"The bearer, Lieutenant Mounsey, can inform your excellency of many things that may escape my memory. He is a very good officer, and commanded the party I sent to reconnoitre the look-out: and began the attack of it, in concert with Captain Despard and Captain Nelson; who, with his seamen, volunteered that duty."
It is easy to perceive, at this early period, the singular heroism of Captain Nelson's character; as well in the slight but forcible delineation, sketched on the instant by Colonel Polson, as in the more leisurely and finished picture of Dr. Moseley's masterly composition.
In both, we behold him seeking every opportunity to assist the enterprise, with the most magnanimous zeal, and the soundest discretion. Without his vigorous and skilful exertions, indeed, as Dr. Moseley remarks, it is more than probable that not a man among them would ever have reached San Juan Castle.
It was at the period while this brave and good man was thus honourably and actively engaged, that a circumstance occurred, which seems to indicate that he must have been under the peculiar protection of Providence.
Having, one night, as was usual with him, while proceeding by land to the scene of action, had his cot slung between two trees, he slept very soundly till the morning; when he was early awakened, and not a little startled, by a lizard's passing over his face. He now suddenly arose; and, on hastily turning down the bed-cloaths, a large snake was discovered lying at his feet, without having offered him the smallest injury, though it was of a well known venomous species. The surrounding Indians, who beheld this singular spectacle with astonishment—like the barbarians of Melita, when the Apostle Paul shook off the viper—began to consider him as a sort of divinity, and determined to follow him wherever he went. They now, in fact, eagerly flocked after him, in crowds, with the idea that no harm could possibly come to them while they were in his presence. This occurrence, therefore, independent of it's extreme singularity, had an effect very favourable to the purposes of the expedition.
Though, however. Captain Nelson providentially escaped not only the venom of the snake, but the pestilential catastrophe which afterwards befel almost every individual of his unfortunate ship's company, as well as the land forces with whom he entered Fort Juan; he was, nevertheless, in a few days, violently seized with the contagion: and, fatigued and disappointed as he had been, in the attainment of what now manifestly appeared to him of little or no consequence, for even the treasure of the castle had been removed before it's surrender, he was sinking fast to the grave; with scarcely a hope, or even a wish, to survive the brave fellows who were every day falling around him.
While he lay in this deplorable state, the reinforcement of troops which had immediately been sent from Jamaica, on the first news of the surrender of Fort Juan, brought intelligence that Captain Bonnovier Glover, the commander of the Janus of forty-four guns, died on the 21st of March, and that Sir Peter Parker had appointed Captain Nelson to succeed him. This kind promotion, he has been often heard to say, certainly saved his life. He immediately sailed to Jamaica, on board the Victor sloop, that he might take possession of the Janus; and hope, that never entirely abandoned him, began again to invigorate his heart. His spirits, however, were always beyond his strength; though that, when in full health, was by no means feeble, as his country's enemies had many subsequent opportunities to experience.
The air of Jamaica, though far less unwholesome than that which he had just quitted on the Spanish main, is not very invigorating to European constitutions; and, instead of it's restoring him, he every day grew worse and worse. Sir Peter Parker, therefore, kindly invited him to make a home of his penn, which is the name of a West Indian villa; where he received the most friendly attentions from Lady Parker, and the skilfullest medicinal aids. All, however, proved ineffectual. His extreme anxiety to get on board the ship to which he had been so honourably appointed, tended now to augment his indisposition; and he was reluctantly compelled, like his worthy friend, Captain Locker, to depart for England. This, too, unwilling to resign his ship, he positively declared, till the last, he never would do, while a single person could be found who was of opinion that he might possibly recover without quitting the island. No such person was obtainable; and, accordingly, in a state of the most extreme debility, towards the close of this year, he returned home, in his majesty's ship the Lion, commanded by the Honourable William Cornwallis, the now celebrated admiral; whose kind care and attention, during their passage, greatly contributed to preserve his valuable life.
On his arrival in England, though then barely in existence, and almost wholly without the use of his limbs, such was the excessive ardour of his mind for employ, that nothing could prevent him from being immediately carried to the Admiralty, and applying for a ship. "This they readily promised me," he jocosely observed, soon after, to one of his relations, "thinking it not possible for me to live."
He now went, directly, to Bath: where he was, at first, under the necessity of being carried to the springs, and wherever else he wanted to go; and, for several weeks afterwards, constrained to use crutches. These, however, he at length threw aside, much sooner than his friends at the Admiralty had expected; though it was nearly three months before he entirely recovered the use of his limbs. In a letter which he wrote, from this place, dated February 15, 1781, to his friend Captain Locker, he observes that he is, thank God, very near perfectly restored; having the complete use of all his limbs, except his left arm, of which he can hardly tell the ailment: from the shoulder to his fingers ends felt as if half dead, but the faculty gave him hopes that it would all go off. He expresses his anxiety to be employed; and, as if willing to demonstrate that his spirits were more lively than his limb, he says, with considerable pleasantry and wit, speaking of three portraits—one of the present Admiral George Montague, another of Sir Charles Pole, and the third of himself, which was then painting by Mr. Rigaud as a present for Captain Locker—"I hope, when I come to town, to see a fine trio in your room. When you get the pictures, I must be in the middle; for, God knows, without good supporters, I shall fall to the ground."