Chapter XIII

Nelson joined the _Victory_ at Portsmouth on the morning of the 14th September, and met with a great public ovation. He tells Captain Hardy, as he was being rowed to the _Victory_, that he had "their huzzas when he landed" (after his prolonged period in commission), "but now," he proudly remarked, "I have their hearts." His send-off was magnificent. The contagious flow of tears, the shouting of blessings, and the fervent petitions that the God of battles should give him the victory over the enemies of human suffering and liberty were symptoms of admiration and gratitude which went hot into his blood as he sat in his barge, the object of reverence. And with a calm air of conscious power he acknowledged the honour that was showered upon him by baring his head and bowing gracefully his thanks. It was manifestly his day of paradise, and with the plaudits still ringing in his ears the _Victory's_ anchor was weighed on the following day, and he sailed from St. Helen's Roads to the great conflict and victory for which he panted, and to the doom that awaited him.

He experienced foul winds until he passed Cape Finisterre, and on the 28th September he joined the fleet of twenty-nine of the line. The 29th September was the anniversary of his forty-seventh year. He says: "The reception I met with on joining the fleet caused the sweetest sensation of my life. The officers who came on board to welcome my return forgot my rank as commander-in-chief in the enthusiasm with which they greeted me. As soon as these emotions were past, I laid before them the plan I had previously arranged for attacking the enemy; and it was not only my pleasure to find it generally approved, but clearly perceived and understood." In a further communication he explains to them the "Nelson touch," and all agree that it must succeed, and that he is surrounded with friends. Then he adds: "Some may be Judas's, but the majority are certainly pleased at the prospect of my commanding them."

These are joyous days for him, which are marked by the absence of any recorded misgivings. His mind is full of making preparations in every detail to cope with the advent of Villeneuve from Cadiz and for the plan of attack, of which a long memorandum was circulated to the fleet. He had planned the form of attack at Trafalgar during his stay at home, and some time before leaving Merton he confided it to Lord Sidmouth. He told him "that Rodney broke the enemy's line in one place, and that _he_ would break it in two." One of the Nelson "touches" was to "close with a Frenchman, and to out-manoeuvre a Russian," and this method of terrific onslaught was to be one of the devices that he had in store for the French at Trafalgar, and which ended fatally for himself. But it gave the enemy a staggering blow, from which they never recovered so long as the action lasted. In the General Orders he says: "Captains are to look to their particular line as a rallying point, but in case signals cannot be seen or clearly understood, _no captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside that of an enemy_."

The feeling against Sir Robert Calder for not having beaten or forced another battle on the allied fleets in July did not abate. The public were out for impeachment, and the Government did nothing to discourage it; and when Nelson was on the point of leaving England the First Lord instructed him to convey to Calder the Government's condemnation of his evident negligence or incapacity. They gave him permission to ask for the inquiry, but should he not do so, it would be ordered. Nelson wrote to Barham that he had delivered the message to Sir Robert, and that it would doubtless give his Lordship pleasure to learn that an inquiry was just what the Vice-Admiral was anxious to have, and that he had already sent a letter by the _Nautilus_ to say so, but that he (Nelson) had detained it. Nelson, in his goodness of heart, urged Sir Robert to remain until after the action, the result of which would inevitably change the feeling of the Government and the public in his favour, and he could then, without any fear, demand an inquiry. Sir Robert was so crushed with the charge hanging over him, that he insisted on being allowed to proceed to England at once, and Nelson, to ease the humiliation and suffering he was passing through, sent him off in his ninety-gun ship, instead of a frigate. The inquiry was held in due course, and judgment given against him. The finding is, in our opinion, based more on prejudice than on any fault he committed, and as to "committing an error of judgment," it is always difficult to know what is an error of judgment in circumstances such as he was confronted with. In any case, it is evident that the Government were terrified of the effect that public opinion would have on themselves if they failed to take steps to appease it. We think the Government would have been serving their country better by keeping this unfortunate officer in active service when its fleet was on the verge of a life-or-death struggle for naval supremacy than by dispensing with his services, which they had thought fit to retain from July to October. Nelson's attitude was the more patriotic and noble, and under such circumstances the verdict, however mild, was bound to be given against the man whose heart they had broken because they were afraid of public opinion. Nelson was a better judge than they. Discreet reprimand, combined with a few kindly words of encouragement, was the proper course at such a time, when every man and ship was so essential.

On a previous occasion, when a "seventy-four" had stranded, the officer whose skill and efforts had refloated her was told by Nelson that he had spoken favourably of him to the Admiralty. The officer showed in suitable terms his gratitude, but added that he did not regard what he had done as meriting any notice or praise. The Admiral pointed out that a battle might easily be lost by the absence of a line-of-battle ship. When Nelson conveyed the ill-considered and stupid instructions of the Government to Sir Robert Calder to return home to be court-martialled, and the latter replied that his letter "to do so cut him to the soul and that his heart was broken," Nelson was so overcome with sympathy for Calder that he sacrificed his own opinions already expressed, and also took the risk of bringing upon himself the displeasure of the Comptroller of the Navy by giving the unfortunate man permission to proceed home in a vessel that would have been so valuable an asset to his fleet. This worthy act, had he lived and the battle of Trafalgar been drawn or lost, might have laid him open to impeachment. Nelson's fine courage and sense of proportion when he thought an injustice or undue severity was being imposed was never allowed to be trifled with by any official, no matter how high or subordinate his position might be, and his contempt for men whom he knew were miserable cocksparrow amateurs was openly avowed.

Whatever the consequences, he would have sooner lost a victory than have gained one by lending himself to an act that was to injure or break his brother in arms. Calder left the fleet a few days before the action, and when it began Nelson remarked to Hardy, "What would poor Sir Robert Calder give to be with us now!" Even on the eve of a great encounter the stress of preparation did not dim his sympathy for the afflicted man, who, on more than one occasion, had allowed envy to rule his conduct towards him. After the battle of St. Vincent, for instance, Calder, in conversation with Jervis, criticized Nelson's action in departing from the plan of attack laid down by the Admiral. Jervis admitted it to be a breach, and added "if ever Calder did the same thing under similar circumstances, he would forgive him."

