal by the Sultan would not be permitted. The ships bombarded Aden. Then an expedition of two more warships, the Royal Navy frigate Volage (28) and the Indian Navy brig Cruiser (10) arrived with transports carrying 700 soldiers. Another, more destructive, naval bombardment followed, and the troops were landed. A brief fight against stubborn local opposition took place, and another British Indian conquest was achieved. The Sultan in Lahej was promised an annual stipend, but in November 1839 attacks were launched by local forces aimed at recovering the town. Fighting continued for two years, and this necessitated the deployment of more troops until the attacks ceased in 1841. The Sultan’s subsidy was suspended when the attacks began, and only reinstated in 1844, but the garrison could not be reduced for some time later. A lasting local resentment resulted, as well as a long-term need for a garrison in the town.10 One of the more important, though less publicised, activities of the Indian Navy was the survey of unknown or poorly charted coasts. The discovery of the harbour at Karachi was an example of the inadequacy of the knowledge even of coasts which seemed already well-known. Given the attention directed at communications through the Red Sea it is not surprising that the Arabian and North-East African coast were examined in some detail. Earlier work in Indian Navy, 2.115–130; Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.277–279; Hoskins, British Routes, 195–207; Blyth, ‘Aden, British India’.

10 Low,

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the area by Sir Home Popham and Lord Valentia had only been partial, and a more extended survey of the whole sea was begun in 1829. This involved a substantial investment of ships and men, with Palinurus, under Commander Robert Moresby, to survey the northern half of the sea, and Benares, Captain Elvon, the southern. Both ships were accompanied by tenders and by ships bringing supplies of coal. It was also expensive in the lives of sailors, with dysentery, exposure, and smallpox being the enemies. The coast of Hadramaut, east of Aden, had to be surveyed, as did the island of Socotra, which looked to naval eyes as a possible likely base, but it proved to be an awkward place; several men were lost in the first attempt to land, and as soon as the rest were onshore fever attacked them. This activity was not always popular with the local rulers. The surveyors of Socotra were ordered to go away – they ignored this – and a later survey of the Maldive Islands only went ahead when it became clear that the expedition had not arrived with the intention of reinstating a recently expelled unpopular Sultan. As the main charts were completed, omissions were noted – the Chagos Islands, various islands off Arabia, the Somali coast, the Persian Gulf. This was all difficult and dangerous work, costing lives in every case, though the completion of accurate charts was obviously an investment which would repay itself several times over, in ship safety and in expense.11 In the same year that Aden was conquered and the Indus penetrated (1839), war began between Britain and China. The abolition of the Company’s monopoly of the China trade had, of course, encouraged many individual merchants and shippers to attempt to trade there, as it was intended to. The Chinese government, meanwhile, having come to realise the extent of opium addiction in the empire, and seeing many more ships arriving to sell it, reacted by prohibiting the trade. Many Europeans agreed that this made sense, including the British government, the Superintendent of Trade at Canton, Captain Charles Elliot, and many of the merchants, though this did not include, of course, those British traders who were aiming to sell opium, nor the Chinese addicts, though they were never consulted. The prohibition was also leaky, for the Chinese officials were all too easy to bribe. An earlier Superintendent, Lord Napier, another naval officer, had already created a most unpleasant impression on all involved, before withdrawing and dying; the new Superintendent, Elliott, was more conciliatory, but he was unable either to make an agreement with the Chinese or to control the British traders.12 It has to be said that one feels much sympathy for Elliott in his attempts to satisfy all the various interested parties, from the British government to the obstreperous British traders to the howling press and the

Indian Navy, vol. 2, chapter 2. The best account of the origins of the war is Julia Lovell, The Opium War, London 2011.

11 Low, 12

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gung-ho navy. Far too many modern accounts assume his job was simply to browbeat the Chinese authorities on behalf of the British merchants. The war began with a naval dispute, which again is understandable, for it was essentially a naval war. The British aim was to get the Chinese to admit all traders; the Chinese insisted that they be allowed to set their own rules as to who should enter their country and what goods should be allowed to be sold in their markets. There can be no doubt that the Chinese had legal force on their side as well as normal international practice, but they were, without really knowing it, up against a Britain all too confident in its powers, the righteousness of its policies, the ideology of ‘free trade’, and pride in its forces. The first violence took place in the Canton River estuary, when a British merchant ship attempted to break through the blockade which had been imposed by Elliott as a move in the diplomatic process, in the face of Chinese objections. The ship was protected by a Chinese war fleet which moved out for that purpose. The Chinese junks were no match for the two Royal Naval frigates, Volage (28) and Hyacinth (18), whose broadsides and competent sailing qualities proved to be effortlessly superior, despite their essentially small size. The ship the Chinese were protecting did get through. The war which followed – the ‘First Anglo-Chinese War’, or the ‘Opium War’ – took place along the coast of China, from the Canton River to the mouth of the Yangzi River. It consisted of river bombardments, armed landings and the capture of cities and forts, and frequent massacres of Chinese soldiers and civilians. The Chinese had no understanding of the powers of the guns in the warships, and no belief that the Indian and European soldiers were capable of fighting effectively. They had a pride in the effectiveness of their own armed forces quite comparable to that of the British, but only the British forces were experienced; China had not fought a serious war for decades; Chinese pride was, in the result, misplaced. At the Canton River, the naval ships gradually encroached further upstream towards Canton city. The Chinese had batteries of guns in their forts, and used fire rafts; the first were badly aimed, slow in firing, and vulnerable to destruction by bombardment, or they could be captured by landing parties; the fire rafts were evaded with ease. The ships involved were partly from the Royal Navy, such as the frigates and the line-of-battle ships, but mainly from the Indian Navy, notably a set of steamers, Queen, Atalanta, Auckland, Sesostris, Akbar, Memnon, Medusa, and Ariadne, all remarkably small and armed with perhaps two or more 32-pounder guns; being powered by steam, they were very nimble, and capable of approaching close to their targets. A group of larger Royal Naval ships was gradually gathered during the winter of 1839– 1840; three regiments of foot arrived in May, counting 3600 men, British and Indian units. The commander at first was Commodore Gordon Bremer, who had surveyed the northern Australian coast, and later Rear-Admiral George Elliot. The European merchants at Canton left the city, aiming to go to Macau, but the Portuguese governor would not admit them for fear, fully justified, of

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Chinese retaliation – the city relied wholly on food imported from the mainland. The merchants settled instead on a near-uninhabited island, Hong Kong, across the estuary; this was theoretically only for the duration of the war, until they could return to Canton. A blockade of Canton was proclaimed, and ships were stationed to enforce it; other ships sailed north to attack the island of Chusan (Zhoushan) off the Yangzi estuary. The line-of-battle ship Wellesley (74), the frigate Conway (26), and the brig Algerine (10) bombarded Tinghai (Dinghai), the main town on the island, until the population fled. The island was seized, on instructions from London, in hopes of it becoming a centre for trade, an indication of the ultimate intention for the British of taking control of a base clear of the Chinese authorities. The troops camped on the island, but then suffered severely from diseases – the soldiers’ camp, through the incompetence of the commander, had been placed in a malarial marsh. Midway between the Canton and Yangzi rivers, Amoy (Xiamen) was bombarded by the frigate Blonde (46), a frightening case of a single ship largely destroying a city; the Chinese offence was to have refused to accept a letter addressed to the emperor, and to have fired on an unarmed boat, neither of which ‘offences’ would have merited the destruction of the city, or even actual hostilities elsewhere else in the world. It was a sign – not the first – that the British in China did not accept that the normal rules of European war applied. A further move was made upstream into the Canton estuary, in which the iron-hulled steamship Nemesis (two 32 pdrs) with its shallow draft, ran about destroying forts and junks without suffering any casualties or even any serious opposition.13 Another landing was performed, capturing forts near the city; the threat was to lay Canton under siege. The war, however, was to be decided elsewhere, for nothing that happened in Canton would persuade the Chinese government at Beijing that defeat loomed. Instead the true jugular of China was the Grand Canal, along which supplies were sent from the agricultural wealth of the Yangzi valley to the capital at Beijing, which was the other central point for the empire. The capture of Zhoushan Island provided a useful base for expeditions aimed at cutting the canal at Zhenjiang (Chin-kiang), where it crossed the Yangzi. The jugular having been located, and the campaign in the Canton River having led nowhere, the main British forces moved north. Damaged Xiamen (Amoy) was taken and garrisoned. Zhoushan, which had been abandoned after the original British conquest, was taken once more, though with rather more difficulty than in the first case, a sign that Chinese resistance was stiffening and becoming more skilful. From there, attacks were to be made on several cities and towns on the adjacent mainland. Ningbo surrendered quickly after its defending fort was taken. The winter of 1841–1842 was spent in resting the

13 Marshall,

Nemesis, ch. 11.

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troops, who were spread through several garrisons. A counter-attack by a large Chinese force, incompetently commanded, was easily repelled in March. The use of sea power by the British was effective. The Canton River was dominated by British warships, which had destroyed several of the forts which lined the approaches to the city, and which had very largely controlled seaborne access ever since the Europeans arrived. The force which took Xiamen was carried there by ships, as was that which took Zhoushan. The assault on Ningbo and its fort was landed by ship. In each case a naval bombardment preceded any armed landing, and was usually sufficient to determine the outcome. An attack on an armed camp which was threatening Ningbo, was taken there by ship; the steamers, with their reliable power, towed the sailing ships, with their heavy guns. Whether the army understood the real uses of sea power in any serious way is to be doubted, for they usually regarded the ships mainly as an armed taxi service for their use, but it is clear that the sailors did understand it. By May 1842 the British force was ready for the decisive campaign, which was the invasion of the Yangzi estuary. A preliminary move was the conquest of the city of Zhapu (Chapoo), which saw the first of several gory spectacles as the defeated force, a regiment of Manchu soldiers, committed mass suicide after killing their wives and children. This was no doubt because of the shame of defeat, but it was also in part a result of the increasingly unpleasant behaviour of the British troops, who ran amok in conquered towns, raping and looting, usually drunkenly, and behaving with scarcely any restraint; at one place they set fire to houses at each end of a street in order to drive out the occupants of pawnbrokers’ shops which they could then loot. The Manchu soldiers did not wish their wives to be subject to the violence of the British soldiers, and from the reactions of women ‘rescued’, the wives felt the same. The British, of course, through their appalling conduct, which was rarely if ever restrained by any of the officers, who were equally interested in acquiring loot, confirmed the Chinese description of their invaders as barbarians. The object of the Yangzi campaign was the city of Zhenjiang, where the Grand Canal led off northwards towards Beijing; controlling the town would cut the capital’s supply route. The attack on the town was therefore fiercely contested by the Manchu garrison. The ships were bombarded on their passage by a series of batteries, each of which had to be captured by landing parties, who reported that many of the guns were newly manufactured – they captured 364 guns, a sign of the potential resources available to a Chinese government which gained some understanding of military matters. The resistance of the Manchu soldiers, their desperation, and that of the Chinese, and the improvement in their fighting ability, made it clear that the war could well last a number of years. In that case the British would have to invest a much greater force than they had so far deployed. The fighting for Zhenjiang had been very hard, and the British were at last were suffering significant casualties – 143 dead and wounded in this assault

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(though the Chinese casualties were very much greater). The Chinese forces were well armed and had stood to fight well; the difference between the two forces was in the military discipline of the British and Indian soldiers, their controlled fire as against the careless and ill-armed individualistic Chinese shooting. That is, it would only take the imposition of a regular training regime to produce a Chinese army tough enough to resist this or another invasion. After Zhenjiang there was a choice for the invaders of advancing north along the line of the Grand Canal, but this would be inland, and so the invaders would be vulnerable to attack, or they could go by sea to make a landing in Shandong or near Beijing. Alternatively again, the British could advance further inland along the Yangzi. But in going that way the next objective was Nanjing, a city of, supposedly, a million people, well garrisoned by a large Manchu contingent, and by a large number of armed and angry fugitives from the Zhenjiang fighting, not to mention the inhabitants, who, as the land commander, General Sir Hugh Gough, noted, would be fighting for their homes and families. The city also had high, well-built walls. The Cornwallis (74), the frigate Blonde (46), and the steamers moved up the river and prepared to bombard the walls. General Gough, by now well accustomed to the Chinese methods in warfare, had an army of 4500 men to attack the city. He also had competent sappers and engineers to break into it, but he clearly did not relish the prospect. In Chinese eyes also, Nanjing was a different proposition from Canton. It was an alternative capital for the empire, indeed, it had been the imperial capital in the past, unlike the too-commercial, foreign-tainted Canton. It was much closer to the capital, Beijing, whereas Canton was in the distant south. The regular defeats of the Chinese armies, above all of the Manchu soldiers, none of whom had been at Canton, was particularly ominous for the regime. These Manchu forces were the backbone of the dynasty; they represented its military power and its means of control over the Chinese; both were kept racially and socially distinct. The presence of the British forces at the Yangzi was therefore a threat not just to the canal and ultimately to Beijing, but by attacking Nanjing it was beginning the process of the destruction of the dynasty’s legitimacy. The defeats on the Yangzi had finally been accurately reported to the emperor. Earlier conflicts in the Canton area had often been broken off by the British commanders to avoid further Chinese casualties, and to convince local authorities to negotiate seriously, a ‘lesson’ having supposedly been delivered. The British were keen to avoid getting entangled in the complexities of a Chinese city, but by backing off before a clear victory had been gained, they allow the Chinese to interpret the fighting as a victory for themselves. This might work at first, but the events from the capture of Zhoushan to the conquest of Zhenjiang could not be fudged in reports to Beijing, and the governor of Nanjing, who clearly did understand the disparity in the quality of the rival forces, reported that his city could not be defended.

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A pair of imperial princes came to Nanjing to negotiate, the first time that the Chinese imperial government was prepared to pay attention in a serious way. Once it was understood by the British that these men represented the emperor and spoke for him, and that Chinese defeat was therefore understood, if not wholly accepted, a treaty could be agreed. It embodied the British demands: a very large indemnity (this had started at $6 million, and with each episode of fighting it had increased; it was now $21 million), the possession of Hong Kong in full sovereignty, five named ports to be opened to British merchants and ships, diplomatic relations to be established on terms of equality. The exclusiveness of China was thereby being punctured.14 The China war had shown that the new armed steamers were exceptionally useful in river warfare and coastal waters. At the same time they were somewhat delicate for large ocean voyages, thanks to the need for replenishing their supplies of coal, and their generally low freeboard and shallow draft. (Two had been lost during the war – Madagascar was burnt at sea, Ariadne had sunk off Zhoushan). But stocks of coal were proliferating in many ports, and sources of coal in the region were being located. The particular characteristics of the steamships, their facility for river passages, their capability for steaming upstream against the current, and their shallow draft, made them particularly useful in campaigns against pirates. Another war developed at the same time in South Africa. A Boer contingent coming from the interior, the Transvaal, had clashed first with the Zulu kingdom, and had then settled in Natal, an area which had already been extensively depopulated by Zulu raids. The British governor in Cape Town sent a small detachment of soldiers to hold Durban, pending a decision on the question of land possession and sovereignty. The detachment was besieged by the Boers, and relieved by the arrival of Southampton (60) and Conch, a schooner, and a land force which marched from the Cape Colony. Southampton forced its way into the harbour, and landed its own troops, which discouraged the besiegers, who departed. Natal was declared annexed in May 1843. One notes that it was sailing warships, not steamers, which were employed in South Africa – most steamships in this command area were being used in the anti-slave trade patrols in West Africa. And yet Cape Town was familiar with steamers; many of those which were in use in India had sailed by way of the city to get there, and the city was a vital replenishment point, with substantial coal stocks, from the beginning.15

14

Accounts of the war are partial and often misleading on both sides: see Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.279–304; Low, Indian Navy, 2.140–158; Lovell, Opium War; Gerald S. Graham, The China Station: War and Diplomacy, 1830–1860, Oxford 1970, 85–229; Mark Felton, China Station: The British Military and the Middle Kingdom 1839–1997, Barnsley, 2013, 19–40. 15 Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.308; Monica Wilson and Leonard Thompson (eds), A History of South Africa to 1870, London 1982, 368–373.

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The China war had drawn attention to the endemic piracy of the Indonesian islands. Apart from the annoyance of the piracy itself, the pirates were deeply involved in the slave trade. The Royal Navy had now, after a long generation combatting the trade in West Africa, begun to move against it elsewhere; for many naval officers it had become an ideological matter of human rights. Indonesia and East Africa were obvious targets where slavery and slave trafficking were prevalent. An anti-slave trade treaty was concluded with Zanzibar in 1840, but had little effect in suppressing the trade from East Africa.16 At the same time, in the 1840s, there was much campaigning in Borneo to deal with the Sea Dyaks. The steamships Nemesis and Phlegethon, East India Company vessels taken on by the Royal Navy, were prominent in this. One result was to establish James Brooke in power in Sarawak as raja on the back of his own campaigns against head-hunting and piracy and slavery, and to confirm the Raja of Brunei in power also, as a British protectorate. And coal was found at Brunei’s island at Labuan. These anti-pirate raids occupied much of the 1840s, but the numbers of ships involved were usually fairly small. Other problems in this time sent some ships to New Zealand in 1845–1846 for a conflict known as the ‘Flagstaff War’, which resulted from disputed interpretations of the Treaty of Waitangi of 1840. The British saw it as giving them sovereignty, which some of the Maoris of the country could not accept. This war involved considerable land forces, which generally failed in attacks on the Maori fortresses, or pas, though the subsequent abandonment of the structures allowed the British to claim fraudulent victories. The Royal Naval ships Osprey, Hazard, North Star, Castor, Racehorse, and Calliope, and the Company ship Elphinstone were employed; this was a substantial collection of warships (generally small, it must be admitted) which gives some indication of the difficulty of the campaign. It is generally reckoned that the Maoris won the fighting, but then accepted the offered terms of peace which gave the British what they were after.17 A small force – the frigate Conway and some troops – was involved in Madagascar to rescue a group of European merchants and seamen who were threatened with execution during a local anti-Christian purge by the Malagasy queen, or so it was interpreted in Europe, though the Malagasy grievance was as much economic as religious. A joint Franco-British action at Tamatave was more or less successful in the prime task, though not in capturing the local fort; then the joint force parted, and departed.18 The campaign conducted by General Sir Charles Napier to conquer Sind, one of the side results of the Afghan war which ended in 1842 with a complete Raymond C. Howell, The Royal Navy and the Slave Trade, London 1987, is an account of the suppression of the East African trade by the ships of the Navy. 17 Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.346–349; Low, Indian Navy, 2.185–191; James Belich, The New Zealand Wars, London 1998, 29–72 (though he ignores the naval aspect). 18 Clowes, Royal Navy, 6.345–346; Mervyn Brown, Madagascar Rediscovered: A History from Early Times to Independence, London 1978, 181. 16

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British defeat, was in part designed to offset that defeat by securing a compensatory victory in the same region. It required that ships, specifically steamers, should continue to patrol the Indus River. Again this was a task only steamers could do because of the need for shallow draft and manoeuvrability. The main fighting, however, was on land, and the campaign was over by 1844.19 A second Sikh war, in 1848–1849 (whose outbreak was not unconnected with the Afghan defeat, and with the threat posed by the British control of Sind), brought steamers further up the Indus than before, to assist at the siege of Multan. The ships carried reinforcements and supplies to the forces at the city, and a brigade of seamen was organised and attached to the Bombay Artillery, so inaugurating the practice of using a Naval Brigade, an innovation which soon became normal in British campaigns (though marines had been used in this way in the past). The sailors’ skills at construction and artillery, and their physical and mental dexterity, made them exceptionally useful. The steamers – Napier and Conqueror, at first (both river gunboats) – also controlled the river to prevent the garrison communicating with other Sikh forces. Further steamers arrived, including Planet, armed with mortars. The Conqueror was set at one point to assist with the building of a bridge of boats across the Indus.20 After the suppression of the Borneo pirates, and the successful actions in the various river campaigns, there was a peaceful period, though it lasted for only a few years. The range of the steamships based in the Indian Ocean had clearly expanded – the Red Sea, the Persian Gulf, the Indus River, China, Borneo, Australia, New Zealand had all been visited, though not always in a warlike capacity. It was useful to display power even to powerful entities. The following period, from 1853 to 1860, however, saw another spasm of international violence, from the Black Sea to Japan, in Russia, China, India, and Persia, all of which involved the navies of the Indian Ocean. The time for suppressing pirates was over. A new Burmese War, the second, began in 1852, the first of several overlapping wars around the Indian Ocean in the next several years. The quarrel with Burma was the culmination of a series of disputes and arguments, aggravated by the arrogant behaviour and language of men on both sides. It did not help that the British Resident at the Burmese capital was ignored and systematically humiliated by the king and his court until the first Resident, and then his successor, withdrew. No replacement was sent, leaving the British in India in ignorance of the situation at the court, which was the primary purpose of having a Resident there (and the main reason for the driving out). The Burmese fully understood that a Resident was not simply an ambassador, but also, in the Company’s ideas, a controller. Driving them out was a sensible move from the Burmese point of view and enhanced the kingdom’s independence. British 19 Low, 20 Low,

Indian Navy, 2.172–178; Marshall, Nemesis, 160–165. Indian Navy, 2.218–232.

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merchants had become too accustomed to treating non-British customers and authorities with contempt, and behaving as though they spoke for the whole British government; all too often they were able to convince the British authorities that they were right. (This had been part of the trouble in both China and Madagascar; 1850 was the year when Lord Palmerston issued his opinion that British citizens were entitled to the full protection of their government, no matter who or what they were – civis Romanus sum.) The naval and military commands in India had become very good at assembling themselves for a new war. No less than nineteen steamers were mustered against Burma, and over 5000 soldiers. The organisation was good, but the command was left in the hands of seventy-year-old Admiral Sir Francis Austen and seventy-year-old Lieutenant-General Godwin (both of them veterans of the Napoleonic War), with a consequent lack of either energy or imagination. Martaban was captured as a first base. Rangoon, which was now a much more prosperous city than thirty years before, became the first substantial target. Once it was captured the steamers followed the retreating Burmese forces for fifty miles up the river, but achieved only the burning of a defenceless village. A second joint naval and military force along another distributary of the Irrawaddy captured Bassein. A raid captured the city of Pegu, the governing centre of the region, and demolished its fortifications, but then withdrew. Another raid went up the Salween River, having taken Moulmein, across the estuary from Martaban. In all cases the Burmese resisted briefly then withdrew. This was clearly a pre-arranged strategy, or possibly it was the normal Burmese way of warfare. At times they were well enough protected by fortifications to keep firing, and to successfully resist assaults; a counter-attack was launched, aimed at retaking Martaban, though it failed. In October 1852 an expedition of some size captured Prome, at the apex of the Irrawaddy delta; this opened the way for an advance upriver as far as the capital at Amarapura, next to Ava. There had been resistance at first at Prome, but this soon ceased and the town was taken; again the defending forces got away with minimal casualties, though the British congratulated themselves on a clever manoeuvre by which the steamers bypassed the city and bombarded it from an unexpected direction. A few days later the Burmese were back, attacking the garrison. The steamers in the river were kept busy chasing after various Burmese forces which were located at a variety of places near the city. The planned advance northwards did not take place. At Pegu, the British once more took over the city after its abandonment, and a major Burmese force made a serious attack, attempting to retake the city, so that the garrison found itself besieged. An attempt to break through the besiegers failed, and the commander of the garrison appealed for help, citing a shortage of both food and ammunition. A much larger relief force did get through, but the Burmese once more withdrew – or ‘abandoned their defences’, as a British account puts it – yet they were in good enough order to fight on. These events set the pattern for the next several months, with the Burmese

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resistance morphing into guerrilla tactics, which they used with some success. The British plans to go all the way to Ava were now abandoned, despite the land force being called the ‘Army of Ava’. The Governor-General in Calcutta, Lord Dalhousie, proclaimed the annexation of Pegu, the Delta area, but the fighting there continued. The Burmese king, Pagan, was overthrown in a coup d’état conducted by his half-brother, Mindon, who had the advantage of not being insane (though Pagan’s tactics – presumably he was in charge – had been notably successful so far in forcing the British to fight over and over again for the same place). The coup appears to have reduced the strength of the Burmese resistance, not surprisingly, though guerrilla fighting continued on a lesser scale. King Mindon attempted negotiations, but found that the British were intent on the annexation of Pegu, which he would not accept – after all, the fighting was still going on in the region and it clearly had not yet been conquered by the British. Mindon therefore simply ceased discussions. No treaty of peace was ever agreed; the annexation stood, the guerrilla fighting in Pegu faded, but was always liable to resume, defined by the British as banditry or dacoity (the land equivalent of branding enemies at sea as pirates). In effect, the British declared victory and went home. The war was a less than glorious imperial episode and in many ways Burma remained unfinished business for both sides. Burmese resistance had been sufficiently active and successful to prevent advances northwards of Prome; but this resistance had been undermined by the coup d’état which brought the new king to power.21 From Europe came news during 1853 of the beginning of a new war between Russia and the Ottoman Empire, later to be called the ‘Crimean War’. Russia had been an Indian bugbear for fifty years, supposedly constantly threatening an invasion from the north-west – the invasion of Afghanistan was in part a result of such fears, intended to place a pro-British Amir on the Afghan throne. The Ottoman possession of the Islamic caliphate made it just as great a problem as Russia for the British in India, but the development of the crisis into the Crimean War in which Russia was the active enemy, and the Ottomans a military ally, was to some extent reassuring. The fighting in the European area was restricted largely to the Black Sea and Baltic areas, and had little effect in India, though two cavalry regiments stationed in India – the 10th Hussars and the 12th Lancers – were sent as reinforcements to take part in the fighting. They were taken to Suez in the Indian Navy’s steamers, Punjab, Auckland, and Victoria, plus transports, for the Hussars in January 1855, and

Royal Navy, 6.371–374; Low, Indian Navy, 2.241–266; A.T.Q. Stewart, The Pagoda War, Newton Abbot 1974, 38–46 (a very brief account). Clowes’ and Low’s accounts are both ludicrously admiring of British achievements, Stewart’s acidulous.

21 Clowes,

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Queen, Assaye, and Semiramis, plus transports, for the Lancers a little later.22 This appears to have been the sum total of Indian involvement in the war. Yet there was another part of this war which had its effect on the navies of the Indian Ocean, for the Russian dominions reached as far as the Pacific north of Japan, and there were Russian warships in those seas. The instant and insistent assumption of the British was that this ‘threat’ must be attended to; at the same time the possibility of conquests among the Pacific lands clearly existed. The Royal Navy had used Valparaiso in Chile as its Pacific base since the 1820s when the Spanish American Empire disintegrated into a series of weak and barely organised republics, from Mexico to Chile. British interests grew in the independent states, and in 1837 a separate Pacific station was set up, with Valparaiso as its headquarters.23 Across the ocean, eastern Australia – New South Wales – was already British, and New Zealand became British in 1840; a small squadron was stationed at Sydney. That was the moment when a Pacific land grab began. In 1842–1843 France annexed a string of Pacific Islands, from New Caledonia (near Australia) to Nuku Hiva and the Marquesas Islands, including Tahiti.24 In 1843 for a brief time the Hawaiian kingdom became a British protectorate, by the decision of a sympathetic naval captain; at the time the islands appeared to be threatened from several directions, particularly from the United States and Russia. This initiative was disowned by his superiors, but there was no doubt that the British retained a strong interest in the islands’ independence. (The Hawaiian state flag even now includes a small Union flag.)25 In 1842, by the Treaty of Nanjing at the end of the Opium War, some Chinese ports were opened to British trade, and other European states gradually extracted the same privileges from the Chinese, though this took time and faced considerable Chinese obstruction, but the treaty did focus some European and American attention on to China – and therefore onto Japan as well. If China could be opened up, even if it took a war, it might be worthwhile to do the same to Japan. In North America, war between the United States and Mexico brought United States’ territory to the Pacific coast in California, and the partition of the Oregon territory brought the British to the coast of British Columbia as well. The discovery of gold in California followed and suddenly the number of ships in the Pacific multiplied. A small British naval base was developed at Esquimalt at the southern tip of Vancouver Island in British

Indian Navy, 2.312. Barry Gough, Britannia’s Navy on the West Coast of North America, 1812–1914, Barnsley 2016, 64. 24 John Dunmore, Visions and Realities: France in the Pacific, 1695–1995, Waikanae, New Zealand 1997, 180–186. 25 John D. Grainger, The First Pacific War: Britain and Russia, 1854–56, Woodbridge, Suffolk 2008, 74. 22 Low, 23

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Columbia from the 1840s (though it was not made an official base until the 1860s). A source of coal on Vancouver Island was a particular attraction.26 In 1853 a United States naval squadron under the command of Commodore Matthew Perry tried to do to Japan what the British had done to China; in the event force was not necessary, though it was explicitly and publicly threatened. (The Japanese, whose isolation was only in relation to European powers, and who had contact with all its Asian neighbours, were fully informed about the events and results of the Opium War; this had softened them up enough to succumb to the American pressure.) The next year, 1854, two Pacific powers, Britain and France, went to war with a third, Russia. Russia controlled, rather loosely and distantly, the Pacific coasts of Siberia and Alaska from the mouth of the Amur River to the Alaskan Panhandle, bordering on British Columbia. (The Hudson’s Bay Company and the Russian–American company, which controlled Alaska, agreed that Alaska would be kept neutral in the war.) Two countries were caught between these combatants – China and Japan were both subject to the aggressive attentions of Britain in this time. Rear-Admiral David Price arrived to take command of the Pacific station of the Royal Navy in 1853, and he soon had to attend to the war against Russia. At more or less the same time Vice-Admiral Fleetwood Pellew was replaced by the Admiralty as commander-in-chief of the East Indies station by Rear-Admiral Sir James Stirling. Pellew had tried to confine his crew to the flagship during a visit to Hong Kong, almost provoking a mutiny, hence his sudden replacement.27 These three admirals, Price, Stirling, and Pellew, were a curious group. All of them had risen to their current rank by mere survival and longevity, rising rank by rank as the men ahead of them died, and had endured long periods without employment. In the period of peace since 1815 (all three had served in the Napoleonic War), they had had little opportunity to command. Stirling had been the founder of Western Australia twenty years before; Pellew, a captain at seventeen, had brashly attempted to open up Japan on his own even earlier than that. Price had not had a command at sea for twenty years; as in Burma in the latest war, these commanders were all old men. There is some difficulty in studying this Far East episode. First, it is ignored in most books on the war, especially those which call it the ‘Crimean’ war (the decisive events actually took place in the Baltic).28 Second, the war in the east involved the United States (though very marginally), Japan, and China, each of which have their own histories. So Japan was in the early stages of its painful engagement with the West, so that the main published account of the diplomacy of Admiral Stirling in Japan, even though it was the result of the Britannia’s Navy, 134–137. China Station, 277–278; Grainger, First Pacific War. 28 Andrew D. Lambert, The Crimean War: British Strategy against Russia, 1853–56, Manchester 1990. 26 Gough,

