FOOTNOTES:
[121] May, 1805.
[122] The author does not here understand the speaking of "two or three" rear ships, when the van is supposed to be five or six—making a total of not over nine or ten enemies. If this order of attack was issued, as expressly stated by Clarke and M'Arthur, on the chase to the West Indies, Nelson then was fully aware that he with ten ships was in pursuit of eighteen. (See ante, p. 296) It appears to the author more probable that it was issued to the fleet when off Toulon, in anticipation of a possible meeting with the French squadron there, when the disparity of force was less—say, eight to ten. This impression is confirmed by the "Plan of Attack" speaking of the junior "Admirals"—in the plural. There was but one such in the pursuit to the West Indies. It is quite possible, however, that the same order was re-issued upon the later occasion, re-copied without change of words. In any event, it confirms other statements and actions of Nelson's, that an enemy should not be fought ship to ship, but by a concentration on part of his order.
[123] Inserted by author.
[124] Ante, pp. 306, 323.
[125] Ante, p. 82.
[126] The author has introduced an arrow to show the direction of the wind as viewed by Nelson; the arrow flying with the wind.
[127] Formerly Mr. Addington, who was at the head of the Government during the Copenhagen expedition.
[128] This was a mistake on Nelson's part. Rodney's fleet actually, though accidentally, broke through De Grasse's order in two (if not three) places.
[129] A desert group of small islands between Madeira and the Canaries.
[130] The author is indebted for this reminiscence to Mr. Stuart J. Reid, who received it from Pasco's son, also an officer in the Navy.
[131] Besides three of the battles associated with Nelson's name—St. Vincent, the Nile, and Trafalgar—Berry as a midshipman had been in the five fleet actions between Suffren and Hughes, in the East Indies, in 1782 and 1783. ("The Nelson Memorial," by John Knox Laughton, pp. 83, 284.)
CHAPTER XXIII.
TRAFALGAR.—THE DEATH OF NELSON.
OCTOBER 19-21, 1805. AGE, 47.
Contrary to the general policy that for many years had governed the naval undertakings of France and Spain, the combined fleets put to sea on the 19th of October, 1805, with the fixed purpose of daring the hazard of battle, which they could scarcely expect to avoid. They numbered thirty-three ships-of-the-line, eighteen French and fifteen Spanish, and were accompanied by five frigates and two brigs, all of which were French. This great force in its aggregate was one. There were not two separate entities, a French fleet and a Spanish fleet, acting in concert, as is often the case in alliances. Whatever the administrative arrangements, for cruising and for battle the vessels of the two nations were blended in a single mass, at the head of which was the French admiral, just as the general direction of the naval campaign was in the hands of the French Emperor alone. The commander-in-chief was Vice-Admiral Villeneuve, the same that Nelson recently had pursued to the West Indies and back to Europe. The commander of the Spanish contingent, Vice-Admiral Gravina, was less his colleague than his subordinate. There were also flying in the combined fleet the flags of four junior admirals, two French and two Spanish, and the broad pendants of several commodores.
Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson
In the allied force there were four three-decked ships, of from one hundred to one hundred and thirty guns, all Spanish, of which one, the "Santísima Trinidad," was the largest vessel then afloat. Among Nelson's twenty-seven there were seven three-deckers, of ninety-eight to one hundred guns; but in the lower rates the British were at a disadvantage, having but one eighty-gun ship and three sixty-fours, whereas the allies had six of the former and only one of the latter. All the other vessels of the line-of-battle were seventy-fours, the normal medium type, upon which the experience of most navies of that day had fixed, as best fitted for the general purposes of fleet warfare. Where more tonnage and heavier batteries were put into single ships, it was simply for the purpose of reinforcing the critical points of an order of battle; an aim that could not be as effectively attained by the combination of two ships, under two captains.
As Nelson said in his celebrated order, so large a body as thirty-three heavy vessels is not easily handled, even at sea; and leaving port with them is an operation yet more difficult. Consequently, the movement which began soon after daylight on the 19th was not completed that day. Owing to the falling of the wind, only twelve ships got fairly clear of the bay, outside of which they lay becalmed. The following morning the attempt was resumed, and by two or three o'clock in the afternoon of the 20th the whole combined fleet was united, and standing with a fresh southwest wind to the northward and westward, to gain room to windward for entering the Straits.
As has been said, the movement that Blackwood recognized at 7 A.M. of the 19th was communicated to the admiral at half-past nine. According to his announced plan, to cut the enemy off from the Mediterranean, he at once made signal for a General Chase to the southeast,—towards Cape Spartel,—and the fleet moved off in that direction with a light southerly wind. At noon Nelson sat down in his cabin to begin his last letter to Lady Hamilton. The words then written he signed, as though conscious that no opportunity to continue might offer; nor is it difficult to trace that some such thought was then uppermost in his mind, and sought expression in the tenderness of farewell. The following day, however, he added a few lines, in which the dominant note was fear that the enemy might again elude him, by returning into port; an apprehension that expelled the previous haunting sense of finality. There he laid down the pen, never again to address her directly. The letter, thus abruptly closed by death, was found open and unsigned upon his desk after the battle.
Victory, October 19th, 1805, Noon. CADIZ, E.S.E., 16 Leagues.
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
NELSON AND BRONTE.
October 20th.
In the morning, we were close to the Mouth of the Straits, but the wind had not come far enough to the Westward to allow the Combined Fleets to weather the Shoals off Trafalgar; but they were counted as far as forty Sail of Ships of War, which I suppose to be thirty-four of the Line, and six Frigates. A group of them was seen off the Lighthouse of Cadiz this morning, but it blows so very fresh and thick weather, that I rather believe they will go into the Harbour before night. May God Almighty give us success over these fellows, and enable us to get a Peace.
He wrote the same day to his daughter, addressing the letter to Miss Horatia Nelson Thompson,[132] by which name she had hitherto been known. In the Codicil to his Will, signed on the morning of the 21st, a few hours before the battle, he called her his adopted daughter, and desired that she would in future use the name of Nelson only.
Victory, October 19th, 1805.
MY DEAREST ANGEL,—I was made happy by the pleasure of receiving your letter of September 19th, and I rejoice to hear that 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. Be a good girl, mind what Miss Connor says to you. Receive, my dearest Horatia, the affectionate parental blessing of your Father,
NELSON AND BRONTE.
