It is a significant fact that the life of a leader is never an easy one.
Nelson's life was one of struggle from beginning to end; a battle with
poverty, lack of appreciation ofttimes by his country, much ill-health,
domestic disquietude, and many hardships. He died at forty-seven, the
greatest naval hero of the age.
Horatio Nelson, the son of a country rector, the Rev. Edmund Nelson, was
born Sept. 29, 1758, at Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk, England. The mother,
Catherine, was descended from a good family, her grandmother being an
elder sister of Sir Robert Walpole, Earl of Oxford. Catherine died when
her little son, Horatio, was nine years old, leaving eight out of eleven
children to mourn their capable mother. Nelson said of her later, just a
short time before he died, "The thought of former days brings all my
mother into my heart, which shows itself in my eyes."
The boy Nelson was fearless and ambitious. It is related of him that,
straying away from the house when a mere child, his grandmother thought
he had been carried off by gypsies. When found sitting beside a brook
which he could not cross, the old lady said, "I wonder, child, that
hunger and fear did not drive you home."
"Fear," said the boy, "I never saw fear; what is it?"
At another time, some pears were wanted from the schoolmaster's garden.
Without debating the question of the sin of stealing, nobody dared
venture for fear of the consequences. Horatio volunteered to get them,
was lowered at night by a sheet from his window, gathered the pears, and
gave them to his mates, keeping none for himself. "I only took them," he
said, "because every other boy was afraid."
His father was poor, always in frail health, and apparently unable to do
much for his numerous progeny. Horatio determined to do something for
himself. Seeing in the newspaper that his uncle on his mother's side,
Captain Maurice Suckling, had been appointed in the navy to the ship
Raisonnable, of sixty-four guns, Horatio said to his brother, a year and
a half older than himself, "Do, William, write to my father, and tell
him that I should like to go to sea with Uncle Maurice."
Mr. Nelson was at Bath for his health. He at once wrote to the captain
about his twelve-year-old son, who was as sickly in body as himself. The
uncle wrote back, "What has poor Horatio done, who is so weak, that he,
above all the rest, should be sent to rough it out at sea? But let him
come, and the first time we go into action, a cannon-ball may knock off
his head, and provide for him at once."
His father took him to London, from whence he found his way to Chatham,
where the ship was lying. His uncle was absent at the time, and the
first few days were lonely in the extreme. The sailors were rough, their
treatment by officers often harsh, not to say cruel, and the lad who had
so yearned for the sea soon came to despise the Royal Navy.
He soon went on a West Indian voyage, in a small merchant ship
commanded by Mr. John Rathbone, who had served as master's mate under
Captain Suckling. Here, with keen observation, and a constant desire to
rise in his profession, he learned rapidly.
Later, young Nelson went as coxswain under Captain Lutwidge in the
Carcass on a Polar voyage. They were beset by the ice; left their ships,
expecting they would be crushed, and dragged their boats by hand; had
the usual fights with walruses and bears, Nelson exposing himself in an
encounter with the latter, that he might carry a skin home to his
father.
Nelson's next voyage, at fifteen, was in the Seahorse, of twenty guns,
to the East Indies in a squadron under Sir Edward Hughes. He was
stationed at the foretop at watch and watch, where his attention to duty
soon made him a midshipman.
After eighteen months in this debilitating climate, he became
dangerously ill, and was sent home in the Dolphin in 1776. The youth of
sixteen became very despondent. "I felt impressed," he says, "with an
idea that I should never rise in my profession. My mind was staggered
with a view of the difficulties I had to surmount, and the little
interest I possessed. I could discover no means of reaching the object
of my ambition. After a long and gloomy revery, in which I almost wished
myself overboard, a sudden flow of patriotism was kindled within me and
presented my king and country as my patrons. My mind exulted in the
idea. 'Well, then,' I exclaimed, 'I will be a hero, and, confiding in
Providence, I will brave every danger.'"
From that time he often told his friend Hardy, "a radiant orb was
suspended in his mind's eye, which urged him onward to renown."
Captain Suckling had now become comptroller of the navy; and as soon as
Nelson was recovered, through his uncle's influence, he was made fourth
lieutenant of the Worcester, a ship of sixty-four guns, commanded by
Mark Robinson, going out to Gibraltar. At nineteen he passed an
excellent examination in naval matters, and was made second lieutenant
on the Lowestoffe, of thirty-two guns, under Captain William Locker,
then fitting out for the West Indies. The vessel arrived at Carlisle
Bay, Barbadoes, July 4, 1777.
