The attack as planned, therefore, differed from that executed (1) in that the lee line was not to advance in column, but in line, thereby dispersing the enemy's fire, and avoiding the terrific concentration which crushed the leaders at Trafalgar; and (2) in that the weather squadrons were not to attack simultaneously with the lee, but after it had engaged, in order to permit the remedying of any mishap that might arise in delivering the crucial blow. In both these matters of detail the plan was better than the modification; but the latter was forced upon Nelson by conditions beyond his control.
It will be observed that, when considering attacking from to leeward, he orders a simultaneous movement of the three British divisions,—lee, weather, and reserve; for the obvious reason that if he held his own divisions in reserve to leeward he could not at all count upon bringing them into action at will; and, moreover, such an attack would probably have to be in columns, and, if simultaneous, would be less liable to disaster than in succession, mutual support diverting the enemies' fire. In fact, the highest order of offensive combination was only possible when having the advantage of the wind—fair, and enough of it.
The plan upon which Trafalgar was to be fought, as above described and analyzed, was formed some time before leaving England, and it is not unreasonable to suppose that it was in fact a modification of the earlier idea, laid down during the chase to the West Indies. On the 10th of September, three days only before quitting Merton, Nelson called upon his old friend, Lord Sidmouth,[127] who until recently had been Prime Minister. In the course of the interview he explained his intentions as regards the attack. "Rodney," he said, "broke the enemy's line in one place,[128] I will break it in two;" and with his finger he indicated upon a table the general character of the assault, to be made in two lines, led by himself and Collingwood. He felt confident, according to Sidmouth's narration, that he should capture either their van and centre or their centre and rear. It was of course out of his power to prevent the enemy inverting their order, by the simultaneous turning round of every ship, at the time of engagement, so that the attack intended for the rear should fall upon it become the van. Against this contingency he provided by the words, "should the enemy wear together, still the twelve ships composing, in the first position, the enemy's rear, are to be the object of attack of the lee line." Sidmouth did not commit his recollection of this incident to writing until many years later, and, not being a seaman, very likely failed to comprehend some of the details—there seems to the author to be in the story a confusion of what Nelson planned with what Nelson did; but a great conception is largely independent of details, and the essential features of Trafalgar are in Sidmouth's account. The idea was doubtless imparted also to the family circle at Merton, where probably the expression, "Nelson touch," originated. It occurs chiefly, if not wholly, in his letters to Lady Hamilton, to whom, some days before reaching the fleet, he wrote, "I am anxious to join, for it would add to my grief if any other man was to give them the Nelson touch, which WE say is warranted never to fail;" but there may be a quaint allusion to it in the motto he told Rose he had adopted: "Touch and Take."
When Nelson left England, he was intrusted by the First Lord with the delicate and unpleasant mission of communicating to Sir Robert Calder the dissatisfaction of the Government with his conduct, in the encounter with the allied fleets the previous July; especially for failing to keep touch with them and bring them again to action. The national outcry was too strong to be disregarded, nor is it probable that the Admiralty took a more lenient view of the matter. At all events, an inquiry was inevitable, and the authorities seem to have felt that it was a favor to Calder to permit him to ask for the Court which in any case must be ordered. "I did not fail," wrote Nelson to Barham, "immediately on my arrival, to deliver your message to Sir Robert Calder; and it will give your Lordship pleasure to find, as it has me, that an inquiry is what the Vice-Admiral wishes, and that he had written to you by the Nautilus, which I detained, to say so. Sir Robert thinks that he can clearly prove, that it was not in his power to bring the combined squadrons again to battle."