Nelson knew Calder was envious of his growing fame, but this did not prevent him from acting as though he had always been a loyal friend. On the morning of the 19th October, 1805, the signal was passed from ship to ship acting as lookouts to the main fleet that the combined fleet were putting to sea, and it was soon discovered that their force consisted of eighteen French line-of-battle ships, seven large frigates, and two brigs. The Spanish numbered fifteen sail of the line. The British had twenty-seven sail of the line and four frigates, so that Nelson was outnumbered by five of the line, three frigates, and two brigs. The whole of the allied fleet did not get clear of the port until the 20th. The commander-in-chief was Villeneuve, and his obvious intention was to get the Straits open and, by a cunning evasion of the British fleet, make a dash through. His elusive tactics had hitherto been skilfully performed, but the British Admiral, always on the alert, anticipated that an effort would again be made to cheat him of the yearning hope of his heart, and had mentally arranged how every contingency should be coped with to prevent escape and to get to grips with the enemy. "I will give them such a shaking as they never before experienced," and at least he was prepared to lay down his life in the attempt.

It is pretty certain that, after all his ships had got into the open sea, Villeneuve's intention was to see how the land lay as to the British strength, and his manoeuvring indicated that instructions had been given to hoodwink the British and slip through the Straits of Gibraltar; but seeing that the entrance was cut off for the moment, he headed westward, possibly to mislead, but always with the intention of getting into the Mediterranean. When this information was signalled by Blackwood, instructions were sent back to him that the Admiral relied on the enemy being kept in sight. Here is a letter to Lady Hamilton, dated the 19th October, 1805:--

CADIZ, BEARING E.SE. 50 MILES.

MY DEAREST BELOVED EMMA: THE DEAR FRIEND OF MY BOSOM,--The
signal has been made that the enemy's combined fleet are coming
out of port. We have very little wind, so that I have no hopes
of seeing them before to-morrow. May the God of battles crown my
endeavours with success; at all events, I will take care that
my name shall ever be most dear to you and Horatia, both of whom
I love as much as my own life. And as my last writing before the
battle will be to you, so I hope in God that I shall live to
finish my letter after the battle. May Heaven bless you, prays
your

This was found unsigned on his desk. These are the last lines he wrote to the woman he called his "wife in the sight of God." There is none of the robust assurance of blazing deeds that he has in store for the enemy which characterize some of his earlier letters to Emma, nor is there any craving for continued existence or for extinction. But who can read this melancholy farewell without being impressed with the feeling that there is a subdued restraint to avoid uttering his thoughts on inevitable fate and eternal sleep, lest it gives anxiety and disheartens the woman he loved so well?

On the same day he wrote an affectionate letter to his daughter, which is clearly intended as a supplementary outpouring of a full heart to the mother whom he knew would have to read it. The tone and wording is what a father might have written to a girl of fifteen instead of five. There is a complete absence of those dainty, playful touches that would delight a child of her age. In reality, it rather points to the idea that it was intended not only as a further farewell to mother and child, but as an historical epistle and a legacy to Horatia which she would read in other days in connection with the great battle in which he was to be engaged only a few hours after he had written it.

MY DEAREST ANGEL,--I was made happy by the pleasure of receiving
your letter of September the 19th, and I rejoice to hear you are
so very good a girl, and love my dear Lady Hamilton, who most
dearly loves you. Give her a kiss for me. The combined fleets of
the enemy are now reported to be coming out of Cadiz; and
therefore I answer your letter, my dearest Horatia, to mark to
you that you are ever uppermost in my thoughts. I shall be sure
of your prayers for my safety, conquest, and speedy return to
dear Merton and our dearest good Lady Hamilton.

Receive, my dearest Horatia, the affectionate blessing of your
Father,

NELSON AND BRONTE.

The importunities of Horatia's mother were continuously being forced upon Nelson in one way or another, but he seems to have stood firm, in an apologetic way, to the instructions laid down by himself, that no women were to go to sea aboard his ship; for, having been a party to the embargo, it would have been impossible for him to make her an exception. He anticipates, as her other lovers had done, that she can be very angry, like Horatia, when she cannot have her own way, but he soothingly says that he knows his own dear Emma, if she applies her reason, will see that he is right. He playfully adds an addendum that "Horatia is like her mother, she will have her own way, or kick up the devil of a dust." He reminds Emma that she is a "sharer of his glory," which settles the question of her being allowed to sail with him, and from encountering the heavy gales and liquid hills that are experienced off Toulon week after week. He warns the lady that it would kill her and himself to witness it. Emma was too devoted to all the pleasures ashore to risk losing her life in any such uncomfortable fashion at sea, so the project was abandoned, if it was ever seriously contemplated.

This astute actress knew where to touch Nelson's weak spot, and that it would send him into a frenzy of love to think of her yearning to be beside him. She would know that the rules of the Service prohibited, except under special circumstances, even the highest in rank from having their wives sail with them, and that the rule would apply more rigidly to herself, who was not Nelson's wife. She knew, in fact, that her request would flatter him, and that she would be compensated by receiving a whirlwind of devotion in reply. After the Gulf of Lyons days, no further request appears to have been made of that kind.

The combined fleets had been dodging each other on the 20th, light westerly winds and calms prevailing. At daylight on the 21st the belligerent fleets were within twelve miles of each other. Nelson was on deck early, and at 7.40 a.m. made the signal "To form the order of sailing," and "To prepare for battle." Then the signal was made to "Bear up," the _Victory_ and _Royal Sovereign_ leading the way in two lines; Nelson took the weather line with his ships, and the other division followed, but the wind being light, many had barely steerage way. Fourteen vessels followed Collingwood, who was to attack the enemy's rear, while Nelson slashed into the van and centre. Villeneuve, seeing by the British formation that his number was up and that he would have to give battle, manoeuvred to keep Cadiz open, which was about twenty miles NE. of him, but the wind, being light, made it as difficult for the French Commander-in-Chief to carry out the disposition as it was for the quick-witted British Commander to prevent it. Hence the development was a lazy process, and prevented, as varying circumstances always do, any rigid plan being adhered to. Had there been a fresh breeze before the battle commenced, the chances are that the French would have secured a position that would have enabled more of the crippled ships to get into Cadiz, but even this is doubtful, as only a fluke of wind could have saved them from the strategy of the British Commander-in-Chief before the fighting began. Between eleven and twelve o'clock on the 21st October every humanly possible, detailed arrangement had been completed. Each captain knew that, so far as it was possible, he was to follow where his admiral and vice-admiral led. The spirits of all those who manned the fleet were high of hope, and the inspiring spirit said he could do no more.