Nelson soon showed his usual bravery. An American letter-of-marque was
captured. The first lieutenant was ordered to board her; but, unable to
reach her by reason of the high sea, Nelson volunteered, and though his
boat swept over the deck of the American privateer, he finally got
aboard, and made her his prize.
Soon after Nelson was appointed third lieutenant of the flag-ship
Bristol, and in 1779 commander of the Badger, protecting the Mosquito
Coast and the Bay of Honduras from the privateers. Many French
merchantmen were captured.
During these years from 1777 to 1780, the skirmishes with the Spaniards
and French, though marked with great energy and bravery on the part of
Nelson, were ruinous to him and his men. Hundreds of the latter died
from the malaria of the climate, or were poisoned by the bites of
serpents. Nelson himself, more dead than alive, was carried back to
England, and for many months remained at Bath, endeavoring to regain his
health.
Fretting at his inactive life, he applied for a position which was not
granted for some months; and then he was sent, much against his will, to
the bleak North Sea to protect the home trade. Here he spent a winter
in discomfort, but he learned many things which were of inestimable
value in one of his great battles afterwards.
In 1782 he sailed in his ship, the Albemarle, for Newfoundland and
Quebec, and while cruising along the coast, captured the Harmony, a
schooner which belonged to a fisherman by the name of Carver. Nelson
employed him as a pilot in Boston Harbor, and then restored him the
schooner and cargo, giving him a certificate so that no other vessel
should capture him. This certificate was framed, and hung in the house
of Isaac Davis of Boston. Carver was so grateful to Nelson that he came
afterwards to the Albemarle, at the hazard of his life, bringing a
present of sheep, poultry, and fresh provisions. The scurvy was raging
on board, and the ship's company had not enjoyed a fresh meal for five
months, so that Carver's present was most acceptable.
While at Quebec in 1782, when he was twenty-four, Nelson fell in love
with an American lady, whom he much desired to marry, but was prevented
by the decision of his friend Alexander Davison, who hurried him off to
sea.
In October of this same year, 1782, Nelson sailed for New York, where he
found the Barfleur with twelve sail-of-the-line under command of Lord
Hood. The latter introduced him to Prince William Henry, Duke of
Clarence, afterwards William IV. The duke was greatly pleased with the
boyish-looking captain, dressed in his full laced uniform, with his hair
tied in a stiff Hessian tail of an extraordinary length. The duke says
of his quaint figure, "I had never seen anything like it before, nor
could I imagine who he was nor what he came about. But his address and
conversation were irresistibly pleasing; and when he spoke on
professional subjects, it was with an enthusiasm that showed me he was
no common being."
Under Lord Hood, Nelson sailed to the West Indies, and remained there
till January, 1783, when peace with France was concluded.
"I have closed the war," said Nelson, "without a fortune; but there is
not a speck in my character. True honor, I hope, predominates in my mind
far above riches."
On July 11 Nelson was presented at court, and received much attention
from the king, perhaps on account of the good words of Prince William,
his son, for the sailor. The young man of twenty-five had not
particularly distinguished himself as yet, but he had improved every
opportunity of making himself familiar with naval matters. He would be
ready for the great opportunity if it ever came.
As he was now on half-pay, he determined to go to France for a time to
study the French language. Here he fell in love with Miss Andrews, one
of the three daughters of an English clergyman. As his income was only
£130 a year, he wrote his uncle, William Suckling, asking that he might
be allowed £100 a year in addition, that he might be able to marry. This
request was granted; but Miss Andrews perhaps did not give her consent,
or Nelson thought that £230 would not support a wife in much luxury, for
she afterwards married a clergyman by the name of Farrer, and later
Colonel Warne. Nelson evidently admired her greatly; for he wrote to his
brother William, "She has such accomplishments, that, had I a million of
money, I am sure I should at this moment make her an offer of them."
In the spring of 1784 he was appointed to the Boreas, of twenty-eight
guns, and sailed for the Leeward Islands, taking with him Lady Hughes
and her family to her husband, Sir Richard, who was in command at that
station.
There were about thirty midshipmen on board, and to all Nelson was
extremely kind and sympathetic. When a boy was at first afraid to go up
the masts, Nelson would say, "I am going a race to the masthead, and beg
that I may meet you there." When they met at the top, Nelson would speak
cheerfully and say, "How much any person was to be pitied who could
fancy there was any danger, or even anything disagreeable, in the
attempt."
He was always the first to arrive on deck with his quadrant at noon.
