TRAFALGAR--DEATH OF NELSON
The rival Fleets were made up as follows:--
Franco-Spanish, 33 ships of the line, firing a broadside of 30,000
lbs.
British, 27 ships of the line, firing a broadside of 29,000 lbs.
It will thus be seen that though Nelson had fewer ships, yet the
destructive power of his fire was almost as great as that of his
enemies.
On the 13th of October Nelson's old ship, the _Agamemnon, under the
command of "the hero of a hundred fights_," Captain Berry, joined the
fleet. "Here comes Berry. Now we shall have a fight!" joyfully
exclaimed his chief.
At last the action for which the great admiral was so eagerly longing
was about to take place.
On the 21st October, forty-eight years earlier, his uncle, Captain
Maurice Suckling, had greatly distinguished himself in a desperate
action against a superior force of the enemy. "The 21st will be our
day; it is the happiest day in the year for my family," Nelson had
declared a few days previously.
"This day or to-morrow will be a fortunate one for you young
gentlemen," he said to a group of midshipmen. And again on the
evening of the 20th he said, "To-morrow I will do that which will
give you younger gentlemen something to talk and think about for the
rest of your lives, but I shall not live to know about it myself."
The morning of the 21st showed the sea to be calm, with only a slight
swell; the wind was light, and made the progress of the sailing ships
slow.
To understand the battle we must picture to ourselves the allied
fleet moving in two long lines abreast. Nelson, on the other hand,
divided his ships into two columns which moved to battle in
"line-a-head" and "line-a-bearing," or what we might almost call
Indian file. Thus, while the Franco-Spanish fleet came on in a
crescent shape, Nelson sailed to meet them in two perpendicular
lines, which he flung right on their centre.
His object was, as ever, destruction, and complete destruction, of
the enemy, no matter what loss he himself might sustain.
"In cases where signals cannot be seen or clearly understood, no
captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside that of an
enemy." These were roughly his orders to the fleet. Before entering
the battle he thought deeply for a suitable signal to give to his
ships and men. Finally he decided on the now immortal words:
"England expects that every man will do his duty." Amidst ringing
cheers the flags spelt this sentence out to the fleet. "You must be
quick," Nelson said to his signallers, "for I have another signal to
make--'Close Action!'"
Duty and close action, these were the watchwords of Nelson's life and
career. No more fitting sentiments could come from him on the day of
his death and last and greatest victory.
Nelson's own ship, the _Victory_, led his column. Collingwood, in
the _Royal Sovereign_, led the other column.
The battle began about noon. The allies commenced firing at long
range. Nelson, confident in the better discipline and fighting
powers of his crews, pressed on in silence, withholding his fire.
The _Victory_ was under a storm of shot and shell. In a minute fifty
of her men were killed or wounded. One shot alone killed a party of
eight marines; another actually went screaming on its way between
Nelson and Captain Hardy. Still the British stood to their guns, but
the order to fire did not yet come.
At last the weary waiting and suspense were at an end. The _Victory_
was at length to speak and to hit back. "This is too warm work to
last long," Nelson said to Captain Hardy.
When close between the French ship _Redoubtable_, and the huge
Spanish _Santisima Trinidad_, the longed-for order came; the
_Victory's_ broadsides poured in at close range. The effect was
nearly instantaneous; so close were the combatants that the flames
from Nelson's guns set fire to the French and Spanish ships.
The enemy fought with unflinching courage. Twice was the order given
to cease firing on the _Redoubtable_, as it was thought that she had
struck her flag and that her guns were silenced. Twice did the
_Redoubtable_ reply with shouts of defiance and a storm of shot.
From this ship, which he had twice spared, came the hero's death.
Conspicuous by the medals which covered his breast, the admiral made
an easy mark for the French sharp-shooters stationed in the
mizzen-top.
"In honour I gained them, in honour I shall die with them," he
declared when his officers begged him to take them off before action.
Recognising Lord Nelson, a French sharpshooter took careful aim and
fired. "They have done for me at last, Hardy," the admiral
exclaimed, sinking to the deck.
[Illustration: They have done for me at last, Hardy.]