The 20th of October opened with fresh breezes from south-southwest and heavy rains. At daybreak the British fleet was near the Straits' mouth, between Capes Trafalgar and Spartel, unable to see anything, but certain that, with the existing winds, the enemy could not have anticipated it there. Blackwood's frigates, out of sight to the northward, were dogging the path of the allies, of whose general position they were certain, although the thick weather hid them from observation. At 7 A.M. the frigate "Phoebe" signalled to Nelson that the enemy bore north. With the wind as it was, and considering the position of the land, they must be standing to the northwest, so that the British fleet wore and steered the same course, keeping parallel to the enemy and spreading lookouts in their direction. Soon after noon, the weather clearing, Blackwood saw the combined fleets where he believed them to be, under low sail, and so close that the "Euryalus" went about immediately. At 1 P.M. he left the squadron in temporary charge of a junior captain, and with his own ship kept away south to speak the admiral. At two he sighted the main body, and at 3.20 was near enough to send the telegraphic message, "The enemy appears determined to push to the westward." "That," wrote Nelson in his diary, "they shall not do, if in the power of Nelson and Bronté to prevent them," and he telegraphed back, "I rely upon your keeping sight of the enemy." The frigates and lookout ships, he noted in his journal, had so far discharged their duties most admirably, informing him promptly of all the hostile movements; he was justified therefore in the confidence that they would do as well in the night now approaching.
While Blackwood was communicating, Nelson himself was much of the time on the "Victory's" poop. Seeing there a number of midshipmen assembled, he observed to them, "This day or to-morrow will be a fortunate one for you, young gentlemen," alluding to their prospect of promotion after a successful battle. The same day at dinner, he said to some of the company, "To-morrow I will do that which will give you younger gentlemen something to talk and think about for the rest of your lives, but I shall not live to know about it myself;" and he added that he expected to capture twenty to twenty-two of the hostile fleet.[133] It may be inferred from this remark that by the dinner hour, between three and five, he had become satisfied that the enemy either would not, or could not, return into port, according to the fear he had expressed to Lady Hamilton, and that a battle therefore was certain. The letter to her, from its mention of the weather as thick, must have been written in the forenoon. His expectation that the morrow would prove the decisive day was reinforced by one of those prepossessions for coincidences, half jesting, half serious, which are natural to men, but fall too far short of conviction to be called superstitious. On the 21st of October, 1757, his uncle Maurice Suckling had commanded one of three ships-of-the-line which had beaten off a superior force. Nelson had several times said to Captain Hardy and Dr. Scott, "The 21st will be our day;" and on the morning of the battle, when the prediction was approaching fulfilment, he again remarked that the 21st of October was the happiest day in the year for his family; but he mentioned no reason other than that just given.
The main bodies of the contending navies did not come in sight of each other during the 20th; the British lookout frigates, between the two, and three or four miles from the allied line, could see their own fleet only from the masthead. At about 2 P.M., soon after the weather cleared, the wind shifted to west-northwest, taking the ships aback. After filling their sails again to the new wind, as this was now fair for their approach to the Straits' mouth, the combined fleets wore, and headed to the southward. The British remaining on the same tack as before,—the port,—stood to the northward until 8 P.M., when they also wore to the southwest; but this interval of steering in nearly opposite directions changed the relative bearings. At midnight, by the log of Blackwood's frigates, the enemy stretched along the eastern horizon, while the British bore southwest; the space between the two being ten miles. The "Euryalus," three miles from the allies, saw the loom of the lights of her own fleet. Still fearful lest the view of his ships should shake the enemy's purpose, Nelson was careful not to lessen this distance; the more so because the British, having the wind, could attack when they pleased, provided the enemy by continuing to the southward deprived themselves of the power to regain Cadiz. Two British frigates were directed to keep them in sight during the night, reporting their movements to two others who were stationed a little farther from them, whence a chain of line-of-battle ships communicated with the "Victory." Thus, throughout the dark hours, signal lights and guns flashed across the waters to Nelson instantaneous information of every noteworthy occurrence in the hostile order.
Since the morning of the 19th, the weather, fine for some days previous, had become unsettled, working up for the southwest gale which wrought so much damage among the victims of the fight. As the night of the 20th advanced, the wind fell, and at midnight there were only light westerly breezes, inclining to calm. The same conditions continued at dawn, and throughout the day of the 21st until after the battle; but there was also a great swell from the westward, the precursor of a storm. At 4 A.M. the British fleet again wore, and was standing northeast when the day broke.
After leaving Cadiz, in order to avoid separations during the night, or in thick weather, the combined fleets had been disposed in five columns, a formation whose compactness, though not suited to an engagement, was less liable to straggling than a single long line, and brought all parts more directly under the control of the commander-in-chief at the centre. Of the five, the two to windward, of six ships each, constituted a reserve, similar to Nelson's proposed detachment of eight. It was commanded by Admiral Gravina, and was intended to reinforce such part of the battle as should appear to require it; an object for which the windward position was of the utmost moment, as it was for all naval initiative in that day. This advantage the allies did not have on the morning of Trafalgar. When Villeneuve, therefore, formed the line of battle, these twelve ships were at once incorporated with it, taking the lead of their order as it stood to the southward, with the wind at west-northwest,—a long column stretching over five miles of sea from end to end.
In a general sense, then, it may be said that, when daylight showed the enemies to each other, the British fleet was heading to the northward, and that of the allies to the southward; the latter being ten or twelve miles east of their opponents. In the far distance, Cape Trafalgar, from which the battle takes its name, was just visible against the eastern sky. At twenty minutes before seven Nelson made in quick succession the signals, "To form the order of sailing,"—which by his previous instructions was to be the order of battle,—and "To prepare for battle." Ten minutes later followed the command to "Bear up," the "Victory" setting the example by at once altering her course for the enemy. Collingwood did the same, and the ships of the two divisions fell into the wake of their leaders as best they could, for the light wind afforded neither the means nor the time for refinements in manoeuvring. Fourteen ships followed the "Royal Sovereign," which bore Collingwood's flag, while the remaining twelve gathered in Nelson's division behind the "Victory."[134] The two columns steered east, about a mile apart, that of Nelson being to the northward; from which circumstance, the wind being west-northwest, it has been called commonly the weather line.
The Attack at Trafalgar
Thus, as Ivanhoe, at the instant of encounter in the lists, shifted his lance from the shield to the casque of the Templar, Nelson, at the moment of engaging, changed the details of his plan, and substituted an attack in two columns, simultaneously made, for the charge of Collingwood's division, in line and in superior numbers, upon the enemy's flank; to be followed, more or less quickly, according to indications, by such movement of his own division as might seem advisable. It will be observed, however, that the order of sailing remained the order of battle,—probably, although it is not so stated, the fleet was already thus disposed when the signal was made, needing only rectification after the derangements incident to darkness,—and further, that the general direction of attack continued the same, Collingwood guiding his column upon the enemy's southern flank, while Nelson pointed a few ships north of their centre. In this way was preserved the comprehensive aim which underlay the particular dispositions of his famous order: "The whole impression of the British fleet must be to overpower from two or three ships ahead of their commander-in-chief, supposed to be in the Centre, to the Rear of their fleet." The northern flank of the allies—ten or a dozen ships—was consequently left unengaged, unless by their own initiative they came promptly into action; which, it may be added, they did not do until after the battle was decided.