27 Graham,

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Russian war, completely ignores that war.29 Discussions in Chinese histories do not linger on the loss of territory which took place in the north in the face of exciting matters such as the two British wars (less costly than the Russian engagement), and the Taiping Rebellion.30 That is, the war in the east may not seem important to historians concentrating on events in Europe, Japan, China, or the United States individually, but it was the catalyst for a major series of geopolitical changes in the Pacific region, including the later transfer of Alaska to the United States, a further humiliation for China, which lost substantial territory to Russia, and the growth in the determination of Japan to survive its encounter with the West; the restraint exercised by Britain is also remarkable, particularly since it was so unusual in eastern waters. The few accounts of the war in the east therefore tend to ignore the wider events in the Pacific region; it is necessary to look much further afield than that. Admiral Price was the first allied admiral on the scene. He joined up with a French squadron, called at Hawaii – the king took a ride in the steamship Virago – and went on directly to attack the only Russian port he could regard as an enemy base, Petropavlovsk on the Kamchatka Peninsula.31 On the way he found life was not nearly so simple as mounting an attack on a single enemy town. There were rumours, picked up at Honolulu and also repeated in dispatches from the Admiralty, that privateers were being organised by the Russian consul at San Francisco. Price sent one of his ships to investigate, and the French commander, Rear-Admiral Febvrier-Despointes, sent one of his. Price also had to send one of his ships, the frigate Trincomalee (26), with supplies for an expedition which was operating in the Arctic; and all the way from Rio de Janeiro he had been seeing or hearing about Russian warships which were also heading for Petropavlovsk. These were the frigates Diana and Aurora and the transport Kamchatka. His first priority on arrival in the Pacific was to locate these ships and to deal with them if he could. This meant either fighting them or capturing their base. Meanwhile Stirling was also finding that his new post as commander-in-chief of the China Station provided him and his ships with plenty to do. On the mainland the huge Taiping Rebellion was advancing towards the coast, and was threatening Shanghai, which had developed into one of the main centres of foreign trade with China since the Opium War. At sea Chinese piracy had increased greatly, partly as a result of that and the Taiping, whose activities greatly reduced the authority of the Chinese government. The pirates W.G. Beasley, Great Britain and the Opening of Japan, 1834–1858, London 1951 and 1995. 30 Two examples, chosen more or less at random, are Emily Hahn, China only Yesterday 1850–1950: A Century of Change, London 1963, and Henry McAleavy, The Modern History of China, London 1967, who do not mention this loss of territory, though it was the greatest amputation of Chinese territory by any imperial power. 31 Events in the Pacific are detailed in my book, The First Pacific War; see also Andrew C. Rath, The Crimean War in Imperial Context, 1854–1856, New York 2015. 29

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were numerous enough that it was felt that Hong Kong was under serious threat from them. When the news arrived of the Russian war, therefore, this added to the fears of the Hong Kongers, who imagined a Russian naval descent on the island, fears exaggerated by the complete ignorance of everyone about Russian local power.32 (Another suggestion was that the Russian ships would attack New Zealand or Australia.) During 1854, the year in which Price was attacking Petropavlovsk, and Stirling was at Hong Kong and then Shanghai, trade along the Chinese coast was almost at a standstill because of the piracy. One of Stirling’s captains, George O’Callaghan of the screw corvette Encounter (14), succeeded in dispersing the Taiping forces threatening Shanghai; Hong Kong became calm, apparently quietened.33 Stirling went to Japan to secure an agreement for the use of Japanese ports by British warships arriving to fight the Russian war. He arrived in Nagasaki in early September, just at the time when Price was assaulting Petropavlovsk. Neither admiral seems to have known of the other’s activities. At Petropavlovsk Price and Febvrier-Despointes discussed the plan for taking the town, though nothing was put in writing. Price then went to his cabin and shot himself. He died some hours later; he was apparently unable to cope with the stress of his command.34 A day later – Price was not much mourned – an allied raid on shore failed to destroy several batteries (they were rebuilt overnight); then the Anglo-French forces attempted to take the town by a landing clear of the main batteries. It was a disaster, got nowhere near the town, and suffered over 200 casualties, mainly from Russian snipers.35 Price had discovered that there were more Russian ships in the area than he had believed, including Dvina, in Petropavlovsk harbour, but the Russians did not expect to be able to face a British attack, and sought to use their ships as static defences – the default position of any land power in possession of ships. So Pallas (60), which was in a very bad state, had been sent from Petropavlovsk to hide in the Amur River, and Aurora and Dvina had been used as floating batteries in the port. Diana had taken refuge in Japan.36 Admiral Stirling negotiated with the Japanese officials at Nagasaki through September and into October. He reached an agreement which then had to be ratified, but it meanwhile opened two Japanese ports, Nagasaki in the southwest of Japan, and Hakodate in the north-east, to British warships where they could buy supplies and conduct repairs. He was criticised for not negotiating to open Japan for trade, but this was an example of a British public (and press) automatically criticising without learning the facts; trade treaties were not his task; he had in fact accomplished what he had set out to do, arranging China Station, 287. Ibid, 278–279. 34 Grainger, First Pacific War, 38–40. 35 Ibid, 40–47. 36 Ibid, 60–61. 32 Graham, 33

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for secure bases for his ships during the war. Comparison with Perry’s agreement were based on a misunderstanding not only of Stirling’s role, but of the American achievement, which was much less extensive and useful than is usually assumed.37 Alaska was Russian territory, run by the Russian America Company, a Russian version of a British chartered company. It had strong trading relations with the Hudson’s Bay Company, its neighbour in Canada, and the two companies came to an agreement that Alaska should be neutral in the war. This was accepted by both governments, with equal relief – the Russians feared that their posts, which are mainly along the Pacific coast, would be vulnerable to instant capture, given the greater power of Britain at sea; the British were relieved not to have to bother. It avoided a likely dispute with the United States, which was not anxious to see British power extended still further, and had its own eye on Alaska for itself. (There were moves in the United States to intervene in this specific war.) On the other hand, not having Alaskan ports available to be raided distinctly limited the possibilities of loot and prize-money for the British sailors,38 but between the Alaskan and Siberian mainlands, there were strings of islands, the Aleutians and the Kuriles, which could be considered enemy territory. The British explored along the Kuriles, the islands between Kamchatka and Japan, and at one point one of the largest, Urup, was annexed, with a view to its usefulness as a coal depot, though this was repudiated later, or perhaps simply forgotten.39 Stirling’s responsibilities were actually mainly in China. He returned there with his treaty, but handed over two of his ships, the steamers Barracouta, a wood paddle sloop, and Encounter, a wood screw corvette, both from the East Indies fleet, to assist in the Russian war. Price’s fleet had been mainly sailing ships, which, given the size of the Pacific, was reasonable, for there were few coal stocks available. His one steamer, the little Virago, a wood paddle sloop, was always slow, and required to be towed part of the way across the Pacific by the sailing ships. It did prove its usefulness at Petropavlovsk in towing the sailing warships, with their heavy guns, into bombardment positions. The two allied fleets returned for the winter to Vancouver and San Francisco, each to await the arrival of a new commander – Price was dead, and the French Admiral Febvrier-Despointes died in October. Stirling’s two loaned ships, both steamers, were far more suitable for blockade duty than the sailing ships, and they arrived off Petropavlovsk in the spring, basing themselves at Hakodate, though the Japanese were becoming less welcoming as they understood what the British were doing. The ships could not stay close to PetropavGreat Britain and the Opening, ch. 5. First Pacific War, 31–33; Basil Dmytryshyn et al., The Russian American Colonies: A Documentary Record, 1798–1867, Oregon Historical Society, 1989, no. 85. 39 Grainger, First Pacific War, 131–139. 37 Beasley,

38 Grainger,

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lovsk for any length of time, in the fogs and storms and ice of the Siberian winter, so this blockade was no more than a holding action until the new commander could arrive, and until the frozen sea thawed. The new Pacific Station commander was Rear-Admiral Henry William Bruce, yet another admiral who had begun his naval career in the Napoleonic war; unlike Price, he had been on active service recently and like Stirling he retained his personal vigour. He was able to continue to make use of Hakodate as a base, negotiated by Stirling. He found that the Russian frigate Diana had been wrecked at Shimoda in a tsunami.40 As Bruce approached slowly, beset by other responsibilities of the Pacific Station, Stirling brought the frigate Sybille (36) from the East Indies Station and took over Pique (36) from Price’s old squadron and added them to the ships facing Petropavlovsk. Nankin (50) was also being sent to him. But during the spring while the blockading British ships were unsighted by fog, the whole Russian garrison, population, and ships, left the town, and took refuge at the Amur River. When Bruce arrived in May Petropavlovsk was deserted, except for two Americans.41 The Russian reaction to the allied threat to their Far Eastern lands was to send out a new Governor-General, Nikolai Muravyev, to ginger up the local defences. He had been in the post some years earlier, and, amongst other things, he had strongly recommended the fortification of Petropavlovsk. He had rather more in mind this time, however, than a simple defensive. The British had news that the two Russian frigates from Petropavlovsk, Aurora and Dvina, were at the Amur estuary, and began exploration of the local seas to find them. Whether there was a navigable strait between Sakhalin Island and the mainland was one problem (the Japanese knew of the passage, but British and Japanese did not exchange information); another question was whether the Amur estuary was a Russian naval base. Bruce sailed to Alaska to check that the local Russian authorities were aware of, and observing, the neutrality agreement, then stayed in American waters as commander of the Pacific station. Command against Russia fell to Admiral Stirling. He kept the ships with him at first so as to check on the Russian activity at the Amur. The abandonment of Petropavlovsk, however, did not justify the rest of the ships staying in the area, so the fleet was dispersed, some of the ships going to Vancouver, the French to San Francisco, as before. But the two Russian frigates were still believed to be in the area, and while the war went on, they had to be located. The town of Aian, on the coast of the Sea of Okhotsk, was raided by Barracouta, and other allied ships investigated various other places. One discovery was the harbour which later, under Russian auspices, became Vladivostok; it was compared by some of the British sailors to Bombay (both were islands Ibid, 67–68; G.A. Lensen, Russia’s Japan Expedition, 1852–1855, Gainesville, FL 1955. 41 Grainger, First Pacific War, 76–80. 40

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close to a fertile mainland), and it was suggested as yet another possibility for annexation. (It had been seen by another British expedition fifty years before, led by Lieutenant Broughton, who had later succeeded, as Commodore, to the command at Java.)42 Meanwhile Muravyev’s force, which was behaving more as a migrating horde than a military expedition, advanced along the Amur River towards the sea. He was held up for a time by Chinese forces at Aigun, but got past them and moved on into the territory near the Amur mouth. There he formed a new settlement at Mariinsk, well clear of any threat from the sea. He was technically in Chinese territory (just as, it may have been thought, the British were using Hakodate). The overall result was an eventual Russian annexation of the whole area which is now called the (Russian) Far Eastern province, first the territory north of the Amur, and then from the river south to Vladivostok; this was force majeure exerted on the Chinese in their extremity. (It is astonishing that China has not made any serious attempts since the communists seized power to recover this territory; after all it has made a fuss about almost every other frontier.) The Russian war ended with a peace treaty signed in Paris in March 1856, which prevented any further naval activity in eastern waters. In that same year, however, the British in India indulged in two more major wars, in Persia and in China. The Persian campaign was relatively speedily conducted, but the Chinese war lasted much longer. The Persian crisis was a delayed pendant to the Afghan war of 1839–1842. One of the disturbing elements then, and still in 1856, was the status of the city of Herat, situated between Persia and Afghanistan. It was coveted by both neighbours, and had a tendency to aim at independence, usually under a cadet of one of the neighbouring dynasties, which gave both a pseudo-claim to the city. The British in India were sensitive to its situation because it was a major route centre, and was seen as a useful point through which a Russian invasion might reach the borders of India. In the 1850s, Russia exercised the predominant influence in Persia, and in 1854–1856 Britain and Russia were at war, which made them the more mutually sensitive. More immediately the British minister to Teheran, Charles Murray, believed he had been insulted and had withdrawn from the country in a huff. This scarcely helped in dealing with the problem of Herat, and with his withdrawal the way was wide open for Russian influence to increase still further. The Russian defeat in the Crimean War, of course, made the Russians all the more keen to twist the British nose somewhere else, and Persia would do very nicely.43 The British reaction, somewhat over the top, was to prepare an expedition of ships and soldiers to attack Persia, and, when ready, to dispatch the fleet 42

43

Ibid, 117–119 and 134–135. Barbara English, John Company’s Last War: A Victorian Military Adventure, London 1971; Hernon, Britain’s Forgotten Wars, 336–354; Low, Indian Navy, 2.336–378.

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to deliver the declaration of war and land the expedition at almost the same moment, an example of British double standards – had anyone else done that it would have been stigmatised as ‘unfair’, and a breach of the rules of war. There had been, if the Persians had had time and the resources to notice, plenty of indications in the past two or three years of British agitation on the problem, with ships sailing back and forth between the Gulf and Bombay with messages and comments and reports. But Persian attention was mainly fixed on Herat, not on maritime affairs. They were not at all, however, as it happened, taken by surprise, and had armies waiting at the two obvious landing points, expecting the British attack. So all the clandestine preparations made by the British were in vain. No doubt the Persians had plenty of sources of information in India. The expedition gathered a dozen warships, and twice as many transports, to move an army of nearly 5000 troops from India to the Gulf. The soldiers were landed near Bushire, and marched to besiege the town, a fight which was over quickly, though the Persian garrison fled rather than face an assault on the town, such was the British reputation for massacring enemies and looting towns. The waiting Persian army approached and was fought; at first contact it retired, but then moved round to intercept the British force as it retired to base. A battle ensued, in which the British cavalry drove off the Persian horse, arrayed on the wings of its infantry, and then turned on the infantry from the wings, all in a very traditional military manner. A clash of the infantry forces was accompanied by an artillery bombardment to give it more punch. A Persian infantry square – a feature which reflects the previous Russian (and British) training of the Persian army – was charged by the 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry and overthrown. An extraordinary sequel to this was the suicide of two of the senior British commanders, Major-General Stalker and Commodore Richard Ethersay, the naval commander. This happened on 14 and 17 March respectively, and was six months after Admiral Price’s suicide at Petropavlovsk. One is inclined to blame the employment of overage commanders who had too long been out of harness for their evident despair at seeing an actual battlefield (though Ethersay had certainly been active for some years.) The British force re-embarked and was landed again at Mohammerah on the Shatt el-Arab, where another clash saw another Persian defeat. The fortifications were bombarded by the warships, which included a very effective mortar vessel, so that the main force did not have to be engaged. The Persian forces retreated, but not far; the rearguard was seen to be moving in a disciplined and careful manner; the British carefully did not attack again. The army had actually little to do in this fight, most of the work being done by the ships and the sailors. The coup de grace of the whole war was an expedition of three steamers, Comet, Planet, and Assyria (all three river steamers), each carrying a hundred soldiers and accompanied by three gunboats, up the Karun River as far as the city of Ahwaz. In charge of the expedition was Commander John Rennie, and he seized control of the town without opposition. A Persian army

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was camped on some high land inland of the city. The 300 soldiers were disembarked under Captain G.H. Hunt of the 78th Highlanders; they were spread out to look like a larger force, and advanced against the enemy covered by a bombardment from the ships. To the Persians this seemed to be the advanced guard of a greater force, perhaps a skirmishing line, and they retired. The British, of course, in their arrogance, assumed that the Persians simply ran away at the sight of British soldiers, but the bombardment had been far more effective than the threat of the infantry, and had the advent continued beyond the bombardment’s range, the infantry would have had a shock. Rennie bought fresh supplies in the city – this had been the purpose of the expedition – and returned to Mohammerah. As they reached the camp, news was received that peace had been agreed in Paris (which could be another reason for the Persian retirement at Ahwaz). Two comments may be made on this war. The Persian army had not really disgraced itself by repeatedly moving away from the better equipped British forces. It had certainly been outfought in the two collisions, and its officers had all too often failed to stand with their men, but the retirement inland, if the British had taken the bait and marched after them, would have provided the Persians with a much more advantageous position. The manoeuvre to take the British force in the rear in the fighting at Bushire implied a properly trained and intelligently commanded Persian force; its retirement rather than face heavy bombardment made sense. The British forces – actually in numerical terms, mainly Indian – had the advantage of staying close to the coast, near their supplies, and within range of the support of the ships, whose presence was decisive. They were able to use their steamers to move whole armies upand-down the Gulf and protect landings with their bombardments. It is also notable that the army used to attack Persia was larger than that which had been used against China a dozen years before. The British could claim and declare victory, but the result of the war was a reversion to the political position as before; consul Murray had not been revenged. The next business for the Indian forces, partly Company army, partly the Company’s Navy, and partly British Army and Royal Navy, was China once more. The arrogant officials, British and Chinese, at Canton and Hong Kong, stumbled into a quarrel during 1856. The causes were multiple, but the term ‘Arrow War’, after the ship which was the proximate origin of the quarrel, seems appropriate, though ‘Second Chinese War’ is more formal. The new naval commander-in-chief, Admiral Sir Michael Seymour, brought up the steam paddle frigate Auckland to support operations. Gradually the quarrel escalated until in December 1856 the Royal Navy, particularly Auckland with its six powerful guns, was bombarding Chinese forts, junks were being wantonly destroyed, and the town was bombarded.44 44

Modern accounts of this war include: Graham, China Station, 294–406; Douglas Hurd, The Arrow War, London 1967; Hernon, Britain’s Forgotten Wars, 355–394;

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All this, by no coincidence, was happening while the Chinese government was distracted by the Taiping Rebellion, which it inevitably saw as a good deal more important than what the British were doing in the Canton River. (The Russian advance along the Amur River also took advantage of this Chinese preoccupation.) But then the British were in turn distracted by the great Indian Rebellion they called the Indian Mutiny, and many ships and soldiers were taken away from China to serve there. This included the new Minister, Lord Elgin, who turned back from Singapore to assist in India. The operations in China were not resumed until late 1857. Elgin reached China eventually in September 1857, and was joined by Baron Gros, the French commander – the French were annoyed at the killing of a French missionary, and, like the British, were over-reacting to an essentially minor incident. They set about capturing Canton, where the top Chinese officials in the city were seized in targeted raids. But this was no way to win the war, any more than the same sort of activity in Canton had ended the previous war. The British had learned something from their earlier war, that the decisive place was not Canton, or even Shanghai and the Yangzi estuary, but Beijing and the emperor and his court. An expedition went north to the estuary of the Pei ho, the river which gave access to the city of Tianjin (Tientsin), close to the capital. The arrival of a British naval force certainly attracted the instant attention of the imperial court, which was one satisfactory result, and negotiations produced a treaty, by which, as before, the Chinese acceded to British demands, but had no intention of observing them any longer than necessary. So there was another pause in the conflict. It gradually became clear that the Chinese were intent on evading or ignoring as much of the treaty as they could. One of these was that a British envoy should be stationed in Beijing, and that on his arrival he would exchange ratifications of the treaty. In 1859 Lord Elgin’s brother, Frederick Bruce, arrived to take up that post. He was, given the circumstances, escorted by a powerful naval force. The Chinese had demanded earlier that the ratifications of the treaty should be exchanged at Shanghai, and when Bruce and his French colleague insisted on Beijing, they were told to land at an obscure village, without ceremony. The fleet escorting the envoys was commanded by the new China Station commander-in-chief, Rear-Admiral Sir James Hope, and included the screw frigate Chesapeake, four sloops (Magicienne, Highflyer, Cruiser, Fury), eleven gunboats, and two transports, all fully manned and armed. Ignoring any Chinese plans and instructions about landing, the fleet went directly to the mouth of the Pei ho, to discover that the entrance to the river was flanked by two powerful forts, the Taku forts, much strengthened since the earlier visit, while the river itself was blocked by a series of obstacles designed to stop invading ships where they could be battered by the forts. Hope assumed that the Chinese defences would crumble, as had so many Chinese forts, and aimed to force his Clowes, Royal Navy, 7.93–136; Low, Indian Navy, 2.379–382.

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way through. But the Chinese had learnt from their past encounters just as had the British, and they waited until the gunboats had become entangled in attempting to remove the obstacles before opening fire. Several of the gunboats were seriously damaged or sunk, and meanwhile the forts themselves proved fully capable of absorbing the British bombardment. After several hours Hope sent a force of 600 marines and seamen to attack the fort directly, landing in front of the fortifications. The men had to be landed in shallow water and then wade through deep mud, with the result that the assault become stuck. Most of those who survived found their guns would not fire by the time they came to use them. Half the force were casualties; none of them reached the forts. The total casualties in the ships and the landing force were almost 800, military and naval, two-fifths of the manpower in the ships. The British resolved to avenge this defeat, and mustered a new expedition. Lord Elgin was reappointed as plenipotentiary and his brother-in-law, General Sir Hope Grant, was the army commander. 13,000 troops, along with 7000 French soldiers, carried in 120 transports and guarded by a fleet of 70 warships, was collected. This was an impressive mobilisation of resources. They were gathered at Hong Kong, on land on the mainland of Kowloon rented from the Chinese. (This was a most peculiar war; uninterrupted trade went on through both the original five Chinese ports where it was permitted by the treaty of 1842 and through many of those which were to be opened up by the new treaty, which was still unratified and still the subject of dispute.) The Chinese knew what was coming and prepared to resist as before, but the new expedition was military rather than naval, for it was clear that an attack on the Taku forts required joint action. A naval force approached to menace them from the sea, distracting the Chinese defenders, who expected a repetition of the previous attack. Instead the main attack was a flanking move by a force landed at Pehtang to the north, and it arrived at the rear of the forts, a manoeuvre the Chinese regarded as an uncivilised form of warfare (but which has been used by the Persians at Bushire; the Chinese would have used it if they had thought of it first). The bombardment which followed was quickly successful, and the forts were surrendered after only four or five hours of fighting. The army then advanced to Tianjin, along with some of the ships which sailed up the river. The people of Tianjin happily sold supplies of food to the invaders (just as, across the continent, the people at Ahwaz had). The Chinese officials were obdurate in insisting that the envoys might not go to Beijing, and this despite the defeat of a strong force of Manchu cavalry on the way to the Taku forts by a Sikh cavalry regiment – Manchus recruited by the Chinese fought Sikhs recruited by the British). From Tianjin the advance had to be by land, and the Chinese placed an army in the way, said to be 20,000 strong (though this is the British estimate). The Chinese seized a group of hostages, but were then defeated in open battle close to Beijing. Most of the hostages were already dead from ill treatment or deliberate killing, and this provided a strong infusion of rage into the attacking

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forces. The French force seized the Summer Palace, thoroughly looting it, and the British captured the Anting Gate. The result was that the city was effectively captured. The Summer Palace was then systematically destroyed in revenge for the killing of the hostages. This became the symbol of allied barbarism, another incident performed in anger, to subsequent British shame, though the French do not seem to suffer in that way. The Chinese have insistently harped on the destruction of the Palace ever since, though the killing of the hostages is not mentioned, and it was the French who stole the contents. Ratifications of the treaty were finally exchanged. The years of this Chinese war, 1856–1860, had also seen the Persian war, another war in New Zealand which lasted several years, and, of course, more calamitously, the Indian Mutiny. The Mutiny broke out at Meerut on 10 May 1857: there had been premonitory signs for several months, though the British officers and officials had been too careless, or arrogant, to notice. During the summer the uprising spread, and the steamers used in the Persian and the Chinese wars rapidly brought the troops employed there back to India, and more came in from Burma, so providing the government with a solid retaliatory force. Inevitably the war was conducted mainly on land, but the navies were also involved. Ships gathered at Calcutta provided guards for government buildings, and their presence helped to calm the city. And, most notable of all, a dozen or more detachments of a Naval Brigade recruited from the sailors were sent out as artillery units to assist in the reconquest of the rebel areas. It was all an impressive display of the adaptability of a maritime power.45 Sailors comprised the Naval Brigade, but it was scarcely a naval unit, other than that they used boats at times, mainly for transport along the Indian rivers. It is notable, however, that the Indian Navy, many of whose sailors were Indian, along with the recently conquered Sikhs and most of Bengal and southern India, remained loyal to the British rulers. The ships of the navy were frequently rendered unavailable by the conscription of their sailors into the Brigade, or into other shore duties. This emphasised the landbound aspect of the war; on the west coast, though, the ships transported troops to land at potential or actual trouble spots. This work was done at the height of the monsoon, such was the emergency. These landings helped to prevent or contain attacks in Sind and the Maratha country. One of the casualties of the rebellion was the East India Company, whose final responsibilities were removed by the proclamation of royal sovereignty in India on 1 November 1858. The difference in India was mainly cosmetic, since the same men did the same jobs as before the proclamation. For the Indian Navy, however, the change was drastic. In many ways the effectiveness the navy had displayed in the wars of the 1850s had been too Royal Navy, 7.138–150; Low, Indian Navy, 2.429 – 525; Richard Brooks, ‘The Relief of Lucknow, 1857–59’, in Peter Hore (ed.), Seapower Ashore: 200 years of Royal Navy Sailors on Land, London 2001, 130–145.

45 Clowes,

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great, since the major enemies had been vanquished, and the British fleets now ruled supreme at last, from the western Pacific to the Cape of Good Hope, with no possible competitors in sight. The new (imperial) government of India was even more cost-conscious than the Company – and much less capable of useful initiatives – and could now see no use for much of the hardware of the navy. There was also the traditional dislike of the men in Calcutta for the Bombay maritime proficiency, which gave it a degree of independence from the central Company – now royal – government. Similarly the Royal Navy had not liked the idea of a competitor, and, enemies having been defeated, the Indian Navy could be closed down as no longer required, since the Royal Navy, it was assumed, could do the necessary work. In 1863, therefore, the Indian Navy was abolished. Its major ships were sold off by auction. The remaining ships, mainly small vessels, gunboats and so on, were retained, and the organisation was renamed the Bombay and Bengal Marine; as the omnibus name implies, it had two divisions, east based at Calcutta, and west, at Bombay. This was in effect a reversion to the original situation of over a century before. Its work was described later as ‘government vessels engaged in troopship, surveying, police, or revenue duties’. It therefore continued as a separate organisation from the Royal Navy;46 abolition, that is, proved to be limited; the services performed by the preceding organisation were still required by the Royal Navy. The period of extensive warfare more or less ended in 1860. On the whole the next decade was generally more peaceful; there were three important expeditions in the 1860s, though nothing as large as the previous ones, and none of them threatening to India. So it will be worthwhile considering the naval distribution of strength in this quiet period, which in fact extended for several decades. A convenient list exists for 1861.47 There were, as before, four stations involved in controlling the Indian Ocean: the Cape of Good Hope (West Africa having been separated off into a separate command by this time), the East Indies, to which China was now added, Australia, and the Pacific. This last was now largely confined to American waters, so it may be ignored here. The Australian station comprised one sailing frigate, Iris (26), three screw frigates, Pelorus (20×8in, 1×68pdr), Miranda (10×32pdr, 4×20pdr), and Niger (2×68pdr, 12×32pdr), and three screw sloops, Cordelia (11×32pdr), Fawn (17×32pdr), and Harrier (17×32pdr). It will be seen that classifying these ships by the number of guns is no longer wholly adequate, nor are the traditional classifications of ships as sloops and frigates entirely accurate any more. The navy was experimenting with its new powers and the ships’ Indian Navy, 2.569–575; Archibald Greig Cowie, The Sea Services of the Empire as Fields for Employment, London 1905, 246; Wikipedia ‘The Royal Indian Navy’. 47 Wikipedia, Royal Navy, ‘Pax Britannia, 1815–1914; at the Advent of the Ironclad.’, rather surprisingly. 46 Low,

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sizes and their armaments constantly varied. But these vessels were in fact comparatively heavily armed, and certainly the steam frigates, for example, were much more powerful, and more agile, than the earlier sailing versions. The base for these ships was usually Sydney, but Melbourne and Adelaide were also used, and Wellington in New Zealand similarly. At the other entrance to the ocean, the Cape, a rather larger squadron was stationed, almost entirely powered – two screw frigates, one paddle frigate, three screw corvettes, two screw sloops, one paddle sloop, and one screw sloop, and one sailing sloop. Their bases were at Cape Town and around the corner, in Simon’s Bay. The comparatively great strength of this station was due to the obvious fact that the only navies of any strength which might pose a threat to the British position in the Indian Ocean were in Atlantic ports, and for the moment, they could only reach the British colonies around the ocean by way of South Africa – Cape Horn was still rather too far for steamers. The East India and China Station was the main maritime command in the east. It had the old bases in India and Ceylon – Bombay, Trincomalee, Colombo, and Calcutta – and in addition there were four other, more widely spread, bases, largely as a result of the sheer distances involved and the need for the positioning of replenishment coal stocks. Aden dominated the approach to the Red Sea and the East African coast route, Mauritius the route from South Africa towards India east of Madagascar through the ocean, Singapore the passage to China, and Hong Kong the China coast (a station established in 1859). Labuan Island off Sarawak was a coaling base with its own mine. Considering the size of the area subject to this particular station, this was not a large infrastructure, nor was the naval strength overwhelming – except for the absence of serious competition. There were no sailing vessels except a single sailing frigate; there were four other frigates, two screw and two paddle, four corvettes, one paddle and three screw, three sloops (one paddle), and ten gun-vessels, nine of them screw-powered. The predominance of the smaller gun-vessels was due to the need for patrols along rivers in China and India, and the need for smaller ships in the Indonesian islands and the Gulf, where piracy had not yet been eliminated. The total strength of the Royal Navy in eastern waters was somewhat less than that on the North American station (though in 1861 that had been temporarily built up in the face of the American Civil War), or than the Mediterranean, or the several British commands. This was a result of the work of the joint efforts of the Royal Navy and the Indian Navy in the previous decade in eliminating all local threats, and it was to be the major characteristic of the Indian Ocean commands for the next seven decades.

