“Well, one day I was standing at the gangway getting the barge’s sails ready, when a shore-boat came alongside full of people, who were making a terrible noise. At last they brought a venerable old man up the side; he was dressed as a peasant, and his arms were pinioned so tight behind that he seemed to be suffering considerable pain. As soon as they had all reached the deck, the rabble gathered round him, some cursing, others buffeting, and one wretch, unmindful of his gray hairs, spat upon him. This was too much to see and not to speak about; the man was their prisoner and they had him secure,—the very nature of his situation should have been sufficient protection; so I gave the unmannerly fellow a tap with this little fist,” holding up a hand like a sledge-hammer, “and sent him flying into the boat again without the aid of a rope. ‘Well done, Ben!’ exclaimed a young midshipman, who is now a post-captain; ‘Well done, my boy, I owe you a glass of grog for that; it was the best summerset I ever saw in my life.’ ‘Thank you for your glass o’grog, sir,’ said I, ‘you see I’ve made a tumbler already;’ and indeed, your honour, he spun head over heels astonishingly clever. I was brought up to the quarter-deck for it, to be sure, because they said I had used the why-hit-armis; but I soon convinced them I had only used my fist, and the young officer who saw the transaction stood my friend, and so I got off.
“Well, there stood the old man as firm as the rock of Gibraltar; not a single feature betraying the anguish he must have felt. His face was turned away from the quarter-deck, and his head was uncovered in the presence of his enemies. The Neapolitans still kept up an incessant din, which brought the first-lieutenant to the gang-way; he advanced behind the prisoner, and pushing aside the abusive rabble, swore at them pretty fiercely for their inhumanity, although at the same time seizing the old man roughly, he brought him in his front. ‘What traitor have we here?’ exclaimed the lieutenant; but checking himself on viewing the mild countenance of the prisoner, he gazed more intently upon him. ‘Eh, no!—it surely cannot be:—and yet it is!’—his hat was instantly removed with every token of respect, as he continued—‘it is the prince!’
“The old man with calm dignity bowed his hoary head to the salute, and at this moment Nelson himself, who had been disturbed by the shouting of the captors, came from his cabin to the quarter-deck, and advancing quickly to the scene, he called out in his hasty way when vexed, ‘Am I to be eternally annoyed by the confusion these fellows create! What is the matter here?’ But when his eye had caught the time-and-toil worn features of the prisoner, he sprang forward, and with his own hands commenced unbinding the cords. ‘Monsters,’ said he, ‘is it thus that age should be treated?—Cowards, do you fear a weak and unarmed old man?—Honoured prince, I grieve to see you degraded and injured by such baseness,—and now,’ he added, as the last turn released his arms, ‘dear Caraccioli, you are free!’ I thought a tear rolled down Nelson’s cheek as he cast loose the lashings, which having finished, he took the prince’s hand and they both walked aft together.
“They say the devil knows precisely the nick of time when the most mischief is to be done, and so it happened now; for a certain lady followed Nelson from the cabin, and approached him with her usual bewitching smile. But oh! your honour, how was that smile changed to the black scowl of a demon when she pierced the disguise of the peasant, and recognised the prince, who on some particular occasion had thwarted her views and treated her with indignity. It had never been forgiven, and now—he was in her power. Forcibly she grasped Nelson by the arm and led him from the deck.
“‘His doom is sealed,’ said one of the lieutenants, conversing in an undertone with a brother officer, ‘no power on earth can save him.’ ‘On earth,’ rejoined the other, ‘no, nor in the air, nor in the ocean; for I suspect he will meet his death in the one, and find his grave in the other.’ ‘Yet surely,’ said the surgeon, who came up, ‘the admiral will remember his former friendship for the prince, who once served under him. Every sympathetic feeling which is dear to a noble mind must operate to avert his death.’ ‘All the virtues in your medicine-chest, doctor,’ rejoined the first, ‘would not preserve him many hours from destruction, unless you could pour an opiate on the deadly malignity of ——,’ here he put his finger upon his lip, and walked away.
“Well, your honour, the old man was given up to his bitter foes, who went through the mockery of a court-martial,—for they condemned him first and tried him afterwards. In vain he implored for mercy; in vain he pleaded the proclamation, and pointed to his hoary head; in vain he solicited the mediation of Nelson, for a revengeful fury had possession of his better purposes, and damned the rising tide of generosity in the hero’s soul; in vain he implored the pardon and intercession of ——; but here I follow the example of my officer, and lay my finger on my lip.
“The president of the court-martial was Caraccioli’s personal enemy, and the poor old man was not allowed time to make a defence; he was sentenced to be hung, and his body to be thrown into the sea. I was near him, your honour, when he entreated Mr. Parkinson, one of the lieutenants, to go to Nelson and implore that he might be shot. Oh, if you had but have seen him grasp the officer’s hand as he said, ‘I am an old man, sir, and I have no family to leave behind to lament my death. Indeed I am not anxious to prolong my life, for at the utmost my days would be but few; but the disgrace of hanging,—to be exposed to the gaze of my enemies,—is really dreadful to me!’
“But every attempt to obtain a mitigation or a change of the sentence was unavailing, and at five o’clock that afternoon the brave old man, the veteran prince, in his eightieth year, hung suspended from the fore-yard-arm of a Neapolitan frigate he had once commanded,—for he was an admiral, your honour. Never shall I forget the burst of indignation with which the signal-gun was heard by our crew, and a simultaneous execration was uttered fore and aft.
“Nelson walked the deck with unusual quickness; nay, he almost ran, and every limb seemed violently agitated. He heard the half-suppressed murmurs of the men, and a conviction of dishonour seemed to be awakening in his mind. But oh, sir, where was pity, where was feminine delicacy and feeling? The lady approached him in the most seducing manner and attracted his attention: he stopped short, looked at her for a moment with stern severity, and again walked on. ‘What ails you, Bronté?’ said she; ‘you appear to be ill,’ and the witchery of her commanding look subdued the sternness of his features;—he gazed upon her and was tranquil. ‘See!’ said she, pointing out at the port to where the body of Caraccioli was still writhing in convulsive agony, ‘see! his mortal struggles will soon be over. Poor prince! I grieve we could not save him. But come, Bronté, man the barge, and let us go and take a parting look at our old friend.’ I shuddered, your honour, and actually looked down at her feet to see if I could make out any thing like a cloven hoof. ‘The devil!’ exclaimed a voice in a half-whisper behind me that made me start, for I thought the speaker had certainly made the discovery; but it was only one of the officers giving vent to his pious indignation.
“Well, the barge was manned, and away we pulled with Nelson and the lady round the ship where the unfortunate prince was hanging. He had no cap upon his head, nor was his face covered; but his white hair streamed in the breeze above the livid contortions which the last death-pang had left upon his features. The Neapolitans were shouting and insulting his memory; but they were rank cowards, for the truly brave will never wreak their vengeance on a dead enemy.