When the development of the British movement was recognized by Villeneuve, he saw that fighting was inevitable; and, wishing to keep Cadiz, then twenty miles to the northward and eastward, under his lee, he ordered the combined fleets to wear together.[135] The scanty wind which embarrassed the British impeded this manoeuvre also, so that it was not completed till near ten o'clock. Nelson, however, noted its beginning at seven, and with grave concern; for not only would it put the allies nearer their port, as it was intended to do, but it would cause vessels crippled in the action to find to leeward of them, during the gale which he foresaw, the dangerous shoals off Trafalgar instead of the open refuge of the Straits. The appreciation of the peril thus entailed led him to make a signal for all the ships to be prepared to anchor after the battle, for it was not to be hoped that the spars of many of them would be in a condition to bear sail. The result of the allied movement was to invert their order. Their ships, which had been steering south, now all headed north; the van became the rear; Gravina, who had been leading the column, was in the rear ship; and it was upon this rear, but still the southern flank of the hostile array, that the weight of Collingwood's attack was to fall.
Soon after daylight Nelson, who, according to his custom, was already up and dressed, had gone on deck. He wore as usual his admiral's frock coat, on the left breast of which were stitched the stars of four different Orders that he always bore. It was noticed that he did not wear his sword at Trafalgar, although it lay ready for him on the cabin table; and it is supposed he forgot to call for it, as this was the only instance in which he was known not to carry it when engaged. At about six o'clock he summoned Captain Blackwood on board the "Victory." This officer had had a hard fag during the past forty-eight hours, dogging the enemy's movements through darkness and mist; but that task was over, and his ambition now was to get command of one of two seventy-fours, whose captains had gone home with Calder to give evidence at his trial. "My signal just made on board the Victory," he wrote to his wife. "I hope to order me to a vacant line-of-battle ship." Nelson's purpose, however, as far as stated by Blackwood, was simply to thank him for the successful efforts of the past two days, and to have him by his side till the flagship came under fire, in order to receive final and precise instructions, as the situation developed, for the conduct of the frigates during and after the battle. To Blackwood's congratulations upon the approach of the moment that he had, to use his own word, panted for, he replied: "I mean to-day to bleed the captains of the frigates, as I shall keep you on board to the very last moment."
Blackwood found him in good but very calm spirits, preoccupied with the movements of the allies, and the probable results of his own plan of attack. He frequently asked, "What would you consider a victory?" Blackwood answered: "Considering the handsome way in which the battle is offered by the enemy, their apparent determination for a fair trial of strength, and the proximity of the land, I think if fourteen ships are captured, it will be a glorious result." Nelson's constant reply was that he would not be satisfied with anything short of twenty. He admitted, however, that the nearness of the land might make it difficult to preserve the prizes, and he was emphatic in directing that, if the shattered enemies had any chance of returning to Cadiz, the frigates were to be actively employed in destroying them, and were not to be diverted from that single aim in order to save either ships or men. Annihilation, he repeated, was his aim, and nothing short of it; and he must have regretted the absence of the six of the line in the Mediterranean, imperative as that had been. Word had been sent for them to Gibraltar by Blackwood the moment the enemy moved, but they were still away with the convoy.
Blackwood, being a great personal friend of the admiral, took the liberty, after exchanging greetings, of submitting to him the expediency of shifting his flag to the "Euryalus," and conducting the battle from her. Nelson made no reply, but immediately ordered more sail to be made upon the "Victory." Finding himself foiled in this, Blackwood then made a direct request for the command of one of the two vacant seventy-fours. This would give him a chance to share in the fight, which in a frigate he probably would not have, but it would also displace the first lieutenant of the ship from the position to which he had succeeded temporarily. Nelson replied instantly, "No, Blackwood, it is those men's birthright, and they shall have it."[136] The incident shows vividly the lively sympathy and sense of justice which ever distinguished Nelson; for it must have pained him to deny a request so consonant to his own temper, coming from one whom he had long known and valued, both as a friend and as an officer, and of whose recent service such orders would have been a graceful and appropriate acknowledgment. It may be desirable to explain to unprofessional readers what was the claim of the lieutenants which Nelson refused to ignore. The efficiency of the ships for the coming day's work was due to them scarcely less than to the absent captains, and if they survived the battle, having been in command through it, they would reap not only the honor but also their confirmation in the rank of post-captain, through having exercised it in actual battle. This succession the admiral aptly called their birthright.
Nelson availed himself of Blackwood's presence to have him, together with Hardy, witness his signature to a paper, in which he bequeathed Lady Hamilton and the child Horatia to the care of the nation, and which consequently has been styled a Codicil to his Will. Unless Blackwood's memory a few years later was at fault, in stating that his signal was made at six o'clock,[137] it is likely enough that this early summons was for the special purpose of giving formal completeness, by the attestation of two of his closest friends, to a private duty which was the last to engage Nelson's attention and affections; for, in addition to the date, the place and hour of his writing are fixed by the words, "In sight of the Combined Fleets of France and Spain, distant about ten miles." This was the common estimate of the relative positions, made by the British fleet at large at daybreak, and coincides fairly well with the inferences to be drawn, from the slow rate of speed at which the wind permitted the British to advance, and from the hour the conflict began. Nor was there time, nor convenient room, for further delay. A freshening breeze might readily have brought the fleet into action in a couple of hours, and it is the custom in preparing for battle—the signal for which was made at 6.40—to remove most of the conveniences, and arrangements for privacy, from the living spaces of the officers; partly to provide against their destruction, chiefly to clear away all impediments to fighting the guns, and to moving about the ship. In the case of the admiral, of course, much might be postponed to the last moment, but in fact his cabin was cleared of fixtures immediately after he went on the poop in the early morning; for it is distinctly mentioned that while there he gave particular directions in the matter, and enjoined great care in handling the portrait of Lady Hamilton, saying, "Take care of my guardian angel."
It seems, therefore, probable that this so-called Codicil was written in the quiet minutes of the morning, while the fleet was forming its order of sailing and bearing up for the enemy, but before the admiral's cabin was cleared for battle. In it Nelson first recounted, briefly but specifically, "the eminent services of Emma Hamilton" to the state, on two occasions, as believed by himself to have been rendered. Into the actuality of these services it is not necessary here to inquire;[138] it is sufficient to say that Nelson's knowledge of them could not have been at first hand, and that the credence he unquestionably gave to them must have depended upon the evidence of others,—probably of Lady Hamilton herself, in whom he felt, and always expressed, the most unbounded confidence. "Could I have rewarded these services," the paper concludes, "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 who I hold dear. My relations it is needless to mention: they will of course be amply provided for."