12 The British Lake (1863–1935) The ‘overland route’ across Egypt had become established as one in regular use since Muhammad Ali had made himself ruler of Egypt, and especially since the alternative route through Mesopotamia had proved to be too difficult, slower, and more expensive. The sea routes, to Alexandria and from Suez, were clear enough, with the Peninsular and Orient steamship line providing the Mediterranean route, and the Bombay Marine the Red Sea route (taken over later by the P. and O.). Since the 1830s the facilities along the route had also been steadily improved, but only in sections. The steamship sections had used bigger, faster, and more comfortable ships, but the land section of the route, from Alexandria to Suez, was developed in slow stages between 1819 and 1858. The first stage was the construction of the Mohammerah Canal, connecting Alexandria with the Nile at Atfeh. This allowed dhows to sail from Alexandria as far as Cairo, a service which improved in speed when steam was applied to the riverboats in the 1830s. Cairo having been reached, it was then necessary to cross the desert to Suez, the worst part of the whole journey. Camels and donkeys were the earliest (thoroughly uncomfortable) transports, but by the 1830s stage coaches and a series of inns had become available.1 The improvements were a classic sequence of increasing use and demand leading to increasing speed and improved facilities, leading to increasing demand and use once more. What had taken several weeks and a large expense in 1819, in which only 200 or so passengers used the route, became a journey of only a few days by 1850, travelled by 5000, and one of increasing comfort as hotel accommodation at Alexandria and Cairo also improved in response to similar demand. Expense could have been reduced as well, except that many passengers were wealthy enough to afford the most expensive accommodation. The next to last stage of improvement was the construction of railways. Two lines were built, Alexandria to Cairo, finished in 1856, and Cairo to Suez, finished in 1858.2 The whole journey was now no more than three days, unless one waited for a time at Cairo to see the pyramids and enjoy

British Routes, ch. 9; Sarah Searight, Steaming East: The Hundred Year Saga of the Struggle to Forge Rail and Steamship Lines between Europe and India, London 1991, chs 3 and 5. 2 A neat summary is in John Marlowe, Anglo-Egyptian Relations, 1800–1953, London 1954, 83 note; Hoskins, British Routes, 301–303. 1 Hoskins,

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a rest, and a regular timetable of steamers in both the Mediterranean and the Red Sea was now possible. This was, however, hardly the smoothly continuing development which these two previous paragraphs might imply. By the 1830s, for example, railways were the obvious next improvement, and a survey was undertaken by a British engineer called Galloway, but when he died before it was completed the idea was abandoned. Politics also regularly interfered, though not, curiously, wars – even in 1840, with British ships bombarding Egyptian forces in Syria, the overland route was not disrupted. The British were not at all sure they wanted other Europeans to have easy access to India, which a railway-and-steamship system would allow, but at the same time when matters became urgent, as in the Crimean War and the Indian Mutiny, they were impatient for improvements. So many agencies and governments were directly involved – Britain, France, Egypt, the Ottoman Empire, India, the Company – and many others, including most European governments who were concerned but not directly involved, that agreement was bound to be difficult. The political situation in Europe in the Crimean War made it relatively easy to send troops from India to the Crimea through Egypt, since Britain and the Ottoman Empire were allies.3 In the Indian Mutiny, however, although the Directors in London at once urged that troops be sent, in small groups, through Egypt, the British government obstinately refused to route them that way, and when it did send reinforcements they went not only round the Cape, but by the slowest possible means, and using sailing ships. When steamships were eventually used, it was again by the slowest of steamships, paddle boats. Finally at the end of September 1857 it was decided to use the overland route. The railways in Egypt were now available, but there was still a gap between the railhead and Suez which was not filled until 1858. The first troops sent by that route took thirty-seven days to reach Bombay; other forces sent from Malta took half that. P. and O. steamers carried them in both sea stages. In London, the slowness of reinforcement was attributed to the Directors; it was only a commission of investigation in 1858 which discerned that the lethargy was governmental, and that this was actually due to the ignorance of the routes and of the capabilities of ships and of the Suez route amongst members of the Cabinet, who do not seem to have been capable of making enquiries. The more efficient Company was abolished nevertheless, to be replaced by a less than alert British government.4 In the event help was sent from the British territories around the Indian Ocean and from Canada more readily than from Britain. Other communication improvements were also arriving. During the Crimean War the Emperor Napoleon III had been tempted to micro-manage the campaign by way of the telegraph (at least until the generals decided to ignore him), but the news of the Mutiny, even using such telegraph lines as 3

The two cavalry regiments are noted in the previous chapter. British Routes, 398–407.

4 Hoskins,

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were available, took forty days to travel from Calcutta to London.5 The telegraph was also a vulnerable thing. One of the provisions of the peace treaty which ended the Persian war was that a telegraph line should be extended through that country – but one man with a sword could cut that link. There were two obvious further improvements which were possible – under­sea cables, and a sea canal through Egypt. In the 1860s, both of these were to be built (or laid, or dug). Despite the experience of the Mutiny the British government remained hostile to the idea of a canal (making use of the myth that the Red Sea was four feet higher than the Mediterranean, the product of a rushed and inaccurate French survey in Napoleon’s time), while undersea cables were difficult to lay. All problems, political and technical and financial were slowly overcome, however, and both means of communication had been built by 1869. The telegraph route lay across the Ottoman Empire from Constantinople to Fao on the Persian Gulf, with a sea cable from Fao to Guadur in Baluchistan, where it connected with an existing line to Karachi and India. The Persian government seized the opportunity to have its own line built connecting the Gulf and Teheran. The lines existed by 1865.6 The canal took longer. It was mired in political disputes, with the British very suspicious of the fact that it was a Frenchman, Ferdinand de Lesseps, who was in charge of the Suez Company, and that French money was financing the project. It hardly soothed British fears that de Lesseps was a relative of Napoleon III’s empress. But who controls the canal controls who uses it. British fears of the sudden use of the canal to dispatch a French expedition to India were hardly groundless, given that there were still French posts in India, that there had been a century of competition between Britain and France over control and influence there, which had ended only half a century before, and that the first Napoleon had had precisely such a plan. It took an international agreement that access to the canal should be available for all, together with the arrogant British assumption that the French would fail in constructing the canal, to get the process fully underway. It also took ten years. The canal was to connect Suez with a new port, Port Said, on the Mediterranean coast. It was to be constructed in the desert, making use of two existing lakes for part of the way. Tens of thousands of Egyptians, often conscripted by their own government, were used in the excavations, and as a preliminary a ‘sweet water canal’ was dug to bring fresh water from the Nile to the place of work. It was expensive, more so than ever envisaged, as is the way of such projects, and slow, and costly in lives even more than in money, but it advanced steadily nevertheless. When it opened for use in 1869 – in a ceremony conducted by the Empress Eugenie, inevitably

5 6

Ibid, 400. Ibid, 376–386.

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enough – all British assumptions fell flat, and, of course, it was British ships above all which used it.7 That decade of canal construction, 1860–1870, saw the Royal Navy in the Indian Ocean active in expeditions in New Zealand, Japan, and Ethiopia, against a background of minor campaigning against piracy in China and the South China Sea. In other words it was business as usual, though on a much less intense scale than in the previous decades. The piracy issue was, of course, a result of the decay in the authority of the Chinese imperial government. In turn this was partly a result of the British wars, but also of the great Taiping rebellion, in which British ships had interfered whenever the Treaty ports were threatened. Admiral Stirling had at times regarded suppressing the Chinese pirates as a more important task than fighting the Russians, and the issue continued to preoccupy admirals for years. It was for this purpose that the China Station (as it became in 1863) was allocated a large number of gun vessels, which were able to sail up the great Chinese rivers and into the bays and among the islands of the intricate coasts.8 The Second New Zealand War was a conflict arising once more out of the misunderstandings associated with the Treaty of Waitangi of 1840, by which the British thought they had acquired sovereignty, and therefore control, over the islands, whereas the Maoris disputed this. The war took place in several parts of the country over the years between 1858 and 1864. The Navy was involved in landing troops, bombardments, and patrols. It was a relatively low level conflict, centred above all on the Maori forts, pahs, which could be quickly constructed, and which were defended with great effect and ingenuity. British assaults on these constructions repeatedly failed, with understandable casualties, but the assaults were often followed by the Maoris abandoning the pahs, which led the British to claim victory, except that new pahs then appeared, with the same result; it was an unusual version of guerrilla warfare. More careful examination of the records has discerned a series of British defeats, despite the repeated claims of victories, but continuous British immigration tilted the population balance away from the Maoris. The Maoris were also inventive in political expedients, including the proclamation of their own king as a counter to British sovereignty claims. However, they were also usually divided over how to cope with the British intrusion, thus providing inadvertent

Ibid, chs 12, 14 and 18; Lord Kinross, Between Two Seas: The Creation of the Suez Canal, London 1968; John Marlowe, The Making of the Suez Canal, London 1964; Searight, Steaming East, 110–121. 8 Clowes, Royal Navy, 7.174 and 210–212, though these brief notices could be multiplied: Eric Grove, ‘A Century of the China Station: The Royal Navy in Chinese Waters, 1842–1942’, in Harding et al. (eds), British Ships in China Seas, 7–16; Anthony Preston and John Major, Send a Gunboat: The Victorian Navy and Supremacy at Sea, 1854–1904, 2nd ed., London 2007, 44–46, 83–90. 7

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assistance to the British. The main fighting ended in 1864, but other occasional conflicts continued for several years.9 It was normal for sailors to be employed in assaults on Maori pahs, with the result that they suffered the main part of the casualties. The pahs often looked vulnerable, but by using trenches and ramparts the builders had constructed very defensible forts, always underestimated by the British, who decided they were facing mere unskilled ‘natives’. It was in fact the weight of the British government, and its relentlessness, which brought a result, in effect a military draw, but which also led to continued Maori political effectiveness. In Japan, the efforts of Admiral Stirling had achieved British naval access to two Japanese ports in 1854; four years later in 1858, Lord Elgin, in a space between wars in China and India, had concluded a trade treaty with Japan whereby some more ports were opened to British traders.10 Within the country, however, major problems of government and control were developing. In particular, the new instability shown by the shogunate regime of the Tokugawa dynasty in Edo (now Tokyo) had been exploited by the descendants of those clans which had been defeated in the original Civil War in the early seventeenth century, and had been out of power ever since.11 The relations with the Western powers who were intruding, and who were simultaneously exploiting the dissensions in China, provided another focus of their discontent: some wished to be open to foreign influences, others, pointing to the chaos produced in China, wished to return to the traditions of seclusion which the Tokugawa regime appeared to be abandoning. In 1863 a British fleet arrived off the coast of the lands of the Satsuma clan in southern Kyushu with a demand for reparations after the murder of a British subject and an insult to a British woman. The daimyo (lord) of Satsuma refused to meet the British envoy, and refused any reparation. The fleet, under Rear-Admiral Augustus Kuper, therefore bombarded the forts and batteries which existed along the shore at Kagoshima, the chief city of the province. The bombardment was not very successful, in part because the fleet was badly prepared, partly because the ships went in too close to the shore and so suffered damage by the return fire (receiving over sixty casualties), but also because it was not ready to put landing parties onshore even if the batteries were temporarily silenced; they could therefore be easily rebuilt. The Satsuma soldiers celebrated a victory. Kuper took his ships to Yokohama for repairs. It now emerged that the daimyo of Choshu, in western Honshu, was blocking the strait between Honshu and Shikoku at Shimonoseki. Kuper was joined by French and Dutch ships to insist that the strait be reopened. Again, the daimyo refused, and, again, the New Zealand Wars, 73–202; Clowes, Royal Navy, 7.174–187: Claudia Orange, The Treaty of Waitangi, Wellington 1987, 159–184. 10 Beasley, Great Britain and the Opening, 168–193. 11 W.G. Beasley, The Meiji Restoration, Stanford, CA 1973. 9 Belich,

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ships bombarded the batteries along the shore, but, having learnt from the episode at Kagoshima, this time the ships were more effectively placed, and landing parties went on shore to spike the guns, most of which were then taken away as souvenirs; the landing party had in fact also to fight a minor battle against a force of soldiers who attempted to interfere with their work. The daimyo of Choshu accepted defeat and agreed in writing that he would open up the strait once more. These successive actions, within a month, show an obvious improvement in tactics based on experience, a fairly unusual case in the nineteenth-century navy.12 Three years later a new crisis developed in the western part of the East Indies station, in Ethiopia. There the Emperor Tewodros had supposedly insulted the British envoy, and had then held him captive at his court against his will. A full-scale expedition was mounted to secure the usual apologies and reparations. This was a substantially larger expedition than anything the British had laid on since the China War; it required a landing by a major armed force, which then had to climb up to the Ethiopian plateau, 8000 feet above sea level, seek out the emperor, a man who had made himself ruler by his military ability, and then defeat him in his fortified hilltop capital at Magdala. The navy’s role, given the absence of any possible naval opposition, was to transport the army to the African coast; a Naval Brigade was formed, as was standard practice by now, though in this case it was a hundred men armed with rockets. Magdala was captured and looted, and Tewodros himself died in the fighting. The expedition then withdrew, leaving Ethiopia in political chaos, from which there emerged a new imperial regime vastly stronger than that which Tewodros had organised.13 These conflicts were relatively small-scale when contrasted with the wars in China or the Indian Mutiny, more like the Japanese ‘War’ or the Persian war, which involved a few battalions and several ships. By the end of the 1860s there was no enemy within the East Indies Station’s reach which could pose a serious threat, either naval or military. We may discount any supposed threat from Russia, since it was, as the Pacific part of the Crimean war had shown, not capable of deploying any serious naval power there, hindered not least by its lack of infrastructure, and coal supplies, in the region. The opening of the Suez Canal might have proved a threat, as imagined before its construction, but a naval/military expedition which came through the canal would have to Royal Navy, 7.190–209; Colin White, ‘The Long Arm of Seapower: The Anglo-Japanese War of 1863–1864’, in Hore (ed.), Seapower Ashore, 146–163; for the Japanese situation, Albert M. Craig, Choshu in the Meiji Restoration, Cambridge, MA 1961, and the books by Beasley in notes 10 and 11. 13 Alan Moorhead, The Blue Nile, London 1962, 211–280; Clowes, Royal Navy, 7.218–220; A.H.M. Jones and Elizabeth Monroe, A History of Ethiopia, revised edition, Oxford 1960, 129–132; Percy Arnold, Prelude to Magdala: Emperor Theodore of Ethiopia and British Diplomacy, London 1991; Paul B. Henze, Layers of Time: A History of Ethiopia, London 2000, 133–143. 12 Clowes,

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do so one ship at a time, which would be carefully counted and watched on the way and could be intercepted in the Red Sea, whose further exit Britain controlled at Aden. On the other hand, the existence of the canal did permit the British to move ships easily between European and Indian waters as needed, and it was also soon under British technical and financial control. After 1870, therefore, the Royal Navy in the east had much less to do than before. There were plenty of minor scuffles of the ‘send a gunboat’ type.14 Only rarely did a major conflict erupt, and most such events could be dealt with by soldiers of the Indian army, convoyed by the Royal Navy. There were certainly plenty of these minor actions – pirates on the coast of China, difficult chieftains in Africa and South-East Asia – though requests for help were mainly for a ship to be stationed where it could be seen and its gunpower and potential threat underlined. Increasingly, therefore, any serious troubles resulted less from awkward native chieftains, and more from European colonial ambitions, or from cases of unfinished British imperial business. Most of the minor work by the ships involved their interfering in what the local people evidently considered to be their traditional affairs and modes of behaviour, but since these involved piracy (broadly defined by the British) and slavery and slave trading (similarly), which often were deeply embedded in those codes, so changing one aspect of a society involved upsetting the whole. It was therefore difficult to insist on changing local customs without resorting to violence, and facing strong resistance. These matters usually involved single ships, but they occurred all around the ocean, except in the more firmly controlled India. In most cases a single ship commanded by a lieutenant was sufficient to terrify a tribe which was considered to have done something obnoxious. In a few cases several ships would be used, as in the Persian Gulf, where piracy, as defined by the British, continued.15 The net effect of these minor campaigns was to force traditionally organised societies to adapt to European norms – ‘westernisation’, that is. The empire as a result of this naval activity tended to expand into the most powerless areas. There was nothing systematic about this, apart from the general insistence on accepting British norms of behaviour, and imperial acquisitions were generally the result of the need to attend to repeated problems in the same area. The navy’s role was to keep down disorder more than to forward the acquisition of more territory. For example, the killing of a bishop who persisted in denouncing local customs he did not like would merit vioPreston and Major, Send a Gunboat, provide a list of ‘Applications for ships of war to be sent to foreign stations’, (appendix C, pages 191–199) for the years 1857– 1861; in the East Indies Station, there were five calls from Borneo, four each from Australia, New Zealand, and Mauritius, three from Zanzibar, and the rest were two or one – but there were thirty-two in the East Indies Station in just those five years. This is excluding actions by officers on their own initiative. 15 The ‘Military History’ chapter of Clowes, Royal Navy, volume 7, consists very largely of these incidents. 14

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lent ‘punishment’, but not annexation.16 Extensions to the empire were usually made by land campaigns, if a campaign was needed; these were based on, or launched from, a previously acquired territory – in Malaya, for example, Singapore, Malacca, and Penang were already British, and influence and persuasion, provoked by the usual suppression of disorder within Malaya, generally sufficed to bring the several kingdoms into the British fold; the slow expansion of empire here lasted until 1914, and was similar to the Dutch expansion in the neighbouring Indonesian islands.17 Major extensions of imperial territory usually came as a pre-emptive reaction to the activities of another European power, and mainly happened late in the century, until the areas left independent were isolated and often under some sort of political protection. The independent part of Burma, for example, struck up relations with France, which in turn supplied King Thibaw, Mindon’s son and successor, with arms and encroached onto Siamese territory to the east. It appeared to the British in India that French ambitions included gaining control of inland Burma, unpleasantly close to eastern India. The British felt provoked, quite apart from having a treaty with King Thibaw where he had promised that he would not acquire modern arms from any other country. The British attitude swung from ignoring Burmese events to military intervention very quickly. A military camp was established just south of the border, which was warning enough, but was ignored by the Burmese. The campaign which followed, in November 1885, consisted of soldiers carried in hired civilian vessels up the Irrawaddy to capture Thibaw and his capital at Mandalay. The season was favourable, and the planning was more professional than in the earlier wars; above all, it was not necessary to struggle in the dense forests and swamps of the south. The campaign was completed within a fortnight, and the king was deported. Guerrilla resistance followed, classified by the British, as before, as ‘dacoits’ – brigands. Naval involvement amounted to the army being carried in three civilian craft up the Irrawaddy, augmented by a naval brigade. The acquired region was annexed, as was inevitable given the suspicions of French involvement, but it led to a series of awkward scandals and political and military crises followed.18 In the Pacific, the sudden lunge by Chancellor Bismarck of imperial Germany to acquire colonies brought arguments and threats, but no actual international fighting. Fiji had been made a British colony in 1874, and soon after that a Western Pacific High Commission was set up to supervise the activities of British settlers in the islands; protectorates over the Gilbert Islands, Ellice Islands, and others were proclaimed, and the High Commission grad16

Bishop J.C. Patterson was murdered on the Nulaya Island, Santa Cruz archipelago, in 1871; a village and canoes were destroyed by bombardment, twenty-five natives killed. 17 Sir Richard Windstedt, Malaya and its History, 7th ed., London 1966. 18 A.T.Q. Stewart, The Pagoda War, Newton Abbot 1974; Clowes, Royal Navy, 7.375– 385.

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ually evolved into a quasi-colonial government. It was sometimes headed by a senior naval officer, which, given that it extended over a thousand miles of ocean, was reasonable. None of the arguments which occurred between European imperialists developed into actual fighting, but it was a close call at times, notably over Samoa, where the only fighting was against Samoans.19 The Australians had been jolted in the 1840s when the French arrived to acquire several Pacific Islands, including New Caledonia, on their very doorstep; the arrival of German power in the area forty years later was a further reminder that distant European affairs were actually of their concern. In both cases the shock provided the impetus for a major step forward in the political system of the continent; in 1843 a form of self-government was agreed for New South Wales, which at the same time was divided into three colonies; in the 1880s, the debate began on establishing a unified government for the whole of Australia, fully achieved in 1901.20 Africa was, of course, the source of most colonial disputes, above all in the 1880s, set off by the British conquest of Egypt in 1882, which greatly annoyed the French. The Royal Navy in the east contributed a small squadron in the Red Sea to the campaign, and seized Suez. The Indian army contributed two British battalions, sent from Bombay and Aden, three cavalry regiments, and three infantry battalions of Indian troops.21 The Indian government was not at all displeased that both the canal and Egypt were now in British hands. The subsequent expedition into the Sudan was a mainly British and Mediterranean force affair, but the Ranger, from the Royal Navy in the Indian Ocean, was sent to occupy Suakin on the Red Sea coast as part of that campaign.22 The continuing problem (for the British) of the African slave trade had preoccupied the navy throughout the nineteenth century, with attention mainly directed on West Africa. There the answer had been to close down the American markets for slaves, notably Cuba and Brazil, which was achieved by about 1870. In the Indian Ocean, the problem was somewhat different, for the merchants were many and diffuse as were the markets, so the answer was to shut down the transport system, which was the navy’s task, and eventually to take control of the sources of the slaves, the interior country of Africa. Explorations by such men as David Livingstone succeeded in locating trading routes and investigating the mechanisms of the trade. Gradually it was shut down, at the cost of imposing European control, above all, British control. But with other Europeans interested, the possibilities of conflict were always present.

Royal Navy, 7.455–462. How Australia became British, ch. 9; John Hirst, The Sentimental Nation: The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, Oxford 2000; W.G. McMinn, Nationalism and Federalism in Australia, Oxford 1994. 21 Col. J.F. Maurice, The Campaign of 1882 in Egypt, 1887; William Wright, A Tidy Little War, Stroud, Glos 2009. 22 Clowes, Royal Navy, 7.350. 19 Clowes, 20 Fry,

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A German colony being established in Tanganyika (‘German East Africa’) persuaded the British to secure control over the Omani Sultanate of Zanzibar (the Omani homeland in Muscat was a British protectorate as well). This was not much to the liking of the Zanzibaris, who supported a candidate for the throne of whom the British disapproved; the answer was a naval bombardment, in which several hundreds of people were killed.23 Somaliland was the scene of several naval interventions in the 1880s and 1890s, sufficient to mark it out as within Britain’s area of influence; it had been under a vague Egyptian control earlier, which, after 1882, was the effective source of British interest. The naval interest all along this East African coast was as much in suppressing the slave trade as in securing territory, until German interventions and activities provoked a definition of boundaries. The major area of African problems for the British, of course, apart from Egypt, was South Africa. Naval involvement and interest had been a major element in the original conquest of the Cape at Dutch expense in 1806. The Cape had been settled by the Dutch to facilitate access to the Indian Ocean’s riches, whereas British control was aimed at restricting access. Cape Town had become the guardian of the entrance to the Indian Ocean from the west, that Nelson, in political mode for once, had called a tavern on the high seas, a place where sailors relaxed and refreshed. It was, of course, both of these. In British hands, it was also a source of imperial expansion in Africa; it was partly due to a naval expedition sent from the Cape that Natal, the second British colony, had been secured in the 1840s, as noted above. From then until the end of the century the problems of South Africa lay inland, not at sea, in conflicts between the British colonies and the Boer republics and the African kingdoms. But with the outbreak of the First Boer War in 1880, and still more with the Second Boer War in 1899, naval involvement inevitably increased. Needless to say, the British, with their main power in Cape Colony and control of all the coasts, used their ships to move their forces to Natal in both wars. And in the second war one of their units was a Naval Brigade, using guns taken from warships and mounted on specially made carriages, developed by Captain Percy Scott of Terrible, which arrived at Cape Town at the opportune moment. The brigade was active until 1901.24 It made for much publicity, even though Naval Brigades had been commonplace for the past half century and more. However, the real naval contribution was, as in the Indian Ocean, the predominant power of the navy across the sea routes between Europe and South Africa. Vociferous support for the Boers was widespread within continental Europe, more anti-British than pro-Boer, though; actual support for the Boers, other than some mercenaries and volunteers, was minimal. European governments knew perfectly well that the Royal Navy would prevent any offi23

Ibid, 7.436–439; Hernon, Britain’s Forgotten Wars, 396–404. Royal Navy, 7.463–466; Arthur Bleby, ‘“Ex Africa semper aliquid novi”: The Second Boer War, 1899–1901,’ in Hore (ed.), Seapower Ashore, 181–205.

24 Clowes,

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cial physical intervention. It was the navy which kept the South African War confined to South Africa. A Chinese crisis developed simultaneously with the South African War – Terrible was on its way there when Scott stopped off in South Africa. Japan had defeated China in a war in 1894–1895, and this brought the European predators to demand and get concessions from a much weakened China, in ‘compensation’ for Japan’s gains. Britain joined in, supposedly to counter other European concessions, but also to safeguard its own commercial interests, particularly at Shanghai and in the Yangzi valley. A new naval base was acquired in the north at Wei-hai-wei in Shandong as a result, to watch the Russian base at Port Arthur and the German base at Kiaochow/Tsingtao.25 The Chinese reaction to all this was violent. The Boxer rising in 1900 targeted all foreigners, and was tacitly encouraged by the imperial government. It was defeated by an international expedition – including United States, German, French, Japanese, Italian, and British troops – all of whose personnel behaved as brutally as had the British and French in the 1840s and 1850s, and as did the Boxers. In a sense, however, the rising succeeded, since the prospect of an international war over choice parts of China brought the European (and American) imperialists to pull back. A Naval Brigade took part, of course.26 The China crisis had been real and extensive, and combined with German expansion in the Pacific, and the South African War, put a major strain on British resources – but in China it was possible to use Indian forces as before. So, while in Europe there was anger at the British war against the Boers, in China those same Europeans cooperated with the British in a similarly imperialist war against the Chinese. Consistency and logic were not at work. Before these crises at the end of the nineteenth century the Royal Navy had staged a great display in 1897 for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. A considerable number of ships from overseas stations were summoned to take part in the ride past in the English Channel, but they were quickly returned to their stations afterwards. The record of the distribution of the fleet in that year, however, does give a good indication – a snapshot, as it were – of its peacetime spread. This was just before the reshuffling which was needed for the South African and China wars, and just before the great reordering which took place subsequently in preparation for the start of the Great War in 1914. It provides a view of the requirements of the navy in the Indian Ocean at the end of a near century of naval enterprise in the east.27 The majority of the fleet was, of course, in the British waters in the North Sea and English Channel, or in the Mediterranean. There were five stations How Australia became British, ch. 9. Royal Navy, 7.520–561. 27 A convenient listing is in the Naval History.net pages ‘Royal Navy, “Pax Britannia”, 1815–1914, Year of the Diamond Jubilee Review, Royal Navy Deployment 1897,’ which is based on the Admiralty’s ‘Abstract of the Ships and Vessels constituting the Fighting Division of the Royal Navy on January 1897’. 25 Fry,

26 Clowes,

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relevant to ‘Eastern Waters’: Australia, whose bases were at Sydney and Melbourne, with a new base at Fremantle in Western Australia developing (as had been envisaged when the Western Australian colony had been projected); for the Pacific the base was at Esquimalt, for China at Hong Kong and Shanghai, for the East Indies at Aden, Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, and for Africa, East and West, at the Cape of Good Hope. The navy had thirty battleships in commission (first, second, or third class), but only one of these was at an eastern station, Centurion (10,500 tons, 22 guns) in China; this was a relatively new ship, launched in 1892, but its guns were only of the same calibre as those on earlier and smaller ships. The next most powerful vessels were the ‘coast defence ships’, which had much the same gunpower as the Centurion, mainly 10-inch guns. There were fifteen of these in service, but just four of them were spread through these five Eastern stations. All of them were old, and two of those in the east were effectively out of use. Magdala and Abyssinia were stationed at Bombay; both had been built in 1870 (hence their names), and were to be decommissioned in 1903. Wivern was at Hong Kong; it had been a Confederate ship in the American Civil War, and then in the Turkish Navy; it had been purchased for the Royal Navy as long ago as 1863; it was to be reduced to ‘harbour service’ in 1898. The fourth was Penelope, at the Cape; it had been built in 1867, and was reduced to a prison hulk by 1891. It cannot be said that any of these ‘coast defence ships’ added seriously to the defensive capability of the British fleet, and nothing at all to its offensive capability, though they could be intimidating if the enemy was unorganised or effectively unarmed; the practice of locating such aged ships in the China station suggests its relatively minor status in the eyes of the Admiralty. More useful were the five ‘armoured cruisers’ in these stations. There were twenty of these in service, of which three were in China (Narcissus, Undaunted, and Immortalite), and one each in Australia (Orlando) and the Pacific (Imperieuse); there were none on the East Indies Station. These were ships of 5600 tons, armed with 6-inch and 9.2-inch guns, built in the 1880s, at a time when a serious effort of modernisation had been undertaken; by contrast, there were only four of these in home waters, and seven in reserve; they were being phased out, already out of date, but these Eastern Waters stations were receiving them because they were still useful in areas where there was effectively no naval competition. They were being replaced by ‘protected cruisers’ in the 1890s, of three classes. Those of the first class were mainly in European waters, and only three were in the east, the Grafton, on the China Station and St George and Gibraltar at the Cape. The Cape was better equipped overall than the other stations, for the problem of the hostility of the Boers was growing. The Cape also had one protected cruiser of the second class (Fox), as did the East Indies Station (Bonaventure), while there were four on the China Station (Pique, Rainbow, Spartan, and Aeolus). These ships were about the size and armament of the preceding armoured cruisers, but better engineered. The third

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class of protected cruisers were half the size of the second, and much less well armed, but they were more numerous – five were on the Cape Station, three in the East Indies, two in China, two in the Pacific, and seven in Australia; four had been built for the Royal Navy in 1890, and then promptly given Australian names, in part as a result of Australian complaints about the lack of naval protection in the face of the German ‘threat’. The rest of the ships in the east were a mixture of sloops, gun vessels, gunboats, destroyers, and other ships of various types and purposes; the largest group, twenty, was in China; there were twelve each on the East Indies and the Cape stations, four in Australia, and three in the Pacific. This distribution emphasises that the China Station was, if not necessarily the most important politically, then the most troublesome. It was at this time, between the Japanese–Chinese War of 1894–1895 and the Boxer Rising in 1900, that the scramble for influence, and the acquisition of coastal bases, was at its height. The station therefore needed a comparatively heavy naval presence, with the largest number of ships on any station outside British or Mediterranean waters, even if many of the ships were, in European terms, old or out of date. By contrast, the Pacific Station was the least well equipped, followed by Australia. The station at Esquimalt in Canada was much concerned with events in South America, but this was distant from the squadron’s base, and it was hardly needed at all in North America, where any United States’ presence could easily overshadow the Royal Navy. Australia, virtually unarmed behind the thin screen of British naval protection, was now very concerned about the growing German presence in its neighbourhood, which helps explain its comparatively large number of cruisers. The Samoan crisis had been a few years before, involving the United States, Germany, and Britain; East New Guinea had been divided between Britain and Germany in 1884, and Germany purchased a whole string of equatorial Pacific Island groups from Spain in 1899 in the wake of Spain’s defeat in the Spanish–American War. This gave Germany a large presence across any routes between Australia and China and Japan, and emphasised its ambition. The East Indies Station had as many ships as the Cape station, twelve each, but it had a very much greater area of ocean to supervise, stretching from Madagascar and the Red Sea to Borneo; it is an indication of the general pacification of this region that the incidence of ships was so low. The sequence of naval shocks and imperial surprises which came between 1898 and 1904 compelled a radical overhaul of British military and naval assumptions for the first time since the Napoleonic War. The Boer War revealed the country’s international political isolation, which might be spun as ‘splendid’, but was dangerous rather than a matter of pride. The Spanish–American War replaced a moribund power in the Far East and the West Indies with a dynamic one which was alert and was busy developing a new Navy which would soon compete in size with the Royal Navy; also the United States had the industrial capacity to eventually outbuild Britain if it came to a naval arms

