which sent a thrill of fiery enthusiasm throughout the whole fleet.
Then the signal for "Close action" went up, and the cheering was
renewed, which created a remarkable effect. Collingwood, whose
attention was wholly on a Spanish three-decker that he had selected to
engage, is reported to have been irritated, and spontaneously
expressed the wish that "Nelson would cease signalling, as they all
knew what to do."
At noon the French ship, the _Fougeux_, fired the first shot of the
battle. The belligerent admirals saluted in the good old pious style,
like professional boxers shaking hands before the attempt to knock
each other out, and in a few more minutes were engaged in deadly
conflict, hurling death at each other. Nelson, in his courageous
melancholy way, confident of his own powers and trusting reverently in
the continuance of the lavish bounty of God, resigned his fate to Him
who had given him the opportunity of doing his duty. The conspicuous
splendour of the decorations which he wore on the breast of his
admiral's frocker was apprehensively looked upon by his comrades, who
loved him with touching loyalty. They muttered their disappointment to
each other, but shrank from hurting his feelings by warning him of the
danger of the sharpshooters, to whom he would be a target, remembering
how he had sharply replied to some anxious soul who on a previous
occasion had cautioned him with regard to his prominent appearance,
"that in honour he had gained his orders, and in honour he would die
with them."
The battle quickly developed into a carnage. The _Bucentaure_ had
found her range soon after twelve o'clock, when some of the shots went
over the _Victory_. Blackwood was at this time ordered to rejoin his
ship. He shook hands with his chief, and in some brief parting words
expressed the "hope that he would soon return to the _Victory_ to find
him well and in possession of twenty prizes"; and Nelson is reported
to have calmly answered, "God bless you, Blackwood, I shall never
speak to you again." His habit was to refer to death with eager
frankness, and as though he were in love with it, without in the least
showing any lack of alertness or detraction from the hazardous objects
he had set himself to fulfil. His faith in the powerful aid of the
Omnipotent was as unvarying in his sphere of warfare as was Cromwell's
when he had the stern realities of human unruliness to steady and
chastise. Nelson, like the latter, had in his peculiar way a
deep-rooted awe and fear of God, which must have made him oblivious to
all other fear. The magnificent fellow never showed greater mastery of
the science of strategy, nor did he ever scan with greater vigilance
the manner of carrying out the creation of his genius. Collingwood,
who was first in the thick of the fight, set his heart throbbing with
pride and admiration when he observed the _Royal Sovereign_ dash
through the lines of the enemy, spreading devastation and death with
unerring judgment. "See," said Nelson to Captain Blackwood, "how that
noble fellow, Collingwood, takes his ship into action!" Then he paused
for a moment, and continued, "How I envy him!" And as though the
spirits of the two men were in communion with each other, Collingwood,
knowing that the Commander-in-Chief's eager eye was fixed upon him in
fond admiration, called out to the flag-captain near him, "Rotherham,
what would Nelson give to be here?"
One of those fine human touches of brotherhood which Nelson knew so
well how to handle with his faultless tact had occurred the day
before. Collingwood and some officers paid a visit to the _Victory_
for the purpose of receiving any instructions he might have to give.
Nelson asked Collingwood where his captain was, and when he replied
that they were not on friendly terms, Nelson sharply answered, "Not on
good terms," and forthwith gave orders for a boat to be sent for
Rotherham; and when he came aboard he took him to Collingwood and
said, "Look! there is the enemy, shake hands," and they renewed their
friendship by gratefully carrying out his wishes. But for this,
perhaps we should have been cheated of knowing the charming anecdote,
which denotes the veneration the two old friends had for each other.
There is no need to make any apology for this digression, for it is to
record one more of the many acts of wisdom and tenderness that were so
natural to this man of massive understanding. The incalculable results
that he was destined to accomplish may well be allowed to obscure any
human weakness that sadly beset him.
Nelson, with blithe courage, sailed right into the centre of the
French fleet, which in disorder surrounded their Commander-in-Chief's
ship, his intention being to capture her and take Villeneuve prisoner.
Never a gun was fired from the _Victory,_ although many of her spars,
sails, and her rigging had suffered severely, until she had rounded as
close as it was possible under the stern of the _Bucentaure_ and got
into position. Then a terrific broadside was let fly from her
double-shotted guns, which raked the _Bucentaure_ fore and aft, and
the booming of cannon continued until her masts and hull were a
complete wreck. Many guns were dismounted and four hundred men killed.