At seven o'clock Nelson had returned from the poop to the cabin, for at that hour was made in his private journal the last entry of occurrences,—"At seven the combined fleets wearing in succession." Here it seems likely that he laid down the pen, for, when he was found writing again, some hours later, it was to complete the long record of experiences and of duties, with words that summed up, in fit and most touching expression, the self-devotion of a life already entering the shadow of death.
Between eight and nine o'clock the other frigate commanders came on board the "Victory;" aides-de-camp, as it were, waiting to the last moment to receive such orders as might require more extensive wording, or precise explanation, than is supplied by the sententious phrases of the signal-book. Blackwood himself, a captain of long standing and of tried ability, was in fact intrusted contingently with no small share of the power and discretion of the commander-in-chief. "He not only gave me command of all the frigates, but he also gave me a latitude, seldom or ever given, that of making any use I pleased of his name, in ordering any of the sternmost line-of-battle ships to do what struck me as best." While thus waiting, the captains accompanied the admiral in an inspection which he made of the decks and batteries of the flagship. He addressed the crew at their several quarters, cautioned them against firing a single shot without being sure of their object, and to the officers he expressed himself as highly satisfied with the arrangements made.
Meanwhile the two fleets were forming, as best they could with the scanty breeze, the order in which each meant to meet the shock of battle. The British could not range themselves in regular columns without loss of time that was not to be thrown away. They advanced rather in two elongated groups, all under full sail, even to studding-sails on both sides, the place of each ship being determined chiefly by her speed, or, perhaps, by some fortuitous advantage of position when the movement began. The great point was to get the heads of the columns into action as soon as possible, to break up the enemy's order. That done, those which followed could be trusted to complete the business on the general lines prescribed by Nelson. Collingwood's ship, the "Royal Sovereign," being but a few days out from home, and freshly coppered, easily took the lead in her own division. After her came the "Belleisle," also a recent arrival off Cadiz, but an old Mediterranean cruiser which had accompanied Nelson in the recent chase to the West Indies. Upon these two ships, as upon the heads of all columns, fell the weight of destruction from the enemy's resistance.
The "Victory," always a fast ship, had likewise little difficulty in keeping her place at the front. Blackwood, having failed to get Nelson on board his own frigate, and realizing the exposure inseparable from the position of leader, ventured, at about half-past nine, when still six miles from the enemy, to urge that one or two ships should be permitted to precede the "Victory." Nelson gave a conditional assent—"Let them go," if they can. The "Téméraire," a three-decker, being close behind, was hailed to go ahead, and endeavored to do so; but at the same moment the admiral gave an indication of how little disposed he was to yield either time or position. The lee lower studding-sail happening to be badly set, the lieutenant of the forecastle had it taken in, meaning to reset it; which Nelson observing, ran forward and rated him severely for delaying the ship's progress. Anything much less useful than a lee lower studding-sail is hard to imagine, but by this time the admiral was getting very restive. "About ten o'clock," says Blackwood, "Lord Nelson's anxiety to close with the enemy became very apparent: he frequently remarked that they put a good face upon it; but always quickly added: 'I'll give them such a dressing as they never had before.'"
Seeing that the "Téméraire" could not pass the "Victory" in time to lead into the hostile order, unless the flagship gave way, Blackwood, feeling perhaps that he might wear out his own privilege, told Hardy he ought to say to the admiral that, unless the "Victory" shortened sail, the other ships could not get into place; but Hardy naturally demurred. In any event, it was not just the sort of proposition that the captain of the ship would wish to make, and it was very doubtful how Nelson might take it. This the latter soon showed, however; for, as the "Téméraire" painfully crawled up, and her bows doubled on the "Victory's" quarter, he hailed her, and speaking as he always did with a slight nasal intonation, said: "I'll thank you, Captain Harvey, to keep in your proper station, which is astern of the Victory." The same concern for the admiral's personal safety led the assembled officers to comment anxiously upon the conspicuous mark offered by his blaze of decorations, knowing as they did that the enemy's ships swarmed with soldiers, that among them were many sharpshooters, and that the action would be close. None, however, liked to approach him with the suggestion that he should take any precaution. At length the surgeon, whose painful duty it was a few hours later to watch over the sad fulfilment of his apprehensions, said that he would run the risk of his Lordship's displeasure; but before he could find a fitting opportunity to speak, a shot flew over the "Victory," and the admiral directed all not stationed on deck to go to their quarters. No remark therefore was made; but it is more likely that Nelson would have resented the warning than that he would have heeded it.
The French and Spanish fleets, being neither a homogeneous nor a well-exercised mass, experienced even greater difficulty than the British in forming their array; and the matter was to them of more consequence, for, as the defensive has an advantage in the careful preparations he may make, so, if he fail to accomplish them, he has little to compensate for the loss of the initiative, which he has yielded his opponent. The formation at which they aimed, the customary order of battle in that day, was a long, straight, single column, presenting from end to end an unbroken succession of batteries, close to one another and clear towards the foe, so that all the ships should sweep with their guns the sea over which, nearly at right angles, the hostile columns were advancing. Instead of this, embarrassed by both lack of wind and lack of skill, their manoeuvres resulted in a curved line, concave to the enemy's approach; the horns of the crescent thus formed being nearer to the latter. Collingwood noted that this disposition facilitated a convergent fire upon the assailants, the heads of whose columns were bearing down on the allied centre; it does not seem to have been remarked that the two horns, or wings, being to windward of the centre, also had it more in their power to support the latter—a consideration of very great importance. Neither of these advantages, however, was due to contrivance. The order of the combined fleets was the result merely of an unsuccessful effort to assume the usual line of battle. The ships distributed along the crescent lay irregularly, sometimes two and three abreast, masking each other's fire. On the other hand, even this irregularity had some compensations, for a British vessel, attempting to pass through at such a place, fell at once into a swarm of enemies. From horn to horn was about five miles. Owing to the lightness of the breeze, the allies carried a good deal of sail, a departure from the usual battle practice. This was necessary in order to enable them to keep their places at all, but it also had the effect of bringing them continually, though very gradually, nearer to Cadiz. Seeing this, Nelson signalled to Collingwood, "I intend to pass through the van of the enemy's line, to prevent him from getting into Cadiz," and the course of the "Victory," for this purpose, was changed a little to the northward.