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race. The rise of Japanese power, also in the Far East, was watched with care and interest in Britain, who carefully kept out of the European coalition which forced Japan to abandon some of the gains it had claimed after the Chinese War. In Africa the colonial clash in 1898 between Britain and France over Fashoda after the reconquest of the Sudan once again raised the prospect of a Franco-British war, something which had threatened repeatedly during the nineteenth century. Instead it now appeared to be an unacceptable extravagance and was followed by a reconciliation soon after the Fashoda excitement died away. Germany had grabbed colonies in Africa and the Pacific, which made it a normal European state – but then it began building a new navy, deliberately aiming to challenge Britain at sea.28 All this is well-known, and is repeated frequently in historical studies. It led to a diplomatic revolution, whereby new friends were collected by Britain – the United States, Japan – and old enemies were conciliated – France, Russia – and Germany emerged as the new enemy. The Royal Navy also rethought its grand strategy in the light of the diplomatic developments. The diplomatic changes came first, inevitably, and they led on then to the naval changes, then this was followed by military changes. In the end, of course, these were all parts of a single new policy, but it took over a decade to work through. But long before 1914 it was clear that if and when a European war came Britain and France would face Germany. In naval terms this is the period when Admiral Jacky Fisher professed to wield his axe to the outdated ships and shibboleths of the navy, forced the development of new ships, new plans, new directions, and reforms of the Admiralty, all of which certainly happened.29 But that is the case as viewed from London and concerning European waters. But if one stands in the Indian Ocean, so to speak, things looked somewhat different. First, the ships on those eastern stations were always relatively few, and could be reduced in number even when no crisis threatened. The China Station consistently required the presence of a considerable number of smaller ships; there were up to five battleships posted there in the period of the Boxer War, the Japanese alliance, and the Russo-Japanese War, but they had all been removed by 1905. The Cape, similarly, once the Second Boer War was on its way to victory – that is, by 1900, even if the war went on for two more years – could revert to its normal small numbers. Here, juggling with figures comes into play. If the ships on these two stations are considered, it can seem that the battleships and cruisers were ‘recalled’ to Britain in the years after 1900, but in fact during the wars the stations’ strengths had been unusually large – five battleships on the China

A recent account is Margaret McMillan, The War to End Peace, London 2014; there are numerous others. 29 Ibid, 108–112; Arthur Marder, From the Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, vol. 1, The Road to War 1904–1914, Oxford 1961, 14–104. 28

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station were four or five more than usual, and the station was then reduced to its normal strength. The East Indies Station could be left largely for the Indian Navy and a small Royal Navy detachment. The Australian station had to be kept up to strength during the pre-war period because of Australian fears of German proximity in the islands to the north. The achievement of Australian Confederation in 1901, one of whose motives was that very fear, persuaded the new Australian government to invest in its own ships, which allowed the Royal Navy to hand over responsibility for Australian defence to the Australian government by 1913, though a few Royal Navy ships remained on the station as support.30 In other words, the ‘Fisher Axe’, which in fact was essentially a list of out-ofdate ships which might be discarded, some at once and others later, was not a deliberate reduction in strength or the number of ships. Nor did it much alter the numbers of ships in the eastern stations. The oldest ships were gradually and continuously phased out, but this was a normal process. The smaller ships, whose crews could more profitably be used in modern vessels, were discarded and sold fairly quickly. This applied particularly to the small third class cruisers, sloops, and gunboats. The real change was that the new ships Fisher commissioned and which were built from 1904 onwards, were larger and more powerful, and they mainly remained in European waters. The enlarged navy was primarily a ‘Home’ and ‘Mediterranean’ fleet phenomenon. As before, the Cape, China, the East Indies, had to make do with the out-of-date ships which were no longer employed in Europe; this was not a major change, they had always been the stations for many of the oldest cruisers. The rationale for this was the diplomatic revolution whereby ententes – settlements of differences – were made with the United States (from 1901), France (1904), and Russia (1907), together with the alliance with Japan, agreed in 1902. This last hardly affected the China Station, whose ships were never intended to fight a local enemy of any strength, but it did allow the Japanese to defeat Russia in 1904–1905, without Europeans or Americans interfering, and this relieved some of the pressure on Britain by seriously reducing Russian naval strength, and it helped to provoke France and Britain to conclude their entente which settled many of their colonial differences, in order to avoid taking opposing sides in the Far Eastern War. The most significant reductions were in the abolition of stations as a result of the entente with United States – the North American and West Indies and the South American Stations were discontinued in 1904, the Pacific Station the year before; the Australian Station was handed over to the Australians in 1913. These ‘abolitions’, however, did not necessarily mean that the ships stationed there disappeared. The dockyards and harbour equipment remained, where possible handed over to local authority, as Esquimalt and Halifax to Canada, and Sydney, Melbourne, and Fremantle to Australia, and they were therefore still available for the Royal 30

These numbers are derived from ‘Pax Britannica’ (note 27).

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Navy. A great deal of the Fisher Axe was thus cosmetic, aimed to shake up entrenched naval and political attitudes, and a fair number of the condemned ships remained in service for several more years, some even right through the Great War. If any enemy thought the changes meant a reduction in the Royal Navy, and was therefore a political relaxation, or that a reduction of threat followed, this was all to the good in reducing international tensions. The sleight of hand left the navy in eastern waters at much the same strength in 1914 as it had been in 1900.31 Nevertheless when war came in 1914, there were some distinct threats which had to be countered. The Suez Canal was at once closed to enemy vessels, which forced German ships to travel the old way round the Cape, or by Cape Horn, to reach the Indian Ocean. Easy access to that ocean could have provided Germany with easy victims, as it did in the Pacific. The limitation of such activity, however, was less the prospect of meeting enemy ships than the difficulty of securing supplies of coal. (The Russian fleet which sailed to disaster against Japan in 1905 refuelled several times in crossing the Indian Ocean; its difficulties were increased because the British would not allow it to refuel at any British port.) The German East Asia Squadron, based at Tsingtao in China, set off on a voyage across the Pacific in 1914, after the war began, collecting supplies from colliers hired by the German consul in Honolulu and coordinated with the squadron by wireless, but it found itself without support in most of the Pacific Islands, even those which had been German – Samoa was quickly occupied by a New Zealand force, Tahiti was French and hostile, Yap’s radio had been destroyed. The squadron finally met a British force off Chile, and these two out-of-date squadrons fought each other, in which the British were defeated; round the Horn the German fleet came up against a stronger, modern, British force at the Falklands and was mostly sunk.32 The British strategic distribution had thus been justified. From then on the German maritime presence outside the North Sea amounted to submarine warfare in the Atlantic, and single raiders, such as Emden in the Indian Ocean, Koenigsberg in East Africa, and Dresden in the Pacific, which were all eliminated in a few months.33 During the rest of the war, as the German colonies were mopped up and all enemy maritime bases eliminated, so that only the single raiders were a threat, and little more than a nuisance; often the Germans had to use sailing ships which did not need to coal regularly.34 Germany’s vast investment in a High Seas Fleet had gained her nothing in the end (except British enmity), and it was forfeit at the peace, as were the colonies. Preston and Major, Send a Gunboat, list the ships condemned on 123–124. Paul G. Halpern, A Naval History of World War I, London 1995, 71–72, 88–100. 33 Ibid, 72–79; R.K. Lochman, The Last Gentleman of War, London 1966 (on the cruise of Emden); E. Keble Chatterton, The Koenigsberg Adventure, London 1933. 34 Halpern, Naval History, 370–375. 31 32

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Meanwhile the British experience of controlling the Indian Ocean and its surrounding lands allowed the adoption of the traditional policy of using forces from the Indian army to gain control of enemy territories. The German islands were taken without difficulty by Australian and New Zealand forces. A landing was attempted, unsuccessfully, at Tanga in German East Africa, but this country could be invaded by land from the surrounding British colonies, by Kenyan, Rhodesian, and South African soldiers.35 The Ottoman Empire was vulnerable in Mesopotamia, where a landing to protect the Abadan oil refinery happened as soon as the Ottoman declaration of war arrived – the force had been sitting in the Gulf waiting for the moment. But the campaign from then on was by land and river.36 That is to say, the eastern waters from the Cape to the west coast of the American double continent, remained securely in British control from 1914 to 1918, just as it had been for the previous century. The victory in Europe permitted the continuation of this situation, in which the ocean was a British lake, until 1940. There was no need to reinforce the eastern fleet until a new international alignment developed after 1933. The Great War showed clearly enough that two new naval powers were present in eastern waters, if still on the periphery. The United States had been dominant in the western Atlantic Ocean since the British withdrawal from the Caribbean in 1901–1904; by its construction and subsequent control of the Panama Canal (no nonsense here about allowing all ships through) it was also able to dominate the eastern Pacific. Its naval bases were strung along both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts from New York to Panama, and Panama to San Francisco and Seattle; it had naval bases at Hawaii and Samoa, and, after 1900, in the Philippines, which extended its domination into the western part of the Pacific. The country was, however, after 1921, in one of its periods of withdrawal and introspection, though by imposing the Washington Naval Treaty on its competitors in that year, it helped perpetuate its own domination, and so its own self-satisfaction. The other obvious competitor was Japan, which, unlike the United States, had openly joined in the war against Germany from early on, but with the precise and limited object of seizing the German colonies in its area – Tsingtao in China, and the string of equatorial islands in the central Pacific; Samoa and New Guinea and its islands and already gone to Australia and New Zealand, which had joined in the war even earlier. During the war Japanese ships served Hew Strachan, The First World War, vol. 1, Oxford 2001, 569–643; Leonard Mosley, Duel for Kilimanjaro, London 1953. 36 F. H. Moberly, Official History of the Great War: The Campaign in Mesopotamia 1914–1918, 4 vols, London 1923–1927; Sir H. Newbolt and Sir J. Corbett, Official History of the Great War. Naval Operations, vols IV and V, London 1920–1931; for specialist aspects, Marian Kent, Oil and Empire: British Policy and Mesopotamian Oil 1900–1920, London 1976; Wilfrid Nunn, Tigris Gunboats, Uckfield, Sussex 2007. 35

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as far from home as the Mediterranean, and this had included familiarising themselves with such naval centres as Singapore, Mauritius, the Suez Canal, and the Indian ports. The Japanese ships had impressed everyone by their smartness and discipline; the British, above all, whose officers had had a large part in training up the early ships of the new navy, took due note. The Japanese showed themselves unhappy at their treatment in the Washington Treaty, by which they had obtained a lower naval strength than either Britain or the United States. The treaty had involved ending the Anglo-Japanese alliance, as well as restricting the size of Japan’s navy. Japan was left adrift politically, and with a grievance. The Washington Treaty was in fact more detrimental to the Royal Navy than to any of the other participants. Japan was concerned overwhelmingly with its continental neighbours in east Asia, from Siberia to Vietnam, and was wary of the United States, which controlled the Philippines. In turn the United States was now a ‘two-ocean’ Navy, with a relatively easy ability to move its ships from one ocean to another, and had a string of naval bases from New York to the Philippines; it had little need to concern itself with the eastern Atlantic, the South Atlantic, the Mediterranean, or the Indian Ocean. Both of these maritime powers could therefore concentrate on their own backyards, where they were dominant. The Royal Navy, however, was the maritime wing of a world empire whose activities extended into every sea and every Ocean, from Canada to the Falklands, from South Africa to Hong Kong, from Egypt to New Zealand. By restricting its navy to a size equal of that of the United States, the Washington Treaty ensured that the Royal Navy was spread much wider and thinner than either of its competitors. And in this context that meant that the Royal Navy was subject to multiple simultaneous threats which it might not be able to meet. The answer, of course, was to concentrate its strength where it was needed at any one time, and to move ships to cope with other events, a policy by no means new to the Admiralty. The Indian Ocean, true to the consistent British policy since the beginning of the nineteenth century, could be left with virtually no ships, since its potential enemies were in the Atlantic, and now in the Pacific. Britain continued to control the gates giving access to the ocean – Suez, the Cape, Australia, Singapore. The sensible policy of never fighting a war against the United States, which had in fact been an unstated element in British diplomacy since the 1820s, meant that the western Atlantic and eastern Pacific could also be lightly policed, in effect left to the United States to defend. This was so even though the United States did not reciprocate Britain’s abstention; indeed the Washington Treaty was only one of several anti-British moves and policies which United States governments made from 1919 onwards (and continues to make). Britain in fact was lucky in its enemies in both great wars. They were, eventually, perceived also as enemies of the United States, though the threat took time to be appreciated. In both wars it took between two and three years for the United States to understand that enmity; in those three

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years Britain was often seen as a greater danger to the United States than either Germany or Japan. In the eastern seas, therefore, the Royal Navy kept to its traditional policy of benignly ignoring the Indian Ocean, but interfering repeatedly in China, either by force or simply by menacingly ‘flying the flag’. This essentially static policy lasted until the emergence in the 1930s of the simultaneous enmity of Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, and militaristic Japan, a situation which became clear by 1935, when Germany began building up its navy once more, and Italy conquered Ethiopia; two years later Japan moved into mainland China in force. In terms of numbers of ships, and of building new and replacement ships, the Royal Navy was able to maintain parity with these three likely enemies, and could also rely on the small fleets of the Australian, New Zealand, and Indian navies. The wide extent of its responsibilities, however, militated against a concentration against any one enemy for a time. If a concentration against one was required this rendered other regions vulnerable. One of the all-too well-publicised measures, designed to offset the effects of the Washington Treaty, was the decision to develop a fortified naval base at Singapore. This was planned by 1921, and it was obviously designed for use in a war against Japan, with the clear aim of defending the Indian Ocean position. Construction continued slowly through the 1920s and 1930s, hampered by shortages of money, but also by a certain puzzlement as to the exact purpose of the base. Reasonably enough, it was seen as a base for the navy east of India and Ceylon, the earlier naval centres of gravity, but was to be defended against naval attack rather like Portsmouth or Dover. By the 1930s, however, the Japanese army and air force had clearly developed an expertise in distant expeditions – into Manchuria and into China. This does not seem to have impacted on the design, but in hindsight a naval base must clearly be defendable against a land attack. The army was not unmindful of the problem, and the sites of pillboxes dominated beaches and roads on the western part of Malaya, which were intended to block any landing.37 The navy in the Indian Ocean in the period between the two great twentieth-century wars operated much as it had in the previous century, dominating the ocean in a defensive mode, which was all that was required when the threat, until 1940, remained remote. The threat from Japan did appear remote, at least until 1937 (and the planned Singaporean fortifications were completed by 1939); until then it seemed that the Japanese army was fully occupied in the fighting in China, first in the north from 1931, then from 1937 in the south and centre. The view from India and from London was that Japan was a danger but that Britain was still dominant. From 1934 there also developed a crisis over the Italian threats to Ethiopia, which developed into an Italian invasion and conquest. Since this was a time 37

Bill Clements, The Fatal Fortress: The Guns and Fortifications of Singapore 1819– 1956, Barnsley 2016, 89–133.

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of peace between Britain and Italy the Italian forces, naval and military, were able to sail through the Suez Canal without interruption and in accordance with the original Canal treaty. The conquest of the Ethiopian Empire joined the two existing Italian East African colonies of Eritrea and Somalia into a solid block of territory, with one maritime frontier on the Red Sea and one on the Arabian Sea; several Italian naval bases were developed on both coasts.38 The new empire also had land borders with Kenya, British Somaliland, and Sudan, all of which were under British rule and might be considered vulnerable to the large Italian army which was stationed in the new colony – Aden was also clearly vulnerable to seaborne attack. As enmity between Britain and Italy grew from 1935 on, these coasts came to be another concern of the Royal Navy. For the first time since the capture of Mauritius in 1810, a hostile European power posed a serious maritime threat to the British control of the Indian Ocean, particularly as Italy was deliberately breaking the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty and building its navy to a much greater size than that treaty had authorised. The scene was set, therefore, for major warfare in the Indian Ocean for the first time since the defeat of Napoleonic France, if one discounts the various colonial land wars around the oceans. By 1940, for the first time since the Crimean War, modern navies were about to fight each other in eastern waters.

38

Arthur Marder, ‘The Royal Navy and the Ethiopian Crisis of 1935–1936’, in From the Dardanelles to Oran, London 1974, 64–100; Frank Hardie, The Abyssinian Crisis, London 1974; Anthony Mockler, Haile Selassie’s War, Oxford 1984; Alberto Sbacchi, Legacy of Bitterness: Ethiopia and Fascist Italy, 1935–1941, Lawrenceville, NJ 1997.

13 A Successful Defence (1935–1945) From 1935 the Admiralty in London was contemplating with some unease the prospect of having to fight three enemy navies simultaneously in the fairly near future. In Europe the fiasco of the ‘Abyssinian’ policy, with the politicians’ dithering and eventually succumbing to Italian pressure, had left Ethiopia conquered and subject to fascist rule, and Italy angry and hostile.1 One Italian response was to set about a naval building programme, designed to dominate the Mediterranean, which the Italian fascist regime now called ‘our sea’, in reminiscence of the Roman term mare nostrum, as an attempt to imply that other powers had no ‘right’ to put their warships there – meaning in particular Britain.2 Germany, under Nazi rule, was keen to find allies, and a disgruntled Mussolini was a prime target. The two dictators eventually made their ‘Pact of Steel’ in 1939.3 More directly important, and a policy the Admiralty approved, was a diplomatic agreement with Germany, whereby the new German navy would be allowed to build up to one third (35 per cent) of the Royal Navy’s tonnage. Being a man who liked symbols of power above all else, Hitler urged the building of battleships and powerful cruisers, which were described as ‘pocket battleships’. An aircraft carrier was begun, but few submarines – nasty, shapeless, and above all invisible things – as yet. But here were two likely enemies, who had made themselves friends, and later allies, building up their navies in direct competition with the Royal Navy; it was pre-1914 all over again. By 1939 Italy had eight battleships, all in the Mediterranean, and Germany one, in the North Sea; neither had any aircraft carriers, though both had one a-building. But the most worrying development was the expansion of the Imperial Japanese Navy. Japan had been the most aggressive power since 1918, at least until Italy’s Ethiopian adventure. It had seized Manchuria from China in 1931, and moved to control China’s capital, Peking (Beijing) in 1936. It was building a navy at a greater rate than either Germany or Italy, concentrating on air power and aircraft carriers, but not neglecting battleships, cruisers, and submarines. There could be no doubt that Japan was intent on further expansion, and the only two powers standing on its way were China, effectively powerless by sea and fragmented on land, and Britain, which had assumed a quasi-protective 1 2 3

Frank Hardie, The Abyssinian Crisis, London 1974. Dennis Mack Smith, Mussolini’s Roman Empire, London 1977, 16, 27. McGregor Knox, Mussolini Unleashed, 1939–1941, Cambridge 1982, 41.

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position with regard to China and was often prepared to intervene there to secure the interests of its merchants, commercial resources, and friends, including other Europeans. The United States showed occasional concern, but did nothing effective to support China. If Japan made further moves into China, it might be that Britain would be the only barrier to its success. Japan therefore was seen, even before 1935, as a potential enemy, and in 1937 the Japanese army intervened in China in such a determined way that it was obvious that widespread conquests were intended. And whereas between 1920 and 1932 Britain, in the shape of its navy, intervened in China for various reasons on average every year, it did not do so at all from 1933 onwards.4 Thus Japan was being allowed a free hand, just as Italy’s conquest of Ethiopia was not contested, and as Germany’s naval ambitions were to be permitted. The British answer was not to impede these powers in their actions, in the hope that minor advances would be sufficient for their appetites, but to develop the Royal Navy so as to be powerful enough to deter or defy or defeat them.5 This, in terms of numbers of ships, was done relatively successfully, except that it proved to be necessary to concentrate on the European enemies, so that Japan, while not neglected, was not directly confronted. And there was one unexpected development in Europe which upset all calculations. The Second World War did not extend its operations outside Europe, other than in some sea ventures, for nine months after war was declared by Britain and France on Germany. It is worth recalling the timetable of events. Britain and France declared war on Germany on 3 September 1939. Germany’s conquests included Poland in that month, then Denmark and Norway in April 1940, so that Germany secured definitive control of the Baltic and of the long Norwegian coastline with its ports and fjords (though not a great deal in terms of naval base equipment). In May–June, the Netherlands, Belgium, and France were conquered, and Italy joined in the war against Britain. The crucial stages therefore were, first, the war with Germany, not a serious naval power at first, especially after its losses of ships in Norway; second, the conquest of Western Europe, with the potential transfer of Dutch and French ships to German control; and third, Italy’s declaration of war which extended the war into the Mediterranean and North and East Africa – and so into the Indian Ocean – and brought an apparently powerful navy onto Germany’s side. In the process a new French government under Marshall Petain, angrily anti-British, was installed. The possibility of the French Navy going under German control was countered by the bombardment of the French base at Mers el-Kabir (or Oran) by the British fleet based at Gibraltar; this solidified French hostility, but in fact it had the result that the French Navy did not fall to the Germans; instead it 4 5

See the list in James Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 1919–1979, 2nd ed., London 1981, 197–219. This is, of course, ‘appeasement’, but with the qualification that British increase in armaments accompanied that policy, a factor too often ignored.

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interned itself in its bases with strict instructions to scuttle if it was in danger of seizure by the Germans.6 So far the calculations of the British Admiralty had been largely borne out, with the exception of the conquest of France and the loss of the support from the French Navy – though in fact that navy was effectively neutralised. The Royal Navy could certainly cope with the existing German and Italian navies by itself, as it did in the eighteen months after the conquest of Western Europe. Japan remained neutral, except that its fight in China went on with some success. British hostility to Japan increased, and was manifested in the transport of supplies to the Chinese government by way of the Burma Road, from Assam, through Burma, and into south-west China. The British ‘concession’ in China, Tientsin, was blockaded by the Japanese.7 But now the next prize was the French Empire. One other element which directly concerned the British and their navy was that in June 1940, at war with Italy, it clearly extended into the Indian Ocean, though Italy’s Ethiopian empire was more a useful British target than a naval threat. But the war had certainly spread into eastern waters. Until then the only action was a brief intrusion into South African waters by the German raider Admiral Graf Spee not long before it was sunk.8 But when Italy did join in, not really unexpectedly, Egypt became involved, and troops from India and Australia were transported across the Indian Ocean to fight in the ‘Western Desert’. The British control of eastern waters was therefore not threatened until mid-1940, but then threats increased from both east and west over the next three years. Before June 1940 the Italians in Ethiopia/Eritrea/Somaliland were no threat, and the Japanese attack into South-East Asia did not come until December 1941. By the middle of 1941, before the Japanese attack, the Italian threat was vanquished, and by late 1944 the British land and sea forces were pushing forward decisively to recover Japanese conquests, and to carry the naval war to the enemy. In the long view, the British Admiralty’s assumption made in the later 1930s was realised: it had been possible to concentrate on defeating one set of enemies, in this case Italy and Germany, by withdrawing much of British naval strength from the Indian Ocean for use in the Mediterranean; once that first task was accomplished (in naval terms, by mid to late 1943), then the East Indies fleet could be revived by re-transferring the ships from European waters into the Indian Ocean, and Japan could be dealt with. The intervention of the Michael Simpson (ed.), The Somerville Papers, Navy Records Society 1995, documents 21–42; Arthur Marder, ‘Oran, 3 July 1940: Mistaken Judgement, Tragic Misunderstanding, or Cool Necessity?’, in From the Dardanelles to Oran, Oxford 1974, 179–288; Jurgen Rohwer, Chronology of the War at Sea, 1939–1945, 3rd ed., London 2005, 31; John D. Grainger, Traditional Enemies, Barnsley 2015, ch. 3. 7 W.G. Beasley, The Modern History of Japan, 2nd ed., London 1973, 265. 8 Rohwer, Chronology, 8. 6

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United States was helpful, but the Indian Ocean war was conducted without much United States involvement; indeed it was the United States in the Pacific which was assisted by Australian and New Zealand ships, and by a British aircraft carrier for a time (in 1942 and 1943), and finally by the powerful British Pacific Fleet in 1945. The Admiralty’s earlier calculations were vindicated though it was a hard fight.9 There did emerge other enemies during that time, and these were dealt with in the usual Indian Ocean way which had operated repeatedly in the previous centuries, by sending relatively small maritime expeditions to land armed forces at the trouble spots. It was all very similar to British imperial operations over the previous century and a half, just as the Japanese threat to Britain’s position in the ocean was very similar to the French maritime threat during the eighteenth century. The defeat of France was the main event which derailed the Admiralty’s overall expectations. The assumption had been that the French Navy, second only to the Royal Navy in Europe, would be available to take on some of the burden, particularly in the Mediterranean, as it did for a few days in June 1940; its removal from the fighting was therefore a major defeat with repercussions throughout the world. Another assumption was that the great naval base at Singapore would enable the British to station a powerful fleet there, which was intended to deter the Japanese from naval adventures towards India. The base at Hong Kong could therefore be held, even if it was blockaded or even besieged. The main battleground, it was anticipated, would be in the South China Sea, flanked by French Indo-China (possibly neutral, more likely an ally), the Philippines (under United States control, and again possibly neutral, perhaps later an ally), and the Dutch East Indies (which had to be counted as neutral, and which was essentially powerless). The removal of France from the list of allies into the hostile column upset all these reasonable calculations, just as it did in Europe. The French colonial regime was vulnerable everywhere from the first. By 1941 its nearest and more powerful neighbour in Indo-­ China was the Japanese forces in China. The Japanese invasion forces headed for Malaya were permitted to base themselves in its territory (the French had little choice in the matter).10 This meant that the putative battle area in the South China Sea was outflanked (as in the event it was also to be outflanked by the conquest of the Philippines). And so, in large part as a result of the

9

This is a controversial area in which appeasement is regarded as evil, the Admiralty as barely competent, and British governments neglectful. This case is made by, for example, Stephen Roskill in the Official History of the War at Sea, 2 vols, London 1954, 1957, by Corelli Barnett, Engage the Enemy More Closely, London 1991, and is reflected in Paul M. Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of British Naval Mastery, London 1976; this is challenged, with some effect, by Andrew Boyd, The Royal Navy in Eastern Eaters: Linchpin of Victory, 1935–1942, Barnsley 2017. 10 Grainger, Traditional Enemies, 48–49, 117–118.

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Japanese ability to use French Indo-China as a base, all South-East Asia as far as New Guinea fell to Japan. This reversal of expectations only became clear during 1941 as the Japanese increased their pressure on the Vichy government in Indo-China, and meanwhile there were German interventions by intrigue in Iraq, and by surface raiders in the Indian and Pacific Oceans, and later submarine attacks. The British concern, of course, was to maintain control of the Indian Ocean for their own purposes, which included the ability to move people and goods as they wished. The German concern was to interrupt this traffic, which at first they could do only by the occasional surface raiders (the German submarines were not yet capable of sailing so far). The Admiral Graf Spee sailed round the Cape into the sea south of Madagascar in November 1939, but soon retired into the South Atlantic once more; it was sunk on 17 December.11 As though to prove that ship’s essential failure (even though it sank nine Allied ships, it did so only over a three months’ cruise), the first troop convoy of New Zealand and Australian troops sailed from those countries in January, bringing 13,500 troops to Suez on 12 February 1940. A second convoy followed the same route in April–May. Meanwhile seventeen German merchant ships were interned in neutral Dutch East Indies ports, where they were watched by two British cruisers and two destroyers.12 No doubt they were seized by the Dutch authorities when the Dutch homeland was invaded on 10 May; even if not, they were immobilised. The outbreak of active warfare in Europe in April and May compelled the third Antipodean convoy to sail by way of the Cape, since the Arabian Sea and the Red Sea threatened to become war zones as Italian hostility developed. It was given a series of much heavier escorts than the original convoys, with battleships, an aircraft carrier, and Sunderland flying boats on the last leg from Gibraltar; it reached the Clyde safely in mid June – just in time to reinforce the battered British Army which had been defeated and evacuated from the continent. Italy entered the war on 10 June and so the waters around Italian East Africa, and in the Mediterranean, now became hostile, or rather, contested, regions. There were a number of Italian warships, mainly submarines and destroyers, stationed at Massawa in Eritrea and Mogadishu in Somalia. They sortied whenever a useful target appeared, but repeatedly failed to find any of the British convoys which constantly travelled through the Red Sea. They could not be reinforced since the British controlled both exits from the Mediterranean, so any ships lost by the Italians could not be replaced, and Italian maritime strength in the area gradually degraded. There were at first plenty of targets in the region – Sudan and Egypt, the Canal, Aden, the ports of Kenya, the Persian Gulf – but except for occasional sorties the Italians did not move far from 11

Richard Hough, The Longest Battle, London 1986, 6–8. Chronology, 13, 17, 20.