Nelson then went to his cabin and on his knees wrote a prayer that throbbed and will continue to throb through the universe. It exhales the spirit of bravery, and triumphant assurance of the eternal justice of the cause for which he is about to sacrifice himself, for a sombre document it is; but the soul that is in it is imperishable, and who can peruse it without vividly picturing the writer kneeling before the Omnipotent, pleading for his country's cause, and offering himself piously as a willing sacrifice!

May the great God, whom I worship, grant to my country, and for
the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory,
and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it; and may humanity,
after victory, be the predominant feature in the British fleet.
For myself individually, I commit my life to Him that made me;
and may His blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my
country faithfully. To Him I resign myself and the just cause
which is entrusted to me to defend. Amen, Amen, Amen.

Then, as though apprehension of the inevitable passing was growing, the thought of the woman who is the mother of his child, and for whom he had an unquenchable love, blinds him to all sense of propriety. It puts a severe strain on our imagination to realize how a man could composedly write such a request on the verge of the greatest naval conflict in history. It is dated "21st of October, 1805, in sight of the combined fleets of France and Spain, distant ten miles":--

Whereas the eminent services of Emma Hamilton, widow of the
Right Honourable Sir William Hamilton, have been of the very
greatest service to my King and country to my knowledge, without
ever receiving any reward from either our King and country;
First, that she obtained the King of Spain's letter, in 1796, to
his brother, the King of Naples, acquainting him of his
intention to declare war against England, from which letter the
Ministry sent our orders to the then Sir John Jervis, to strike
a stroke, if opportunity offered, against either the arsenals of
Spain or her fleets. That neither of these was done is not the
fault of Lady Hamilton; the opportunity might have been offered.
Secondly: The British fleet under my command could never have
returned the second time to Egypt, had not Lady Hamilton's
influence with the Queen of Naples caused letters to be wrote to
the Governor of Syracuse, that he was to encourage the fleets
being supplied with everything, should they put into any port in
Sicily. We put into Syracuse, received every supply; went to
Egypt, and destroyed the French fleet. Could I have rewarded
these services, I would not now call upon my country; but as
that has not been in my power, I leave Emma, Lady Hamilton,
therefore a legacy to my King and country, that they will give
her an ample provision to maintain her rank in life. I also
leave to the beneficence of my country my adopted daughter,
Horatia Nelson Thompson; and I desire she will use in future the
name of Nelson only. These are the only favours I ask of my King
and country at this moment when I am going to fight their
battle. May God bless my King and country, and all those I hold
dear! My relations, it is needless to mention, they will, of
course, be amply provided for.

NELSON AND BRONTE.

_Witness_,
HENRY BLACKWOOD.
T.M. HARDY.

It is of little importance whether this codicil was written at the same time as the prayer or a couple of hours before; that neither adds to nor detracts from the object of it. No definite opinion of the time is given. Blackwood and Hardy, as witnesses, would know. In any case it is an extraordinary document, and indicates unusual mental control of which few human beings are possessed. His mind must have been saturated with thoughts of the woman when the great battle was within a few minutes of commencing. Early in the morning, when he was walking the poop and cabin fixings and odds and ends were being removed, he gave stern instructions to "take care of his guardian angel," meaning her portrait, which he regarded in the light of a mascot to him. He also wore a miniature of her next his heart. Unless Captain Hardy and Captain Blackwood and others to whom he confided his love potions were different from the hearty, unconventional seamen of the writer's early sea-life, a banquet of interesting epithets could have been left to us which might have shocked the severely decorous portion of a public who assume a monopoly of inherent grace but do not understand the delightful simple dialect of the old-time sailor-men.

There can be small doubt that Nelson's comrades had many a joke in private about his weird and to them unnecessarily troublesome love wailings, which would be all the more irksome when they and he had serious business in hand. Poor Sir Thomas Troubridge appears to have been the only one to have dealt frankly with him about carrying his infatuation to such lengths--especially at a time when the public service was in need of his undivided attention--and Nelson never had a kindly feeling towards him afterwards. This gallant officer and loyal friend was in command of the _Blenheim_ (seventy-four guns) when she and the _Java_ (twenty-three guns) foundered with all hands near the island of Rodriguez, in the East Indies, on the 1st February, 1807. Nelson harboured a childish bitterness against Admiral Troubridge because of his plain speaking, and especially after the latter was appointed a Lord of the Admiralty. He always believed the "hidden hand" to be that of his former friend, to whom he delighted at one time to give the term "Nonpareil." In a letter to a friend he says: "I have a sharp eye, and almost think I can see it. No, poor fellow," he continues, "I hope I do him injustice; he surely cannot forget my kindness to him," He boasts of how he spoke to St. Vincent, the former "Nonpareil." In another eloquent passage he complains that Troubridge refuses to endorse his recommendations of officers for promotion, that he has been so rebuffed that his spirits are broken and the great Troubridge has cowed him (this, of course, in derision), and if he asked for anything more he would not get it. He would never forget it. No wonder he was not well. The Admiralty are "beasts" for not allowing him to come to London, which would only deprive him of a few days' comfort and happiness, and they have his hearty prayers. He continues in the same ludicrous strain, "I have a letter from Troubridge urging me to wear flannel shirts, as though he cared for me. He hopes that I shall go and have walks ashore, as the weather is now fine." "I suppose he is laughing at me, but never mind." He suffers from sea-sickness and toothache, and "none of them care a damn about my sufferings," and so on. These misdirected outbursts of feverish antipathy to poor Troubridge were frequent, and always inconceivably comical as well as distressingly peevish. But behind it all there was a consciousness of unequalled power which every one who knew him recognized, and they therefore patiently bore with his weaknesses, trying as they sometimes were.

Lord St. Vincent believed, and stated to Nelson, that the only other man who possessed the same power of infusing into others the same spirit as his own was Troubridge, and no doubt this innocent praise of a noble and gallant sailor rankled in Nelson's mind, and was the beginning of the jealousy that grew into hate. He could not brook any one being put on an equality with himself, and he clung tenaciously, though generously, to this idea of authority and superiority when he requested in his last dying gasp that he should not be superseded.