After this, towards eleven o'clock, Nelson went below to the cabin. It was his habit, when an engagement was expected, to have all the bulkheads[139] upon the fighting decks taken down, and those of his own apartments doubtless had been removed at least as soon as the enemy's sailing was signalled; but it was possible to obtain some degree of privacy by hanging screens, which could be hurried out of the way at the last moment. The "Victory" did not come under fire till 12.30, so that at eleven she would yet be three miles or more distant from the enemy,[140] and screens could still remain. Shortly, after he entered, the signal-lieutenant, who had been by his side all the morning, followed him, partly to make an official report, partly to prefer a personal request. He was the ranking lieutenant on board, but had not been permitted to exercise the duties of first lieutenant, because Nelson some time before, to avoid constant changes in that important station, had ordered that the person then occupying it should so continue, notwithstanding the seniority of any who might afterwards join. Now that battle was at hand, the oldest in rank wished to claim the position, and to gain the reward that it insured after a victory,—a request natural and not improper, but more suited for the retirement of the cabin than for the publicity of the deck.
Whatever the original injustice,—or rather hardship,—it is scarcely likely, remembering the refusal encountered by Blackwood, that Nelson would have consented now to deprive of his "birthright" the man who so far had been doing the work; but the petition was never preferred. Entering the cabin, the officer paused at the threshold, for Nelson was on his knees writing. The words, the last that he ever penned, were written in the private diary he habitually kept, in which were noted observations and reflections upon passing occurrences, mingled with occasional self-communings. They followed now, without break of space, or paragraph, upon the last incident recorded—"At seven the enemy wearing in succession"—and they ran thus:—
"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 who made me, and may His blessing light upon 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."
The officer, Lieutenant Pasco, waited quietly till Nelson rose from his knees, and then made his necessary report; but, although his future prospects hung upon the wish he had to express, he refrained with singular delicacy from intruding it upon the preoccupation of mind evidenced by the attitude in which he had found his commander. The latter soon afterwards followed him to the poop, where Blackwood was still awaiting his final instructions. To him Nelson said, "I will now amuse the fleet with a signal;" and he asked if he did not think there was one yet wanting. Blackwood replied that the whole fleet seemed very clearly to understand what they were about, and were vying with each other to get as near as possible to the leaders of the columns. Upon this succeeded the celebrated signal, the development of which to its final wording is a little uncertain. Comparing the various accounts of witnesses, it seems probably to have been as follows. Nelson mused for a little while, as one who phrases a thought in his own mind before uttering it, and then said, "Suppose we telegraph 'Nelson confides that every man will do his duty.'" In this form it was the call of the leader to the followers, the personal appeal of one who trusts to those in whom he trusts, a feeling particularly characteristic of the speaker, whose strong hold over others lay above all in the transparent and unswerving faith he showed in their loyal support; and to arouse it now in full force he used the watchword "duty," sure that the chord it struck in him would find its quick response in every man of the same blood. The officer to whom the remark was made, suggested "England" instead of "Nelson." To the fleet it could have made no difference,—to them the two names meant the same thing; but Nelson accepted the change with delight. "Mr. Pasco," he called to the signal officer, "I wish to say to the fleet, 'England confides that every man will do his duty;'" and he added, "You must be quick, for I have one more to make, which is for close action." This remark shows that the columns, and particularly Collingwood's ship, were already nearing the enemy. Pasco answered, "If your Lordship will permit me to substitute 'expects' for 'confides,' it will be sooner completed, because 'expects' is in the vocabulary,[141] and 'confides' must be spelt." Nelson replied hastily, but apparently satisfied, "That will do, Pasco, make it directly;" but the slightly mandatory "expects" is less representative of the author of this renowned sentence than the cordial and sympathetic "confides." It is "Allez," rather than "Allons;" yet even so, become now the voice of the distant motherland, it carries with it the shade of reverence, as well as of affection, which patriotism exacts.
It is said that Collingwood, frequently testy, and at the moment preoccupied with the approaching collision with the Spanish three-decker he had marked for his opponent, exclaimed impatiently when the first number went aloft, "I wish Nelson would stop signalling, as we know well enough what we have to do." But the two life-long friends, who were not again to look each other in the face, soon passed to other thoughts, such as men gladly recall when death has parted them. When the whole signal was reported to him, and cheers resounded along the lines, Collingwood cordially expressed his own satisfaction. A few moments later, just at noon, the French ship "Fougueux," the second astern of the "Santa Ana," for which the "Royal Sovereign" was steering, fired at the latter the first gun of the battle. As by a common impulse the ships of all the nations engaged hoisted their colors, and the admirals their flags,—a courteous and chivalrous salute preceding the mortal encounter. For ten minutes the "Royal Sovereign" advanced in silence, the one centre of the hostile fire, upon which were fixed all eyes, as yet without danger of their own to distract. As she drew near the two ships between which she intended to pass, Nelson exclaimed admiringly, "See how that noble fellow Collingwood carries his ship into action." At about the same instant Collingwood was saying to his flag-captain, "Rotherham, what would Nelson give to be here!"
These things being done, Nelson said to Blackwood, "Now I can do no more. We must trust to the great Disposer of all events, and to the justice of our cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty." When his last signal had been acknowledged by a few ships in the van, the admiral directed Pasco to make that for close action, and to keep it up. This was accordingly hoisted on board the flagship, where it was flying still as she disappeared into the smoke of the battle, and so remained till shot away. The "Victory" was about two miles from the "Royal Sovereign" when the latter, at ten minutes past twelve, broke through the allied order, and she had still a mile and a half to go before she herself could reach it. At twenty minutes past twelve Villeneuve's flagship, the "Bucentaure," of eighty guns, fired a shot at her, to try the range. It fell short. A few minutes later a second was fired, which dropped alongside. The distance then was a mile and a quarter. Two or three followed in rapid succession and passed over the "Victory." Nelson then turned to Blackwood, and directed him and Captain Prowse of the "Sirius" to return to their ships, but in so doing to pass along the column and tell the captains he depended upon their exertions to get into action as quickly as possible. He then bade them again to go away. Blackwood, who was standing by him at the forward end of the poop, took his hand, and said, "I trust, my Lord, that on my return to the Victory, which will be as soon as possible, I shall find your Lordship well and in possession of twenty prizes." Nelson replied, "God bless you, Blackwood, I shall never speak to you again."