The _Victory_ then swung off and left the doomed _Bucentaure_ to be
captured by the _Conqueror_, and Villeneuve was taken prisoner. After
clearing the _Bucentaure_, the _Victory_ fouled the _Redoubtable_, and
proceeded to demolish her hull with the starboard guns, and with her
port guns she battered the _Santissima Trinidad_, until she was a mass
of wreckage, and the _Africa_ and _Neptune_ forced her to surrender.
Meanwhile, the _Victory_ kept hammering with her starboard guns at the
_Redoubtable_ until her lower deck cannon were put out of action. Then
she used her upper deck small guns and muskets from aloft. Nelson was
too humane a man to use this method of warfare from the lower tops,
and too practical, lest the ropes and sails should be damaged. The
writer is of opinion that he was wrong in this view, as was clearly
shown by the deadly execution the French musketeers did from aloft
before their masts were shot away by the British big artillery. It can
never be wrong to outmatch an enemy in the methods they employ, no
matter what form they take. Although the victory was all on the
British side at Trafalgar, it would have been greater and with less
loss of life on our side had musketeers been employed in the same way
as the French and Spanish employed them. The men on the upper deck of
the _Victory_ were shot down by these snipers without having an equal
chance of retaliating. The _Redoubtable's_ mizzen-top was full of
sharpshooters when the two ships fell alongside of each other, but
only two were left there when Nelson was shot and dropped on his left
side on the deck a foot or two from Captain Hardy. The Frenchman who
shot him was killed himself by a shot fired from the _Victory's_ deck,
which knocked his head to pieces. His comrade was also shot dead while
trying to escape down the rigging, and fell on the _Redoubtable's_
poop. The other sharpshooters had been previously killed by the
musketry from the _Victory's_ deck.
Nelson told Hardy, when he expressed the hope that he was not
seriously hurt, that "they had done for him at last, and that he felt
his backbone was broken." He was hit on the left shoulder; the ball
had pierced his left lung. The snipers from the tops of the other
enemy ships killed a large number of the _Victory's_ officers and men
who were on deck. The French made an attempt to board, but were thrown
back in confusion and with tremendous loss. The instinct of domination
and the unconquerable combativeness of our race is always more
fiercely courageous when pressed to a point which causes others to
take to their heels or surrender.
It was not an exaggeration on the part of the French and Spanish to
declare that the British sailors and soldiers were not ordinary men
but devils, when the real tussle for mastery began, and when they were
even believed to be beaten. The French and Spanish conclusions were
right then, and the ruthless Germans, stained with unspeakable crimes,
should know they are right now, for they have had many chances in
recent days of realizing the power of the recuperating spirit they are
up against, just at a time when they have become imbued with the idea
that they have beaten our forces on land and destroyed our ships and
murdered their crews at sea. The Kaiser and his advisers, military and
naval, have made the German people pay dearly for the experiment of
stopping our supplies by sea, for the loss of life by the sinking of
their own submarines must have been enormous. But only those to whom
they belong will ever know that they have not returned, and that they
must have been sent to the bottom of the sea.
We can only judge by written records and authoritative paintings or
prints of the period what the naval battles of the beginning of the
last century were like. But it is only those who have studied minutely
the naval battles of St. Vincent, the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar
who can depict the awful character and thrilling nature of these ocean
conflicts.
While the author was serving as an apprentice aboard a sailing vessel
during the Prussian-Danish war in 1864 a dense fog came on, and
continued the whole of one night. When it cleared up the next forenoon
we found that the vessel had been sailed right into the centre of the
Danish fleet, which had defeated the Prussians and Austrians off
Heligoland. There were other merchantmen there, and the cheering as we
passed each of the Danish warships was hearty and long, while they
gracefully acknowledged by saluting with their flags. I am quite sure
there were few British seamen who would not have gladly volunteered to
serve in the Danish navy against the Prussians, so universal was their
bitter dislike to the Hun bullies who had set themselves to steal by
force the possessions to which they had not an atom of right. The
sight of these fine frigates and line-of-battle ships manoeuvring to
come to grips with their cowardly antagonists who were assailing their
national rights has been revivified during a long course of study of
Nelson's naval warfare, and makes the awful vision of Trafalgar appear
as it really was, and makes me wish that I were gifted with the art of
words so that I might describe it in all its gruesome wreckage and
magnitude, as the recollection of the majestic sight of the Danish
ships before they even went into action makes it appear to me.