When he made visits of ceremony he always took some of his lads with
him. When he went to dine with the governor of Barbadoes, he said, "Your
Excellency must excuse me for bringing one of my midshipmen. I make it a
rule to introduce them to all the good company I can, as they have few
to look up to besides myself during the time they are at sea."
Through life Nelson showed this same thoughtfulness and tenderness for
his men. He never lost the sensitiveness of his childhood, which made
him cry bitterly when he had hurt a pet lamb in a shoemaker's shop, by
accidentally opening a door against it. He was always opposed to harsh
discipline, and ruled by love rather than by fear. No wonder it was said
of him, when other great men were mentioned, "Nelson was the man to
_love_."
At the Island of Nevis, Nelson fell in love for the third time. The
lady was Mrs. Fanny Nisbet, whose husband, a physician, had died insane,
eighteen months after their marriage. Her uncle, Mr. Herbert, was the
president of Nevis. She had a son Josiah, several years old, to whom
Nelson became attached; and this, of course, helped to win the favor of
the mother.
Three months before their marriage he writes to her from Antigua, where
he has Prince William Henry with him: "What is it to attend on princes!
let me attend on you and I am satisfied. Some are born for attendants on
great men; I rather think that is not my particular province. His Royal
Highness often tells me he believes I am married, for he never saw a
lover so easy or say so little of the object he has a regard for. When I
tell him I certainly am not, then he is sure I must have a great esteem
for you, and that it is not what is vulgarly--I do not much like the use
of that word--called love.
"He is right; my love is founded on esteem, the only foundation that can
make the passion last. I need not tell you what you so well know, that I
wish I had a fortune to settle on you; but I trust I have a good name,
and that certain events will bring the other about; it is my misfortune,
not my fault. You can marry me only from a sincere affection; therefore
I ought to make you a good husband, and I hope it will turn out that I
shall."
Again he writes, "I daily thank God, who ordained that I should be
attached to you. He has, I firmly believe, intended it as a blessing to
me, and I am well convinced you will not disappoint his beneficent
intentions."
These are certainly very different letters from those which he wrote in
after years to Lady Hamilton, whom he idolized. Undoubtedly Nelson
mistook loneliness of heart for love; as he wrote to Lady Hamilton years
after, "I never did love any one else.... I have been the world around,
and in every corner of it, and never yet saw your equal, or even one who
could be put in comparison with you." Nelson and Mrs. Nisbet were
married March 12, 1787, Prince William giving away the bride. Many of
his friends in the service regretted that he had married before his
honors had been more fully won. "The Navy," said Captain Pringle, the
day after the wedding, "yesterday lost one of its greatest ornaments by
Nelson's marriage. It is a national loss that such an officer should
marry; had it not been for that circumstance, I foresaw that Nelson
would become the greatest man in the service."
Nelson took his wife to England, arriving at Spithead July 4, about four
months after their marriage. He had applied for a ship-of-the-line, but
no notice was taken of the request. He retired with his wife to the
parsonage at Burnham Thorpe, and at the request of his aged father
remained there. He was in very poor health and living on half-pay. "From
the 30th of November, 1787, to the 30th of January, 1793," says W. Clark
Russell, in his life of the hero, "Nelson, whose delicate form enclosed
the genius of the greatest sea-captain the world has ever produced, was
compelled by departmental neglect to lie by in an almost
poverty-stricken retirement."
Again and again he asked for employment. The prince recommended him to
Lord Chatham, but nothing was done. In December, 1792, Nelson wrote, "If
your lordships should be pleased to appoint me to a _cockle-boat_ I
should be grateful." He would have left the service, if he had had means
to live on shore. He was irritated beyond measure by this neglect, and
perhaps Mrs. Nelson did not find the parsonage a perfect haven of rest
and peace.
Finally Nelson concluded to take refuge in France. That country had
become a republic Sept. 21, 1792. She soon found herself, on account of
her democratic principles, engaged in war with various countries, Great
Britain among them. Feb. 1, 1793, she declared war against England,
Holland, and Spain. Sardinia was already at war with France. As soon as
England was involved in war, Nelson was needed; and he was assigned to
the Agamemnon, a fine ship of sixty-four guns, called by the seamen,
"Old Eggs-and-Bacon." She sailed for Gibraltar June 27, 1793, with Lord
Hood's fleet, nineteen sail-of-the-line, and a convoy of merchant-ships.
When Lord Hood arrived in the Mediterranean, he stationed his ships off
Toulon, which soon surrendered to the British, without firing a shot.
Nelson was at once ordered to Naples with despatches for Sir William
Hamilton, the British minister, and to ask for ten thousand Italian
troops, to help in the preservation of Toulon.
