VI.—THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR, OCT. 21, 1805.
'And since that day St. George's Cross
Has ruled the dark blue sea,
For Nelson led the windward line,
And Collingwood the lee.'
E. H. Mitchell.
t was in the early dawn of October 21st, 1805, when Nelson, pacing the quarter-deck of the Victory, could distinctly make out the enemy—the combined fleets of France and Spain. Villeneuve, the French Admiral, a skilful seaman, had placed his ships so as to leave the port of Cadiz open for himself, whilst bringing the British ships close to the shoals of Trafalgar.
Nelson, however, was confident of success, and asked Captain Blackwood 'what he should consider as a victory?'
Blackwood, knowing the enemy to be superior both in the number of ships and weight of guns, said he thought it would be a glorious victory if fourteen vessels were captured.
'I shall not, Blackwood, be satisfied with less than twenty,' was Nelson's reply, and he ordered the fleet to anchor, and prepare for battle.
Then he retired to his cabin, and calmly wrote a prayer, commending himself to God and begging for 'a glorious victory, and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it, and may humanity after victory be a prominent feature in the British fleet.'
About 11 a.m. he was again on deck, and turning to Captain Blackwood he asked him 'if there was not still a signal wanting?' Then, almost before the captain could answer that 'he thought the whole fleet seemed thoroughly to understand what was required of them,' Nelson had ordered his lieutenant, Mr. Pascoe, to hoist the memorable signal:
'England expects that every man will do his duty.'
This signal—Nelson's last signal—was received with hearty cheering throughout the fleet.
'Now,' said Nelson, 'I can do no more. We must trust to the Great Disposer of all events, and the justice of our cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty.'
There was one matter which was causing great anxiety to the officers on board the Victory, and that was the conspicuousness of Nelson's dress. He wore on the left breast of his Admiral's frock-coat, the four stars of the different Orders with which he had been invested, and these shining ornaments at once singled him out from his officers, and rendered him an easy mark for the enemy's sharp-shooters.
No one, however, dared to remonstrate with Nelson on this subject—for on a previous occasion, when begged to change his dress, or cover his stars, he had answered somewhat shortly:
'In honour I gained them, and in honour I will die with them.'
At a few minutes before mid-day the battle began, Nelson and Collingwood each leading his line of ships, Nelson steering a little more to the north than Collingwood in order to cut off the enemy's retreat into Cadiz, so that the lee line under Collingwood was first engaged.
'See!' cried Nelson, pointing to the Royal Sovereign, as she steered straight for the enemy's line, 'See how that noble fellow Collingwood carries his ship into action!' whilst Collingwood, delighted to be the first in the heat of fire, exclaimed at the same time to his captain, 'What would Nelson give to be here!'
Nelson, however, had not cause for long to envy Collingwood, as very soon the Victory also was in the thick of the battle. The Admiral's secretary was shot whilst standing by his side, and shortly afterwards a shot struck the fore-brace bits on the quarter-deck and passed between Nelson and Hardy (his captain), tearing off his buckle and bruising his foot. Both men looked anxiously at each other, for each thought the other wounded, then Nelson smiled and said, 'This is too warm work, Hardy, to last long!'
The Victory was along-side the French ship Redoutable, whose tops were filled with riflemen. Suddenly a ball fired from her mizen-top, not more than fifteen yards from where Nelson was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, and he fell on his face on the deck.
Hardy, but a few steps away, turned round to see three men raising the wounded Admiral.
'They have done for me at last, Hardy,' said Nelson.
'I hope not,' said Hardy.
'Yes,' he replied, 'my backbone is shot through.'
He still, however, kept his presence of mind, and taking out his handkerchief covered his face and his stars, so that his crew might not be discouraged by knowing that the wounded officer being carried past to the cock-pit was their dearly loved commander.
'Had he but concealed those badges of honour from the enemy,' says Southey, 'England perhaps would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar.'
Nelson was well aware that his wound was mortal, and at once told the surgeon to attend to the other wounded men, who lay all about the deck and crowded cock-pit, 'for,' said he, 'you can do nothing for me.'
The life-blood was in fact fast ebbing away, and all that could be done for the dying hero was to fan him with paper, and to give him lemonade to alleviate the great thirst that always follows gun-shot wounds.
Meanwhile, the battle raged fiercely, and even in his dying agonies Nelson's eyes would gleam with joy when he heard the cheers of his men as often as an enemy's ship struck.
He now became very anxious to see Captain Hardy, but it was an hour or more before Hardy was able to leave the quarter-deck, and hasten to Nelson's side. He was so affected that he could only silently shake the Admiral's hand.
'Hardy,' said Nelson, 'how goes the day?'
'Very well,' replied Hardy. 'Ten ships have struck, and I have no doubt of giving them a drubbing.'
'I hope,' said Nelson, 'none of our ships have struck?'
'No fear of that,' answered Hardy. He had now to go again on deck, but in an hour's time returned to the cock-pit, and congratulated the dying commander on having gained a complete victory, fourteen or fifteen of the enemy being taken, perhaps more, but in the confusion of the battle it was impossible to be quite accurate.
'That's well!' said Nelson, 'but I bargained for twenty!'
Then a few minutes later he said in a low voice, 'Don't throw me overboard,' and then feeling life to be all but gone, he said, 'Kiss me, Hardy.'
Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek, and Nelson said, 'Now I am satisfied! Thank God I have done my duty.' These words he kept faintly repeating again and again until he died—just four hours and three-quarters after he had received his wound.
The victory of Trafalgar was complete. The fleets of France and Spain were not merely defeated, but completely shattered, and England had no longer any cause to dread a foreign invasion.
But great as were the rejoicings over this victory, the death of Nelson cast such gloom over the whole country that the rejoicings were said to be 'without joy.'
A fitting monument to Britain's greatest Admiral was erected some years later in Trafalgar Square, London. A statue of Nelson, in cocked hat and with empty right sleeve, stands towering aloft at a height of one hundred and forty-five feet; at the base crouch Landseer's four majestic lions, watchful as he who for so many years maintained for Britain the supremacy of the sea.
WELCOME TO THE FIRST FIRE.
he north wind is sighing,
The daylight is dying,
The sun has gone down, and the night shadows fall;
But see, lightly dancing,
And peeping, and glancing,
The firelight is climbing our nursery wall.
Then greet this new-comer
Who left us all summer,
To hide in old cinders while weather was warm;
Yet must have been near us,
For now, just to cheer us,
He comes back at once with the winter and storm.
Oh, ruddy flames leaping,
Say, where were you sleeping?
In some land of faery where fires never die,
And wind always freezes?
Or heard you the breezes
That fanned our sweet roses through June and July?
'Twas spring when we parted—
You smouldered down-hearted;
The lilacs were out, and we told you to go:
But knew, when November
Had come, you'd remember
To cheer us again with your warmth and your glow.
OLD CONDUITS.
Young readers are sometimes puzzled, in reading accounts of ancient processions through city streets, at the frequent references to the Conduits passed on the way. A conduit was a strong tower built of stone, furnished with taps, through which water was supplied to the people. London householders used to send their servants and apprentices, with jugs and pails, to the conduits, to obtain water for daily use; and a great deal of gossiping and quarrelling went on at these places. On state occasions the conduits were decorated; and, at the coronation of one of the queens, we read that over the conduit near Shoe Lane was raised a turret, with figures of the four cardinal virtues; while the taps, instead of sending out water, ran for that day with streams of wine. Often, as a royal procession passed such places, a youth or child, in some strange dress, would stand forth, and deliver a speech, prepared beforehand, to the king or queen.