12 Rohwer,

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their own ports. One submarine reached the Gulf, but was sunk; Aden never seems to have been threatened even by a submarine blockade, though some of the Italians tried to attack the base; the Kenyan coast was, however, apparently never visited; Port Sudan was only threatened occasionally. On land Italian forces invaded British Somaliland, but in such a slow and lethargic manner that the British were able to evacuate all their troops and civilians – 13,500 people – without difficulty or interference.13 (Djibouti, under a Vichy French governor, was not attacked.) By January 1941 the British had gathered sufficient land and sea forces to launch attacks on the Italian territories. A squadron bombarded the Somalian ports at Mogadishu and Kismayu; invasions by land came from Sudan and Kenya. The Italian and German ships blockaded in the Somalian ports attempted to escape to seek refuge in Diego Suarez in Madagascar (friendly Vichy territory), but of the twelve which attempted to leave, only two got through – four scuttled, two were captured, and two sunk.14 In March a force of Indian soldiers – only two battalions! – landed in British Somaliland and swiftly recovered that colony; two cruisers, two destroyers, two auxiliary cruisers, and two Indian trawlers provided fire support.15 With the two Somalilands (Italian and British) captured and recaptured, and Ethiopia being attacked, the only ports left to the Italians were Assab and Massawa on the Red Sea coast. In April the British forces closed in on Massawa, and the Italian warships still there broke out aiming to attack Port Sudan. Aircraft from the carrier Eagle let them get within ten miles and then sank two; the other two were scuttled. As Massawa fell the enemy merchant ships in the harbour – eleven Italian and six German – were also scuttled; in other ports, including Assab, ten more merchant ships were sunk or scuttled, a total of 150,000 tons of shipping, as much as the enemy raiders in the Indian Ocean had sunk in eighteen months.16 By mid-May Haile Sellassie was back in his imperial capital, and the last of the Italian forces surrendered in November. From a maritime point of view, however, the war in the Red Sea had been over with the capture of Massawa in April. This cleared the nearby seas of enemy war vessels for the moment, but soon after the end of the Ethiopian campaign German ships began raiding in the Indian Ocean and the Pacific. The Komet, Kormoran, Orion, Atlantis, and Pinguin raiders were the most notable of these ships, and all of them operated in the eastern waters from June 1940, this being one of the results of the availability of the French Atlantic ports to the German navy, and of German control of all the continental coast from Spain to the North Cape. The raiders operated with some success, sinking, capturing, and plundering merchant vessels, laying 13

Ibid, 35, 36. Ibid, 57–59. 15 Ibid, 64. 16 Ibid, 66–67. 14

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mines in South African, New Zealand, and Australian waters. They were able to refuel from captured ships, and to resupply with fresh food from the same sources, and also from supply ships at prearranged rendezvous points; they were also able to rely on resupply from Japan, as, for example, in December 1940 when Orion and Atlantis resupplied from the supply ship Kulmerland in the South Pacific, and in September 1941, when the German supply ship Munsterland, having itself resupplied in Japan, met Komet and Atlantis in the Tuamotus and provided food and fuel.17 These raiders were, of course, a nuisance, though not much more than that, and they caused a number of casualties, perhaps fifty or so ships over three years. On occasion a major effort was mounted to search for them, but it was usually an accidental meeting which ended their careers. Pinguin, for example, was probably the most successful of the raiders, sinking thirty or more ships, including several Norwegian whalers; several ships were sunk by striking mines it had laid off Australia. In the end it encountered the cruiser Cornwall near the Seychelles in May 1941, and was sunk. Atlantis was sunk by the cruiser Devonshire near Ascension Island in November 1941; it had had an unusually long cruise. Komet got home to Hamburg, also in November, but had sunk only six ships in a year and a half. Kormoran, less successful than others, had the most spectacular ending. It met the Australian cruiser Sydney off Western Australia, enticed it close in its disguise as a Dutch merchantman, then suddenly revealed its guns and opened a devastating fire. It suffered as badly from the return fire, and both ships sank. Sydney’s fate was a mystery until the vessel was discovered after a search in 2009; Kormoran was found also only a few miles away. Kormoran’s surviving crew got ashore in Australia and spent the rest of the war as prisoners; none survived from Sydney.18 The British in the Indian Ocean therefore were able to complete the Italian war before the arrival of most of the German raiders, whose minor victories were never going to cause serious harm to the fleet as a whole, and whose activities had largely faded, as they were sunk or returned to Germany, by the time Japanese war began. But, similarly, the next crisis came about the time the Ethiopian war ended, and was in turn concluded before the further crisis arrived – the British, as already noted, were lucky in their wars, and in their enemies’ lack of coordination. The new crisis was in Iraq, where a nationalist coup d’état led by Colonel Rashid Ali took control of the kingdom’s pro-British government. This may not have mattered much in the wider scheme of things except that Iraq was a British protectorate (technically a former mandate from the League of Nations), and since Britain had set up the country in quasi-independence, a vio17 18

Ibid, 51, 101. Ibid, passim; Ashley Jackson, War and Empire in Mauritius and the Indian Ocean, London 2001, 47–48; David Mearns, The Search for the Sydney, Pymble, NSW 2009.

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lent change of government was unwelcome. It was a major source of oil, which made it especially interesting for any power, and had the new government promised to continue delivering oil to the British and no one else, it might have been allowed to continue. What really provoked the British intervention was that Rashid Ali at once contacted the German government; he received shipments of German arms, sent through Turkey by rail (the Turks, defiantly neutral all through the war, knew perfectly well what they were carrying), and staged by air in German planes through Vichy-controlled Syrian airfields. (This turned out to be a useless delivery since the arms did not marry with the British guns which the Iraqi army used.) The utility of the British control of the sea was demonstrated by the rapid response which was mounted. A troop convoy was already assembled at Karachi, intended for Malaya; it was quickly redirected to Basra, along with an escort of three sloops, the Australian Yarra, the British Falmouth, and the Indian Lawrence – the very weakness of the escort is a demonstration of British maritime control. The first troops were landed on 19 April; three days later another convoy arrived and landed its soldiers on 29 April; the carrier Hermes arrived to provide air cover, and a battalion of airborne troops from India was landed to secure the airfield at Shaiba. Overwhelmed by all this, and by an invasion from Palestine, the Iraqi Revolution lasted no more than a month.19 The involvement of the Vichy authorities in Syria in facilitating the passage of German aircraft into Iraq had been clear. The large British force now in Iraq went on to invade Syria to remove the Vichy regime, accompanied by an invasion from Palestine, and a naval blockade. The overall result was the removal of any threat to the British in Egypt from the east for the rest of the war. Then, just after the end of the Iraqi problem, war began between Russia and Germany (22 June). In August, in order to open up a regular supply line to assist Russia, British and Russian forces moved into Iran. Some of the ships used for the landing at Basra were still present in the Gulf, and landings were made on 25 and 27 August at Abadan (to protect the oil refinery, which throughout the war was the main source of the supply of oil to the British Empire), Khorramshahr, and Bandar Shapur, all close together near the Shatt el-Arab estuary; at Bandar Shapur seven enemy freighters were captured; two more were taken at Bandar Abbas (the old Gombroon – it helped that the British had three centuries of experience of wars and landings in the Persian Gulf). Peace was made between Iran and Britain and Russia on 1 September (so this war lasted only a week), and a supply line to transfer arms to Russia was then organised and was steadily improved and constantly used for the next three years; this route was the most important of all those for supplying Russia, carrying much more than the more spectacular, and much more expensive, Arctic convoys.20 Chronology, 68; Christopher Buckley, Five Victories, London 1958, 3–40; Geoffrey Warner, Iraq and Syria, London 1978, 88–121. 20 Buckley, Five Victories, 141–164; Rohwer, Chronology, 95, 97. 19 Rohwer,

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These enemy incursions, Italian and German, were blunted, partly because they came at different, and uncoordinated, times, and so could be dealt with individually, and partly because each enemy was distracted from the Indian Ocean ‘front’ by what were seen as greater immediate concerns to them elsewhere. Neither of them actually saw the control of the Indian Ocean as one of their priorities, which enabled the Royal Navy, which did see it as a priority, to continue to use it for convoys, for Russian supplies, for extracting resources, human and material, and for attending to these various crises – enemy lunges which were then exploited by the British forces to remove enemy threats. The several conflicts in Ethiopia, Iran, and Iraq in 1941 removed any possible enemy activity from the western part of the ocean except for one area. It was thus available as a base area in which to gather resources for counter-attacks, and for providing assistance to the Allies in the conflict in the Mediterranean. By regarding the control of the ocean as a secondary theatre of war, or one which was even less important than that, Britain’s enemies were making a serious error, of course, but it was one they shared with Britain’s allies, and even at times with the British government. The Royal Navy, however, by promoting to the command of the fleet in the ocean Admiral Sir James Somerville, could be said, in his very person, to have ensured that it did not lose a grasp of the essentials. The Italian East African war was over by May 1941, bar a few areas of futile resistance. The Japanese war began in December 1941; in that intervening six months the Middle East was secured, a busy supply line opened to Russia, the Suez Canal was defended, and the abundant oil supply from Iraq and Iran made secure. By that time also a good deal of the Royal Navy’s strength in the Indian Ocean had been transferred to the Mediterranean (the Canal again), with the benign result that the offensive capacity of the Italian navy in its home waters had been blunted fully by British offensive tactics, as in the air raid on the Italian battleships at Taranto in November 1940. The smaller Italian ships, the destroyers and torpedo boats, and to some extent the submarines, were, however, continuously effective, and it was not until 1943 that, thanks to the defence of Malta, and the Allied campaigns along the North African coast, relatively secure control of the Mediterranean was gained. It was in the midst of this that the Japanese assault came. For once Britain’s enemies were attacking at more or less the same time, though scarcely in a coordinated manner. The British plans had always been to make use of their control of the Suez Canal to switch their naval strength between the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean (and by control of Gibraltar to switch between the western Mediterranean and Atlantic as needed – it was ships of the Mediterranean fleet which finally sank Bismarck in May 1941). It was therefore possible to send some ships of the Mediterranean fleet to bolster the Indian Ocean fleet, while sending the battleship force of the Prince of Wales and Repulse from Britain as a contribution to the defence of Malaya (and, as it turned out, the Dutch East Indies).

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The geopolitical situation, however, had materially changed during 1940– 1941. The defeat of France in 1940 was followed by the installation of the Vichy regime, almost as right-wing and unpleasant as its Nazi sponsors, and almost as anti-British, especially when Britain sponsored Charles de Gaulle’s Free French organisation. The French defeat in June 1940 was partly explained by Vichy, searching for scapegoats, internal and external, by the British ‘desertion’ epitomised by the evacuations of Dunkirk and elsewhere; the destruction of the French Battle Squadron at Mers el-Kabir by the British Mediterranean fleet (under Somerville) in June 1940 cemented Vichy hostility (and gave it another useful propaganda tool to stoke its anti-British policy). This attitude spread to the colonial regimes, above all, for the purposes of this account, to those of Madagascar and French Indo-China. The Australians were concerned about the Vichy sympathies of the French Pacific Islands’ governors and facilitated Free French replacements; the Canadians were annoyed by the Vichy propaganda emanating from the radio station on the islands of St Pierre and Miquelon in the Gulf of St Lawrence; the United States took effective measures to immobilise the French naval forces in the Caribbean, which included the aircraft carrier Bearn and two cruisers, a less brutal method of ensuring that these ships did not become part of the German navy; French warships in British and British imperial harbours were either seized or interned.21 France was included in the blockade imposed on Germany and Italy, and a convoy of French ships sailing from Madagascar to France was intercepted and detained in November;22 French ships sailing past Gibraltar were carefully watched, intercepted, and examined, and occasionally ‘detained’. But for the British in the Far East it was the hostility of the French in Indo-China which was crucial. The Japanese were quick to understand the situation and pressured the Vichy French to allow them access to Indo-China, particularly to airfields, and especially to the region later known as South Vietnam. Their first use of the airfields was to raid the Burma Road from near Hanoi – the road was an important supply line from Burma to the Chinese Nationalist forces now that the ports of southern China had been captured by the Japanese.23 From southern Vietnam the Japanese were no more than 250 air miles from northern Malaya, or 450 air miles from Singapore, and the region gave them a handy embarkation point for naval expeditions. A French attack on Thai ships and the seizure of two Thai provinces by France earlier had already predisposed the Thai government to support Japan. The British battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse had travelled from Britain with maximum publicity, on the assumption that they would be an effective deterrent to Japanese attacks in the region. But from Vietnam Japanese planes proved to be within air range of them when they sortied from SingaTraditional Enemies. Chronology, 112.

21 Grainger, 22 Rohwer, 23

Ibid, 45.

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pore, and once they were sunk the Japanese were able to transport invasion forces to Malaya. Between the French territories and Malaya (and Burma) was Thailand, vulnerable, inclined to Japan, and giving access by land to both British territories; there was also a useful railroad connecting Bangkok and northern Malaya, which the Japanese made use of for their invasion. Once the Japanese had decided that the embargo on oil and other military essentials imposed by the United States in August 1941 and supported by Britain and the Netherlands, was unbearable, their forces were in a handy position to seize effective control of Thailand’s railways, and they could invade the British territories by sea and land. In December 1941, Hong Kong, Malaya, and British Borneo were attacked simultaneously, as were the United States’ possessions of the Philippines, Wake Island, and Guam (and the United States’ Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii). The invasion forces and bombardment fleets had already been on their way for several days; the Japanese had changed their radio codes at the beginning of the month; these clues was noticed in sufficient time to produce an understanding of the immediate Japanese threat, but not to secure sufficient force to prevent the attacks.24 By February 1942 the Singapore base was taken by a land attack from Malaya, and the British Battle Squadron had been sunk. The Allies – Britain, Australia, the Dutch, and the United States – formed a joint command to defend the Indonesian region, the forerunner of later, more effective, Allied collaborations. An Allied fleet was defeated and destroyed in the Battle of the Java Sea, and this led to the collapse of the Allied command as Japanese forces drove the various allies apart, separately into the Pacific, the Indian Ocean, and Australia.25 By these conquests the Japanese gained access to many of the materials blocked by the embargo – the Dutch colonies and Burma were oil producers, Malaya was a source of rubber and tin, and the whole region produced a surplus of rice. The problem thereafter was in transporting these riches to Japan; the Japanese submarine fleet was initially successful in attacks, but Japanese anti-submarine tactics were woeful and its merchant transport fleet inadequate from the beginning. This all was, of course, a series of major defeats for the Allied forces, British, United States, and Dutch. All at once India, Burma, Australia, and the British islands in the Pacific and the Indian Oceans were in the front line. Australia and New Zealand scuttled swiftly under the shelter of the United States once it became clear that it was capable of mounting a serious defence. (This, together with the loss of Malaya, Burma, British Borneo, and Hong Kong, was the effective end of the British Empire in the Far East – the British return to all these places after the war was never more than temporary; the destruction of two H.P. Willmott, Empires in the Balance: Japanese and Allied Pacific Strategies to April 1942, London 1982, 130–174; there are, of course, many accounts of these events, particularly the Pearl Harbor attack. 25 Ibid, chs 9 and 10. 24

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battleships and the loss of these crucial colonies may have given the French thirst for revenge a little satisfaction.) The conquest of the Dutch and Philippine islands had in effect separated the Japanese war into Pacific and Indian Ocean battlefields, so that the Allied joint command system vanished (to the relief of both commands), and the Allied fleets in the two oceans operated independently; in both oceans the Japanese battle fleet, commanded by Vice-Admiral Nagumo, was able to range freely for several months, until it met eventual defeat at the Coral Sea and Midway battles in May and June. The first effective defeat for this fleet, however, was in its raid into the Indian Ocean in search of the British East Indies fleet in April. Simultaneously a subsidiary raid was made into the Bay of Bengal, commanded by Rear-Admiral Ozawa, sinking merchant ships and bombarding shore ports, while the main Japanese fleet under Admiral Nagumo searched for the British fleet. The harbours of Colombo and Trincomalee in Ceylon were bombed and two British cruisers, Cornwall and Dorsetshire, were found and sunk by air attack; the auxiliary cruiser Hector and the destroyer Tenedus were sunk at Colombo. In the raid on Trincomalee the British ships had left the harbour before the Japanese planes arrived, but they were located; the carrier Hermes, the destroyer Vampire, and the corvette Hollyhock were sunk. Admiral Somerville brought the British fleet out to attempt to intercept and fight the Japanese forces. The Catalina flying boats did locate the Japanese fleet, but the British were unable to inflict any damage on the enemy ships. The Japanese reconnaissance planes, on the other hand, consistently failed to locate the main British forces. Somerville was making use of a new base which had been developed at Addu Atoll in the Maldives quite recently; the Japanese missed it. Nagumo withdrew after the raids, which had lasted from 3 to 10 April. Considerable damage had been caused to the British forces, apart from the sunken warships and the damage to the port facilities, twenty-three merchant ships had been sunk, but overall the raid must be considered a failure, since its main purpose had been to find and sink the British East Indies fleet, and it had failed in this. Once it was clear that the Japanese had withdrawn, part of the fleet went to Bombay, which had good dockyard facilities, and the main force went to Kilindini on the coast of Kenya.26 The strategy here was to keep the East Indies Fleet in existence, and so to maintain it as a threat and a deterrent should the Japanese venture again into the Indian Ocean. Japanese tactics in air warfare had proved to be potent, and the British air weapon was outmatched (though it was aircraft numbers which were decisive in the air over Ceylon, not competence), so the fleet had to stay alive until it could be re-equipped, retrained, and reinforced to sufficient level of strength and skill to face the enemy. 26

Ibid, 441–445; Simpson, Somerville Papers, documents 229–241; Rohwer, Chronology, 154–155.

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The Vichy French regime in Madagascar had been largely ignored by the British until the Japanese war came, but once it became clear that the equivalent regime in Indo-China had materially assisted the Japanese invasion of Malaya, the French in Madagascar were seen as a possible Japanese ally, and it was decided to pre-emptively remove that threat. An actively hostile Madagascar, and its use as a Japanese base, would be a major threat to the convoy system in the Indian Ocean; the Vichy regime was not strong enough to begin active hostilities itself, but the Japanese navy was certainly showing interest in the region, at first as a resupply base for its submarines. An expedition was mounted all the way from Britain, and was reinforced when it arrived by ships from the East Indies Fleet. The key, from a maritime point of view was Diego Suarez, a capacious harbour and anchorage at the north end of the island. This was taken by assault, preceded by air raids by aircraft from the carrier Illustrious, within two days. After a pause, the British decided that the rest of the island would have to be taken as well, and this campaign lasted until August. By then there was no enemy or enemy-sympathetic territory west of Java.27 The Japanese submarine I-30, one of a submarine flotilla which hovered off Madagascar in June 1942, had been searching for the British fleet, and systematically looked into Aden, Djibouti, Zanzibar, Dar es-Salaam, and Mombasa. It went on to look into Durban, then to the islands of Reunion and Mauritius, but it did not apparently know of Kilindini, nor Addu Atoll. Another of the flotilla, I-10, sent a seaplane to examine the South African ports from Durban to Simonstown. None of these reconnoitring flights was detected by the British, and the Japanese only discovered the force at Diego Suarez by chance; torpedo attacks damaged the battleship Ramillies and sank a transport. But the Japanese apparently did not have the imagination, or perhaps the strength, to see that a base in Madagascar could be developed, despite the fact that Japanese navy had many island bases in the Pacific.28 It is a clear sign that Japan was already feeling the strains of overextension, one which the battle of Midway emphasised. This all happened while the war in the Pacific was in the balance. The victory of the United States Navy at Midway in June (while the capture of Diego Suarez was taking place) put the Allies in the driving seat at sea – the four Japanese carriers which had raided Ceylon were sunk – though any clear territorial advance took another year to be achieved. This defeat also helped to focus Japanese attention on the Pacific theatre, which was seen, correctly, as a threat to Japan itself. It may be noted that the British strategy of withdrawal and survival had actually been adopted by the United States Navy in the Pacific Chronology, 161; Grainger, Traditional Enemies, chs 10 and 11; Buckley, Five Ventures, 165–207; Philip M. Allen, Madagascar: Conflicts of Authorities in the Great Island, Oxford 1995. 28 Rohwer, Chronology, 169–170. 27 Rohwer,

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in the months immediately after the Pearl Harbor attack (and Midway was part of that strategy). They then had many opportunities for local defence in the many islands of the region, a factor not available in the Indian Ocean. (And 1941–1942 signalled the death knell of the battleship, which was largely helpless against air attack – three Italian, two French, one German, three British, and eight United States battleships were sunk in that same year.) The distraction of the Japanese, from searching for the East Indies fleet to watching United States efforts in the Pacific (or on the war in China), was a serious error on their part, but it is one more example of the lack of coordination amongst Britain’s enemies, as well as Japanese over-ambition. As a result the ships of the East Indies Fleet became for two years a reserve force, repeatedly seeing ships taken away to support the Mediterranean Fleet. It was thus impossible for Somerville to contemplate serious attacks on Japanese positions, though he was able to use the time to train his ships and aircraft properly, a factor he identified as critical as soon as he took command.29 The capture of Italian East Africa and French Madagascar removed the possibility that enemy bases in these areas could be established without exposing a Japanese expeditionary force to a devastating attack. The western Indian Ocean, from South Africa to the Bay of Bengal was under British control, and this was the essential preparation for the eventual counter-attack against the Japanese conquests. But the ocean was also alive with convoys which were moving forces and war materials to India and Australia, and to support Russia by way of Iran (and had been doing so even while the Japanese fleet posed a potent, present threat); it was this capability of the Allies as much as anything else which marked another major ongoing and continuous defeat for the enemy forces.30 The effective boundary between Japanese and British in the Indian Ocean was somewhere a little west of Indonesia, but well clear of Ceylon. The navies of the British territories and Commonwealth countries in the east were being steadily built up from 1940, partly by the delivery of British-built ships and partly by the arrival of United States ships from 1942. Dockyard facilities in Ceylon, Bombay, and Australia were developed and expanded – Sydney had a dockyard capable of taking the largest carriers by 1945 – and air power was decisively increased. The Indian Navy, which had become the Royal Indian Navy from 1934, had only eight warships at the outbreak of war, and this was generally increased; on the other hand, all its ships were still small – sloops, minesweepers, trawlers, launches, torpedo boats. The number of its personnel reached 20,000 by 1945, and this included a number of women recruited to work on shore duties. But there were very few Indians in the ranks of For more detail than is necessary in this account see Simpson (ed.) Somerville Papers, part III, The Eastern Fleet, January 1942–August 1944, 349–586. 30 Ashley Jackson, Of Islands, Ports, and Sea Lanes: Africa and the Indian Ocean in the Second World War, Warwick 2018, chs 11 and 12. 29

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the officers (the first Indian-born officer, an engineer, was only commissioned in 1923). The Australian and New Zealand navies were increased in power and size by a much greater proportion, and included heavier warships, but they mainly operated inside the United States’ command system in the Pacific. In the Indian Ocean there was some enemy submarine activity, the Japanese submarines being based primarily at Penang. They operated principally in the Bay of Bengal and towards Ceylon, which once again became the British fleet’s main headquarters during 1943. German submarines were now able to reach the Indian Ocean, partly because they were able to resupply from German supply ships stationed in remote locations, and partly because they were able to base themselves at Penang by agreement with the Japanese (though personal relations there were not of the best); the Germans operated as the ‘Monsun’ wolf pack, but the boats actually worked singly. Again, however, none of this activity was a serious threat to British operations. By late 1943 the British East Indies Fleet was seriously planning for campaigns of reconquest. The Mediterranean was cleared of most enemy forces in that year, so that ships from that fleet could be sent into the Indian Ocean to build up the East Indies Fleet – and this shorter voyage between Europe and the Indian Ocean greatly economised on transport shipping. The first attack on the Japanese position in Burma, the Arakan campaign, was made in that year, and while it was a failure, it was a clear earnest of intention.31 The ability of the British forces to mount seaborne attacks along the Burmese coast was a sign that Japanese seapower was waning fast. In the Pacific several islands had been retaken from the Japanese by United States’ forces. Combined with the Japanese defeat at Midway, the United States attack on the Solomon Islands, the defeat of Japanese invasions of New Guinea by Australian forces, and the Japanese inability to make any serious attacks on the Indian Ocean territories, it was obvious that the tide of victory had turned. The British fleet in the east at the end of 1943 had been reduced to a single battleship (Ramillies), one escort carrier (Rattler), eight cruisers, and twenty or more destroyers, sloops and so on. It had only six submarines, which reduced the harassing operations which would have been mounted to one or two boats at a time, usually in the obvious target area, the Malacca Strait. In January 1944 the 1st Battle Squadron arrived from the Mediterranean, and this included two battleships (Queen Elizabeth and Valiant), the battlecruiser Renown, two large carriers (Illustrious and Unicorn), two cruisers, and twenty more destroyers (including Dutch ships); ten submarines were also added. This allowed submarine operations to spread from the Malacca Strait north to the Burmese Tennasserim coast, severely retarding the Japanese ability to reinforce and supply their forces in Burma.32

31

Louis Allen, Burma: The Longest War, 1941–45, London 1984, ch. 2. Chronology, 299.

32 Rohwer,

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This was again a clear sign of aggressive intent, though that sea frontier between Ceylon and Sumatra, which had been a useful defence against Japanese attacks, was now a useful Japanese defence against British attacks. To put the next events into some sort of context, the war in Italy was stuck at the Cassino position, the Normandy invasion was still in the planning and organising stage, and in the Pacific the United States and Australia were still fighting in New Guinea and the Solomon Islands, though the strategy of ‘island hopping’ in the central Pacific, by ignoring Japanese garrisons in favour of securing undefended islands which could then be used as air and sea bases, and so enabling attacks to be made on the Japanese homeland, was beginning its inexorable advance. The sea war in the Indian Ocean until early 1944 was mainly conducted by submarines. The arrival of the large British reinforcements had a serious effect on the ability of both German and Japanese boats to operate. Several of them were soon sunk, as was an increasing number of ships aiming to supply their forces in Burma. The Japanese now adopted a policy of murdering the survivors of any ships they sank, an obvious indication of increasing Japanese desperation.33 The East Indies Fleet used its submarines repeatedly in the Malacca Strait area, then in April the whole fleet sailed to bombard and bomb the Japanese airfield and refinery on Sabang Island off the north coast of Sumatra. The air war here was distinctly in the British favour, their raids destroying twenty-four planes on the ground, and their fighters shooting down all the defending enemy planes; only one plane was lost, and the pilot was rescued. The fleet now included the visiting United States carrier Saratoga and its three attending destroyers, the French battleship (Richelieu), and Dutch, Indian, Australian, and New Zealand ships. A second raid, on Surabaya in Java in May, was carried out as a farewell to Saratoga, which was escorted on its return by way of Australia to join the Pacific war.34 This remained a pattern of the fighting in the Indian Ocean, through the rest of 1944 – raids and bombardments on Japanese airfields and oil refineries in Sumatra and Java; the pursuit of and hunting for enemy ships in the Indian Ocean; submarine activity in the Straits of Malacca. The result was the progressive degrading of the Japanese maritime effort in the area. Only the occasional Japanese submarine was now able to go far from Penang, and the base there was used by only a few boats. The Japanese transport system became dependent by early 1944 on the use of junks and fishing craft, none of which could carry much in the way of cargo, and all of which were extremely vulnerable to attack.35 That is, by the time Admiral Somerville was succeeded in 33

Ibid, 299–300. Ibid, 313, 323; Ben Jones (ed.), The Fleet Air Arm in the Second World War, vol. II, Navy Records Society 2018; David Hobbs, The British Pacific Fleet: The Royal Navy’s Most Powerful Strike Force, Barnsley 2011, 39–45. 35 Hobbs, British Pacific Fleet. 34

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command on 8 August by Admiral Bruce Fraser, the fleet he had commanded for nearly three years had recovered control of the Indian Ocean as far as the shores of Burma and the Dutch East Indies, and had grown to a major maritime force.36 (This happened while an even greater maritime force was being deployed in the invasion of Europe (‘D-Day’), once again validating the prewar Admiralty calculations.) In November the enlarged East Indies Fleet, which had been further reinforced with more carriers, cruisers, and destroyers, had also developed a fleet train of supply ships and support ships on the pattern which had been developed by the United States Navy in the Pacific. It was now subdivided into a new ‘British Pacific Fleet’ under Admiral Fraser, and the smaller East Indian fleet commanded by Vice-Admiral Sir Arthur Power. The latter included the battleships Queen Elizabeth and Renown, five escort carriers, eight cruisers, and twenty-four destroyers; the Pacific Fleet had two battleships (King George V and Howe), four carriers (Illustrious, Indefatigable, Victorious, Indomitable), seven cruisers, and three destroyer flotillas.37 The Pacific fleet used its air strength to raid Japanese positions, particularly airfields and refineries at several places in Sumatra. This was partly to punish the enemy, but also to develop the necessary tactics for the war it was going to be fighting in the Pacific. After replenishing at Trincomalee the fleet set out for Australia on 16 January 1945, carrying out more raids along the way. Meanwhile the East Indies fleet concentrated on supporting the British campaign in Burma, landing forces at Ramree Island, and bombarding Japanese positions within reach of the coast. Submarines in the Malacca Strait continued to sink the small supply ships the Japanese had now been reduced to employing. The recovery of the former British colonies would depend on British forces taking armed control of each of them. There was a not-so-subtle anti-colonialist campaign amongst United States politicians and commanders which continued all through the war, arguing for the independence of India and against the British recovery of its colonies (just as there had been in the Great War a generation earlier). This time, however, it was more potent, especially on the back of British defeats and a widespread Indian insurrection in 1942. The United States’ assumptions were that colonies were finished and should be given up, though what would replace the Japanese occupations was not discussed. The overall aim, of course, was less to free subjugated colonies, and more to dismantle the British Empire, which had always been regarded as a powerful imperial competitor to United States’ power.38 The victorious British campaign in Burma during 1945, however, made a subsequent return to Malaya relatively straightforward, since the Japanese forces there were clearly Somerville Papers, 392–401. Chronology, 377. 38 Christopher Thorne, Allies of a Kind: The United States, Britain, and the War Against Japan, 1941–1945, Oxford 1978. 36 Simpson, 37 Rohwer,

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demoralised. A major operation to land 100,000 troops in northern Malaya was organised, though it did not actually happen until after the Japanese surrender (and was a fiasco when it did take place). In March the British Pacific Fleet was in action east of Okinawa, as landings by United States’ forces were taking place on the island. The British ships operated as a task force (‘TF.57’) and were used to repeatedly bomb airfields on the Sakashima Islands; these were just as repeatedly repaired by the Japanese when the aircraft withdrew to the carriers for the night.39 At the same time, in April, a landing was made near Rangoon, which was taken, or retaken, on 3 May after minimal resistance. This was a large maritime operation, six convoys with over 160 landing craft, escorted by six Indian sloops, twenty-two minesweepers, two cruisers, four escort carriers, and fourteen destroyers and frigates. Simultaneously, and to prevent any Japanese interference with the landings, a bombardment operation was launched against the Nicobar Islands and on Japanese bases in the Mergui peninsula. This marks the definitive reconquest of Burma, though Japanese forces remained in occupation of parts of the south-eastern territory until the overall Japanese surrender.40 During May the Pacific fleet, still bombarding the Sakashimas while the fighting on Okinawa ground on, was subject to kamikaze attacks. All four carriers were hit, but, having armoured decks, such hits were usually not seriously damaging, though Formidable was partly disabled; the ships normally resumed operations within a few hours. (United States carriers were usually put out of action for some time by such attacks.) The submarines of the East Indies Fleet were active not only in the Malacca Strait by now, but also in the Java Sea and off Flores. The Japanese forces in the Nicobars and Andamans were largely isolated, and several attempts were made either to supply or evacuate them. These were often successfully intercepted.41 The fighting on Okinawa was completed on 22 June. The Pacific Fleet moved on to join in the bombardment of the Japanese mainland, operating first in the Tokyo area. A British force built around the carrier Implacable and the escort carrier Ruler, with four cruisers and four destroyers as carrier protection, bombed and shelled the Japanese base at Truk.42 A joint United States and Australian landing at Brunei began the liberation of the British colonies there. This was the second British colony to be recovered.43 Preparations for the invasion of Malaya began with minesweeping off the Nicobar Islands, and minelaying off enemy coasts, including the Kra Peninsula, which was subject to air raids on any Japanese positions which were detectBritish Pacific Fleet, chs 6–9. Chronology, 412; Allen, Burma, 479–487. 41 Rohwer, Chronology, 404–405. 42 Hobbs, British Pacific Fleet, 200–211. 43 Rohwer, Chronology, 420. 39 Hobbs,

40 Rohwer,

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ed. For the first time, kamikaze attacks took place on East Indies ships. British submarines reached into the Gulf of Thailand, into the Java Sea, and near to Singapore; their victims were almost entirely junks, even sailing ships, though the occasional steamship still survived in the area – until sunk, of course.44 On 15 August, the Japanese government announced its acceptance of the terms agreed at the Allies’ conference at Potsdam, and the Pacific war officially ended, though it took many weeks to clear out the Japanese forces from their conquered lands. Various Japanese generals and admirals signed surrender documents in Malaya, Singapore, and in the Dutch East Indies, but the British nevertheless went ahead with their landing operation – Operation ‘Zipper’ – in north Malaya, aiming to retake both Malaya and Singapore, and these were reoccupied by early September. Against objections from both the United States command and the local Chinese Nationalists, a British naval force with Admiral Fraser on board retook Hong Kong, and, in a deliberate gesture of continuity, fetched the governor who had been in office in 1941 from his prison and reinstated him.45 Some Japanese explosive boats seemed to threaten resistance; they were bombed to destruction. The official surrender ceremony took place on the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay on 2 September, with representatives there of not just the United States, but Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and India, China, Russia, France, and the Netherlands – and, of course, Japan. It still took until late October to secure the Japanese forces overseas. Then there was the task of clearing up the mess left by the war

44

Ibid, 423, 424. British Pacific Fleet, 306–316; Thorne, Allies, 547–554.