King Ferdinand and his queen, Maria Caroline, the daughter of Maria
Theresa of Austria, gave Nelson most cordial welcome at Court, feeling
that the English were "the saviours of Italy." Sir William Hamilton told
his wife that he was going to introduce her to a little man, not
handsome, "but an English naval officer, who will become the greatest
man that England ever produced. I know it from the few words I have
already exchanged with him. I pronounce that he will one day astonish
the world.... Let him be put in the room prepared for Prince Augustus."
Lady Hamilton received Nelson with her accustomed grace and cordiality.
He wrote his wife, "She is a young woman of amiable manners, and who
does honor to the station in which she is raised.... She has been
wonderfully kind and good to Josiah."
Nelson was at this time about thirty-five, and Lady Hamilton five years
younger, of the same age as his wife. She was a woman of remarkable
beauty and great sweetness of manner. Southey said, "She was a woman
whose personal accomplishments have seldom been equalled, and whose
powers of mind were not less fascinating than her person." Her history
had been a strange one. Born in extreme poverty, and early left an
orphan by the death of her father, she was for some years a nursery-maid
and servant, then a model for Romney, the famous artist, who painted her
twenty-three times, as Bacchante, Saint Cecilia, a Magdalen, a Wood
Nymph, Joan of Arc, etc., and thought her the most beautiful human being
he had ever looked upon.
At this time she supported herself by her needle. Her beauty attracted
the attention of Mr. Charles Greville, second son of Francis, Earl of
Warwick, and Elizabeth, daughter of Lord Archibald Hamilton. He educated
her, and she became skilled in music and languages. She played finely on
the harp. Her stage talents were so great that she was offered two
thousand guineas to sing for the season at the Opera House in London.
Greville sent her to Naples with his uncle, Sir William Hamilton, with
the avowed object of perfecting her in music, but in reality to abandon
her, as he had become somewhat straitened in circumstances.
She loved Greville, and was deeply wounded at his treatment. Sir
William, a younger son of Lord Archibald Hamilton, was at that time
sixty-one, and Emma Lyon twenty-eight. He had married for his first wife
a Welsh heiress, who had died nine years previously: In 1791, Sept. 6,
he married Emma, who thus became Lady Hamilton. He was a student of art,
an author of several volumes, and for thirty-six years minister to
Italy.
However blameworthy the previous life of Lady Hamilton, Sir William was
devoted to her, and said at his death, twelve years later, "My
incomparable Emma, you have never, in thought, word, or deed, offended
me; and let me thank you, again and again, for your affectionate
kindness to me all the time of our ten years' happy union."
On leaving Naples, Nelson was despatched to Corsica and Sardinia, to
protect British trade and that of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. He wrote to
his wife, "This island is to belong to England, to be governed by its
own laws, as Ireland, and a viceroy placed here with free ports. Italy
and Spain are jealous of our obtaining possession; it will command the
Mediterranean."
The town of Bastia was taken by Nelson. "I am all astonishment," he
said, "when I reflect on what we have achieved ... four thousand in all,
laying down their arms to twelve hundred soldiers, marines, and seamen!
I always was of opinion, have ever acted up to it, and never had any
reason to repent it, that one Englishman was equal to three Frenchmen."
At the siege of Calvi, by the bursting of a shell in the ground, sand
and small gravel destroyed the sight of Nelson's right eye. For two
years Nelson was almost constantly active. He wrote his wife, Aug. 2,
1796, "Had all my actions been gazetted, not one fortnight would have
passed during the whole war without a letter from me; one day or other I
will have a long gazette to myself. I feel that such an opportunity will
be given me. I cannot, if I am in the field of glory, be kept out of
sight; wherever there is anything to be done, there Providence is sure
to direct my steps."
He had been made colonel of marines, and then commodore. The Agamemnon
had been sent to Leghorn to refit, so badly had she been damaged by
shot.
Corsica was finally evacuated, and Nelson proceeded to Gibraltar. Spain
and France had now become allies. Off Cape St. Vincent, on the coast of
Portugal, a severe battle was fought, February 14, 1797, between the
English and Spanish fleets. The former had fifteen ships-of-the-line,
with four frigates, a sloop, and a cutter. The latter had twenty-seven
ships-of-the-line, with ten frigates, and a brig. Nelson, in the
Captain, was at one time engaged with no less than nine line-of-battle
ships. He and his seamen sprang aboard the San Nicolas and the San
Josef, he exclaiming, it is recorded, "Westminster Abbey or victory!"
received the swords of some of the Spanish officers, and in the midst of
falling spars and blinding smoke, showed themselves heroic.
