bed when Lt. Lapenotiere hurried into the room with Collingwood’s dispatches, declaring, “Sir, we have gained a great victory, but we have lost Lord Nelson.”
Marsden immediately took the news to Lord Barham, First Lord of the Admiralty, where the dispatch was copied and promptly sent to Prime Minister William Pitt, King George, and the press. Bells tolled as England rejoiced in the victory, but also mourned the loss of Vice-Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson.
True to Collingwood’s prediction, for his service Lt. Lapenotiere was immediately promoted to commander, the intermediate rank before captain. He was awarded a sword by Lloyd’s Patriotic Fund, and £500, as well. Other senior and junior officers at Trafalgar also received promotions, swords, and similar monetary rewards.
With that, the HMS Pickle faded into history. Commander Lapenotiere was given command of a larger vessel. He served the Royal Navy dependably and well throughout the Napoleonic Wars, but with none of the flash and dash that caught the eye of the public. Wounded badly in the bombardment of Copenhagen in 1807, Lapenotiere continued his sea service until 1811. Although he was finally promoted to Post Captain, he was never given another ship to command after 1811. He retired to Cornwall and died in 1834.
The fact that Capt. Lapenotiere did not receive another ship had nothing to do with his ability. One of the odd facts of Trafalgar was that when all the participating officers were moved up a grade in rank, this meant there were more line officers than available ships to command. Only those men with familial connections or other “interest,” as it was termed, were able to captain coveted warships.
As Sailing Master Able Six pointed out to Smitty, Lapenotiere had the ability but lacked the connections. Able knew that although the Mercury could easily have bested the Pickle in a race to London, his own total lack of connections or worthy social sphere would amount to nothing in the world he inhabited. Able had no qualms about passing on the great honor of carrying the news to London. He wanted to return to St. Brendan’s, the Gunwharf Rats, and his growing family. Simply put, he was a teacher.
This is the fun of historical fiction. Chances are, many of my readers have never heard of the Pickle and its fifteen minutes of fame after Trafalgar. The little schooner played a historical role in a major world battle, but fame is fleeting. It was easy for me to slide the HMS Mercury, Sir B’s yacht, into the scenario alongside the Pickle, and just as easily slide her out. Could it have happened? Certainly. Did it? No, and that is the pleasure and challenge of writing accurate historical fiction; all the relevant facts are true, which means the fiction must be equallly plausible and seamless.
But what of the HMS Pickle? The Bermuda-built schooner continued to serve in the Channel Fleet, carrying dispatches, and whatever else the fleet needed. On occasion, she also captured enemy vessels of war. The end came on July 26, 1808. While carrying dispatches from Admiral Collinwood, she ran aground in the middle of the night at Cape Santa Maria near Cádiz. Her skipper compounded a previous navigational error, and the Pickle came to her untimely end. The bottom caved in, and there was barely time for the crew to escape. After three days, Maltese divers were able to locate the dispatches and return them to the surface. The Pickle was declared unsalvageable.
As in all cases involving the sinking of a Royal Navy vessel, a court martial promptly convened. The facts were presented, which declared the cause of Pickle’s wreck to be “an unaccountable error in reckoning.” The skipper and sailing master were reprimanded, but otherwise suffered no punishment – at the time, anyway. Lieutenant Moses Cannady was given another small ship called Black Joke, but he never advanced in rank beyond lieutenant.
Through the years, there have been other Royal Navy ships named Pickle. This is done to honor historic warships. The names of the Royal Sovereign, Mars, Euryalus, Thunderer and other Trafalgar veterans were used on a later series of battleships, some of which saw service during World War II. The most recent Pickle was a minesweeper launched in 1943. Her service continued after World War II, until she was sold to the Royal Ceylon Navy in 1959, and broken up in 1964.
The exception to this re-use of famous names on subsequent ships is HMS Victory, Lord Nelson’s flagship. There was and ever will be only one