International Judicial Monitor
Published by the International Judicial Academy, Washington, D.C., with assistance from the
American Society of International Law

Summer 2015 Issue
 

Historic Moments in International Law

 

Rich Pickings on the Golden Rock

Stephen C. NeffBy: Stephen  C.  Neff, Reader in Law – Public International Law, University of Edinburgh Law School

The “golden rock” in question was the Dutch-ruled West Indian island of St Eustatius, during the years of the American struggle for independence from Great Britain.  A free port, with no customs duties, the island acquired its renown by functioning as a center for the sale of war supplies to the insurgent colonials – at a healthy a profit to the locals.  Not surprisingly, the British government was determined to staunch this supply line.  And once war was declared against the Netherlands in 1780, the legal way was open for taking forcible action.

The forcible actor for the job was Admiral George Brydges Rodney.  Those of a military bent will recall him as the hero of the Battle of the Saintes.  Our present concern, however, is with a rather less known – not to say less edifying – aspect of that gallant officer’s career:  the legal and financial woes which arose out of his capture of the golden rock.  This took place in February 1781, when Rodney arrived with fifteen heavily armed ships of the line.  In the face of this overwhelming force, the Dutch authorities swiftly surrendered.  (For the record, this was the only territorial gain made by Britain during the American War of Independence.)

The golden rock was indeed a glittering prize.  A more financially and legally prudent man than Rodney might well have been tempted by the rich pickings available.  As it happens, Rodney was especially susceptible to temptation at this point.  For he was a man beset by that particularly dangerous combination of traits – expensive tastes and an addiction to the gaming tables.  As a result, his indebtedness rose to such alarming heights that he had found it prudent to flee to France to escape his creditors.  The desire for a political career did not help matters.  In 1768, he had spent massively (some £30,000), in one of the most expensive electoral battles of the Century, for a House of Commons seat for Northampton.  The contest was said to have ruined three noble families.

It is hardly surprising, then, that Rodney would be mightily pleased by the fortune (all too literally) that war had thrown his way.  The wealth available in his conquered land was described by him as “so bewitching as not to be withstood by flesh and blood.”  Rodney certainly did no withstanding.  He and his forces lost little time in systematically emptying out the bulging warehouses on the island.  Property was also confiscated from private parties, with especially harsh treatment meted out to Jews.  In the interest of augmenting the captures, Rodney carefully left the Dutch flag flying over the fort and town, to lure more traders into the port.  (Readers interested in the laws of war may wish to ponder whether this conduct would qualify, under present-day law, as a war crime.)

Under prevailing rules of prize law, Rodney’s entitlement, as the naval commander, was to one-sixth of the haul.  Auctions of captured goods began soon after the takeover.  An initial one, held in the first month of the occupation, brought in over £100,000 – and even that was estimated to be far less than the actual value of the goods.  The total value of all the captured material has been estimated at over three million pounds sterling.  Ecumenism was a noteworthy feature of these auctions, since French and American (i.e., enemy) nationals were permitted to bid.  They were happy to do so, at the knock-down prices available.  Rodney even helpfully provided French buyers removing their goods with protection from lurking British privateers.  Business, verily, was business.

It did not all go smoothly, however, for our entrepreneurial hero.  A convoy was dispatched to carry a substantial portion of the booty back to Britain.  But twenty-two of the thirty-four ships were intercepted in the English Channel by a French squadron.  It is estimated that Rodney lost some £300,000 from this mishap.

News of Rodney’s achievement naturally aroused much interest in Britain.  Rather too much, in fact, for Rodney’s comfort.  Questions began to be asked in Parliament.  The ever eloquent Edmund Burke, most notably, denounced Rodney’s confiscations as “a most unjustifiable, outrageous, and unprincipled violation of the law of nations.”  In the slightly more measured words of Horace Walpole, Rodney was said to have “a little overgilt his own statue.”

 

In a juridical counterthrust, the British residents of St Eustatius brought a civil action against the bold admiral, for compensation for the various confiscations.  Some ninety claims were filed in all, totalling nearly £300,000.  But a legal issue then arose as to whether the common-law courts had jurisdiction over the matter, or whether the prize court (part of the High Court of Admiralty) had exclusive cognizance.  At stake was the law to be applied to the proceedings.  If the common-law courts heard the cases, then the English common law would be applied.  If, however, the prize courts dealt with the matter, then prize law would apply.  And prize law was not the exclusive property of England, as the common law was.  Prize law was a part of the law of nations – and, as such, it was a uniform law which applied the whole world over, to govern such matters as captures at sea in wartime.  Associated with this jurisdictional question was a point of international law:  that, although the taking of private property was increasingly regarded at the time as unlawful in land warfare, it continued to be permitted at sea.

An important legal issue, therefore, was:  could Rodney’s confiscations on St Eustatius properly be regarded as taking place “at sea”?  Certainly, they were carried out on dry land.  But in the leading case on the matter (Lindo v. Rodney), in 1782, Lord Mansfield, the renowned judge on the King’s Bench court, held that Rodney’s actions were to be judged by the Admiralty Court, according to prize law.  The reason was that, even though the captures were made physically on land, they were made pursuant to a capture of the island effectuated by a naval force.  Consequently, the common-law courts had no jurisdiction over the matter.  Lord Mansfield was careful to point out, however, that this jurisdictional ruling did not exonerate Rodney of the substantive claims that were brought against him.

In the meantime, however, Rodney achieved a spectacular rehabilitation.  It was a close-run thing, in several respects.  The fall of the Lord North government led to his recall from the West Indies.  But before the orders arrived, he led his fleet to the stunning victory over France at the Battle of the Saintes in April 1782 -- a triumph so decisive that France never again contested the West Indian waters against the mighty British Navy.  Rodney was now an authentic national hero.  Popular songs lauded his great achievement.  Even Burke was loud in his praise.  He was made a baron for his services – thereby giving him a seat in the House of Lords, without the expensive annoyance of fighting an election.

His exalted new role did not, however, bring either material riches or peace of mind.  The various lawsuits from the St Eustatius affair continued to dog him.  As a result of the experience, he was ruined financially.  In one suit alone, he was held liable for £15,000.  Litigation, in fact, followed him to his grave, 1792.

A full and detailed account of Rodney’s legal misadventures yet remains to be penned by some diligent historian.  For more casual readers who wish to explore further, there is a biography of Rodney, by David Spinney.  An informative account of the St Eustatius affair, placed in the broader context of the American War of Independence, may be found in Andrew Jackson O’Shaughenessy, An Empire Divided:  The American Revolution and the British Caribbean (2000).

It may be noted that, even to the present day, there are echoes of Rodney’s new-minted popularity.  As a result of his triumph, “Rodney” became a popular first name for boys.  At least four warships have been named after him over the years.  In addition, discriminating tipplers may be able to confirm that the finest rum in St Lucia is “Admiral Rodney Extra Old St. Lucia Rum,” which bears an engraving of the enterprising victor.

It should also be noted that one of the key legal points in the Rodney litigation is still with us.  That is the distinction, in the laws of war, between capture of private property on land and at sea.  In maritime warfare, the capture of enemy-owned private property continues to be allowed.  So it can still matter whether a given capture is deemed to be, in law, a capture at sea or on land.  Perhaps the adventures of some future incarnation of Admiral Rodney will enable further light to be shed on this area of law.

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with assistance from the American Society of International Law.

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