The "Victory" was all the time advancing, the feeble breeze urging her progress, which was helped also by her lurching through the heavy following swell that prevailed. Before Blackwood could leave her, a shot passed through the main-topgallantsail, and the rent proclaimed to the eager eyes of the foes that the ship was fairly under their guns. Thereupon everything about the "Bucentaure," some seven or eight ships, at least, opened upon this single enemy, as the allied rear and centre had upon the "Royal Sovereign;" for it was imperative to stop her way, if possible, or at least to deaden it, and so to delay as long as might be the moment when she could bring her broadside to bear effectively. During the forty minutes that followed, the "Victory" was an unresisting target to her enemies, and her speed, slow enough at the first, decreased continually as the hail of shot riddled the sails, or stripped them from the yards. Every studding-sail boom was shot away close to the yard arms, and this light canvas, invaluable in so faint a wind, fell helplessly into the water. During these trying moments, Mr. Scott, the admiral's public secretary, was struck by a round shot while talking with Captain Hardy, and instantly killed. Those standing by sought to remove the body without drawing Nelson's attention to the loss of one so closely associated with him; but the admiral had noticed the fall. "Is that poor Scott," he said, "who is gone?" The clerk who took the dead man's place was killed a few moments later by the wind of a ball, though his person was untouched.
The "Victory" continuing to forge slowly ahead, despite her injuries, and pointing evidently for the flagship of the hostile commander-in-chief, the ships round the latter, to use James's striking phrase, now "closed like a forest." The nearer the British vessel drew, the better necessarily became the enemies' aim. Just as she got within about five hundred yards—quarter of a mile—from the "Bucentaure's" beam, the mizzen topmast was shot away. At the same time the wheel was hit and shattered, so that the ship had to be steered from below, a matter that soon became of little importance. A couple of minutes more, eight marines were carried off by a single projectile, while standing drawn up on the poop, whereupon Nelson ordered the survivors to be dispersed about the deck. Presently a shot coming in through the ship's side ranged aft on the quarter-deck towards the admiral and Captain Hardy, between whom it passed. On its way it struck the fore-brace bitts—a heavy block of timber—carrying thence a shower of splinters, one of which bruised Hardy's foot. The two officers, who were walking together, stopped, and looked inquiringly at each other. Seeing that no harm was done, Nelson smiled, but said, "This is too warm work, Hardy, to last long." He then praised the cool resolution of the seamen around him, compelled to endure this murderous fire without present reply. He had never, he said, seen better conduct. Twenty men had so far been killed and thirty wounded, with not a shot fired from their own guns.
Still the ship closed the "Bucentaure." It had been Nelson's purpose and desire to make her his special antagonist, because of Villeneuve's flag; but to do so required room for the "Victory" to turn under the French vessel's stern, and to come up alongside. As she drew near, Hardy, scanning the hostile array, saw three ships crowded together behind and beyond the "Bucentaure." He reported to Nelson that he could go close under her stern, but could not round-to alongside, nor pass through the line, without running on board one of these. The admiral replied, "I cannot help it, it does not signify which we run on board of. Go on board which you please: take your choice." At one o'clock the bows of the "Victory" crossed the wake of the "Bucentaure," by whose stern she passed within thirty feet, the projecting yard arms grazing the enemy's rigging. One after another, as they bore, the double-shotted guns tore through the woodwork of the French ship, the smoke, driven back, filling the lower decks of the "Victory," while persons on the upper deck, including Nelson himself, were covered with the dust which rose in clouds from the wreck. From the relative positions of the two vessels, the shot ranged from end to end of the "Bucentaure," and the injury was tremendous. Twenty guns were at once dismounted, and the loss by that single discharge was estimated, by the French, at four hundred men. Leaving the further care of the enemy's flagship to her followers, secure that they would give due heed to the admiral's order, that "every effort must be made to capture the hostile commander-in-chief," the "Victory" put her helm up, inclining to the right, and ran on board a French seventy-four, the "Redoutable," whose guns, as well as those of the French "Neptune," had been busily playing upon her hitherto. At 1.10 she lay along the port side of the "Redoutable," the two ships falling off with their heads to the eastward, and moving slowly before the wind to the east-southeast.
In the duel which ensued between these two, in which Nelson fell, the disparity, so far as weight of battery was concerned, was all against the French ship; but the latter, while greatly overmatched at the guns, much the greater part of which were below deck, was markedly superior to her antagonist in small-arm fire on the upper deck, and especially aloft, where she had many musketeers stationed. Nelson himself was averse to the employment of men in that position, thinking the danger of fire greater than the gain, but the result on this day was fatal to very many of the "Victory's" men as well as to himself. As the ship's place in the battle was fixed for the moment, nothing now remained to be done, except for the crews to ply their weapons till the end was reached. The admiral and the captain, their parts of direction and guidance being finished, walked back and forth together on the quarter-deck, on the side farthest from the "Redoutable," where there was a clear space of a little over twenty feet in length, fore and aft, from the wheel to the hatch ladder leading down to the cabin. The mizzen-top of the "Redoutable," garnished with sharpshooters, was about fifty feet above them. Fifteen minutes after the vessels came together, as the two officers were walking forward, and had nearly reached the usual place of turning, Nelson, who was on Hardy's left, suddenly faced left about. Hardy, after taking a step farther, turned also, and saw the admiral in the act of falling—on his knees, with his left hand touching the deck; then, the arm giving way, he fell on his left side. It was in the exact spot where Scott, the secretary, had been killed an hour before. To Hardy's natural exclamation that he hoped he was not badly hurt, he replied, "They have done for me at last;" and when the expression of hope was repeated, he said again, "Yes, my back-bone is shot through." "I felt it break my back," he told the surgeon, a few minutes later. The ball had struck him on the left shoulder, on the forward part of the epaulette, piercing the lung, where it severed a large artery, and then passed through the spine from left to right, lodging finally in the muscles of the back. Although there was more than one mortal injury, the immediate and merciful cause of his speedy death was the internal bleeding from the artery. Within a few moments of his wounding some forty officers and men were cut down by the same murderous fire from the tops of the enemy. Indeed so stripped of men was the upper deck of the "Victory" that the French made a movement to board, which was repulsed, though with heavy loss.
The stricken hero was at once carried below, himself covering his face and the decorations of his coat with his handkerchief, that the sight of their loss might not affect the ship's company at this critical instant. The cockpit was already cumbered with the wounded and dying, but the handkerchief falling from his face, the surgeon recognized him, and came at once to him. "You can do nothing for me, Beatty," he said; "I have but a short time to live." The surgeon also uttered the involuntary exclamation of encouragement, which rises inevitably to the lips at such a moment; but a short examination, and the sufferer's statement of his sensations, especially the gushing of blood within the breast, which was vividly felt, convinced him that there was indeed no hope. "Doctor, I am gone," he said to the Rev. Mr. Scott, the chaplain, who knelt beside him; and then added in a low voice, "I have to leave Lady Hamilton, and my adopted daughter Horatia, as a legacy to my Country."