In mortal agony he was carried below. Heedless of his own pain, he
gave orders that a handkerchief should be spread over his face and
medals, lest his men should see, and be disheartened by the
knowledge, that he was hit.
"You can do nothing for me," he said to the surgeon who hastened to
his side, and he bade him go and attend to those whose lives he had a
chance of saving.
From the first he knew he had only a few hours to live; but in spirit
he was still on his quarter-deck, and his thoughts were of the battle
raging round him, not of his own suffering. He repeatedly asked for
Hardy, who could not as yet be spared from his duty on the
quarter-deck.
At length, feeling victory was assured, Hardy left the deck. "Well,
Hardy, how goes the battle?" was his chief's first eager question.
On Hardy bringing the joyful news that all was going well, and that
twelve or fourteen of the enemies' ships had struck, "I hope none of
our ships have struck, Hardy?" Nelson anxiously exclaimed. "No, my
lord, there is no fear of that," came the answer. Nelson then again
shook hands with him, and, assuring him that he was dying, said
farewell to his old and well-tried friend.
Again Hardy returned. This time he confirmed the capture of fourteen
or fifteen ships. (There were really eighteen.) "That is well,"
replied the dying admiral, "but I bargained for twenty." "Anchor!
Hardy, anchor!" He gave the order, ever mindful of the well-being of
his fleet, and in those last moments feeling sure that a storm was
coming on. This was indeed the case, and in the gale that followed
the battle, many ships which had been captured foundered and were
lost.
The end was now near. The shouts of triumph and victory were in his
dying ear.
"Thank God I have done my duty. God be praised I have done my duty,"
he kept repeating at intervals.
Finally, with the words, "God and my country," the mighty spirit left
the pain-racked body. Nelson, "the saviour of our silver-coasted
isle," the greatest seaman the world has ever seen, had fought his
last fight, gained his most splendid victory.
The destruction was complete; the naval power of our foes was
shattered; the British loss was almost trifling in comparison with
that of the enemy. Some 4400 of the allies were killed, about 2500
were wounded, and many were prisoners. On the British side there
were 402 killed, and about 1129 seriously wounded.
Seventeen of the enemies' ships were in the hands of the conquerors,
and one had blown up.
Nelson, before battle, had prayed for a great and glorious victory,
and that no misconduct in any one might tarnish it. "May humanity
after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet," so
ran his prayer.
His wishes were fulfilled, and our tars spared no effort to save the
lives of their gallant foes, now that the battle was over.
Of the whole allied force only eleven sail of the line succeeded in
making good their escape to Cadiz. Nelson's fondest hopes had been
realised: the enemy were annihilated.
In those days news travelled slowly, and the official despatches did
not reach London till November 6, or rather more than a fortnight
after the battle.
They were carried by post-chaise, to which was fastened a pole with
the Union Jack flying above the Tricolour. Thus, as the horses
galloped through the country on their way to London, was the news of
victory conveyed to the country-people and way-farers. The
mail-coaches took up the tale and spread the tidings. Many were
draped in black, and the triumphant flag they carried was wreathed in
crape, to tell the people that though a glorious victory had been
won, Nelson, the national hero, had laid down his life to gain it.
"I had their huzzas before: I have their hearts now," Nelson had
written to Hardy before he embarked from England for the last time.
Then cheering crowds had followed him, striving to get a glimpse of
his well-loved face, or even to touch the hem of his garment.
Now, amid the mourning of a whole nation, he was followed by a
sorrowing people to his resting-place in St. Paul's. Sir Peter
Parker, his early admiral, who had been one of the first to discover
his genius, was chief mourner.
As Lady Londonderry then wrote: "He now begins his immortal career,
having nothing to achieve left, and bequeathing to the English fleet
a legacy which they alone are able to improve."
That legacy the British fleet to this day strive to guard jealously.
Nelson, the boy who knew no fear, had gained his great end. He had
saved his beloved country; nay, he had saved the whole of Europe. He
had made the British navy a force which no power has since dared to
attack: he had secured to us India and our colonies.
In the words of Southey we may bid farewell to our greatest national
hero:--
"He has left us a name and an example which are at this moment
inspiring hundreds of the youth of England--a name which is our
pride, and an example which will continue to be our shield and
strength."
THE END
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