After signing what is called the codicil to his will, Captains Hardy and Blackwood joined him on the poop to receive his instructions. He was calmly absorbed with the enemy's plan of defence and his own of attack. He asked Blackwood what he would consider a victory, and the latter replied, "Considering the disposition of both fleets, he thought fourteen captures would be a fine result." Nelson said he would not be satisfied with less than twenty, and that nothing short of annihilation was his object. Soon afterwards he gave orders to Mr. Pasco to make the memorable signal that

ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY,

which sent a thrill of fiery enthusiasm throughout the whole fleet. Then the signal for "Close action" went up, and the cheering was renewed, which created a remarkable effect. Collingwood, whose attention was wholly on a Spanish three-decker that he had selected to engage, is reported to have been irritated, and spontaneously expressed the wish that "Nelson would cease signalling, as they all knew what to do."

At noon the French ship, the _Fougeux_, fired the first shot of the battle. The belligerent admirals saluted in the good old pious style, like professional boxers shaking hands before the attempt to knock each other out, and in a few more minutes were engaged in deadly conflict, hurling death at each other. Nelson, in his courageous melancholy way, confident of his own powers and trusting reverently in the continuance of the lavish bounty of God, resigned his fate to Him who had given him the opportunity of doing his duty. The conspicuous splendour of the decorations which he wore on the breast of his admiral's frocker was apprehensively looked upon by his comrades, who loved him with touching loyalty. They muttered their disappointment to each other, but shrank from hurting his feelings by warning him of the danger of the sharpshooters, to whom he would be a target, remembering how he had sharply replied to some anxious soul who on a previous occasion had cautioned him with regard to his prominent appearance, "that in honour he had gained his orders, and in honour he would die with them."

The battle quickly developed into a carnage. The _Bucentaure_ had found her range soon after twelve o'clock, when some of the shots went over the _Victory_. Blackwood was at this time ordered to rejoin his ship. He shook hands with his chief, and in some brief parting words expressed the "hope that he would soon return to the _Victory_ to find him well and in possession of twenty prizes"; and Nelson is reported to have calmly answered, "God bless you, Blackwood, I shall never speak to you again." His habit was to refer to death with eager frankness, and as though he were in love with it, without in the least showing any lack of alertness or detraction from the hazardous objects he had set himself to fulfil. His faith in the powerful aid of the Omnipotent was as unvarying in his sphere of warfare as was Cromwell's when he had the stern realities of human unruliness to steady and chastise. Nelson, like the latter, had in his peculiar way a deep-rooted awe and fear of God, which must have made him oblivious to all other fear. The magnificent fellow never showed greater mastery of the science of strategy, nor did he ever scan with greater vigilance the manner of carrying out the creation of his genius. Collingwood, who was first in the thick of the fight, set his heart throbbing with pride and admiration when he observed the _Royal Sovereign_ dash through the lines of the enemy, spreading devastation and death with unerring judgment. "See," said Nelson to Captain Blackwood, "how that noble fellow, Collingwood, takes his ship into action!" Then he paused for a moment, and continued, "How I envy him!" And as though the spirits of the two men were in communion with each other, Collingwood, knowing that the Commander-in-Chief's eager eye was fixed upon him in fond admiration, called out to the flag-captain near him, "Rotherham, what would Nelson give to be here?"

One of those fine human touches of brotherhood which Nelson knew so well how to handle with his faultless tact had occurred the day before. Collingwood and some officers paid a visit to the _Victory_ for the purpose of receiving any instructions he might have to give. Nelson asked Collingwood where his captain was, and when he replied that they were not on friendly terms, Nelson sharply answered, "Not on good terms," and forthwith gave orders for a boat to be sent for Rotherham; and when he came aboard he took him to Collingwood and said, "Look! there is the enemy, shake hands," and they renewed their friendship by gratefully carrying out his wishes. But for this, perhaps we should have been cheated of knowing the charming anecdote, which denotes the veneration the two old friends had for each other.

There is no need to make any apology for this digression, for it is to record one more of the many acts of wisdom and tenderness that were so natural to this man of massive understanding. The incalculable results that he was destined to accomplish may well be allowed to obscure any human weakness that sadly beset him.

Nelson, with blithe courage, sailed right into the centre of the French fleet, which in disorder surrounded their Commander-in-Chief's ship, his intention being to capture her and take Villeneuve prisoner. Never a gun was fired from the _Victory,_ although many of her spars, sails, and her rigging had suffered severely, until she had rounded as close as it was possible under the stern of the _Bucentaure_ and got into position. Then a terrific broadside was let fly from her double-shotted guns, which raked the _Bucentaure_ fore and aft, and the booming of cannon continued until her masts and hull were a complete wreck. Many guns were dismounted and four hundred men killed. The _Victory_ then swung off and left the doomed _Bucentaure_ to be captured by the _Conqueror_, and Villeneuve was taken prisoner. After clearing the _Bucentaure_, the _Victory_ fouled the _Redoubtable_, and proceeded to demolish her hull with the starboard guns, and with her port guns she battered the _Santissima Trinidad_, until she was a mass of wreckage, and the _Africa_ and _Neptune_ forced her to surrender. Meanwhile, the _Victory_ kept hammering with her starboard guns at the _Redoubtable_ until her lower deck cannon were put out of action. Then she used her upper deck small guns and muskets from aloft. Nelson was too humane a man to use this method of warfare from the lower tops, and too practical, lest the ropes and sails should be damaged. The writer is of opinion that he was wrong in this view, as was clearly shown by the deadly execution the French musketeers did from aloft before their masts were shot away by the British big artillery. It can never be wrong to outmatch an enemy in the methods they employ, no matter what form they take. Although the victory was all on the British side at Trafalgar, it would have been greater and with less loss of life on our side had musketeers been employed in the same way as the French and Spanish employed them. The men on the upper deck of the _Victory_ were shot down by these snipers without having an equal chance of retaliating. The _Redoubtable's_ mizzen-top was full of sharpshooters when the two ships fell alongside of each other, but only two were left there when Nelson was shot and dropped on his left side on the deck a foot or two from Captain Hardy. The Frenchman who shot him was killed himself by a shot fired from the _Victory's_ deck, which knocked his head to pieces. His comrade was also shot dead while trying to escape down the rigging, and fell on the _Redoubtable's_ poop. The other sharpshooters had been previously killed by the musketry from the _Victory's_ deck.

