“I can’t tell you all the things we did in the West Indies. At last we went home, and were paid off; and I remained on shore with my widowed mother till I heard that Captain Nelson had commissioned the ‘Boreas.’ I went and joined him. He received me heartily, and away we sailed for the West Indies.
“Young as was our captain, he found himself senior officer on the station—that is to say, second in command under the admiral; for in those days we had old heads on young shoulders; so we should now, if boys would try to imitate the example of wise and noble men, not to ape the folly of foolish ones. We were chiefly among the Leeward Islands.
“While visiting the island of Nevis, the captain fell in love with a lady, a Mrs Nisbet, and they married: a very good, kind young lady she was, that I remember; but after we returned home I saw no more of her. The ‘Boreas’ was paid off in 1787. Thus I have told you most of what I remember about Nelson’s early days. He was soon to be known to the world as the greatest naval captain of his time.”
II.
“You have heard speak of the ‘Agamemnon’ of 64 guns. I was one of the old Agamemnons, as we called ourselves. We, all her crew, were proud of her, and good reason we had to be so. Captain Nelson commissioned her on the 26th of January, 1793, and it wasn’t many days after this that I joined her. You see I kept my eye on him. When a man has found a good captain, if he’s wise he will follow him whenever he can.
“I can’t now remember all the places we went to. First, we were one of the Channel fleet. Then we were sent out to the Mediterranean, where our captain astonished the admirals, and made the soldier-generals almost tear their eyes out by the way he did things. He took care that the weeds should not grow to the bottom of the ship he commanded. First we had to conquer the island of Corsica (Note 1). We drove the French out of every place but the strong fort of Bastia, so we landed, and hauled our guns up the heights, and kept up such a hot fire on the place that it gave up, and then the soldiers marched in and gained the glory. Then we took a place called Calvi. Here it was that a shot, striking the ground, threw up some sand in the captain’s eye, and though we thought but little of it at the time, he never saw again with that eye. It was very hard work, and the country was unhealthy, and many of us grew sick, so that we were heartily glad when it was over. There was something better in store for us too. News was brought us that the French fleet, nearly twice as strong as ours, was on the look-out for us. Our fleet was under the command of Admiral Hotham. You may be sure that we kept a bright look-out for the enemy. At last they hove in sight, and one of our frigates, the ‘Inconstant,’ got so close that she brought to action the ‘Ça Ira,’ a French eighty-four, which had carried away her main and foretop masts. The ‘Inconstant,’ however, was obliged to bear away, and a French frigate came up and took the line-of-battle ship in tow, while two other line-of-battle ships guarded her on her weather bow.
“Our captain had been watching all that took place, and, though we had no line-of-battle ship to support us, we made all sail in chase. There was not a man on board whose heart didn’t beat high with pride at the way we went into action against odds so great; but we Agamemnons knew well enough what our captain could do and would do. As soon as the enemy could bring their guns to bear, they kept firing away their stern-chasers at us. We stood on, without answering a shot, till we were within a hundred yards of them. ‘Starboard the helm!’ cried the captain. The after-sails were brailed up, and the ship falling off, our broadside was brought to bear on the retreating enemy. Now we opened a tremendous fire on them, every gun telling. Then the helm was put a-port, the after-yards braced up, and again we were after them.
“Again and again we practised the same manoeuvre, never allowing the ‘Ça Ira’ to get a shot at us with one of her broadside guns. The enemy, however, were not idle with their after-guns, though it was not till we had torn her sails almost to ribbons that the French frigates began to open their fire upon us. Then down came more of the enemy’s ships towards us. The captain seemed only the better pleased at seeing this, and it’s my opinion he would have hove to to meet them, and still managed to come off victorious by some means or other, even if the admiral had not made the signal of recall. Though our sails and rigging were much cut up, we had only seven men wounded, while the ‘Ça Ira’ lost one hundred and ten that day.
“The next day we were again at it, for we managed to cut off the ‘Ça Ira,’ and the ‘Censeur,’ which had her in tow. This time we got one on each side of us, and both of them fought well; but we fought better, and at length both struck, and our boats were sent on board to take possession. I never before had witnessed such a scene as that I saw on board the ‘Ça Ira.’ On her decks lay three hundred brave fellows, dead or dying, or badly wounded, besides those she had lost the day before, while the ‘Censeur’ had lost three hundred and fifty. Our captain wanted to follow up the enemy, and it’s my belief, if we had, we should have taken every one of them; but the admiral would not let him, and said we had done very well as it was. So we had; but, you see, our captain was the man who always wanted to do something better than well. Do well sits on the main-top—Do better climbs to the truck.
“The ‘Agamemnon’ had been so knocked about, that the captain now shifted his flag into the ‘Minerva’ frigate, and took me and many other men with him. One of our first duties was to carry off the English garrison and privateers and merchantmen from Corsica, which had declared for the French. We soon afterwards fought several actions with the enemy, and then war broke out between England and Spain, and we had a narrow escape from an overwhelming force of Spanish ships. We had just sailed from Gibraltar, when two Spanish line-of-battle ships followed us. We were keeping pretty well ahead when a man fell overboard. To let a man drown without trying to help him was against our captain’s nature. A jolly-boat, commanded by Lieutenant Hardy, was lowered, and away she pulled to try and pick up the poor fellow. The boat was within range of the enemy’s guns: the man was not to be seen. The captain had been anxiously watching all that took place. ‘I’ll not lose Hardy,’ he exclaimed. ‘Back the main-topsail!’ No order was ever obeyed more readily, and soon we were dropping back towards our boat, and towards the enemy. We fully expected to be brought to action, but we did not care for that; we got back Mr Hardy and our boat, when what was our astonishment to see the headmost Spaniard shorten sail to wait for his consort. There can be no doubt he thought we had assistance not far off. The Spaniards were very timid of us in those days—they had good reason to be so. With flying colours we sailed out of the Straits, laughing at our enemy.