45 Hobbs,

14 Imperial Withdrawal (1945 and after) The British Pacific Fleet was at its most powerful, numerous, and potent at the point when it ceased to be required, a comment which can also be applied to the Royal Navy as a whole. In September 1945, as the Japanese were signing the surrender document, the fleet included nine aircraft carriers, six replenishment carriers, four battleships, eleven cruisers, an anti-aircraft ship, three fast minelayers, and seventy-one destroyers and smaller craft; in addition there were ninety ships in the two fleet trains, one train manned by Royal Navy personnel, the other, termed ‘auxiliary’, manned by civilians. There were also twenty shore establishments of various sorts, mainly in Australia. Then, in the next three years, the Pacific Fleet was reduced to two cruisers, nine destroyers and frigates, and sixteen other ships.1 In that same period, the commander-in-chief of the station lost control of the Indian Navy, and effectively relinquished any real influence over the Australian and New Zealand navies, which had grown in the war years to the status of independent organisations. There still remained a force of ships in the Indian Ocean, based at Suez, at Aden, in Kenya, and at Singapore, but it was reduced in strength similarly. There was just one British fleet once more east of Suez. This reduction was accomplished in the midst of a long series of crises and difficulties following the end of the war, which culminated in a new war in Korea between 1950 and 1953. In the five years after the surrender of Japan most of the countries from China to Africa underwent political convulsions, which in the end destroyed the political basis for the navy’s presence in eastern waters; it had always been an instrument of empire, and with the empire mostly gone, the fleet was not necessary. The Pacific Fleet’s first task was to rescue, collect, and despatch home the prisoners of war held by the Japanese. Many were debilitated, requiring careful feeding, clothing, and medical care. They came from all the original imperial lands, from the lands of the Allies, and the United States, and there were well over a hundred thousand of them.2 As that task, and the return of active soldiers from various islands and posts for demobilisation, was accomplished, so the fleet was reduced, and its personnel were similarly despatched home, to take up their civilian jobs once more.

British Pacific Fleet, appendices B and C, 387–390. Ibid, 322–346, exact numbers are not known.

1 Hobbs, 2

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The lands which had been liberated also required attention, since in most cases they were not happy at the prospect of the return of the former imperial powers. The British seriously attempted to return to Burma as rulers, rather than as liberators from Japanese occupation. This was the British colony which had been most seriously damaged by the fighting, but they were opposed, passively, politically, or actively in arms, by almost the whole population, so that to return would have involved a reconquest of the whole country. It became officially an independent state in 1946, defying all the threats and promises the British could muster, and British power was never reimposed in most of the country. British rule had never been popular since the much-resented serial conquest of the country between 1824 and 1885, and the British failure and defeat in 1942, exposing its political and military weakness, was decisive.3 The irony of all this was that it was in the reconquest of Burma that Britain had achieved the only major land victory by itself of the eastern war, and this was then rejected by the supposed beneficiaries. Burma had now suffered from the violent imperial attentions of two successive empires, and that was clearly two too many. Burma was the first of the dominoes to fall. The reactions of many other colonies, protectorates, and British ruled lands during the war had made it clear to those who could see, that British rule was widely and deeply resented. In this, of course those in the United States who were complaining about the British Empire being restored, were arguing with the tide. There had been risings, rebellions, agitations, and so on in Egypt, Iraq, Palestine, India, Burma, and Malaya, and soon in Kenya and South Africa, against British rule, and those dominions which had already freed themselves were drifting further away. The British Empire was finished. Once Burma was independent, India followed in 1947, leaving the empire amid division, massacre, and overt rebellion, then Ceylon in 1948, and with the independence of those three countries much of the rationale for the Asian empire evaporated. In naval terms the gates into the Indian Ocean at the Cape, Suez, the Strait of Malacca and Singapore, and Australia, had been seized in order to prevent other navies approaching India. This had succeeded in the twentieth century until 1945 (except for a couple of years at Singapore and the Malacca Strait), as it had in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but the Indians were not persuaded that this sufficed as a convincing reason to keep them under British rule. The Indian Empire’s collapse into half a dozen separate political units made the control of the Indian Ocean unnecessary. But there was an episode in India which, like the Burmese reaction to the prospect of the return of British rule, illustrated exactly why that rule had become so much disliked (not that there was ever much sign that it was liked in the first place, except in the amour propre of the British administrators, who 3

John Darwin, Britain and Decolonisation: The Retreat from Empire in the Post-War World, London 1988, 97–106.

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fondly imagined they were admired). During the war, the Royal Indian Navy had been expanded, starting with seven patrol ships of dubious origin, considerable age, and general debilitation. As an indication of the obvious neglect inflicted on the Royal Indian Navy before 1939, there is the description by its captain of the wallowing progress of the Ratnagiri, its dirty condition, and the general incompetence of its crew, who had been gathered through bribes paid to agents or bureaucrats. When one of the navy’s vessels was sunk in a storm, the bureaucratic reaction was to conclude that since the ship no longer existed, the personnel allocation to the Navy should therefore be reduced – and this was in the midst of the Japanese war.4 By 1945 the Indian Navy had frigates, sloops, and a variety of smaller craft, and employed about 30,000 men and women, increased from the 2000 or so employed in 1939. This was a force, minor, no doubt, but which had performed a useful role in the defeat of India’s, and Britain’s, enemies. Ships of the navy had fought in the Red Sea against the Italians, at the Sicily landings, and along the Burmese and Indonesian coasts against the Japanese. But – and here was a standard Indian government measure – all the ships were small. There had been a couple of cruisers on the strength, but these were removed. Just as the army did not allow Indians to control artillery and tanks, so the navy had not been allowed to man any large ships. That is, the Indian government under British control still sensed the shadow of the great mutiny of almost a century before hanging over them – no heavy weapons were to be permitted in Indian hands, no senior officers were to be of Indian origin. That is, fear and mistrust reigned. After the war, however, two major problems emerged – or rather became prominent enough for British officialdom to notice. Very few Indians had been commissioned as officers, and instead a set of Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve castoffs had been foisted in to command and officer the ships; they were usually inefficient and ignorant both of the navy and of India, and they were, in modern terms, inveterately racist. The men who had manned the ships until then – Indians – were far more skilled than these newcomers, yet they were being denied the status which went with their skills. The navy was to be reduced, so that demobilisation began – starting with those who had served the longest, thereby removing the most skilled sailors first.5 The result was what the British regarded as a mutiny, a word which necessarily frightened any British official in India considerably, and with good cause. Inevitably, and largely because of the British reaction to the Indian complaints, it became violent. It was centred in Bombay, where the men of at least sixty ships were involved, but

4 5

E.C. Streatfeild-James, In the Wake: The Birth of the Indian and Pakistani Navies, Edinburgh 1983, 79–82. A detailed discussion of these causes is in Anirudh Deshpande, Hope and Despair: Mutiny, Rebellion and Death in India 1946, Delhi 2016.

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it spread also to other bases, in particular to Karachi, and fed into anti-British reactions in many parts of the interior.6 It began as a protest over bad food, badly cooked (shades of Battleship Potemkin, the film by Eisenstein), but there had been plenty of preliminary signs – slogans painted on walls in support of Indian independence, serious and animated discussions over the trials of the Indian National Army leaders who had joined the Japanese, but who had in Subhas Chandra Bose a leader of considerable stature. There had been a dozen or so small mutinies and disturbances amongst Indian soldiers and sailors during the war, including a fairly large desertion of Indian prisoners of war to fight for the Japanese in Malaya and Burma, but these had been scarcely noticed more widely in India. The navy was evidently not a happy environment for its sailors, and the ground was well prepared for major trouble. The mutineers received no support from the Indian politicians, other than words – though the Communist Party was busily involved in stoking the grievances of the men, grievances which already existed – and the support they did receive from the people of Bombay soon degenerated into a communal riot. During this the police – agents of the governing power, of course – vanished, leaving the crowd to loot shops and torch moneylenders’ offices to steal their money and destroy their records; it was eventually put down by several battalions of British troops, using the usual brutality of occupation forces, at a cost of perhaps 300 civilian lives. Once it became clear that the Indian National Army leaders on trial would not be seriously punished, it was also impossible to do so to the leaders of the mutineers.7 This event is curiously missing from British histories of India, and from British annals of ‘decolonisation’, and indeed it is also absent from much Indian historiography. It gains no mention in the Oxford History,8 though Wm. Roger Louis does point out that it was a crucial event in its impact on the

6

Ibid, table 1, page 8. In the Wake, 196–210, describes the mutiny from his point of view; he was in Bombay at the time, and claims to be the officer who first ordered fire to be opened on the rioting mutineers – it is difficult to tell in his account if he was proud of this or ashamed. Of the books I have to hand, Colin Cross, The Fall of the British Empire, London 1968; Denis Judd and Peter Slinn, The Evolution of the Modern Commonwealth, 1902–80, London 1981; Darwin, Britain and Decolonisation; and Peter Clarke, The Last Thousand Days of the British Empire: The Demise of a Superpower, 1944–47, London 2008, do not mention it; Deshpande, Hope and Despair, discusses the absence of discussion in India; Christopher M. Bell, Naval Mutinies of the Twentieth Century: An International Perspective, London 2003, 212–232, has a reasonable account. Apart from this and Deshpande a fair account is in Wikipedia, ‘The Royal Indian Navy Mutiny’; Smith, in the Oxford History, ignores it.

7 Streatfeild-James,

8

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British politicians who were considering the future of India.9 For it suggested, in an atmosphere of agitation for independence, and with the memory of the ‘Quit India’ campaign in 1942 – also put down by British troops with the usual violence and civilian casualties – that no part of the Indian Armed Forces, nor any part of the population for that matter, could be regarded as ‘loyal’ to the British Raj, and that, unless British policy shifted towards political concessions of the most drastic sort, the example of the disturbances in Burma on a much greater scale was threatened. Eighteen months after the mutiny, India became independent. The lack of commemoration of the naval mutiny in India – until recently, and in strong contrast to the pride taken in the mutiny of 1857 – was because the politicians had arrogated to themselves the credit for achieving independence; independent agitations were not to be acknowledged. British politicians similarly took credit for ‘awarding’ India its independence. The British and Indians thus collaborated in suppressing mention of one of the decisive events during the independence movement. But the former Indian Empire also became divided, into ‘India’ and the two parts of ‘Pakistan’. (Actually these three sections could be increased to five, since Burma and Ceylon were often regarded as part of the ‘Indian Empire’, even six, if the Maldive Islands are included.) Just as the empire itself was divided, so the Indian Navy was split between the new India and Pakistan. The sailors had to be allowed to choose which new country and new navy they would go to, as were the British officers, many of whom stayed on for a time, but only so long as Indian and Pakistani officers could be trained and commissioned. The ships were divided in the ratio of two to India and one to Pakistan, though by the time of the political partition there were only four frigates, seven sloops, and forty smaller vessels left to be distributed, and neither country could be a major seapower with such a small naval force. The division was amicable, unlike the partition.10 The ‘loss’ of these ships was perhaps not a serious diminution in British sea power, but along with the independence of the several sections of the former Indian Empire went the bases the Royal Navy had used, at Bombay, Karachi, Colombo, and Trincomalee. The remaining bases at the extremes of the ocean, in Egypt, Aden, and Singapore, were also under pressure from then on. There was an insurrection in Malaya led by Chinese Communist guerrillas (referred to euphemistically as ‘the Emergency’), from the end of the war until its final suppression in 1957, when the country became an independent monarchic federation. Royal Navy vessels patrolled the coasts on both sides of Malaya, with the aim – successful as it seems – of denying seaborne supplies to the Wm. Roger Louis, Ends of British Imperialism: The Scramble for Empire, Suez, and Decolonisation, Collected Essays, London 2000, in the essay ‘The Partition of India and Palestine’, 405. 10 Streatfeild-James, In the Wake, 214–219. 9

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guerrillas (which came principally from Communist China), and did so without provoking war with China, all very much in the usual foggy diplomatic/ military condition of the region.11 Singapore was held a little longer, and continued even after its own independence from Malaysia as a useful base for the Royal Navy. In Egypt there was continuous pressure against the British presence, which was concentrated along the Canal from 1952, and was withdrawn in 1954; the attempted return in 1956 – the ‘Suez Crisis’ – failed due to United States opposition and the prospect of financial penalties. The end of the British Empire was a messy and violent process, despite the British myth of a graceful exit. Not only that, but constant excuses – local wars, keeping ‘order’, the Communist threat, residual imperial pride – were found to maintain a naval (and often a military) presence in the former empire. Above all this was the case in the Indian Ocean, as though the navy could not bear to let go. In the period from 1945, despite the reduction of the Pacific Fleet and regular withdrawals – or expulsions – from direct political involvement in Asian affairs, there was nevertheless a continuing active British naval presence throughout eastern waters. This was not so overwhelmingly present as before – though, in fact, one of the points about the British control of the Indian Ocean before 1939 was that it was always fairly unobtrusive, consisting of relatively few ships, and this was the case also from 1950, though the purpose of the naval presence was different. In the Korean War an aircraft carrier group operated off the Korean west coast (the United States navy took the east coast), bombarding enemy positions, and supporting the British Army contingent fighting on land.12 The recovery of Hong Kong in 1945 had provided a base for the actions of the subsequent four years in support of British interests in China during the Chinese Civil War. These included the notorious episode of the sloop Amethyst, which was besieged by Chinese Communist land forces in the Yangzi for three months in 1949.13 The Amethyst’s retreat, or its escape, depending on one’s source and perspective, marked the effective end of British and other foreign naval intrusions into Chinese inland waters. The new Communist regime, victorious in the civil war on the mainland, extinguished all foreign concessions and commercial interests (except for Hong Kong’s lease of the nearby mainland). The Korean War followed within a year, and Hong Kong served as the new base for the squadron employed there; the surviving Chinese Nationalist forces based in Taiwan (formerly Formosa) imposed a blockade on the mainland which Eric Grove, Vanguard to Trident: British Naval Policy Since World War II, London 1987, 150–152. 12 Duncan Redford and Philip D. Grove, The Royal Navy: A History since 1900, London 2014, 230–234; J.P. Lansdowne, With the Carriers in Korea: The Fleet Air Arm Story, 1950–53, Worcester 1992. 13 Felton, China Station, 158–173. 11

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could be penetrated only if the Communist government permitted.14 The later and very gradual re-opening of Chinese ports – a process reminiscent of the slow opening of Chinese ports in the nineteenth century – did enable trade to resume after some years, but in fact only when the Nationalist regime in Taiwan and the Communist regime on the mainland both allowed it. There was, however, little need for the involvement of the Royal Navy in Chinese waters after the end of the Korean War other than a few ships posted in Hong Kong harbour. The French defeat in Indo-China in 1954 found a Royal Navy squadron off the Vietnamese coast collecting British subjects fleeing from another Communist takeover, a task which had to be repeated off the South Vietnamese coast in 1975 with the defeat of United States’ forces and their South Vietnamese allies. The navy was progressively reduced to bases at Aden and Singapore (and Hong Kong) after 1956. The South African base at Simonstown was handed over to the South African Navy in 1957, but a British naval presence in the South Atlantic remained at St Helena and Ascension Island – but St Helena was dependent on South Africa for supplies, and Ascension became an almost closed base for United States’ space operations. The Falklands War in 1982, however, demonstrated that these two bases were potent enough to provide the Royal Navy with easy access into the region. The navy also remained active in the Indian Ocean. It was used to react to developments which were seen as affecting British interests, all too often fuelled by imperial nostalgia. In 1961 a threat from Iraq against Kuwait brought a British intervention, first by landing a force of Royal Marines, then the presence of two carriers to provide air support. This was sufficiently deterring to protect the Emirates, and would be counted as a success.15 In the next three years actions in Brunei deterred Indonesian attacks, and then from 1963 to 1966 a wider campaign continued Indonesian interventions in other parts of British Borneo. (The Indonesians had attempted to seize Dutch New Guinea in 1962, and had been defeated.) The Indonesian ‘Confrontation’ as the intrusions were called, in a transparent attempt to imply that it was not violent, came partly by land infiltrations countered by small groups of Special Air Service soldiers, and partly by sea, which were intercepted by the navy.16 In the midst of this an attempted military coup d’état (usually described as a mutiny) against the newly independent government of Tanganyika in 1964 was foiled by Royal Marines landed from the aircraft carrier Centaur; earlier a revolution in neighbouring Zanzibar provoked by the Tanganyikan government, had led to the evacuation of

Peter Armstrong, ‘The China Coast Blockade in the 1950s’, in Harding et al., British Ships in China Seas, 113–118. 15 Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 65–66; Redford and Grove, Royal Navy, 246–247. 16 Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 239: Redford and Grove, Royal Navy, 247, 260. 14

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threatened British and United States subjects. The two countries subsequently united as Tanzania.17 These operations were generally successful, partly because the aim of each was kept minimal, and the activity was relatively low-key. The Indonesian imbroglio finished in 1966 – there had been no war, so there was to be no peace agreement. But in 1965 the one remaining British territory in Africa, Rhodesia, which had long been under white minority rule, unilaterally declared itself to be independent (‘UDI’). It was in a relatively strong geopolitical position, inland, well armed by African standards, and supported by friendly neighbours, Portuguese to east and west, and South Africa to the south, both under white minority or white colonial rule. It was no longer possible for British forces to intervene directly, so at least it was assumed in Britain – an assumption reinforced by political reluctance and covert sympathy for the white rulers in certain groups in Britain. Resort was had to a declared blockade of Beira in Portuguese Mozambique, the main port through which supplies, particularly oil, were imported. A standing patrol of warships – actually a single ship – attempted to impose this blockade, though with little overall success, since there were plenty of other routes for supplies to reach Rhodesia.18 Nevertheless, despite its apparent lack of success, the ‘Beira patrol’ had much symbolic significance, emphasising that the Rhodesian regime was, in international terms, illegitimate, and that the country was still Britain’s political responsibility. It also held out a beacon of hope to the black majority population of all southern Africa that they would be emancipated at some point in the relatively near future. In the event, the white-ruled block of states in southern Africa began to crumble in 1974 with a revolution in Portugal, which led to the independence of Angola and Mozambique. This in turn allowed the patrol to be abandoned, since the new black regimes in the now independent neighbouring countries imposed their own blockades (and permitted the training of guerrilla forces to attack the white regime). It still took several years to overthrow the white Rhodesian regime and install black rule as Zimbabwe. This finally took place in 1979. The Beira patrol had certainly made its contribution to the disintegration of the whole white position in southern Africa. The position of the Royal Navy in the Indian Ocean came under question in the late 1960s, partly as a result of the cost of the Beira patrol. The number of obligations British governments acknowledged was reduced as countries became independent, though a residual obligation did exist to assist Commonwealth countries, an obligation which gradually faded away. The naval base at Singapore was sold off, and the base at Aden was abandoned when the South Arabian Federation was constructed and became independent in 1967. (This involved another naval evacuation of the garrison, under fire, a sort of 17 Cable, Gunboat Diplomacy, 241; T.M.P. Stevens, ‘A Joint Operation in Tanganyika’,

RUSI Journal 1963. Gunboat Diplomacy, 123–126; Redford and Grove, Royal Navy, 259–261.

18 Cable,

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reverse of the original conquest by the Company in 1839 – dislike again.) The associated treaties, minor bases, and so on, became described collectively as ‘East of Suez’, and the Navy’s role there was to be reduced after the final crisis in Aden in 1967.19 It was not quite so easy, of course. Apart from the Beira patrol, which lasted until 1975, some of the political obligations which could not be abandoned were to the countries beside the waters of the Persian Gulf, through which supplies of oil from Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia moved to supply the rest of the world. Another intervention in that area, in 1971, helped the several minor Gulf chieftaincies along the Arabian coast to form themselves into the United Arab Emirates, at first under British protection, and they and Qatar forthwith assumed the status of independent states. This remained a highly sensitive region which called repeatedly for an intermittent British naval presence for the next fifty years, usually as part of a coalition of naval forces led by the United States – the Armilla Patrol in the 1980s, the First Iraq War in 1991, the Second Iraq War in 2003, the continuing tension with Iran. The essential basis of this was to safeguard the oil supplies produced by the surrounding states, but usually the intervention was also part of the United States-led process of applying political pressure on those countries, notably Iran. The constant presence of the United States’ forces in the region led to the island of Diego Garcia in the Chagos Archipelago being handed over to the United States, for it to serve as that navy’s base in the Indian Ocean. This was a modern example of the succession of naval powers which had happened repeatedly since the arrival of Vasco de Gama in 1494, each succeeding navy lighting on the same, or similar, points from which to exert its power throughout the ocean – before Diego Garcia, there was Addu Atoll, Goa, Bombay, Mauritius, and so on. By 2000 British power outside Europe was occasionally significant, but rarely on its own. The decision in the late 1960s to relinquish residual British responsibilities ‘East of Suez’ marked the effective end of British ambitions to play a major role outside European waters, a decision only delayed in implementation by the Beira Patrol’s long continuance, and was completed by the transfer of Hong Kong and Kowloon to Chinese sovereignty in 1997. The occasional appearance of British naval vessels in the Indian and Pacific Oceans thereafter was of no real significance – for example, the prospective voyage (in 2021) of the new large carrier Queen Elizabeth into the Pacific will serve only to irritate China – a notably sensitive country, capable of seeing insults everywhere – without having any real purpose. The British presence in eastern waters has therefore reverted to what it was in the first century and a half of the life of the East India Company – commerce and occasional defence.

19

Redford and Grove, Royal Navy, 257–260.

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That presence, nonetheless, had lasted for about four centuries, and for two of them the navy’s presence in the Indian Ocean was a decisive element in the projection of British power. That presence passed through a series of stages. First, there were the well-armed ships, half commercial, half naval, of the Company, which roamed the ocean from South Africa to Japan in search of cargoes. This gave way to a concentration on the Indian trade once the Dutch had asserted their power in the Indonesian islands and excluded others, defeating both the Portuguese and English in the process. This stage was accompanied by the creation of a subsidiary Indian-based navy, which became the Bombay Marine. This condition lasted from the first voyage of James Lancaster in the 1590s to the acquisition of Bengal in 1757. It involved the acquisition of bases at Bombay, Madras, Calcutta, and other towns, but there had been no intention of extending Company power inland, other than to secure goods for export. For much of that century and a half the Company had operated as a subsidiary, or protectee, of the Mughal Empire. It was the collapse of that empire in the 1740s which brought the Company (and its French rival) to operate more widely, and militarily, inside India. It was only with the East India Company’s extension of its power into the possession of a major province of India – Bengal – that this earlier, purely commercial, phase was superseded. The earlier possessions – Bombay, Madras, even Calcutta – were only trading stations, where goods acquired in India could be stored in preparation for shipment to Britain when shipping space permitted. But with the control of a large and rich province, the needs and activities of the Company changed. It acquired an army which was more than a mere castle guard; its naval needs similarly expanded. By the end of the eighteenth century it had become the dominant land power in India and the dominant sea power in the Indian Ocean, defeating major Indian powers, and driving off the competing French Navy. The British government, partly greedy, partly alarmed at the growth in power of a mere company, and partly seeing the need both to rescue the Company and control it and its territories, had imposed itself by a series of Acts of the British Parliament. The decisive change came with the persons of the earliest Governors-General – Warren Hastings was a Company man and administrator, his successor Earl Cornwallis was a servant of the Crown and royal officer. It became necessary in this second phase, one of conquest, from 1757 to 1820, to institute a secure naval defence. The Company ships and the Bombay Marine were adequate to deal with the ‘pirates’ of the Indian coasts, and even with the Portuguese and Dutch in Indian waters, and the Company’s ships could make their way from India to Britain in safety most of the time. The intrusion of a major naval power – France – was, however, a matter which called for the Royal Navy to defend the Company’s position. This was achieved in a series of wars from 1740 to 1810, notably the defensive victories of Admiral Hughes against the assault by Admiral Suffren in 1782 and 1783. After Napoleon’s defeat there was no serious challenge to the British position in eastern

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waters until 1942, and even the Japanese challenge in that year lasted no more than a couple of weeks. The third phase, from about 1800 to 1947, saw the political and military and naval conditions gradually change, even as British control of the Indian Ocean seemed firm. The Company’s commercial reach expanded to take in the China trade; the British naval reach secured control of the entrances to the Indian Ocean by the settlement at Botany Bay (1788), the conquest of the Cape of Good Hope (1806), and the settlement of Singapore (1819), and its control of the ocean never varied thereafter. (The other European colonies in the region only existed by British acquiescence, as the conquest of the Dutch colonies in Indonesia and Ceylon and the Cape during the Napoleonic wars clearly illustrated.) The Indian Ocean became a British Lake. The Company itself, however, gradually changed. It lost its commercial functions in 1813 and 1833, and became an imperial administration until the Indian Rebellion of 1857. It was then compelled to surrender that function to the British government’s control. In the process the number of British navies in the Indian Ocean multiplied. The Bombay Marine was active in suppressing those who were identified as pirates, and also in surveying, exploration, and occasional conquests; the Royal Navy disdained such mundane activities and concentrated on major warfare, and the Bengal Marine consisted for the most part in pilot boats on the Hugli River. As these navies expanded their activities so more territories were acquired – Mauritius, Burma, Aden, Hong Kong, Western Australia, Borneo – signifying the geopolitical possibilities which went with control of the Indian Ocean. There may have been other European powers in control of parts of the ocean coastlines – the Dutch, Portuguese, French, even German briefly – but it was only by tacit permission of the Royal Navy, and in effect, both the Dutch and the Portuguese in the ocean were under British protection. In this final phase the Royal Navy was supreme. The Bombay Marine was made over into the Indian, then the Royal Indian, Navy, an insignificant and neglected force. The Bengal Marine sank back into its pilot boat mode. And from the 1860s the Royal Navy was so in control of these eastern waters and the approaches that it had little need to deploy many ships there; its activities were confined to anti-slavery patrols, and to reducing piracy – a role which enabled the extension of British controlled territories here and there, often by the initiative of an ambitious individual. Even the Great War scarcely impinged on its continuance, though the Second Great War certainly did. The conquest of the Italian colonies in Africa in 1940–1941 was accomplished partly by forces from outside the ocean region, as was the recovery of Iraq and the securing of Iran, and later the conquest of Madagascar, but also with considerable Indian naval and army participation. The challenge of Japan in 1942 was the first major naval intrusion into the region since Admiral Suffren in the 1780s, and it could be claimed that it was seen off with relatively small casualties, though it did see Japanese conquests in

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Malaya and Burma; but these were peripheral territories of the Indian Empire, and India itself was not seriously threatened; Burma was regained within two years, and Malaya was about to be retaken when the American Pacific campaigns brought the Japanese to final defeat. So the successive and overlapping British navies, Company, Marine – Bombay and Bengal – Royal, Indian, Royal Indian, controlled the Indian Ocean and its approaches, and had a strong influence in Chinese waters, from the 1750s to 1947. This was in fact the latest in a series of thalassocracies controlling the ocean. Its predecessor was the Portuguese, who established control soon after 1500 until they were challenged by the British and the Dutch, but were not deposed from their dominating position until the British reduced them to an effective protectorate, symbolised by the transfer of Bombay from Portuguese to British control in the 1660s. Before the Portuguese, there had been a Chinese episode in the first half of the fifteenth century, but that had not been a convincing exercise in sea power. Earlier Arab seamen had dominated along with Persian and Indian shipping. But all these early Asian ventures into sea power were really brief and partial and soon faded away. Such power was really not necessary if only commerce was involved. So it was in fact only with the Portuguese that a serious attempt was made to control the Indian Ocean, and only with the Royal Navy that such an attempt was successful over a lengthy period. This was secured by naval victories against European enemies – Portuguese, Dutch, French – and was maintained without difficulty by the suppression of aspirant native sea powers – the Angres, notably, but also other groups of ‘pirates’ who could have grown into serious sea powers if they had not been suppressed – operating along the coasts of the eastern countries. Only the Japanese came close to a serious challenge, and that quickly faded as they took on too many enemies all at once; this was never a mistake the British made in the east, fighting, as they did, their enemies one at a time. The end came with the internal collapse of the British Empire – successful defiance in Burma, insurrection in Malaya, expulsion from China and Egypt and Aden, and above all a determined drive (assisted in a vital moment by the naval mutiny) for independence in India. With Indian support or acquiescence the British could have continued, but without India there was no point in controlling the Indian Ocean from Britain. Within twenty years of Indian independence, the British withdrew almost entirely from ‘East of Suez’. There has been no successor to the British control of the ocean since the withdrawal of the Royal Navy. There are signs, however, that several aspirants are seriously considering taking on the role. The United States, with its strong interest in the Gulf and its base at Diego Garcia and other places is in pole position, but has displayed only limited aims in this respect; China has intruded itself by various means, formalised by the slogan ‘Belt and Road Initiative’, but had been developing its interests long before that was announced; it has a minor naval base at Djibouti and has displayed interest in gaining influence in

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Sri Lanka, in several African countries and elsewhere, but has little in the way of actual naval power in the ocean; its attitude is strongly reminiscent of the fifteenth-century voyages of Zheng He, aimed at securing submissions and exchanging tribute for gifts; its arrogance, reminiscent of British behaviour at its worst, is steadily antagonising its partners/victims. The most likely contender is India, which is beset by enemies in Pakistan and China, and considers the Indian Ocean its mare nostrum; such pressures and its central geographical position in the ocean could be crucial; it is not, however, no more than is its competitors, seriously sea-minded. Which of these will prevail is not obvious, since all three are only tentatively establishing themselves as sea powers. One might hope that the result will not be a major conflict – it took the British a century and a half to establish their sea power in the ocean on a permanent and continuing basis, and repeated wars.