After the necessary examination had been made, nothing further could be done, nor was attempted, than to obtain the utmost possible relief from suffering. Dr. Scott and the purser of the "Victory" sustained the bed under his shoulders, raising him into a semi-recumbent posture, the only one that was supportable to him, and fanned him; while others gave him the cooling drink—lemonade—which he continually demanded. Those about did not speak to him, except when addressed; but the chaplain, to whom Nelson frequently said, "Pray for me, Doctor," ejaculated with him short prayers from time to time. The agony of mortal pain wrung from him repeated utterance, though no unmanly complaint; and his thoughts dwelt more upon home and the battle than upon his own suffering and approaching death. His mind remained clear until he became speechless, about fifteen minutes before he passed away, and he took frequent notice of what occurred near him, as well as of sounds on deck.
The hour that succeeded his wounding was the decisive one of the fight; not that the issue admitted of much doubt, after once Nelson's plans had received fulfilment, and the battle joined,—unless the delinquent van of the allies had acted promptly,—but in those moments the work was done which was thenceforth, for the enemy, beyond repair. Overhead, therefore, the strife went on incessantly, the seamen toiling steadily at their guns, and cheering repeatedly. Near the admiral lay Lieutenant Pasco, severely but not fatally wounded. At one burst of hurrahs, Nelson asked eagerly what it was about; and Pasco replying that another ship had struck, he expressed his satisfaction. Soon he became very anxious for further and more exact information of the course of the battle, and about the safety of Captain Hardy, upon whom now was devolved such guidance as the fleet, until the action was over, must continue to receive from the flagship of the commander-in-chief. In accordance with his wishes many messages were sent to Hardy to come to him, but for some time it was not possible for that officer to leave the deck. During this period, up to between half-past two and three, the ships of the two British divisions, that followed the leaders, were breaking successively into the enemy's order, and carrying out with intelligent precision the broad outlines of Nelson's instructions. The heads of the columns had dashed themselves to pieces, like a forlorn hope, against the overpowering number of foes which opposed their passage—an analysis of the returns shows that upon the four ships which led, the "Victory" and "Téméraire," the "Royal Sovereign" and "Belleisle," fell one-third of the entire loss in a fleet of twenty-seven sail. But they had forced their way through, and by the sacrifice of themselves had shattered and pulverized the local resistance, destroyed the coherence of the hostile line, and opened the road for the successful action of their followers. With the appearance of the latter upon the scene, succeeded shortly by the approach of the allied van, though too late and in disorder, began what may be called the second and final phase of the battle.
While such things were happening the deck could not be left by Hardy, who, for the time being, was commander-in-chief as well as captain. Shortly after Nelson fell, the "Téméraire" had run on board the "Redoutable" on the other side, and the French "Fougueux" upon the "Téméraire," so that for a few minutes the four ships were fast together, in the heat of the fight. About quarter past two, the "Victory" was shoved clear, and lay with her head to the northward, though scarcely with steerage way. The three others remained in contact with their heads to the southward. While this mêlée was in progress, the French flagship "Bucentaure" surrendered, at five minutes past two; but, before hauling down the flag, Villeneuve made a signal to his recreant van,—"The ships that are not engaged, take positions which will bring them most rapidly under fire." Thus summoned, the ten vessels which constituted the van began to go about, as they should have done before; and, although retarded by the slack wind, they had got their heads to the southward by half-past two. Five stood to leeward of the line of battle, but five to windward. The latter would pass not far to the westward of the "Victory," and to meet this fresh attack demanded the captain's further care, and postponed his going to the death-bed of his chief. The latter had become very agitated at the delay, thinking that Hardy might be dead and the news kept from him. "Will nobody bring Hardy to me?" he frequently exclaimed. "He must be killed; he is surely destroyed." At last a midshipman came down with the message that "circumstances respecting the fleet required the captain's presence on deck, but that he would take the first favourable moment to visit his Lordship." Nelson, hearing the voice, asked who it was that spoke. The lad, Bulkeley, who later in the day was wounded also, was the son of a former shipmate in the far back days of the San Juan expedition, and the dying admiral charged the lad with a remembrance to his father.
Captain Thomas Masterman Hardy
Two ships of Nelson's column, as yet not engaged,—the "Spartiate" and the "Minotaur,"—were then just reaching the scene. Being in the extreme rear, the lightness of the breeze had so far delayed them. Arriving thus opportunely, they hauled to the wind so as to interpose between the "Victory" and the approaching van of the allies. Covered now by two wholly fresh ships, the captain felt at liberty to quit the deck, in accordance with Nelson's desire. The two tried friends—Hardy had been everywhere with him since the day of St. Vincent, and was faithful enough to speak to Lady Hamilton more freely than she liked—shook hands affectionately. "Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the battle? How goes the day with us?" "Very well, my Lord," replied Hardy. "We have got twelve or fourteen of the enemy's ships in our possession, but five of their van have tacked, and show an intention of bearing down upon the Victory. I have therefore called two or three of our fresh ships round us, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing." "I hope none of our ships have struck, Hardy." "No, my Lord," was the answer, "there is no fear of that." Nelson then said, "I am a dead man, Hardy. I am going fast: it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Pray let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things belonging to me." Hardy observed that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life. "Oh no!" replied Nelson; "it is impossible. My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so." Hardy then returned to the deck, shaking hands again before parting.
Nelson now desired the surgeons to leave him to the attendants, as one for whom nothing could be done, and to give their professional care where it would be of some avail. In a few moments he recalled the chief surgeon, and said, "I forgot to tell you that all power of motion and feeling below my breast are gone; and you very well know I can live but a short time." From the emphasis he placed on his words, the surgeon saw he was thinking of a case of spinal injury to a seaman some months before, which had proved mortal after many days' suffering; yet it would seem that, despite the conviction that rested on his mind, the love of life, and of all it meant to him, yet clung to the hope that possibly there might be a reprieve. "One would like to live a little longer," he murmured; and added, "What would become of poor Lady Hamilton if she knew my situation!" "Beatty," he said again, "you know I am gone." "My Lord," replied the surgeon, with a noble and courteous simplicity, "unhappily for our country, nothing can be done for you;" and he turned away to conceal the emotion which he could not at once control. "I know it," said Nelson. "I feel something rising in my breast," putting his hand on his left side, "which tells me I am gone. God be praised, I have done my duty." To this latter thought he continually recurred.
