Before the sun went down the shore was crowded with the people of the country gazing upon this terrible conflict. When darkness fell, the flashes of the guns faintly indicated the positions of the contending fleets. Each British ship was ordered to carry four lanterns at her mizzen-peak, and these were lighted at seven o'clock. Each ship also went into action with the white ensign of St. George, of which the red cross in the centre rendered it easily distinguishable in the darkest night at sea. But there was another illumination, more awful than the flashes of two thousand cannon, which was that night to strike unwonted dismay into the bravest of the combatants of either nation. Five of the French ships had surrendered. The Vanguard had been engaged with the Spartiate and the Aquilon. Her loss was severe.
A splinter had struck Nelson on the head, cutting a large piece of the flesh and skin from the forehead, which fell over his remaining eye. He was carried down to the cockpit, and the effusion of blood being very great, his wound was held to be dangerous, if not mortal, by the anxious shipmates around him. He was carried where his men were also carried, without regard to rank, to be tended by the busy surgeons. These left their wounded to bestow their care on the first man of the fleet. "No," said Nelson, "I will take my turn with my brave fellows." Sidney, in the field of Zuetphen, taking the cup of water from his lips to give to the dying soldier, with the memorable words, "This man's necessity is more than mine," was a parallel example of heroism. The Admiral did wait his turn; and meanwhile, in the belief that his career was ended, called to his chaplain to deliver a last token of affection to his wife. The wound was found to be superficial. He was carried to his cabin, and left alone, amid the din of the battle.
Suddenly the cry was heard that L'Orient, the French flagship of one hundred twenty guns, was on fire. Nelson groped his way to the deck, to the astonishment of the crew, who heard their beloved commander giving his orders that the boats should be lowered to proceed to the help of the burning vessel. The Bellerophon had been overpowered by the weight of metal of L'Orient, and had lost her masts. The Swiftsure had also been engaged with this formidable vessel. Both had maintained an unremitting fire upon the French flagship. Admiral Brueys had fallen, and had died the death of a brave man on his deck. The ship was in flames; at ten o'clock she blew up, the conflagration having lasted for nearly an hour. When the explosion came, there was an awful silence. For ten minutes not a gun was fired on either side. The instinct of self-preservation, as well as the sudden awe on this sublime event, produced this pause in the battle.
Some of the French, endeavoring to get out of the vicinity of the burning wreck, had slipped their cables. The nearest of the English took every precaution to prevent the combustible materials doing them injury. The shock of the explosion shook the Alexander, Swiftsure, and Orion to their kelsons and materially injured them. None of the British ships, however, took fire. About seventy only of the crew of L'Orient were saved by the English boats. The battle was resumed by the French ship, the Franklin; and it went on, at intervals, till daybreak. The contest was sustained by four French line-of-battle ships, and four of the English. Finally, two of the French line-of-battle ships and two frigates escaped. Of thirteen sail of the line, nine were taken, two were burned. Of the British, about nine hundred men were killed and wounded. No accurate account was obtained of the French loss. The estimate which represented that loss at five thousand was evidently exaggerated. About three thousand French prisoners were sent on shore. Kléber, the French general, wrote to Napoleon, "The English have had the disinterestedness to restore everything to their prisoners."
After the victory of the Nile, Nelson returned to Naples. He required rest; and in the ease and luxury, the flattery and the honors which there awaited him, he forgot his quiet home, and after a time was involved in public acts which reflect discredit upon his previously spotless name. At Palermo, Lord Cochrane had opportunities of conversation with him. He says, "To one of his frequent injunctions, 'Never mind manœuvres, always go at them,' I subsequently had reason to consider myself indebted for successful attacks under apparently difficult circumstances." Cochrane considered Nelson "an embodiment of dashing courage, which would not take much trouble to circumvent an enemy, but being confronted with one would regard victory so much a matter of course as hardly to deem the chance of defeat worth consideration." This opinion is borne out by a letter which Nelson wrote to his old friend, Admiral Locker, from Palermo: "It is you who always said, 'Lay a Frenchman close and you will beat him'; and my only merit in my profession is being a good scholar." Nelson was himself a master who made many good scholars.
M. Thiers, having described the great naval battle of Abukir with tolerable fairness, admits that it was the most disastrous that the French navy had yet experienced—one from which the most fatal military consequences might be apprehended. The news of the disaster caused a momentary despair in the French army. Bonaparte received the intelligence with calmness. "Well," he exclaimed, "we must die here; or go forth, great, as were the ancients." He wrote to Kléber, "We must do great things"; and Kléber replied, "Yes, we must do great things: I prepare my faculties." It would have been fortunate for the fame of Bonaparte, if he had abstained from doing some of "the great things" which he accomplished while he remained in the East.
The victory of Nelson formed the great subject of congratulation in the royal speech, when the session was opened on November 20th. "By this great and brilliant victory, an enterprise of which the injustice, perfidy, and extravagance had fixed the attention of the world, and was peculiarly directed against some of the most valuable interests of the British Empire, has, in the first instance, been turned to the confusion of its authors."
FOOTNOTES:
[46] The "Battle of the Baltic," April 2, 1801.—Ed.