Nelson felt a profound sympathy for the unfortunate officer, pursued by the undiscriminating and ignorant fury of popular clamor, the extent and intensity of which he had had opportunity to realize when in England. While he probably did not look for so tragic an issue, the execution of Byng under a similar odium and a similar charge, although expressly cleared of cowardice and disaffection, was still fresh in the naval mind. "Sir Robert has an ordeal to pass through," he wrote Collingwood, "which he little expects." His own opinion upon the case seems to have undergone some modification, since the generous outburst with which he at first deprecated the prejudgment of a disappointed and frightened people; nor could it well fail, as details became known to him, that he should pass a silent censure upon proceedings, which contravened alike his inward professional convictions, and his expressed purposes of action for a similar contingency. "I have had, as you will believe, a very distressing scene with poor Sir Robert Calder," he told Lady Hamilton. "He has wrote home to beg an inquiry, feeling confident that he can fully justify himself. I sincerely hope he may, but—I have given him the advice as to my dearest friend. He is in adversity, and if he ever has been my enemy, he now feels the pang of it, and finds me one of his best friends." "Sir Robert Calder," he wrote to another correspondent, "has just left us to stand his trial, which I think of a very serious nature." Nelson was obliged to detain him until reinforcements arrived from England, because Calder was unwilling to undergo the apparent humiliation of leaving his flagship under charges, and she could not yet be spared. It was not the least of this unlucky man's misfortunes that he left the fleet just a week before the battle, where his conduct would undoubtedly have redeemed whatever of errors he may have committed. One of the last remarks Nelson made before the action began, was, "Hardy, what would poor Sir Robert Calder give to be with us now!"
Calder's reluctance to quit his flagship, and the keen sensitiveness with which he expressed his feelings, drew from Nelson a concession he knew to be wrong, but which is too characteristic, both in the act itself and in his own account of it, to be omitted. "Sir Robert felt so much," he wrote to the First Lord, "even at the idea of being removed from his own ship which he commanded, in the face of the fleet, that I much fear I shall incur the censure of the Board of Admiralty, without your Lordship's influence with the members of it. I may be thought wrong, as an officer, to disobey the orders of the Admiralty, by not insisting on Sir Robert Calder's quitting the Prince of Wales for the Dreadnought, and for parting with a 90-gun ship, before the force arrives which their Lordships have judged necessary; but I trust that I shall be considered to have done right as a man, and to a brother officer in affliction—my heart could not stand it, and so the thing must rest. I shall submit to the wisdom of the Board to censure me or not, as to them may seem best for the Service; I shall bow with all due respect to their decision."
From the military point of view this step was indefensible, but it is in singular keeping with Nelson's kindness of heart, his generosity of temper, and with a certain recklessness of consequences,—when supported by inward conviction of right, or swayed by natural impulses,—which formed no small part of his greatness as a warrior. "Numbers only can annihilate;" yet to spare the feelings of an unhappy man, whom he believed to have been his enemy, he parted with one of the best units from his numbers, although, even with her present, he was inferior to the allies. He felt keenly, however, the responsibility he assumed, not only towards the Admiralty, but towards his own success and reputation. At one time he seems, with unusual vacillation, even to have returned upon his decision, and to have notified Calder that the ship could not be spared; for on the 12th of October the latter wrote him: "The contents of your Lordship's letter have cut me to the soul. If I am to be turned out of my ship, after all that has passed, I have only to request I may be allowed to take my Captain, and such officers as I find necessary for the justification of my conduct as an officer, and that I may be permitted to go without a moment's further loss of time. My heart is broken." This appeal broke down all Nelson's power of resistance. He deprived himself on the eve of battle of a first-rate ship, taking only the precaution of sending his entire correspondence with Calder, public and private, to explain his course, though scarcely to justify it. The significance of this act is enhanced by the known importance which he himself attached to the presence or absence of even a third-rate ship-of-the-line. When the expedition to the Baltic was on the eve of starting, a seventy-four went aground, in leaving the Downs. Lieutenant Layman having been conspicuously instrumental in getting her off, Nelson told him that he had in consequence written in his favor to the Admiralty; and upon Layman's remarking that what he had done scarcely deserved so much, the admiral replied, "I think differently, the loss of one line-of-battle ship might be the loss of a victory."