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Index Abadan, Iran ​262 Abbas, Shah of Persia ​22, 27 Abercromby, Sir John, General ​178, 179 Abercromby, Sir Ralph, General ​158 Aboukir Bay, Egypt ​157 Acapulco, Mexico ​10, 69, 97, 138, 170 Acheh, Sumatra ​8, 13, 19, 56, 76, 79, 127–128, 129, 130, 191 d’Ache, Anne-Antoine, Comte, Admiral ​ 91, 92–94, 95, 124 Adams, Will ​16, 42 Addu Atoll, Maldives ​266, 283 Adelaide, Australia ​233 Aden, Yemen ​158, 208–209, 210, 233, 241, 243, 246, 254, 267, 275, 279, 282–283; map 1 Afghanistan ​205, 207–208, 216, 219, 226, 259–260 Ahmedabad, Gujarat ​19 Ahwaz, Persia ​227, 228, 230 Aian, Russia ​225 Aigun, China ​226 Akyab, Burma ​194 Alaska ​4, 221, 224, 225 Alava, Ignacio de, Admiral ​155 Aldercron, John, Colonel ​89, 90, 91 Aleutian Islands ​224 Alexander, Thomas, Captain ​151 Alexandria, Egypt ​105, 158 Alibag, Malabar ​72 Amanapura, Burma ​218 Amboyna, Moluccas ​24–25, 148, 150 Amherst, Lord ​189, 196, 197 Amiens, Treaty of ​160 Amoy, China ​44, 60–61, 66; map 3 Amsterdam, Netherlands ​24 Amur River, Siberia ​221, 225, 229 Andaman Islands, Bay of Bengal ​137; map 2 Angre, state and family, India ​71–74, 76, 85, 89, 97, 98, 108

Kanhoji ​71–76, 97 Manaji ​73–74 Sambhaji ​73–74 Tulaji ​86–87, 88, 89 Anjengo, Malabar ​123, 129 Anne, Queen ​59 Annesley, Samuel, President of Surat ​54 Anson, George, Admiral ​68–69, 78, 83, 138 Arabia, Arabs ​8, 17, 42, 54, 70, 159, 192, 200, 205, 210; map 1 Arabian Sea ​53, 56, 89, 128, 168, 254, 259; map 1 Arafura Sea ​137, 138; map 2 Arakan, Burma ​194, 197, 200, 269 Arcot, Carnatic ​127 Nawab of ​74–75, 76, 83, 102 Armada, Spanish ​8, 11 Armagaon ​27 Army, British, in India ​87 regiments: 2nd ​208 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry ​227 10th Hussars ​219 12th Lancers ​219 17th ​170 33rd ​153 39th ​89, 90, 91 78th Highlanders ​208 79th ​88, 93, 97 Queens ​208 Arnhem Land, Australia ​198 Arunang, EIC post ​150 Ascension Island  201 Assab, Eritrea ​260 Assam ​194, 197, 206 Atfeh, Egypt  235 Atlantic Ocean ​7, 10 Auchmuty, Sir Samuel, General ​159, 181–182 Aungier, Gerald ​39

301

302

Index

Aurangzeb, Mughal Emperor ​40–41, 49, 51–52, 53, 57–58, 59, 65 Austen, Sir Francis, Admiral ​218 Australia ​63, 68, 108–109, 137, 197–199, 200, 206, 217, 223, 243, 252, 271 First World War ​250–251 naval command ​202–203, 246, 247, 249 Navy ​253, 269, 275 Second World War ​259, 264, 265, 268, 275; map 2 Austria ​58, 153, 159, 175 Ava, Burma ​197, 218 Awadh ​117 Azevedu, Hieronimo de ​20 Bab el-Mandeb ​158 Baghdad, Iraq ​157, 165, 202 Bahama Islands ​68 Baird, Sir David, General ​158, 159, 173, 174 Baji Rao, Maratha Peshwa ​73 Balaji, Maratha Peshwa ​87, 88 Balambangan, Borneo ​138, 139, 191 Balasore, Bengal ​64 Baldwin, George, agent in Egypt ​143, 148 Bali Strait ​151, 167 Ball, Alexander, Captain ​156, 174 Baltic Sea ​219, 221, 256 Banda Island, Indonesia ​148 Bandar Shapur Iran ​262; see also Gombroon Bandula, Maha, Burmese general ​196 Banka Island, Indonesia ​191 Banka Strait ​150 Bankot, Bombay ​87 Banks, Sir Joseph ​139 Bantam, Java ​13, 17, 19, 42 Barfleur-La Hougue, battle ​49 Barker, Thomas ​22 Barnet, Curtis, Commodore ​76–77 Bartholomew Diaz ​1 Basra, Iraq ​22, 94, 105, 157, 165, 169, 193, 201, 262; map 1 Bass Strait, Australia ​199 Bassein, Bombay ​74, 103 Bassein, Burma ​218 Batavia (ex Jakarta), Java ​21, 78, 130, 136, 138, 148, 151, 153, 165, 191 blockaded ​116, 156, 174; map 2

Bathurst Island, Australia ​198 Batticaloa, Ceylon ​93, 95, 117, 124, 125, 126, 147 Bay of Bengal ​17, 41, 43, 64, 118, 119, 133, 151, 154, 165, 166, 168, 170, 177, 180, 266, 268, 269; map 1 Beijing, China ​189, 212, 214, 229–231; see also Peking Beira, Mozambique ​282–283 Belgium ​51 Bengal ​40–41, 49, 54, 57, 66, 77, 90, 95, 115, 118, 130, 163, 170, 200, 284 British conquest ​91–92, 99, 107 presidency ​106 Bengal Marine ​195, 205, 285 Benkulen, Sumatra ​25, 42, 94–95, 166, 190, 191, 198; raided ​166, 167 Bentinck, Lord William ​166 Berbera, Somaliland ​200 Bering Strait ​109 Bertie, Albemarle, Admiral ​176–177 Best, Thomas ​18, 19 Bharoach, Gujarat ​103 Bickerton, Sir Richard, Admiral ​126, 128, 129–130 Biddle, Commodore ​187 Bihar ​163 Bijapur ​57, 58 Billiton Island, Indonesia ​191 Bismarck, German Chancellor ​242 Black Sea ​217, 219 Blackwall ​31, 32 Blair, Archibald, Lt ​137 Blankett, John, Commodore ​146, 158, 159 Bombay ​23, 35–37, 39, 40, 48–49, 50, 52, 57, 63, 69, 74, 76, 86, 90, 94, 101, 106, 128–133, 161, 232, 243, 268 and French Revolutionary War ​146 Hughes at ​128–129 local aggression ​103–104, 120 and Mysore ​103–104 naval base ​233, 246, 277–278, 279, 283 presidency ​140, 162 shipbuilding ​207; map 1 Bombay Marine ​4, 36, 38, 39, 45, 56, 58, 85, 89, 94, 98, 117 and Angres ​70, 72, 74, 85 conquests of Mauritius and Java ​182 and Dutch posts ​147

Index extension of action ​105–106, 128, 140–141, 235 fluctuating size ​85–84, 163–164, 202 at Mangalore, 129 and Mysore ​102–103 and Napoleonic War ​166 origin ​30 and piracy ​188 reform of ​161–162 surveys by ​136–138, 141, 169–170 and Surat ​97–99, 101 see also Indian Navy Bombay and Bengal Marine ​232 Bon, General ​157, 158 Bonaparte, Louis, King of Holland ​174 Bonaparte, Napoleon, Emperor ​153, 157, 158, 160, 164, 175, 177, 182, 188 Boone, Charles, President of Bombay ​71 Bordeaux, France ​152 Borneo ​190, 191, 205, 217, 247, 265; map 2 Boscawen, Edward, Admiral ​78–79, 85 Bose, Subhas Chandra ​278 Botany Bay, Australia ​139, 161, 197, 199, 285 Bouchier, Richard, President of Bombay ​ 87 Bougainville, Louis Antoine de, Captain ​ 108, 110 Bourbon Island, 65, 145, 164, 177, 178, 200; map 1 Brazil ​1, 243 Bremer, Gordon, Captain ​198, 199, 211 Brest, France ​164 Bristol ​11 Britain ​2, 3, 49 distance from India ​63–64 French wars ​49, 65, 69, 75, 83–99, 145 government regulates EIC ​140 invasion threat ​157 British Columbia, Canada ​220–221 Brooke, James, Raja of Sarawak ​216 Broughton, W.R., Commodore ​180–181 Bruce, Frederick ​229 Bruce, Henry William, Admiral ​225 Brunei, Borneo ​216, 272, 281 Bryden Dr ​207–208 Buckingham, Duke of ​33 Buenos Aires ​159, 173 Bugis, Indonesian mercenaries ​52

303

Burma ​115, 242 Ango-Burmese Wars ​194–197, 205, 217–219, 242 independence to ​76, 279 Second World War ​257, 264, 265, 269, 271, 286; maps 1 & 2 Bushire, Persia ​169, 227, 228, 230 Bussy, Marquis de ​84–85, 90, 92, 127, 129–132 Byron, John, Captain ​68, 108 Cadiz, Spain ​129 Cairo, Egypt ​158, 159, 235; map 1 Calcutta ​36, 40, 41, 49, 57, 63, 64, 65, 76, 90–91, 104, 113, 116, 125, 143, 152, 195, 232 naval base ​233, 246 presidency ​140; maps 1 & 2 Calicut, Malabar ​68, 112 California ​7, 220 Cambay, Gujarat ​19 Cambodia ​52; map 2 Canada ​224, 236, 264 Canton, China ​43, 44, 52, 61, 64–66, 68–69, 96, 108, 117, 138, 153, 170, 189, 210–215, 228–229; maps 2 & 3 Cape Finisterre, battle ​78 Cape of Good Hope (‘the Cape’)  1, 7, 35, 42, 63–64, 66, 95, 115, 119, 130, 145, 172, 183, 232 British capture of ​146–147, 172–174, 176, 180, 199, 244, 276, 285 Dutch fleet captured ​148–149, 151, 161 First World War ​250 naval command ​202–203, 233, 246–247, 248 Second World War ​259 Cape Horn ​1, 67–68, 233, 250 Cape Horn Passage ​2 Cape Town ​69, 93, 148, 156, 215, 233, 244; map 1 Cape Verde Islands ​117, 122, 173 Caranja, Maharashtra ​74 Caribbean Sea ​53, 55, 154, 251, 264 Carnatic ​74, 75, 84, 104, 118, 209 Carteret, Philip, Lt ​108, 110 Castleton, Samuel, Captain ​20 Cavendish, Thomas ​2, 3, 7, 8, 67 Ceram, Indonesia ​19

304

Index

Ceylon ​8, 35, 38, 63, 65, 79, 93, 115, 116, 123–124, 143, 146, 147, 151, 160, 167, 171, 174, 199, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270 independence ​276, 279; maps 1 & 2 Chads, Henry, Captain ​197 Chagos Islands ​64, 137, 210, 283 Chandernagar, Bengal, French factory ​91, 96, 110, 111, 161 Charles I, King ​33, 34 Charles II, King ​33, 35, 38–39, 47–48, 58, 79 Charnock, Job ​40, 41, 49 Chesney, C.D., Captain ​201–202, 208 Child, Sir Josiah ​39, 40, 49, 59 Chile ​4, 220, 250 China, Chinese ​1, 2, 8, 94, 97, 218, 205; maps 2 & 3 Anglo-Chinese wars ​204, 205, 207, 210–215, 228–231 Boxer rising ​245, 247 early voyages ​9 English in ​34, 43, 44, 52, 60–61, 106, 176, 188, 206, 217 imperial expansion ​286–287 Japanese war ​245, 247 Ming dynasty ​10, 43 piracy ​238 Portuguese in ​16, 29 Qing (Manchu) dynasty ​43, 44 reunification ​280–281 routes to ​64, 135 Second World War ​253, 255–256 Taiping rebellion ​222, 229 trade with ​64–67 107, 116, 138, 139, 163, 166–167, 189, 220 China Sea  map 3 China station, naval command ​238, 248–249 Chingleput, Carnatic ​93 Chinsura, Bengal, Dutch factory ​95–96, 115 Chittagong ​41 Choshu, Japan ​239–240 Choul, Gujarat ​74 Chusan, China ​66 Cleghorn, Hugh, British agent ​147 Clive, Robert, Colonel ​84, 87–88, 89, 95–96 Coal depots ​208–209

Cobourg Bay, Australia ​198 Cochin, India ​142 naval base ​203; map 1 Cochin China (Vietnam)  138 Cock, Captain ​61, 69 Cockburn Sound, Australia ​198 Coen, Jan Pieterszoon ​21–22, 23–24 Colombo, Ceylon ​65, 148; map 1 naval base ​233, 266, 279 Comoro Islands ​13, 53, 69; map 1 Constantinople ​153, 165, 237 Cook, James, Captain ​68, 109–110, 137, 139, 163 Cooke, Edward, Captain ​154 Coote, Eyre, Colonel ​94, 113, 114–115, 118, 123, 124; death ​131 Coral Sea, battle ​266 Corbet, Robert, Captain ​177, 179 Cornish, Samuel, Admiral ​94, 97 Cornwallis, Lord, Governor-General ​137, 141, 143, 160, 162, 284 Cornwallis, Sir William, Commodore ​ 142, 143–145 Coromandel ​28, 38, 74, 78, 83–84, 122, 165 Cotton ​17, 163, 199 Courteen, Sir William ​34 Association ​34, 43 Courthope, Nathaniel ​21, 22 Cuba ​243 Cunha, Nuno de ​18 Craig, St James, General ​146 Cromwell, Oliver ​33, 34 Cuba ​96 Cuddalore, Carnatic ​75, 78, 79, 84–85, 89–90, 92, 114, 115, 125–127, 131, 165 battle ​132 captured ​123 Curtis, Sir Roger, Admiral ​157 Dale, Sir Thomas ​21 Dalhousie, Lord, Governor-General ​219 Dalrymple, Alexander, geographer ​65, 109, 138, 191 Dampier, William ​68 Da Nang, Vietnam ​138, 139 Dance, Nathaniel, Captain ​167–169, 172 Dar es-Salaam, Tanganyika ​267 Darien, Panama ​50

Index Daud Khan, nawab of Carnatic ​57 Day, Francis ​28, 37 Decaen, Charles Mathieu, General ​164, 172, 177, 179 Deccan, India ​58 Delhi ​51, 58; map 1 sack of ​75, 98 Denmark, East India Company ​51, 54, 105 Deptford ​31 Diego Garcia, Chagos Islands ​283 Diego Suarez, Madagascar ​260, 267 Djibouti ​260, 267, 286 Downton, Nicholas ​19–20, 30 Drake, Sir Francis ​2, 3, 7–8, 9, 67, 69 Draper, William, Colonel ​93, 97 Drury, O’Brien, Admiral ​175–179, 181 Dundas, Henry, President of the Board of Trade ​156 Dupleix, Joseph ​75, 76–77, 80, 84–85, 87 Durban, South Africa ​215, 267 Dutch ​1 Dutch East India Company (VOC)  13, 95, 98, 135–136, 140 Dutch posts ​146, 150 East Indies squadron ​174 English wars ​34, 35, 36, 38, 115, 117 expedition to China ​95–96, 138 privateers ​115 in Spice Islands ​16, 17 voyages ​11, 12 see also Indonesia, Netherlands Duvall, Thomas, Lt ​157–158, 160, 165, 169 East Africa ​8, 9, 53 Eastern Passage ​135–136, 139, 154, 167, 170, 191, 198 East India Company (EIC) abolition ​231 alliances ​27 army formed ​75 and China ​138–139, 188–189, 210–215 and Courteen’s Association ​34 Directors’ attitudes ​15, 24, 28, 31, 69 dissolution threatened ​34–35 and Dutch ​14–17, 19–22, 27 early voyages ​10, 13–14, 16, 17, 18 and Egypt ​105

305

emergence as an Indian great power ​ 117 expansion of military activities ​69–70, 89 government by ​162–163, 204 and Indonesia ​24, 42 innovations ​206–207 and interlopers ​33, 47–48 and Japan ​16, 17, 19 Joint Stock ​14, 30, 32 ‘loans’ to English governments ​33, 47 and Mecca pilgrimages ​37, 42 monopolies, abolition of ​188–189, 204 and Mughal Empire ​20, 31, 40–42, 54, 55, 57 and New East India Company ​51–53, 58–60 opposition to, in England ​30, 33, 47–49 origin ​3–4, 7, 12 and Portuguese ​14–15, 74 Presidencies: Surat ​31, 41 Madras ​29, 195 Bantam ​31 Calcutta ​41, 106, 195 reform ​183, 188 regulating Acts ​140 relations with British governments ​33, 34–35, 47, 105–106, 140, 188, 203–204, 264–285 shipbuilding ​30, 31, 37, 141, 162, 207 ships ​30, 31, 36–37 and Sumatra ​94–95 summary of history ​284–285 surveys ​136–138, 170 survival of ​44–45 Wars and conquests Angre ​71–74 Bengal ​91–92 Dutch ​38; 39 French ​49–50 Maratha ​70–71 Surat ​97–98 Sarkars ​92; East Indies, naval command ​202–203, 225, 233, 240, 246, 249, 262–271 Edo, see Tokyo Edward VI, King ​15 Egypt ​12, 106, 153, 170

306

Index

British conquests ​157, 160, 181, 243 French expedition to ​153, 157–158 transit route ​105, 143, 160, 201, 208, 235–238, 257, 259, 279, 280; map 1 Elephanta Island, Bombay ​74 Elgin, Lord ​165, 229, 230, 239 Elizabeth I, Queen ​3, 11, 15 Elliott, Charles, Captain ​210–211 Eliot, George, Admiral ​211 Elphinstone, Sir Keith, Admiral ​146, 148–149, 151; see also Lord Keith Elvon, Captain ​210 England, English ​1, 4 exploratory voyages ​17 exports ​17 Glorious Revolution ​48–49, 60 union with Scotland ​60 Wars: Dutch ​34, 35, 36, 38 French ​36, 56, 58, 76, 101–118 see also Britain, East India Company English Channel ​117, 245 d’Entrecasteaux, Captain ​136, 170 Eritrea ​254 Esquimault, Canada ​220, 246, 247, 249 d’Estaing, Comte, Captain ​94–95, 96, 105 Ethersay, Richard, Commodore ​227 Ethiopia ​205, 238, 240, 253–255, 260, 263; map 1 Eugenie, Empress  237 Eyre, Charles ​49 Falkland Islands ​108, 111 Fao, Persia ​237 Farquar, William, Major ​191 Fashoda, Sudan ​248 Febvrier-Despointes, Admiral ​222, 223, 224 Fiji ​242 Fisher, Jacky, Admiral ​248–250 Fitch, Ralph ​11 Flinders Island, Australia ​199 Flores Island  272 Ford, Francis, Colonel, conquers Sarkars ​ 92, 95 Formosa ​66; map 3; see also Taiwan Fort Bag Bag, Bengal ​91 Fort Duquesne, Pennsylvania ​85 Fort Jesus, Mombasa ​56 Fort Marlborough, Benkulen ​94–95

Fort William, Calcutta ​41, 49, 57, 90 France, French ​1, 221, 242 colonial defeats ​281 East India Companies ​39, 43, 51, 66, 75, 83, 84, 91, 111, 140 English wars ​36, 56, 83–99, 135 empire ​248 entente with Britain ​249 navy ​111, 112, 117, 129–130, 150, 188 revolution ​140, 150 Second World War ​256–257, 264 soldiers of fortune in Indian states ​ 143, 154; Freire de Andrade, Ray ​22 Fremantle, Australia ​246, 249 de Freycinet, Captain ​197 Frogier de l’Equille, Captain ​92, 93 Galle, Ceylon ​65, 121, 123 Galloway, engineer ​236 Ganges, River  34, 41, 52, 57, 64, 95, 195, 205 de Gaulle, Charles, General ​264 Germany ​205, 242, 244, 245, 247 empire of ​248, 250–251 First World War ​250–251 merchant ships ​259, 260 navy ​255, 269 Second World War ​253, 255–256 Ghafar, Abdul, Nawab of Surat ​53, 54 Gheriah 144; see also Vijayadrug Gibraltar ​70, 117, 129, 259, 263, 264 Gilbert Islands ​242 Goa ​9, 16, 66, 70, 73, 87, 102, 104, 106, 114, 129, 150, 207, 283 Godwin, general ​218 Gogo, Gujarat ​19, 22, 27, 29 Golconda ​17, 21, 29, 41, 43, 57, 58 Gold Coast, Africa ​50, 57 Gombroon, Persia ​12, 23, 42, 85, 94, 95, 104, 105 Goree, West Africa ​114 Gough, Sir Hugh, General ​214 Grand Canal, China ​212–214 Grant, Sir Hope, General ​230 Great Barrier Reef, Australia ​108 Greenwich ​3, 7 Grey, Lord, Prime Minister ​203 Griesee, Java  174, 175 Griffin, Thomas, Commodore ​78

Index Gros, Baron, General ​229 Guadur, India ​237 Guam Island ​3, 265 Gujarat ​19, 29, 70, 83, 85, 128, 163 Gulf of Thailand ​273 Hadramaut, Arabia ​210 Haidar Ali, Sultan of Mysore ​89, 102–104, 111, 114, 116, 118, 119, 120, 122, 124, 127, 128, 142 death ​129 Haile Selassie, Emperor ​260 Hakluyt, Richard ​3 Hakodate, Japan ​223, 224, 226 Halifax, Canada ​249 Hamilton, Alexander, Captain ​60–61 Harland, Sir Robert, Admiral ​111–112 Hastings, Marquess of, Governor-general ​ 191, 192 Hastings, Warren, Governor-General  95, 104, 105, 107, 116, 284 Hawaiian Islands ​109–110, 220, 222, 251, 265 Hawkins, William, Captain ​14, 16 Hayes, John, Commodore ​137, 149, 150, 166 Heath, William, Captain ​41, 44 Henry VIII, King ​15 Herat, Iran ​226 Hitler, Adolf, dictator ​255 Holland ​130 Hong Kong, China ​211, 215, 221, 223, 228, 230, 233, 248, 215, 218, 265, 273, 280–281, 283; maps 2 & 3 Honshu, Japan ​239, 250 Hope, Sir James, Admiral ​229–230 Hormuz, Persia ​22, 25, 27, 29, 30, 34, 42, 56 battle ​22–23 Horn, Captain, Dutch Voyager ​7 Hudson’s Bay Company ​221, 224 Hughes, Sir Edward, Admiral ​112, 114–117, 119–134, 284 Hugli, River  95, 97, 285 Humboldt Current, Pacific Ocean ​68 Hunt G.H., Captain ​228 Hyderabad ​74–75, 83, 90, 93, 102, 104, 141 Hyderabad, Sind ​208

307

Inchbird, Lt ​74 India  1, 2, 8, 12, 32 defence of ​199–200 independence ​276, 279 insurrection ​271 army mutiny ​205, 229, 231, 236 routes to ​60–65; map 2 Indian Navy (later Royal Indian Navy)  205–206, 231, 249, 268–269, 275, 277, 285 at Aden ​209 division of ​279 mutiny ​276–279 surveys ​209–210 see also Bombay Marine Indian Ocean  1, 7, 9; maps 1 & 2 country trade ​17, 152–163 Dutch in ​35 monsoons and sailing routes ​63–65 piracy in ​53–55 Portuguese power in ​9, 10, 16 Royal Navy domination ​48, 75, 182, 201–202 Second World War in ​257–271 Indochina ​258, 259, 269, 281; map 2 Indonesia ​2, 7, 12, 14, 18, 32, 106, 132, 188, 189, 265, 281–282, 284 Dutch control ​24–25, 32, 63, 115, 135, 139, 145, 161, 190, 199, 242, 258, 259 Japanese conquests ​265–266 piracy in ​216, 233 Indus, River  135, 208, 210, 217 Interlopers ​33, 34–35, 44, 47–48, 52; see also Courteen’s Association, New East India Company Iran ​8, 262, 263; see also Persia Iraq ​12, 22, 259, 261–262, 263, 266, 276, 281, 283 Ireland ​50, 60, 126 Irrawaddy River, Burma ​115, 218 Isfahan, Persia ​19, 21, 30 Italy ​58, 205, 253–255, 257, 259, 270 Jaffna, Ceylon ​123, 147 Jakatra, Java ​19, 21, 30 James I, King ​14, 20, 31, 33 James II, King ​47–49, 58. Janssens, Jan Willem, General ​180–181

308

Index

James, William, Commodore ​86, 87–88, 92, 98 Japan ​1, 2, 8, 16, 17, 29, 42, 52, 65, 110, 133, 176, 205, 217, 220–221, 223–224, 238–240; map 3 British alliance ​249, 251 Chinese war ​245, 248 Russian war ​248 seapower of ​251–252, 258 Second World War ​252–257, 264, 275, 286 Java ​13, 19, 32, 64, 95, 116, 130, 135, 156–157, 163, 167 British conquest ​180–182, 190–191, 193, 205, 226; map 2 Java Sea, battle ​265, 272, 273; map 2 Jeddah, Arabia ​104, 209; map 1 Jinji, Carnatic ​94 Johnson, Henry ​32 Johnstone, George, Commodore ​115, 116 Jones, Sir Harford ​176 Jourdain, John ​20–21 Kalyan, Maharashtra ​71 Kamchatka, Russia to ​22–24 Kanderi Island, Bombay ​81 Kandy, kingdom of, Ceylon ​147, 167, 199 Karachi, Sind ​208, 209, 237, 262, 278, 279; map 1 Karikal, Carnatic ​94 Karnataka ​74; see also Carnatic Karun River, Persia ​237 Kathiawar ​137, 193 Keating, Lt-Col ​177 Keeling, William ​31 Keigwin, Richard, Captain ​48 Keith, Lord, Admiral ​158; see also Elphinstone Kempenfelt, Richard, Captain ​93 Kenery Island, Bombay ​71 Kenya ​254, 259–260, 275, 276 Kermanshah, Persia ​196 Khorramshahr, Persia ​262 Khyber Pass ​208 Kiauchow, China ​215, 250, 251 Kidd, Captain, pirate ​54, 55–56 Kidderpur ​195 King George Sound, Western Australia ​198 Kismayu, Somalia ​260 Kolaba ​71, 72, 73

Korean War ​275, 280; map 3 Kosseir, Egypt ​158–159 Kowloon, China ​230 Kra peninsula, Thailand ​43, 272 Kuper, Augustus, Admiral ​239–240 Kurile Islands ​221 Kutch ​193 Kuwait ​281 Kyushu, Japan ​17, 239 Labuan Island, Borneo ​216, 233 Ladrone Islands, Canton ​155 Lahej, Yemen ​209 Lally, Thomas, general ​91, 92, 93 Lancaster, James ​2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 12, 17, 29, 284 de Lesseps, Ferdinand ​237 Levant ​11 Levant Company ​12–13, 31 Lindsay, Sir John, Captain ​110, 111 Linois, Charles Alexandre, Admiral ​164, 165, 166, 168 Littleton, James, Commodore ​55–56, 79 Livingstone, David ​243 Lombok Strait ​167 London ​11, 55 Lopez de Legaspi, Miguel ​10 Lucas, Admiral ​149 Macau, China ​16, 29, 43, 44, 50, 52, 65, 66, 150, 167, 173, 175, 176, 206, 211; map 3 Macartney, Governor of Madras ​125, 128, 132 Macassar ​17, 19, 42 Madagascar ​8, 13, 39, 50, 53, 55, 56, 64, 93, 137, 141, 152, 168, 173, 179; 205, 216, 218, 233, 247, 259, 260, 264, 267; map 1 Madeira ​116 Madras ​28–29, 36, 37, 41, 49, 52, 57, 63, 65, 75, 76; 85, 89–90, 94, 161, 180; map 2 capture and return ​77–78, 79 and French Revolutionary War ​146 Hughes at ​120, 122, 123, 126–133 and Mysore ​141–143 presidency ​140 siege of ​93, 102–103, 104, 106, 118 Magdala, Ethiopia ​240

Index Magellan ​2, 7, 68 Magellan Straits ​67, 108, 109 Mahe, Malabar, French post ​94, 114, 128, 142, 161 Mahe de la Bourdonnais, Captain ​75–77, 78 Makran, Persia ​137, 193 Malabar ​34, 38, 56, 64, 80, 83, 142, 165 Malacca ​7, 16, 22, 29, 32, 50, 97, 106, 144, 146–147, 148, 150, 161, 168, 180, 190–191, 198, 242 Malacca Strait ​64, 115, 135, 146, 151, 166, 167, 190, 199, 269, 270, 271, 272, 276 Malartic, Governor of Mauritius ​154 Malaya ​8, 19, 21, 137, 190, 200, 242, 2453, 258, 263, 265, 271–272, 273, 286; map 2 ‘Emergency’ 279 Malcolm, John, Captain ​176 Governor of Bombay ​201 Maldive Islands ​64, 210, 266, 279; map 1 Malta ​160, 161, 236, 263 Malwan, Malabar ​102 Manan Island, Ceylon ​147 Manchuria, China ​253, 255 Mandalay, Burma ​242 Mangalore, Malabar ​102, 103, 116, 128–129, 154 Manila, Philippines ​10–11, 97, 138, 152, 153, 155, 170; map 2 Manila Galleon ​2, 10, 67, 69 Marathas ​37, 57, 58, 70–71, 75, 83, 87–89, 117, 157, 231 Bombay-Maratha War ​114, 116 and Mysore ​120 navy ​101–102, 104, 128 succession dispute ​103, 104, 110 Mariinsk, Russia ​226 Marquesas Islands, 220 Marryat, Frederick, Captain ​195–196 Martaban, Burma ​194, 196, 218 Mary II, Queen ​49 Massawa, Eritrea ​170, 259, 260 Masulipatnam, Sarkars ​21, 28, 84, 91, 92 Matthews, Thomas, Captain ​72, 79 Mauritius (Ile-de-France)  53, 60–64 112, 116, 119, 121, 123, 127, 130, 143, 145, 148–149, 150, 152, 154, 156– 157, 161, 164, 165, 169, 173–174, 233, 252, 267, 283; map 1