My mind's eye pictures one after another of the French and Spanish
ships surrendering, the hurricane of cheers that followed their
defeat, and the pathetic anxiety of the dying chieftain for the safety
of Captain Hardy, who was now in charge of the flagship acting as
commander-in-chief. Hardy is long in coming; he fears that he may be
killed, and calls out, "Will no one bring Hardy to me?" At last the
gallant captain sees an opportunity of leaving the deck, for the
_Victory_ is shielded by two ships from the enemy's gunfire. "Well,
Hardy," says Nelson to him, "how goes the battle?" "Very well, my
Lord," says Hardy; "fourteen or fifteen of the enemy's ships are in
our possession." "That is well," said Nelson, "but I bargained for
twenty"; and then followed the memorable order, "Anchor, Hardy,
anchor." "If I live," he says, "we will anchor"; and in answer to
Hardy's supposition that Collingwood should take charge, he
impulsively resents the suggestion and expresses the hope that this
will not happen while he lives, and urges again on Hardy that the
fleet may be anchored, and asks him to make the signal. He hopes that
none of our ships have struck, and his devoted friend reassures him
that none have and never will. He commissions Hardy to give "dear Lady
Hamilton his hair and other belongings," and asks that his "body shall
not be thrown overboard." Hardy is then asked in childlike simplicity
to kiss him, and the rough, fearless captain with deep emotion kneels
and reverently kisses Nelson on the cheek. He then thanks God that he
has done his duty, and makes the solemn thoughts that are troubling
his last moments manifest in words by informing Doctor Scott, with a
vital sailorly turn of speech, that "he had _not_ been a _great_
sinner," and then bids him remember that he leaves Lady Hamilton and
his daughter Horatia as a legacy to his country, and that Horatia is
never to be forgotten.
Even at this distance of time one cannot help regretting that nature's
power did not sustain him to see the total debacle of the enemy
fleets. He knew that he had triumphed, and that his task had ended
fatally to himself, but his sufferings did not prevent his spirit
sallying to and fro, making him feel the joy of living and wish that
he might linger but a little longer. He was struck down at a critical
stage of the battle, though there was never any doubt as to how it
would end, thanks to the adroit skill and bravery of Collingwood and
those who served under him. It is a happy thought to know that our
hero, even when the shadows were closing round him, had the pleasure
of hearing from the lips of the faithful Hardy that fifteen of the
enemy ships had struck and not one of ours had lowered a flag. But how
much more gladsome would the passing have been had he lived to know
that the battle had ended with the capture of nine French vessels and
ten Spanish, nineteen in all. He died at 4.30 p.m. on the 21st
October, 1805, just when the battle was flickering to an end.
Villeneuve had given himself up, and was a prisoner on board the
_Mars_. Dumanoir had bolted with four of the line, after committing a
decidedly cowardly act by firing into the captured Spanish ships, the
object being to put them out of the possession of the British. They
could not succeed in this without killing large numbers of their
allies, and this was all they were successful in doing. It was a
cruel, clumsy crime, which the Spanish rightly resented but never
succeeded in avenging.
Meanwhile the Spanish Admiral Gravina, who had lost an arm, took
command of the dilapidated combined fleets, and fled into Cadiz with
five French and five Spanish ships, and by 5 p.m. the thundering of
the guns had ceased, and the sea all round was a scene of death,
dismasted ships, and awful wreckage. The Rear-Admiral Dumanoir was
sailing gaily towards the refuge of Rochefort or Ferrol when he came
into view of, and ultimately had to fight on the 4th November, a
squadron under Sir Richard Strachan. Dumanoir and his men are said to
have fought with great fierceness, but his ships were beaten,
captured, and taken in a battered condition, and subsequently sent to
England, so that now twenty-three out of the thirty-three that came
out of Cadiz with all the swagger of confidence and superiority to
match themselves against Nelson and his fiery coadjutors were
tragically accounted for.
Collingwood was now the commander-in-chief of the British fleet, and
to him fell the task of notifying the victory. I insert the documents
in full.