Nelson told Hardy, when he expressed the hope that he was not seriously hurt, that "they had done for him at last, and that he felt his backbone was broken." He was hit on the left shoulder; the ball had pierced his left lung. The snipers from the tops of the other enemy ships killed a large number of the _Victory's_ officers and men who were on deck. The French made an attempt to board, but were thrown back in confusion and with tremendous loss. The instinct of domination and the unconquerable combativeness of our race is always more fiercely courageous when pressed to a point which causes others to take to their heels or surrender.

It was not an exaggeration on the part of the French and Spanish to declare that the British sailors and soldiers were not ordinary men but devils, when the real tussle for mastery began, and when they were even believed to be beaten. The French and Spanish conclusions were right then, and the ruthless Germans, stained with unspeakable crimes, should know they are right now, for they have had many chances in recent days of realizing the power of the recuperating spirit they are up against, just at a time when they have become imbued with the idea that they have beaten our forces on land and destroyed our ships and murdered their crews at sea. The Kaiser and his advisers, military and naval, have made the German people pay dearly for the experiment of stopping our supplies by sea, for the loss of life by the sinking of their own submarines must have been enormous. But only those to whom they belong will ever know that they have not returned, and that they must have been sent to the bottom of the sea.

We can only judge by written records and authoritative paintings or prints of the period what the naval battles of the beginning of the last century were like. But it is only those who have studied minutely the naval battles of St. Vincent, the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar who can depict the awful character and thrilling nature of these ocean conflicts.

While the author was serving as an apprentice aboard a sailing vessel during the Prussian-Danish war in 1864 a dense fog came on, and continued the whole of one night. When it cleared up the next forenoon we found that the vessel had been sailed right into the centre of the Danish fleet, which had defeated the Prussians and Austrians off Heligoland. There were other merchantmen there, and the cheering as we passed each of the Danish warships was hearty and long, while they gracefully acknowledged by saluting with their flags. I am quite sure there were few British seamen who would not have gladly volunteered to serve in the Danish navy against the Prussians, so universal was their bitter dislike to the Hun bullies who had set themselves to steal by force the possessions to which they had not an atom of right. The sight of these fine frigates and line-of-battle ships manoeuvring to come to grips with their cowardly antagonists who were assailing their national rights has been revivified during a long course of study of Nelson's naval warfare, and makes the awful vision of Trafalgar appear as it really was, and makes me wish that I were gifted with the art of words so that I might describe it in all its gruesome wreckage and magnitude, as the recollection of the majestic sight of the Danish ships before they even went into action makes it appear to me.

My mind's eye pictures one after another of the French and Spanish ships surrendering, the hurricane of cheers that followed their defeat, and the pathetic anxiety of the dying chieftain for the safety of Captain Hardy, who was now in charge of the flagship acting as commander-in-chief. Hardy is long in coming; he fears that he may be killed, and calls out, "Will no one bring Hardy to me?" At last the gallant captain sees an opportunity of leaving the deck, for the _Victory_ is shielded by two ships from the enemy's gunfire. "Well, Hardy," says Nelson to him, "how goes the battle?" "Very well, my Lord," says Hardy; "fourteen or fifteen of the enemy's ships are in our possession." "That is well," said Nelson, "but I bargained for twenty"; and then followed the memorable order, "Anchor, Hardy, anchor." "If I live," he says, "we will anchor"; and in answer to Hardy's supposition that Collingwood should take charge, he impulsively resents the suggestion and expresses the hope that this will not happen while he lives, and urges again on Hardy that the fleet may be anchored, and asks him to make the signal. He hopes that none of our ships have struck, and his devoted friend reassures him that none have and never will. He commissions Hardy to give "dear Lady Hamilton his hair and other belongings," and asks that his "body shall not be thrown overboard." Hardy is then asked in childlike simplicity to kiss him, and the rough, fearless captain with deep emotion kneels and reverently kisses Nelson on the cheek. He then thanks God that he has done his duty, and makes the solemn thoughts that are troubling his last moments manifest in words by informing Doctor Scott, with a vital sailorly turn of speech, that "he had _not_ been a _great_ sinner," and then bids him remember that he leaves Lady Hamilton and his daughter Horatia as a legacy to his country, and that Horatia is never to be forgotten.

Even at this distance of time one cannot help regretting that nature's power did not sustain him to see the total debacle of the enemy fleets. He knew that he had triumphed, and that his task had ended fatally to himself, but his sufferings did not prevent his spirit sallying to and fro, making him feel the joy of living and wish that he might linger but a little longer. He was struck down at a critical stage of the battle, though there was never any doubt as to how it would end, thanks to the adroit skill and bravery of Collingwood and those who served under him. It is a happy thought to know that our hero, even when the shadows were closing round him, had the pleasure of hearing from the lips of the faithful Hardy that fifteen of the enemy ships had struck and not one of ours had lowered a flag. But how much more gladsome would the passing have been had he lived to know that the battle had ended with the capture of nine French vessels and ten Spanish, nineteen in all. He died at 4.30 p.m. on the 21st October, 1805, just when the battle was flickering to an end. Villeneuve had given himself up, and was a prisoner on board the _Mars_. Dumanoir had bolted with four of the line, after committing a decidedly cowardly act by firing into the captured Spanish ships, the object being to put them out of the possession of the British. They could not succeed in this without killing large numbers of their allies, and this was all they were successful in doing. It was a cruel, clumsy crime, which the Spanish rightly resented but never succeeded in avenging.

Meanwhile the Spanish Admiral Gravina, who had lost an arm, took command of the dilapidated combined fleets, and fled into Cadiz with five French and five Spanish ships, and by 5 p.m. the thundering of the guns had ceased, and the sea all round was a scene of death, dismasted ships, and awful wreckage. The Rear-Admiral Dumanoir was sailing gaily towards the refuge of Rochefort or Ferrol when he came into view of, and ultimately had to fight on the 4th November, a squadron under Sir Richard Strachan. Dumanoir and his men are said to have fought with great fierceness, but his ships were beaten, captured, and taken in a battered condition, and subsequently sent to England, so that now twenty-three out of the thirty-three that came out of Cadiz with all the swagger of confidence and superiority to match themselves against Nelson and his fiery coadjutors were tragically accounted for.