309

blockade ​176–179 British conquest ​179, 182, 187, 200 Maxfield, William, Captain ​191 Mecca, Arabia ​10, 37, 42, 53, 54, 104 Medina, Arabia ​104 Medows, General ​116 Meerut, India ​231 Meester Cornelis, fort, Java ​181 Melbourne, Australia ​233, 246, 249 Melville Island, Australia ​198 Mergui Islands, Thailand ​43, 151, 200, 272 Mers el-Kabir ​256, 264 Mesopotamia, route through ​201, 208, 251; see also Iraq Methwold, William ​27, 30 Meuran, Charles de; regiment ​147–148 Mexico ​7, 60, 69, 97, 138 Mexico City ​10 Mhar, Maharashtra ​74 Middleton, Sir Henry ​16, 18 Midway Island, battle ​266, 267, 268 Mindanao, Philippines ​7 Mindon, Burmese King ​219 Minto, Lord, Governor-General ​175, 176, 177–178, 180 Mocha, Yemen ​16, 53, 104, 194, 200 Mogadishu, Somalia ​259, 260 Mohammed Ali, Nawab of Arcot ​103 Mohammerah, Persia ​227 Mohammerah canal, Egypt ​235 Moluccas ​9, 137, 150, 161, 179–180, 190; map 2 Mombasa, East Africa ​16, 22, 29, 56, 106, 267; map 1 Montresor, Colonel ​159 Moresby, Robert, Captain ​210 Mornington, Lord, see Wellesley Morocco ​1, 11 Motard, Captain ​170 Moulmein, Burma ​218 Mozambique ​9, 16, 66, 150 Mozambique Channel ​8, 137, 151, 173; map 1 Mughal Empire ​10–11, 14–15, 17, 18, 19–20, 27, 29 collapse of ​60, 69, 79–80 EIC as its successor ​117 Mughal-Maratha War ​37–39, 48 relations with EIC ​29, 30, 57, 264

310

Index

Muhammad Ali, Khedive of Egypt ​160, 209, 235 Muki, Sumatra ​166, 167 Mullastiva, Ceylon ​147 Multan, Sind ​217 Muravyev, Nikolai, Governor-General ​ 225–226 Murray, Charles ​266 Murshidabad, Bengal ​95 Muscat, Arabia ​57, 192, 244; map 1 Mysore, Sultanate ​83, 101–103, 110, 116, 117 Bombay War ​129 British conquest ​155, 157, 158 navy ​128 prisoners at ​125 Mussolini, Benito, dictator ​255 Nadir Shah, of Persia ​75 Nagasaki, Japan ​65, 176, 223; map 3 Nagumo, Admiral ​266 Nanking, China ​214, 215; map 3 Nantes, France ​180 Napier, Lord ​210 Napier, Sir Charles, General ​216 Napoleon III, Emperor ​236, 237 Natal, South Africa ​215, 244 Natal, Sumatra ​94 Navaar, Abraham ​40 Negapatam, Carnatic ​93, 98, 115, 119, 121, 125, 135 battle ​125–126 Negrais, Burma ​195 Nelson, Horatio, Admiral ​119, 121, 157 Netherlands ​145–146, 174, 176, 179, 265; see also Dutch Neuchatel, Switzerland ​147 New Caledonia ​137, 220, 243 Newcombe, Captain ​146–147 New East India Company ​44, 51–53, 57, 58, 64, 138 united with EIC ​58–60, 191 New Guinea ​68, 96, 137, 198, 247, 269, 281 New South Wales, Australia ​139, 198, 220, 243 New York ​54, 55, 181, 187 New Zealand ​68, 108, 109, 110, 205, 216, 217, 220, 223, 231, 238–239, 250 First World War ​250–251

navy ​253, 269 Second World War ​258, 275 Nicobar Islands ​56, 137, 159, 272; map 1 Nile River  158, 235 battle ​119, 121, 157 Ningpo, China ​66, 212 Nizam al-Mulk, ruler of Hyderabad ​74, 75, 76, 83, 92, 157 Normandy, France ​270 North-east Passage ​2 North Sea ​161, 250 North-west Passage ​2, 109 Norway ​256 Novas Ali, Nawab of Surat ​98 Nuku Hiva ​220 Nusserwanjee, Lowjee, shipbuilder ​14 O’Callaghan, George, Captain ​223 Okhotsk, Sea of ​2–5 Okinawa Island  272 Oman, Arabia ​56, 169 Onore, Maharashtra ​102, 103 Opium ​163, 189, 210 Oregon ​220 d’Orves, Admiral ​114–115, 119, 121 Ostend Company ​51 Ottoman Empire ​12, 14, 105–106, 157, 160, 176 Ovingham, Rev. John ​53 Oxenden, George ​39 Ozawa, Admiral ​266 Pacific Ocean ​2, 7, 67–69, 83; map 3 Crimean War ​220 currents ​10, 68 exploration ​108–110 naval command ​225, 247, 250; Pacific Fleet ​272–273, 275 routes across ​67–69 Padang, Sumatra ​94 Pagan, Burmese King ​219 Pakenham, Captain ​150, 152 Pakistan ​279 Palau Islands ​7, 138 Palembang, Sultanate, Sumatra ​190, 191 Palestine ​157, 262, 276 Palmerston, Lord ​218 Panama Canal ​251 Paniani ​129 Paracel Islands, China ​170

Index Patagonia ​7 Pattani ​19, 21 Pearl Harbor, Hawaii ​265, 268 Pearl River, China ​43 Pegu, Burma ​218, 219 Pehtang, China ​230 Pei ho, China ​229 Peking ​255; map 3; see also Beijing Pellew, Sir Edward, Admiral ​170–176 at Batavia ​175–176 Pellew, Fleetwood, Captain ​176, 221 Pelouse, Comte de  139 Penang, Malaya ​137, 139, 148, 150, 151, 153, 161, 166, 170, 172, 190, 242, 269, 270 Peninsula and Orient Co, 235, 236 Perim Island  158 Perry, Matthew, Commodore ​221, 224 Persia ​14, 17, 22, 27, 32, 42, 105–106, 175–176, 205, 241 EIC–Persian war ​226–228, 231; map 2; see also Iran Persian Gulf ​22, 23, 34, 56, 85, 89, 94, 104, 105–106, 118, 128, 140, 169, 176, 182, 188, 200, 210, 217, 227, 237, 241, 251, 259–260, 283 piracy ​192–193; map 1 Peru ​2 Petapoli (Nizampatnam)  17 Petropavlovsk, Russia ​222, 223, 224, 225, 227 Pett, shipbuilding family ​37 Peyton, Edward, Captain ​77–78 Philip III, King of Spain ​22 Philippine Islands ​7, 8, 44, 64, 68–69, 106, 108, 136, 138, 139, 145, 152, 170, 175, 258; map 2 British conquest ​96–98 Second World War ​265–266 Phillip, Arthur, Captain ​199 Pirate Coast ​169 Pirates, piracy ​50, 53–57, 59, 105, 141, 144, 188; Arab ​169, 176, 182, 192 Indonesian ​216, 217 Pitt, Thomas, President of Madras ​57, 107 Pitt, William, Prime Minister ​107 Plassey, battle ​91, 92 Plymouth ​11 Pocock, George, Admiral ​91–94, 97 Point de Galle, Ceylon ​172

311

Pondicherry, Carnatic ​75, 77, 84, 92, 93, 94, 112, 113, 114, 121, 143, 145, 161, 164, 168 capture of ​94, 113, 143 Popham, Sir Hume, Captain ​137, 159, 170, 173, 174, 210 Port Arthur, Manchuria ​245 Port Blair, Andaman Islands ​137 Port Cornwallis, Andaman Islands ​137 Port Essington, Australia ​198, 199 Port Louis, Mauritius ​119, 178–179 Porto Novo, Carnatic ​122–123 Porto Praya, Cape Verdes ​116, 122 Port Said, Egypt ​237 Port Sudan ​260 Portugal ​2, 3, 173, 270, 282 conflict with EIC ​27 decline ​15–16, 18–19, 56 English ally ​32 Estado da India dominates Indian Ocean ​8–9, 16 expeditions ​1 hostility to other Europeans ​14–15 imperial system ​9–11, 13, 14, 29 Potosi, Peru ​10 Power, Sir Arthur, Admiral ​271 Pratap Singh, ruler of Tanjore ​92 Prianam, Sumatra ​13 Price, David, Admiral ​221, 222 death ​223, 224, 227 Privateers ​12, 13, 34, 50, 86 Prome, Burma ​197, 218, 219 Providien, Carnatic, battle ​124–125 Pulicat, Dutch post, Coromandel ​28 Pulo Condore ​52, 64, 138, 139 Pulo Leat ​189 Pulo Run, Moluccas ​13, 16, 21–22, 24, 35, 42 Pune, Maharashtra ​37, 11, 110 Qasimi pirates ​169 Qishm Island, Persia ​22 Raffles Island, Australia ​198 Raffles, Stamford, governor of Java ​180, 181, 190–192 Rahunath Rao, Maratha Peshwa ​103 Rainier, Peter, Admiral ​145–147, 148, 150–153, 156–157, 164–166, 168, 169, 170

312

Index

Rairee, Bombay ​102 Rajamundry, battle ​92 Ramree Island, Burma ​271 Rangoon, Burma ​195–197, 218, 272; map 2 Ras el-Khaimah ​169 Rashid Ali, Colonel ​261–262 Ras Mussandam ​169 Red Sea ​17, 32, 34, 42, 53, 56, 104–105, 106, 118, 128, 153, 157–158, 161, 169–170, 191, 200, 208, 217, 233, 235, 241, 243, 247, 254, 260, 277; map 1 Rennie, John, commander ​227–228 Rhodesia ​281 Riau, Sultanate ​191–192 Rigaud, Nicholas ​153 Rio de Jangeiro, Brazil ​173 Rodney, George, Admiral ​119 Rodriguez Island  177 Roe, Sir Thomas ​20, 31 Rogers, Woodes, Captain ​68 Rowley, Josias, Captain ​177–179 Royal Indian Navy ​4, see Indian Navy Royal Navy ​4, 49, 72, 245 and Arab piracy ​193 buildup of strength ​111–114, 117, 170–171, 256 control of Indian Ocean ​99, 284–285 first fleet sent to India ​87 Indian Ocean naval commands ​202 Japanese War ​248, 250 Naval Brigade ​205, 217, 240, 244, 245 naval strength ​202–203 reduction in Indian Ocean ​101, 141, 145, 161, 188, 248, 249, 252–253 Second World War ​262, 268 Russia ​11, 163, 176, 205, 217, 240, 245, 249 Crimean War 219–220, 223, 226 Sabang Island, Sumatra ​270 Sadras, battle ​121–122, 132 St Augustine’s Bay, Madagascar ​53–54, 55 St Helena ​35, 63, 64, 173, 203, 281 St Mary’s Island, Madagascar ​54, 55 Sakashima Islands  272 Sakhalin Island, Russia ​225 Saldanha Bay, South Africa ​149 Salsette Island, Bombay ​103

Saltpetre ​163 Salween River, Burma ​218 Samoa ​43, 247, 250, 251 Sanaa, Yemen ​194 San Bernardino Strait, Philippines ​170 San Francisco ​7, 222, 224, 225, 251 San Thome, Carnatic ​28, 29 Santiago, Cape Verdes ​116 Saratoga, battle ​113 Sarawak ​216, 231 Sarkars ​84 British conquest ​92 Satsuma, Japan ​239 Sawantwadi ​73, 102, 103 Schomberg, Charles, Captain ​179 Scotland ​3 Scottish East India Company ​50, 53, 59 union with England ​60 Scott, Percy, Captain ​244 Sea otter ​163 Sercey, Marquis de, Admiral ​151–152, 154, 156, 158 Seringapatam, Mysore, 142, 155 Seychelles Islands ​64; map 1 Seymour, Sir Michael, Admiral ​228 Shah Jahan, Mughal Emperor ​34 Shahpur Island, Burma ​194 Shaista Khan, Mughal Governor ​41 Shandong, China ​188, 214, 245 Shanghai, China ​222, 223, 229, 245, 246; map 3 Shatt al Arab ​227, 262 Shikoku, Japan ​239 Shimoda, Japan ​225 Shimonoseki, Japan, battle ​239–240 Ships, Australian: Sydney ​261 Yarra ​262 Ships, Bengal Marine: Diana ​195–196, 201, 205, 206 Ships, Bombay Marine: Alceste ​189 Antelope ​85 Bombay ​141, 144, 147, 150, 152, 161–162, 166, 182 Cornwallis ​141, 144, 161–162 Fly ​169 Guardian ​86, 87 Hastings ​195, 202 Jehangire ​144

Index Lyra ​189 Mornington ​166 Nautilus ​144, 187, 192 Neptune’s Prize ​85 Protector ​87 Resolution ​85, 115 Revenge ​87, 92, 104 Ruby ​87, 102 Satellite ​ 196–197 Swift ​150 Star ​150 Teignmouth ​166, 169 Ternate ​190 Triton ​92 Ships, Dutch: Kortenaar ​174 Pluto ​174 Revolutie ​174 Schikeer ​174 Wilhelmina ​174 Willem ​174 Ships, EIC: Amity ​66 Ascension ​12 Bassein ​169 Britannia ​144 Brunswick ​144, 171 Ceylon ​178, 182 Comet ​156 Defence ​41, 52 Derby ​74 Discovery ​191 Dragon ​43, 44 Earl Camden ​157 Elizabeth ​50 Exeter ​144 Forbes ​206 Ganges ​168 Hector ​12, 13, 14 Herbert ​50 Hosiander ​18 Houghton ​144 Investigator ​191 James ​18 Kent ​156 Lion ​23 Merchant’s Hope ​20 Nonsuch ​144 Minto ​191 Nearchus ​191

Northumberland ​137, 138 Osterley ​113 Pearl ​156 Peppercorn ​32 Pitt ​64, 135, 136 Princess Charlotte ​168 Princess Royal ​144 President ​71 Red Dragon ​12, 13, 18 Royal George ​168 Solomon ​18 Speedwell ​94 Success ​71 Susan ​12 Swallow ​105 The Trade’s Increase ​32 Trincomalee ​156 Triton ​152, 156 Viper ​169 Warwick ​96 William Pitt ​144 Windham ​178 Ships, French: Achille ​76, 77 Actif ​91, 93 Alerte ​ 151 Amphitrite ​66 Annibal (ex Hannibal) 122 Astree ​178 Atalante ​142, 164, 172 Bearn ​264 Belle Poule ​164, 165, 171, 172 Bellone ​177, 178 Bien Aime ​92, 143 Bizarre, wrecked  127 Boule Gueule ​155 Brillant ​113, 125 Brunswick ​172 Canonniere ​173, 177 Caroline ​177 Chlorinde ​179 Cleopatre ​142 Conde ​94 Confiance ​156 Consolate ​113, 126 Coureur ​148 Cybele ​142, 144, 145, 148, 151 Expedition ​94 Favorite ​77 Fine ​120

313

314

Index

Flamand ​113, 125, 132 Forte ​151, 154–155 Fortune ​92 Heros ​121–122 Illustre ​91, 93, 126 Iphigenie ​178 Manche ​177 Marengo ​164, 165, 167, 168, 169, 171, 172 Minerve ​178 Minotaure ​92, 93 Moireau ​144 Naiade ​131 Neptune ​78 Nereide ​179 L’Orient ​ 114, wrecked 127 Piemontaise ​173, 176 Preneuse ​154, 155 Prudente ​144, 148, 151, 154, 155 Regeneree ​151, 154 Renommee ​179 Resolue ​142–143, 144 Richelieu ​270 St Michel ​126 Sartine ​113 Seine ​151 Severe ​114, 125 Surveillante ​164, 170, 176 Vengeur ​144 Venus ​177, 179 Vertu ​151, 154 Victor ​178 Zodiaque ​ 91 Ships, German: Admiral Graf Spee ​257, 259 Atlantis ​260–261 Bismarck ​263 Dresden ​250 Emden ​250 Koenigsberg ​250 Komet ​260–261 Kormoran ​260–261 Kulmerland ​261 Munsterland ​261 Orion ​260–261 Pinguin ​260–261; Ships, Indian: ​30 Doria Dawlat ​209 Ganj-i-Sawai ​53, 54, 55 Hugh Lindsay ​201–202, 206, 208

Quedah Merchant ​54, 55 Resolution ​88 Shumsher Jung ​102 Ships, Indian Navy: Akbar ​211 Ariadne ​211, 215 Assaye ​219 Assyria ​227 Atalanta ​211 Auckland ​211, 219, 228 Benares ​210 Comet ​227 Constance ​ 208 Coote ​209 Cruiser ​209 Elphinstone ​216 Euphrates ​208 Lawrence ​262 Madagascar  215 Mahe ​209 Medusa ​211 Memnon ​ 211 Nemesis ​207, 212, 216 Palinurus ​210 Phlegethon ​216 Planet ​217, 227 Punjab ​216 Queen ​211, 219 Ratnagiri ​277 Semiramis ​ 208, 219 Sesostris ​211 Snake ​209 Taptee ​208 Victoria ​219 Ships, Japanese: I-10 267 I-30 267 Ships, New East India Company: Macclesfield ​52, 66 Ships, pirates: Adventure Galley 54 Bachelor’s Delight ​55 Josiah ​55–56 Mocha Frigate ​55 Ships, private: Countess of Sutherland ​166 Enterprise ​201 Sarah ​171 Sarah Jane ​206 Savannah ​201

Index Ships, Portuguese: Madre de Dios ​11 San Felipe ​11 San Pedro ​22 Ships, Royal Navy: Abyssinia ​246 Aeolus ​246 Africa ​129 Africaine ​178 Akbar (formerly Cornwallis) 171 Albion ​166 Algerine ​212 Alligator ​203 Amazon ​172 Amboyna (ex Haarlem)  150, 152 America ​146 Amethyst ​280 Ariel ​142 Arrogant ​146, 151, 155 Asia ​113 Atalanta ​142 Aurora ​110 Barracouta ​224, 225 Beagle ​203 Belleisle ​114 Belliqueux ​174 Blenheim ​147, 172–173, 175 Blonde ​212, 214 Boadicea ​178 Bombay (ex EIC)  170 (see Ceylon) Bonaventure ​246 Braave ​149, 156 Britomart ​203 Buckingham ​111 Burford ​114 Calliope ​216 Caroline ​174 Carysfort ​151, 155 Castor ​216 Centaur ​281 Centurion ​68, 138, 145, 151, 156, 164, 169, 246 Ceylon (formerly Bombay) 171, 178–179 Challenger ​193 Chaser ​115 Chesapeake ​229 Chiffonne ​192 Conch ​215 Concorde ​164; Conqueror ​217

315 Conway ​203, 212, 216 Cordelia ​232 Cornwall ​261, 266 Cornwallis (ex EIC)  170–171, 187, 214 (see Akbar) Coventry ​115, 130 Crown ​142 Cruiser ​229 Culloden ​170, 174 Cumberland ​88 Daedalus ​156 Dedaigneuse ​164 Devonshire ​261 Diomede ​145, 146, 147 Dolphin ​111 Doris ​176 Dorsetshire ​261 Dover (formerly Duncan and Carron) 171 Eagle ​114 Echo ​148 Eden ​193 Elizabeth ​91 Encounter ​223, 224 Exeter ​72, 114, 121–123 Falmouth ​262 Fawn ​232 Formidable ​272 Foudroyant ​172 Fox ​149, 155, 164, 246 Fury ​229 Gibraltar ​246 Grafton ​92, 93, 246 Grampus ​177 Hannibal, captured ​119 Harrier ​170, 175 Harwich ​55, 60, 61, 77 Hastings ​55 Hawk ​111 Hazard ​216 Hector ​266 Hermes ​262, 266 Heroine ​145, 147, 148 Highflyer ​229 Hobart ​151, 152 Hollyhock ​266 Howe (formerly Kaikosro)  171, 271 Hyacinth ​211 Illustrious ​267, 269, 271 Immortalite ​246

316 Imperieuse ​246 Implacable ​272 Indefatigable ​271 Indomitable ​271 Intrepid ​155 Iphigenia ​178 Iris ​232 Isis ​121, 125 Java ​175 Jupiter ​149 Kent ​88, 91 King George V ​271 Larne ​195 Lancaster ​164, 165, 173 La Virginie ​155 Liffey ​195 Lion ​72 Liverpool ​193 Lizard ​55 London ​172 Magdala ​246 Magicienne ​178 Magnanime ​123, 125 Medea ​133 Medway ​77 Medway’s Prize ​77 Melville ​202 Minerva ​143–144 Miranda ​232 Monarca ​125 Monarch ​146 Monmouth ​121, 124, 125 Namur ​78, 79 Nankin ​225 Napier ​217 Narcissus ​246 Nereide ​177, 178 Newcastle ​91 Niger ​232 North Star ​216 Northumberland ​111 Nymph ​114 Orlando ​246 Orpheus ​145, 146, 151, 152 Osprey ​216 Otter ​177, 178 Oxford ​111 Pelorus ​232 Penelope ​246 Penguin ​187

Index Perseverance ​142 Phaeton ​170, 176, 194–195, 196 Phoenix ​48, 142 Pique ​225, 246 Powerful ​174 Preston ​77 Prince of Wales ​263, 264 Psyche ​170, 176 Queen Elizabeth ​269, 271, 283 Racehorse ​216 Rainbow ​246 Raisonable ​177 Ramillies ​267, 269 Ranger ​243 Rattler ​263, 264 Rattlesnake ​148, 203 Renown ​269, 271 Resistance ​145, 146, 150, 152 Ruler ​272 Russell ​174 St George ​246 Salisbury ​72, 88 San Fiorenzo ​164, 170, 176 Sapphire ​176 Sceptre ​126, 129, 131, 149, 166 Seahorse ​97, 112, 115, 121 Shoreham ​72 Sibylle ​149, 154–155, 156 Slaney ​195 Sophie ​195 Southampton ​215 Spartan ​246 Sphynx ​149 Stag ​110, 111 Stately ​146 Staunch ​178 Suffolk ​145, 147, 151 Sultan ​123, 125 Sunderland ​92, 99 Superb ​114, 121, 123, 124 Swallow ​108, 111, 143 Swan ​178 Swift ​145, 151 Tenedus ​266 Terpsichore ​164, 174, 176 Terrible ​244, 245 Thalia ​202 Tiger ​88 Topaze ​194

Index Tortoise (formerly Sir Edward Hughes) 171 Tremendous ​164, 165 Trident ​149, 164, 165 Trincomalee ​222 Undaunted ​246 Valiant ​269 Vampire ​266 Victorious ​146, 151, 156 Virago ​222, 224 Volage ​203, 209, 211 Warwick ​111 Wellesley ​203, 212 Weymouth ​91 Winchester ​77, 114 Wivern ​246 Woolwich ​174 Yarmouth ​91 Ships, Russian: Aurora ​ 222, 225 Diana ​222, 223, 225 Dvina ​223, 225 Kamchatka ​222 Pallas ​223 Ships, Spanish: Covadonga ​69 Europa ​155 Fama ​155 Luna ​155 Montanes ​155 San Raphael ​175 Ships, United States: Hornet ​187 Merrimac ​206 Missouri ​273 Peacock ​187 President ​187 Saratoga ​270 Siam ​42–43, 44, 242; map 2; see also Thailand Siberia ​110, 221, 225 Sidis, Mughal sea commanders ​73, 98 Sikh kingdom ​205, 217, 230 Silks ​3, 22, 66–67 Simon’s Bay, South Africa ​146, 233 Simonstown, South Africa ​267, 281 Sind ​137, 205, 208, 216–217, 231 Sindaburg, Maharashtra ​71 Singapore, Malaya ​144; 191–192, 194, 197, 198, 229, 233, 273; map 2

317

naval base ​246, 252, 253, 258, 264– 265, 275, 278, 279–280, 282, 285 Siraj ad-Daula, Nawab of Bengal ​90 Sivaji, Maratha chief ​37–38, 39 Smith, Captain ​146 Socotra ​8, 210; map 1 Sofala, Mozambique ​9 Solomon Islands ​269 Somaliland, Somalia, 210, 244, 254, 260 Somerville, Sir James, Admiral ​263, 266, 268, 270 South Africa ​7, 13, 63, 93, 205, 215, 235, 281 Boer war ​244–246; map 1 South America ​1, 67, 181 naval station ​249 South China Sea ​52, 64, 95, 135, 136, 148, 170, 175, 189, 238, 258; map 2 Southampton ​11 Southern Ocean ​2 Spain, Spaniards ​1, 2, 3, 32 English/British wars ​8, 14, 58, 68, 96, 145, 152, 170, 175, 18 and Falklands ​111 expands Navy ​117 imperial system ​10, 16 van Speult, Herman ​24 Spice Islands ​1, 7, 8, 11, 13, 16 British capture ​146, 148 Dutch in ​16, 25 Spices ​8, 163 Spithead ​69 Stalker, General  227 Steevens, Commodore ​92 Sterling, James, Captain ​197, 199, 221, 223, 224, 225, 238, 239 Stokes, Mr ​157 Stopford, Robert, Admiral ​181 Stuart, James, General ​131–132 Suakin, Sudan ​243 Sudan ​248, 259, 260 Suez, Egypt ​105, 157, 158, 201, 208, 235, 243 Canal ​236–238, 240, 250, 252, 254, 259, 263, 275, 276 Sulawesi ​64, 150, 190 Suffren, Pierre Andre de, Admiral ​ 116–133, 284 Sultan bin Saqar ​169, 182, 192

318

Index

Sumatra ​64, 94–95, 108, 146, 190, 270, 271; map 2 Sunda Strait ​64, 69, 135, 144, 148, 167, 168, 187; map 2 Surabaya, Java ​175, 270 Surat, Maharashtra ​14, 16, 18–19, 27–28, 29, 37–39, 49, 52, 54, 57, 63, 70, 141, 144, 173 battles at ​19–20, 30 EIC conquest of ​98–99 presidency ​31, 32 Surcouf, Robert, Captain ​152, 156, 176 Suvarnadrug, Maharashtra ​71, 87–88, 144 Swan River, Australia ​198 Sydney, Australia ​220, 233, 246, 249, 268 Syria ​12 Syriam, Burma ​196 Tahiti, South Pacific ​108, 220, 250 Taiwan ​260, 281; see also Formosa Taku forts, China, battle ​229–230; map 3 Tamatave, Madagascar ​179, 216 Tanga, Tanganyika ​251 Tanganyika ​244, 281 Tangier, Morocco ​35 Tanjore, Carnatic ​84, 115 Tanna, Malabar ​74, 103, 104 Tappanuli, Sumatra ​94 Taranto, Italy, battle ​263 Tarapur ​74 Tasman, Abel ​68, 108 Tasmania, Australia ​137, 141–142, 199 Tea ​67, 163, 189 plants transplanted ​206–207 Teheran, Iran ​226, 237 Tellichery ​69, 86 Tennasserim, Burma ​197, 269 Ternate ​7, 13, 150 Tewodros, Emperor ​240 Thailand ​52, 264, 265; see also Siam Thiagur ​94 Tianjin, China ​229, 230 Tidore ​13, 96 Timms, John, Captain ​168 Timor ​66, 150, 167, 170 Tinian Island ​69 Tinghai, China ​212 Tipu, Sultan of Mysore ​141–142, 153–154, 155–156

Tokugawa regime, Japan ​239 Transvaal ​215 Treaties: Amiens ​160 Anglo-Dutch ​191 Anglo-Portuguese ​23, 27, 29, 32, 35, 36 EIC-Dutch ​28 EIC-Maratha ​70 EIC–Mughal ​20 Nanjing ​220 Pact of Steel ​255 Paris ​226, 228 Vienna ​187 Waitangi ​238 Washington Naval ​251–252, 253 Yandaboo ​197 Trichinopoly ​75 Trincomalee, Ceylon ​65, 77, 79, 93, 111, 115, 117, 143, 147, 164, 165, 167, 171 naval base ​203, 233, 266, 279; maps 1&2 Trinidad ​160 Tronjoly, Commodore ​113–114 Troubridge, Sir Thomas, Admiral ​171, 172–173, 174, 175 Truk ​272 Tsingtao, see Kiauchow Turkey ​246, 262; see also Ottoman Empire United Arab Emirates ​283 United Kingdom ​3; see also Britain formation of ​59–60 United States ​152 187, 220, 222, 224, 283, 285; 246, 247 248, 249, 251 and Britain ​252; Civil War ​205, 206 Korean War ​280 naval bases ​251 Second World War ​256–258, 264–265, 267, 271 Urup Island, Kuriles ​224 Valentia, Lord ​169–170, 210 Valparaiso, Chile ​220 Vancouver, George ​110 Vancouver, Canada ​220–221, 224, 225 Vasco De Gama ​1, 207, 283 Vellore, Carnatic ​173, 175 Vera Cruz ​10

Index Vernon, Edward, Commodore ​113–114 Vienna, Austria ​165 Vijayadrug ​71, 87–89, 90 Vijayanagar Empire ​57, 58, 89, 101 Vizagapatnam ​92 Vladivostok, Russia ​225, 226 Wahhabis, Arabia ​192, 193, 200 Wake Island  265 Wallis, Samuel ​68, 108 Warren, Thomas, Commodore ​55, 56, 79 Wars: American Civil ​233 American Independence ​112, 117–118, 135 Boer ​244–246 China-Japan ​245, 247 Crimean ​219–226, 236, 240 First World ​250–251 Korean ​275, 280 Napoleonic ​164, 197, 247 Russian-Japanese ​248 Second World ​252–275 Seven Years’ 101, 105, 117 Spanish-American ​246 UK-US ​187; see also EIC Warren, Sir John Borlase, Admiral ​172 Watson, Charles, Admiral ​87–88, 89–91 Watson, John, Commodore ​98, 104 Weddell, John, Captain ​22–23, 34, 43, 44, 65 Wei Hai Wei, China ​245; map 3 Weldon, George ​40 Wellesley, Marquess, Governor-General ​ 153, 155, 156, 161, 162, 169

319

Wellington, Duke of  156, 207; see also Wesley Wellington, New Zealand ​233 West Africa ​1, 114, 172, 202, 215–216, 232, 243 naval station ​248 Wesley, Arthur, Colonel ​153; see also Duke of Wellington Western Australia ​197, 198, 199, 221 Western Pacific High Commission ​242 West Indies ​83, 119, 188 White, Samuel ​43, 44 Whitworth, Lord ​164 Willem V, Nederlands Stadhouder ​ 146–147 William III, King ​49, 51, 58–59 Willoughby, Nesbitt, Captain ​177–178, 179 Wilson, William, Captain ​64, 65, 95, 97 Wood, Benjamin ​11 Yale, Elihu ​41 Yale, Thomas 44 Yangzi River, China ​212–213, 229, 245, 280 Yap, Caroline Islands ​250 Yellow Sea, map ​3 Yemen ​16, 104, 158 Zacatecas, Mexico ​10 Zanzibar, East Africa ​8, 13, 56, 200, 244, 267, 281; map 1 Zhapu, China ​213 Zheng Chenggong (Koxinga)  43–44 Zhenjiang, China ​212–214 Zulus ​215