At about three o'clock, the five ships of the enemy's van, passing within gunshot to windward,[142] opened fire upon the British ships and their prizes. The "Victory" with her consorts replied. "Oh, Victory! Victory!" cried the sufferer, "how you distract my poor brain!" and after a pause added, "How dear life is to all men!" This distant exchange of shots was ineffectual, except to kill or wound a few more people, but while it continued Hardy had to be on deck, for the flag of the commander-in-chief still vested his authority in that ship. During this period an officer was sent to Collingwood to inform him of the admiral's condition, and to bear a personal message of farewell from the latter; but Nelson had no idea of transferring any portion of his duty until he parted with his life also.
A short hour elapsed between Hardy's leaving the cockpit and his returning to it, which brings the time to four o'clock. Strength had ebbed fast meanwhile, and the end was now very near; but Nelson was still conscious. The friends again shook hands, and the captain, before releasing his grasp, congratulated the dying hero upon the brilliancy of the victory. It was complete, he said. How many were captured, it was impossible to see, but he was certain fourteen or fifteen. The exact number proved to be eighteen. "That is well," said Nelson, but added, faithful to his exhaustive ideas of sufficiency, "I bargained for twenty." Then he exclaimed, "Anchor, Hardy, anchor!" Hardy felt the embarrassment of issuing orders now that Collingwood knew that his chief was in the very arms of death; but Nelson was clearly within his rights. "I suppose, my Lord," said the captain, "Admiral Collingwood will now take upon himself the direction of affairs." "Not while I live, I hope, Hardy," cried Nelson, and for a moment endeavored, ineffectually, to raise himself from the bed. "No. Do you anchor, Hardy." Captain Hardy then said, "Shall we make the signal, Sir?" "Yes," answered the admiral, "for if I live, I'll anchor." These words he repeated several times, even after Hardy had left him, and the energy of his manner showed that for the moment the sense of duty and of responsibility had triumphed over his increasing weakness.
Reaction of course followed, and he told Hardy he felt that in a few minutes he should be no more. "Don't throw me overboard," he added; "you know what to do." Hardy having given assurance that these wishes should be attended to, Nelson then said, "Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy: take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me, Hardy." The captain knelt down and kissed his cheek. "Now I am satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty." Hardy rose and stood looking silently at him for an instant or two, then knelt down again and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" asked Nelson. The captain answered, "It is Hardy;" to which his Lordship replied, "God bless you, Hardy!" The latter then returned to the quarter-deck, having passed about eight minutes in this final interview.
Horatia, at Twenty-two Years of Age
Nelson now desired his steward, who was in attendance throughout, to turn him on his right side. "I wish I had not left the deck," he murmured; "for I shall soon be gone." Thenceforth he sank rapidly; his breathing became oppressed and his voice faint. To Dr. Scott he said, "Doctor, I have not been a great sinner," and after a short pause, "Remember, that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a legacy to my country—never forget Horatia." This injunction, with remembrances to Lady Hamilton and the child, he frequently repeated; and he charged Scott to see Mr. Rose, and tell him—but here pain interrupted his utterance, and after an interval he simply said, "Mr. Rose will remember," alluding to a letter which he had written him, but which as yet could not have been received. His thirst now increased; and he called for "drink, drink," "fan, fan," and "rub, rub," addressing himself in this last case to Dr. Scott, who had been rubbing his breast with his hand, by which some relief was given. These words he spoke in a very rapid manner, which rendered his articulation difficult; but he every now and then, with evident increase of pain, made a greater effort, and said distinctly, "Thank God, I have done my duty." This he repeated at intervals as long as the power of speech remained. The last words caught by Dr. Scott, who was bending closely over him, were, "God and my Country."
Fifteen minutes after Hardy left him for the second time, the admiral became speechless; and when this had continued five minutes, the surgeon, who was busied among the other wounded, was summoned again. He found him upon the verge of dissolution, the hands cold and the pulse gone; but upon laying his hand upon his forehead, Nelson opened his eyes, looked up, and then closed them forever. Five minutes later he was dead. The passing was so quiet that Dr. Scott, still rubbing his breast, did not perceive it, until the surgeon announced that all was over. It was half-past four o'clock, just three hours after the fatal wound was received. Not till an hour later did the last of the eighteen prizes strike, and firing cease altogether; but the substantial results were known to Nelson before consciousness left him. To quote the rugged words of the "Victory's" log, "Partial firing continued until 4.30, when a victory having been reported to the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., he died of his wound."
Of the five ships of the allied van which passed to windward of the "Victory," one was cut off and captured by the "Minotaur" and "Spartiate." The other four continued on the wind to the southwest, and escaped to sea. By the surrender of Villeneuve the chief command of the combined fleets remained with the Spanish admiral Gravina. The latter, at quarter before five, fifteen minutes after Nelson breathed his last, retreated upon Cadiz, making signal for the vessels which had not struck to rally round his flag. Ten other ships, five French and five Spanish,—in all eleven sail-of-the-line,—made good their escape into the port.
"Before sunset," wrote an eye-witness on board the "Belleisle," "all firing had ceased. The view of the fleet at this period was highly interesting, and would have formed a beautiful subject for a painter. Just under the setting rays were five or six dismantled prizes; on one hand lay the Victory with part of our fleet and prizes, and on the left hand the Royal Sovereign and a similar cluster of ships. To the northward, the remnant of the combined fleets was making for Cadiz. The Achille, with the tricoloured ensign still displayed, had burnt to the water's edge about a mile from us, and our tenders and boats were using every effort to save the brave fellows who had so gloriously defended her; but only two hundred and fifty were rescued, and she blew up with a tremendous explosion."
There, surrounded by the companions of his triumph, and by the trophies of his prowess, we leave our hero with his glory. Sharer of our mortal weakness, he has bequeathed to us a type of single-minded self-devotion that can never perish. As his funeral anthem proclaimed, while a nation mourned, "His body is buried in peace, but his Name liveth for evermore." Wars may cease, but the need for heroism shall not depart from the earth, while man remains man and evil exists to be redressed. Wherever danger has to be faced or duty to be done, at cost to self, men will draw inspiration from the name and deeds of Nelson.
Happy he who lives to finish all his task. The words, "I have done my duty," sealed the closed book of Nelson's story with a truth broader and deeper than he himself could suspect. His duty was done, and its fruit perfected. Other men have died in the hour of victory, but for no other has victory so singular and so signal graced the fulfilment and ending of a great life's work. "Finis coronat opus" has of no man been more true than of Nelson. There were, indeed, consequences momentous and stupendous yet to flow from the decisive supremacy of Great Britain's sea-power, the establishment of which, beyond all question or competition, was Nelson's great achievement; but his part was done when Trafalgar was fought. The coincidence of his death with the moment of completed success has impressed upon that superb battle a stamp of finality, an immortality of fame, which even its own grandeur scarcely could have insured. He needed, and he left, no successor. To use again St. Vincent's words, "There is but one Nelson."