Collingwood was now the commander-in-chief of the British fleet, and to him fell the task of notifying the victory. I insert the documents in full.

LONDON GAZETTE EXTRAORDINARY.

ADMIRALTY OFFICE, _6th November, 1805._

Despatches, of which the following are copies, were received at
the Admiralty this day, at one o'clock a.m. from Vice-Admiral
Collingwood, Commander-in-Chief of his Majesty's ships and
vessels off Cadiz.

"EURYALUS", OFF CAPE TRAFALGAR, _October 22, 1805._

SIR,--The ever-to-be-lamented death of Vice-Admiral Lord
Viscount Nelson, who, in the late conflict with the enemy, fell
in the hour of victory, leaves me the duty of informing my lords
commissioners of the Admiralty, that on the 19th instant, it was
communicated to the Commander-in-Chief, from the ships watching
the motions of the enemy in Cadiz, that the combined fleet had
put to sea. As they sailed with light winds westerly, his
Lordship concluded their destination was the Mediterranean, and
immediately made all sail for the Straits' entrance, with the
British squadron, consisting of twenty-seven ships, three of
them sixty-fours, where his Lordship was informed, by Captain
Blackwood (whose vigilance in watching and giving notice of the
enemy's movements has been highly meritorious), that they had
not yet passed the Straits.

On Monday, the 21st instant, at daylight, when Cape Trafalgar
bore E. by S. about seven leagues, the enemy was discovered six
or seven miles to the eastward, the wind about west, and very
light; the Commander-in-Chief immediately made the signal for
the fleet to bear up in two columns, as they are formed in the
order of sailing; a mode of attack his Lordship had previously
directed, to avoid the delay and inconvenience in forming a line
of battle in the usual manner. The enemy's line consisted of
thirty-three ships (of which eighteen were French and fifteen
Spanish, commanded in chief by Admiral Villeneuve, the Spaniards
under the direction of Gravina), bore with their heads to the
northwards and formed their line of battle with great closeness
and correctness. But as the mode of attack was unusual, so the
structure of their line was new; it formed a crescent convexing
to leeward; so that in leading down to their centre I had both
their van and rear abaft the beam before the fire opened; every
alternate ship was about a cable's length to windward of her
second ahead and astern, forming a kind of double line, and
appeared, when on their beam, to leave a very little interval
between them, and this without crowding their ships. Admiral
Villeneuve was in the _Bucentaure_ in the centre, and the
_Prince of Asturias_ bore Gravina's flag in the rear, but the
French and Spanish ships were mixed without any apparent regard
to order of national squadron.

As the mode of our attack had been previously determined upon,
and communicated to the flag officers and captains, few signals
were necessary, and none were made except to direct close order
as the lines bore down. The Commander-in-Chief in the _Victory_
led the weather column, and the _Royal Sovereign_, which bore my
flag, the lee. The action began at twelve o'clock by the leading
ships of the column breaking through the enemy's line; the
Commander-in-Chief about the tenth ship from the van; the
second-in-command about the twelfth from the rear, leaving the
van of the enemy unoccupied; the succeeding ships breaking
through in all parts, astern of their leaders, and engaging the
enemy at the muzzles of their guns. The conflict was severe; the
enemy's ships were fought with a gallantry highly honourable to
their officers; but the attack on them was irresistible, and it
pleased the Almighty Disposer of all events to grant his
Majesty's arms a complete and glorious victory. About three
p.m., many of the enemy's ships having struck their colours,
their line gave way; Admiral Gravina, with ten ships joining
their frigates to leewards, stood towards Cadiz. The five
headmost ships of their van tacked, and standing to the
southward, to windward of the British line, were engaged, and
the sternmost of them taken; the others went off, leaving to his
Majesty's squadron nineteen ships of the line (of which two are
first-rates, the _Santissima Trinidad_, and the _Santa Anna_),
with three flag officers, viz. Admiral Villeneuve, the
Commander-in-Chief; Don Ignacio Maria D'Alava, Vice-Admiral; and
the Spanish Rear-Admiral Don Baltazar Hidalgo Cisneros.

After such a victory it may appear unnecessary to enter into
encomiums on the particular parts taken by the several
commanders; the conclusion says more than I have language to
express; the spirit which animated all was the same; when all
exert themselves zealously in their country's service, all
deserve that their high merits should stand recorded; and never
was high merit more conspicuous than in the battle I have
described.

The _Achille_, a French seventy-four, after having surrendered,
by some mismanagement of the Frenchmen, took fire and blew up;
two hundred of her men were saved by the tenders. A circumstance
occurred during the action, which so strongly marks the
invincible spirit of British seamen, when engaging the enemies
of their country, that I cannot resist the pleasure I have in
making known to their Lordships: the _Temeraire_ was boarded, by
accident or design, by a French ship on one side, and a Spaniard
on the other; the contest was vigorous; but in the end the
combined ensigns were torn from the poop, and the British
hoisted in their places.[15]

Such a battle could not be fought without sustaining a great
loss of men. I have not only to lament in common
with the British Navy and the British nation in the fall of the
Commander-in-Chief, the loss of a hero whose name will be
immortal, and his memory ever dear to his country; but my heart
is rent with the most poignant grief for the death of a friend,
to whom, by many years of intimacy, and a perfect knowledge of
the virtues of his mind, which inspired ideas superior to the
common race of men, I was bound by the strongest ties of
affection; a grief to which even the glorious occasion in which
he fell does not bring the consolation which perhaps it ought.
His Lordship received a musket ball in his left breast, about
the middle of the action, and sent an officer to me immediately,
with his last farewell, and soon after expired. I have also to
lament the loss of those excellent officers, Captain Duff of the
_Mars_, and Cooke of the _Bellerophon_; I have yet heard of none
others.