When Nelson joined the fleet, he found it stationed some fifteen to twenty miles from Cadiz. He soon moved the main body to fifty miles west of the port. "It is desirable," he admitted, "to be well up in easterly winds, but I must guard against being caught with a westerly wind near Cadiz, as a fleet of ships with so many three-deckers would inevitably be forced into the Straits, and then Cadiz would be perfectly free for the enemy to come out with a westerly wind, as they served Lord Keith in the late war." The memory of his weary beat out of the Mediterranean the previous April, against wind and current, remained vividly in his mind; and he feared also that the willingness of the enemy to come out, which was his great object, would be much cooled by the certainty that his fleet could not be avoided, and by seeing such additions as it might receive. "I think we are near enough," he wrote Colling wood, "for the weather if it is fine, the wind serves, and we are in sight, they will never move." "I rely on you," he tells Blackwood, "that we can't miss getting hold of them, and I will give them such a shaking as they never yet experienced; at least I will lay down my life in the attempt." An advanced squadron of fast-sailing seventy-fours was thrown out ten or twelve miles east of the fleet, through which daily signals could be exchanged with Blackwood's squadron of frigates, that cruised day and night close to the harbor's mouth. This disposition received a farther development after the 10th of October, when the combined fleets shifted from the inner harbor to the Bay of Cadiz, and gave other tokens of a speedy start. On the 14th of the month he made the following entry in his diary: "Enemy at the harbour's mouth. Placed Defence and Agamemnon from seven to ten leagues west of Cadiz, and Mars and Colossus five leagues east of fleet [that is, under way between the fleet and the former group], whose station is from fifteen to twenty leagues west of Cadiz; and by this chain I hope to have constant communication with the frigates off Cadiz." To the captain of the "Defence" he wrote that it was possible the enemy might try to drive off the frigate squadron, in order to facilitate their own evasion; in which case the inner ships-of-the-line would be at hand to resist the attempt.
Despite these careful dispositions, his mind was still ill at ease lest the enemy might escape undetected. He never had frigates enough to make the result as sure as it ought to be, where such vast issues were at stake. While eight at least were needed to be always with the fleet before Cadiz, he had but five; and to maintain even so many it was necessary to cut short other services and essential stations. This deficiency he urged upon the Government still more than he did the inadequacy of the line-of-battle force; for his fear of the enemy eluding him was greater than that of a conflict with superior numbers. As regards the latter contingency, he wrote to Lord Barham that, if the enemy came out, he would immediately bring them to battle; "but, although I should not doubt of spoiling any voyage they might attempt, yet I hope for the arrival of the ships from England, that as an enemy's fleet they may be annihilated." On the other hand, "the last fleet was lost to me for want of frigates." Besides his own direct representations, he pressed Rose to obtain an intimation to the Admiralty from the Prime Minister, that the latter was personally solicitous that more small cruisers should be supplied. Both Collingwood and Nelson believed the allies bound to the Mediterranean; but in this they might be mistaken, and as the real object might be again the West Indies, lookouts should be placed off Cape Blanco on the coast of Africa, and off the Salvages,[129] both which he knew had been sighted by Villeneuve, in the outward voyage of the previous spring.
To his concern about the immediate situation before Cadiz were added the universal cares of the Mediterranean, with all parts of which he renewed his correspondence, occupying his active mind with provisions for forwarding the cause of Great Britain and her allies. Under his many anxieties, however, he preserved his buoyant, resolute temper, not worrying over possible happenings against which he was unable to provide. "The force is at present not so large as might be wished," he writes to Ball, "but I will do my best with it; they will give me more when they can, and I am not come forth to find difficulties, but to remove them." "Your Lordship may depend upon my exertions," he tells Barham. The possibility that he himself might fall was, as always, present to his thoughts, and never did life mean more to him than it now did; yet, as the twilight deepened, and the realization of danger passed gradually into a presentiment of death, he faced the prospect without gloom—steadfast still in mind. "Let the battle be when it may, it will never have been surpassed. My shattered frame, if I survive that day, will require rest, and that is all I shall ask for. If I fall on such a glorious occasion, it shall be my pride to take care that my friends shall not blush for me. These things are in the hands of a wise and just Providence, and His will be done! I have got some trifle, thank God, to leave those I hold most dear, and I have taken care not to neglect it. Do not think I am low-spirited on this account, or fancy anything is to happen to me; quite the contrary—my mind is calm, and I have only to think of destroying our inveterate foe."