During this time the British ships were coming into action one after another, but very slowly, as the wind, light all the morning, had now fallen to a mere air, barely sufficient to bring all our vessels up; thus the first ships engaged had dreadful odds against them, and the loss of life in them was great.
After bringing the Redoutable to close action as before described, Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy, side by side, calmly walked the centre of the quarter deck, from the poop to the hatchway. At about 1.25, in their walk forward his Lordship turned a little short of the hatchway, Captain Hardy took the other step, and turned also, and beheld the Admiral in the act of falling. He had been wounded by a musket ball fired from the mizen-top of the Redoutable, which struck him in the left shoulder as he turned, and thence descending, lodged in the spine. He sank on to the very spot that was still red with his secretary’s blood, and was raised by Sergeant Secker, of the Marines, and two seamen, who under Captain Hardy’s directions, bore him to the cockpit. “They have done for me at last, Hardy,” said the hero as he fell. “I hope not,” said Hardy. “Yes,” was the reply, “they have shot my backbone through.” But his presence of mind was still strong, and he gave directions for the tautening of the tiller ropes as he was carried below, and covered his face and decorations with a handkerchief, that he might not be recognised.
The cockpit was crowded with wounded, and with difficulty he was borne to a place on the port side, at the foremost end of it, and placed on a purser’s bed with his back resting against one of the wooden knees of the ship. Here the surgeon examined his wound, and at once pronounced it mortal.
In the meantime the battle raged furiously, the men stationed in the Redoutable’s tops (Nelson would allow none in the “Victory,” for fear of setting fire to the sails), had nearly cleared the “Victory’s” upper deck, 40 men being killed or wounded on the deck alone. The French, seeing this, attempted to board, but were driven back with great gallantry by the few men that remained, headed by Captain Adair, of the Marines.
At about 1.50 the Redoutable ceased firing, and two midshipmen and a few men were sent from the “Victory” to assist in putting out a fire that had burst out on board of her, and the “Victory” then proceeded to get herself clear, leaving her prize lashed to the Temeraire, that had just fouled her on the other side. The “Victory” was by this time so crippled in her spars and sails that all efforts on her part to get into close action (Lord Nelson’s favourite position), with another enemy were ineffectual; but she still continued engaged on the port side with the Santissima Trinidada and other ships; and later, with a fresh batch of the enemy’s ships that passed along the line and eventually escaped.
By 4.30 p.m. the action was over, and a victory was reported to Lord Nelson just before his death. We left him in the cockpit, where he was attended by Dr. Scott, the chaplain, and Mr. Burke, the purser. He had sent the doctor away to attend to the other wounded, and lay in great agony, fanned with paper by those two officers, and giving his last directions as to those he loved; but ever and anon interrupted by the cheers of the “Victory’s” crew, he would ask the cause, and being told it was a fresh enemy’s ship that had struck her flag, his eye would flash as he expressed his satisfaction. He frequently asked for Captain Hardy, and that officer not being able to leave the deck, his anxiety for his safety became excessive, and he repeated, “he must be killed;” “he is surely destroyed.” An hour had elapsed before Hardy was able to come to him, when they shook hands, and the Admiral asked—“How goes the day with us.” “Very well, my Lord,” was the reply; “we have about 12 of the enemy in our possession.”
After a few minutes of conversation, Hardy had again to return on deck, and shortly after the “Victory’s” port guns redoubled their fire on some fresh ships coming down on her, and the concussion so affected Lord Nelson that he cried in agony, “Oh! ‘Victory!’ ‘Victory!’ how you distract my poor brain;” but, weak and in pain as he was, he indignantly rebuked a man, who in passing through the crowded cockpit struck against and hurt one of the wounded.
Captain Hardy again visited him in about another hour, and, holding his Lordship’s hand, congratulated him on a brilliant victory, saying, he was certain that 14 ships had surrendered. “That is well,” he answered, “but I bargained for 20.” Then, Hardy having again to go on deck, Nelson after emphatically telling him to anchor, and declaring his intention to direct the fleet as long as life remained, said, “kiss me Hardy,” the Captain knelt down and kissed him, when he said, “Now I am satisfied. Thank God I have done my duty.” Twenty minutes later he quietly passed away, having again and again repeated to his last breath, the words above mentioned. They were, it has been well remarked, the whole history of his life.
On the firing ceasing, the “Victory” had lost 57 killed and 103 wounded, and found herself all but a wreck. The tremendous fire to which she was exposed, when leading her line into action, had caused great damage, at a very early period of the battle, and before she herself fired a gun, many of her spars were shot away, and great injury was done to the hull, especially the fore part of it.
At the conclusion of the action, she had lost her mizen-mast, the fore-topmast had to be struck to save the foremast; the mainmast was not much better, and it took all the exertions of her crew to refit the rigging sufficiently to stand the bad weather that followed.