I fear the numbers that have fallen will be found very great when
the returns come to me; but it having blown a gale of wind ever
since the action, I have not yet had it in my power to collect
any reports from the ships. The _Royal Sovereign_ having lost her
masts, except the tottering foremast, I called the _Euryalus_ to
me, while the action continued, which ship, lying within hail,
made my signals, a service which Captain Blackwood performed with
very great attention. After the action I shifted my flag to her,
so that I might the more easily communicate my orders to, and
collect the ships, and towed the _Royal Sovereign_ out to
seaward. The whole fleet were now in a very perilous situation;
many dismasted; all shattered; in thirteen fathom water off the
shoals of Trafalgar; and when I made the signal to anchor, few of
the ships had an anchor to let go, their cables being shot. But
the same good Providence which aided us through such a day
preserved us in the night, by the wind shifting a few points, and
drifting the ships off the land, except four of the captured
dismasted ships, which are now at anchor off Trafalgar, and I
hope will ride safe until these gales are over.

Having thus detailed the proceedings of the fleet on this
occasion, I beg to congratulate their Lordships on a victory,
which I hope will add a ray to the glory of his Majesty's crown,
and be attended with public benefit to our country.

I am, etc., (_Signed_) C. COLLINGWOOD.

William Marsden, Esq.

GENERAL ORDER.

"EURYALUS", _October 22, 1805._

The ever-to-be-lamented death of Lord Viscount Nelson, Duke of
Bronte, the Commander-in-Chief, who fell in the action of the
21st, in the arms of Victory, covered with glory, whose memory
will ever be dear to the British Navy and the British nation,
whose zeal for the honour of his King, and for the interest of
his country will be ever held up as a shining example for a
British seaman, leave to me a duty to return my thanks to the
Right Honourable Rear-Admiral, the captains, officers, seamen,
and detachments of Royal Marines, serving on his Majesty's
squadron now under my command, for their conduct on that day.
But where can I find language to express my sentiments of the
valour and skill which were displayed by the officers, the
seamen, and marines, in the battle with the enemy, where every
individual appeared a hero, on whom the glory of his country
depended! The attack was irresistible, and the issue of it adds
to the page of naval annals a brilliant instance of what Britons
can do, when their King and country need their service.

To the Right Honourable Rear-Admiral the Earl of Northesk, to
the captains, officers, and seamen, and to the officers,
non-commissioned officers, and privates of the Royal Marines, I
beg to give my sincere and hearty thanks for their highly
meritorious conduct, both in the action and in their zeal and
activity in bringing the captured ships out from the perilous
situation in which they were, after their surrender, among the
shoals of Trafalgar in boisterous weather. And I desire that the
respective captains will be pleased to communicate to the
officers, seamen, and Royal Marines, this public testimony of my
high approbation of their conduct, and my thanks for it.

(_Signed_) C. COLLINGWOOD.

To the Right Honourable Rear-Admiral
the Earl of Northesk,
and the respective Captains and
Commanders.

GENERAL ORDER.

The Almighty God, whose arm is strength, having of his great
mercy been pleased to crown the exertions of his Majesty's
fleet with success, in giving them a complete victory over
their enemies, on the 21st of this month; and that all praise
and thanksgiving may be offered up to the throne of grace, for
the great benefit to our country and to mankind, I have thought
it proper that a day should be appointed of general humiliation
before God, and thanksgiving for his merciful goodness,
imploring forgiveness of sins, a continuation of his divine
mercy, and his constant aid to us, in defence of our country's
liberties and laws, and without which the utmost efforts of man
are nought; and therefore that [blank] be appointed for this
holy purpose.

Given on board the "Euryalus," off Cape Trafalgar,
October 22, 1805.
(_Signed_) C. COLLINGWOOD

To the respective Captains and Commanders.

N.B.--The fleet having been dispersed by a gale of wind, no day
has yet been able to be appointed for the above purpose.

Against the desire of his dead comrade, Collingwood carried into practice his own sound and masterful judgment not to anchor either his conquests or any of his own vessels on a lee ironbound shore. Even had his ground tackle been sound and intact, which it was not, and the holding ground good instead of bad, he acted in a seamanlike manner by holding steadfastly to the sound sailor tradition always to keep the gate open for drift, to avoid being caught, and never to anchor on a lee shore; and if perchance you get trapped, as hundreds have been, get out of it quickly, if you can, before a gale comes on. But in no case is it good seamanship to anchor. There is always a better chance of saving both the ship and lives by driving ashore in the square effort to beat off rather than by anchoring. The cables, more often than not, part, and if they do, the ship is doomed, and so may lives be. Hundreds of sailing vessels were saved in other days by the skill of their commanders in carrying out a plan, long since forgotten, called clubhauling off a lee shore. Few sailors living to-day will know the phrase, or how to apply it to advantage. It was a simple method, requiring ability, of helping the vessel to tack when the wind and sea made it impossible in the ordinary way. A large kedge with a warp bent on was let go on either the port or starboard quarter at an opportune moment to make sure the vessel would cant the right way, and then the warp was cut with an axe. In the writer's opinion, it would have been just as unwise to anchor at Trafalgar after the battle, in view of the weather and all circumstances, as it would be to anchor on the Yorkshire or any part of the North-East Coast when an easterly gale is blowing. But apart from the folly of it, there were none of the ships that had ground tackle left that was fit to hold a cat.

Without a doubt, Nelson's mind was distracted and suffering when he gave Hardy the order to anchor. The shadows were hovering too thickly round him at the time for him to concentrate any sound judgment. Some writers have condemned Collingwood for not carrying out the dying request of his Commander-in-Chief. It was a good thing that the command of the fleet fell into the hands of a man who had knowledge and a mind unimpaired to carry out his fixed opinions. When Hardy conveyed Nelson's message, he replied, "That is the very last thing that I would have thought of doing," and he was right. Had Nelson come out of the battle unscathed, he would assuredly have acted as Collingwood did, and as any well-trained and soundly-balanced sailor would have done. Besides, he always made a point of consulting "Coll," as he called him, on great essential matters. If it had been summer-time and calm, or the wind off the land, and the glass indicating a continuance of fine weather, and provided the vessels' cables had been sound, it might have paid to risk a change of wind and weather in order to refit with greater expedition and save the prizes, but certainly not in the month of October in that locality, where the changes are sudden and severe. Collingwood acted like a sound hardheaded man of affairs in salving all he could and destroying those he could not without risk of greater disaster.

Collingwood's account of his difficulties after the battle was won is contained in the following letter to his father-in-law:--

"QUEEN,"

_2nd November, 1805._

MY DEAR SIR,--I wrote to my dear Sarah a few lines when I sent
my first dispatches to the Admiralty, which account I hope will
satisfy the good people of England, for there never was, since
England had a fleet, such a combat. In three hours the combined
fleet were annihilated, upon their own shores, at the entrance
of their port, amongst their own rocks. It has been a very
difficult thing to collect an account of our success, but by the
best I have twenty-three sail of the line surrendered to us, out
of which three, in the furious gale we had afterward, being
driven to the entrance of the harbour of Cadiz, received
assistance and got in; these were the _Santa Anna_, the
_Algeziras_, and _Neptune_ (the last since sunk and lost); the
_Santa Anna's_ side was battered in. The three we have sent to
Gibraltar are the _San Ildefonso_, _San Juan Nepomuceno_, and
_Swiftsure_; seventeen others we have burnt, sunk, and run on
shore, but the _Bahama_ I have yet hope of saving; she is gone
to Gibraltar. Those ships which effected their escape into Cadiz
are quite wrecks; some have lost their masts since they got in,
and they have not a spar or a store to refit them. We took four
admirals--Villeneuve the commander-in-chief, Vice-Admiral
D'Alava, Rear-Admiral Cisneros, Spanish, and Magon, the French
admiral, who was killed--besides a great number of brigadiers
(commanders). D'Alava, wounded, was driven into Cadiz in the
_Santa Anna_; Gravina, who was not taken, has lost his arm
(amputated I have heard, but not from him); of men, their loss
is many thousands, for I reckon in the captured ships we took
twenty thousand prisoners (including the troops). This was a
victory to be proud of; but in the loss of my excellent friend,
Lord Nelson, and a number of brave men, we paid dear for it;
when my dear friend received his wound, he immediately sent an
officer to me to tell me of it, and give his love to me. Though
the officer was directed to say the wound was not dangerous, I
read in his countenance what I had to fear; and before the
action was over Captain Hardy came to inform me of his death. I
cannot tell you how deeply I was affected, for my friendship for
him was unlike anything that I have left in the Navy, a
brotherhood of more than thirty years; in this affair he did
nothing without my counsel; we made our line of battle together,
and concerted the mode of attack, which was put into execution
in the most admirable style. I shall grow very tired of the sea
soon; my health has suffered so much from the anxious state I
have been in, and the fatigue I have undergone, that I shall be
unfit for service. The severe gales which immediately followed
the day of victory ruined our prospect of prizes; our own infirm
ships could scarce keep off the shore; the prizes were left to
their fate, and as they were driven very near the port, I
ordered them to be destroyed by burning and sinking, that there
might be no risk of their falling again into the hands of the
enemy. There has been a great destruction of them, indeed I
hardly know what, but not less than seventeen or eighteen, the
total ruin of the combined fleet. To alleviate the miseries of
the wounded, as much as in my power, I sent a flag to the
Marquis Solano, to offer him his wounded. Nothing can exceed
the gratitude expressed by him, for this act of humanity; all
this part of Spain is in an uproar of praise and thankfulness to
the English. Solano sent me a present of a cask of wine, and we
have a free intercourse with the shore. Judge of the footing we
are on, when I tell you he offered me his hospitals, and pledged
the Spanish honour for the care and cure of our wounded men. Our
officers and men, who were wrecked in some of the prize ships,
were received like divinities; all the country was on the beach
to receive them; the priests and women distributing wine, and
bread and fruit among them; the soldiers turned out of their
barracks to make lodging for them, whilst their allies, the
French, were left to shift for themselves, with a guard over
them to prevent their doing mischief. After the battle I shifted
my flag to the _Euryalus_ frigate, that I might the better
distribute my orders; and when the ships were destroyed and the
squadron in safety, I came here, my own ship being totally
disabled; she lost her last mast in the gale. All the northern
boys, and Graydon, are alive; Kennicott has a dangerous wound in
his shoulder; Thompson is wounded in the arm, and just at the
conclusion of the action his leg was broken by a splinter;
little Charles is unhurt, but we have lost a good many
youngsters. For myself, I am in so forlorn a state, my servants
killed, my luggage, what is left, is on board the _Sovereign_,
and Clavell[16] wounded. I have appointed Sir Peter Parker's[17]
grandson, and Captain Thomas, my old lieutenant, post captains;
Clavell, and the first lieutenant of the _Victory_, made
commanders; but I hope the Admiralty will do more for them, for
in the history of our Navy there is no instance of a victory so
complete and so great. The ships that escaped into Cadiz are
wrecks; and they have neither stores nor inclination to refit
them. I shall now go, as soon as I get a sufficient squadron
equipped, and see what I can do with the Carthagenians; if I can
get at them, the naval war will be finished in this country.
Prize-money I shall get little or none for this business, for
though the loss of the enemy may be estimated at near four
millions, it is most of it gone to the bottom. Don Argemoso, who
was formerly captain of the _Isedro_, commanded the _Monarca_,
one of our captures; he sent to inform me he was in the
_Leviathan_, and I immediately ordered, for our old acquaintance
sake, his liberty on parole. All the Spaniards speak of us in
terms of adoration; and Villeneuve, whom I had in the frigate,
acknowledges that they cannot contend with us at sea. I do not
know what will be thought of it in England, but the effect here
is highly advantageous to the British name. Kind remembrances to
all my friends; I dare say your neighbour, Mr.---- will be
delighted with the history of the battle; if he had been in it,
it would have animated him more than all his daughter's
chemistry; it would have new strung his nerves, and made him
young again. God bless you, my dear sir, may you be ever happy;
it is very long since I heard from home.

I am, ever, your most truly affectionate,

CUTHBERT COLLINGWOOD.

I have ordered all the boys to be discharged into this ship;
another such fight will season them pretty well. Brown is in
perfect health. We had forty-seven killed, ninety-four wounded.

Great efforts were made to get all the people out of the disabled vessels before they drifted ashore. It is really splendid to read the official account of the deeds of bravery of our fine fellows risking their own lives to save the lives of those they had defeated. Seven days after the battle, the _Victory_ arrived at Gibraltar, and although her masts had been shot away and her hull badly damaged, she was refitted and sailed for England on the 4th November, the same day that the straggling Dumanoir and his ships fell into the hands of Sir Richard Strachan in the Bay of Biscay.