For this successful battle Nelson received the Knighthood and Order of
the Bath, and was made Rear-Admiral. The sword of the Spanish admiral
given to Nelson on board the San Josef was presented to the mayor and
corporation of Norwich, the capital of the county in which he was born.
The freedom of the city was voted to him.
His aged father wrote him, "The name and services of Nelson have
sounded through this city of Bath--from the common ballad-singer to the
public theatre."
His wife begged him "never to board again. _Leave it for captains...._
You have been most wonderfully protected; you have done desperate
actions enough."
On the night of July 3. 1797, Cadiz, off the coast of Spain, was
bombarded. Nelson was in a most desperate action. In a barge with twelve
men, he was attacked by a Spanish barge of twenty-six oars, with thirty
in her crew. A hand-to-hand fight ensued. The Spanish commander and his
launch were taken, and eighteen of his men were killed. The life of
Nelson was saved by a trusted follower, John Sykes, who interposed his
own head to receive the blow of a Spanish sabre. He recovered from his
dangerous wound, "but did not live long enough," says Southey, "to
profit by the gratitude and friendship of his commander."
On July 15 Nelson sailed in the ship Theseus for Teneriffe, off the
coast of Africa. On the evening of July 24, he determined to attack the
garrison of Santa Cruz. With the help of his step-son, Lieutenant Josiah
Nisbet, he burned his wife's letters before starting to row ashore.
Seeing that the young man was armed, he begged him to remain in the
ship, saying, "Should we both fall, Josiah, what would become of your
poor mother? The care of the Theseus falls to you; stay therefore, and
take charge of her."
"The ship must take care of herself," said Nisbet; "I will go with you
to-night if I never go again."
The expedition was a failure. Several of the boats missed the pier in
the darkness, some were struck by shot and their men
drowned--ninety-seven men went down in the fog--and Nelson was shot
through the right elbow, as he was stepping out of his boat. As he fell
young Nisbet placed him in the bottom of the boat, and laid his hat over
the arm, lest the sight of the blood should increase Nelson's faintness.
Then taking a silk handkerchief from his own neck, he bound it above the
elbow, thus saving the life of the admiral. One of the bargemen, Lovel,
tore his shirt into shreds to make a bandage for the shattered arm.
When his boat reached the Theseus, Nelson declined to be helped on
board, and twisted the rope thrown over the side of the ship round his
left hand, saying, "Let me alone; I have yet my legs and one arm. Tell
the surgeon to make haste and get his instruments. I know I must lose my
right arm; so the sooner it is off, the better."
When asked by the surgeon if he wished the arm embalmed that he might
send it to England for burial, he said, "Throw it into the hammock with
the brave fellow that was killed beside me," whose body was about to be
thrown overboard.
Nelson was greatly depressed after this failure, and said, "A
left-handed admiral will never again be considered as useful; therefore
the sooner I get to a very humble cottage the better, and make room for
a sounder man to serve the state."
He returned to England in September, and went to Bath where his father
and Lady Nelson were staying. She tenderly nursed her husband for three
months, till his arm was healed. In December, 1797, at his request the
following notice was read in St. George's Church, Hanover Square,
London: "An officer desires to return thanks to Almighty God for his
perfect recovery from a severe wound, and also for the many mercies
bestowed on him."
This year, 1797, government settled a pension of a thousand pounds a
year on Sir Horatio Nelson, and at St. James's Palace made him Knight
Companion of the Bath. The freedom of the city of London was conferred
upon him in December, and with it a gold box worth one hundred guineas.
April 1, 1798, he sailed in the Vanguard, of seventy-four guns, to join
Lord St. Vincent and the fleet off Cadiz. It was known that Napoleon and
the French fleet were preparing for an invasion of some country of the
allied forces, either England, Spain, or Italy. Nelson's instructions
were to "take, sink, burn, and destroy it." It is now known that
Napoleon's expedition was against the East Indian Empire, to cripple
England. The Mediterranean was searched for the French ships. Nelson
wrote his wife: "I have not been able to find the French fleet.... I yet
live in hopes of meeting these fellows; but it would have been my
delight to have tried Bonaparte on a bowline, for he commands the fleet
as well as the army. Glory is my object and that alone."
After some months of fruitless search, Nelson obtained a fresh supply of
provisions in July at Syracuse. A treaty between Naples and France
forbade more than two English ships to enter any Neapolitan or Sicilian
port, and it is said that Lady Hamilton gained the needed concession
from her friend, Queen Maria Caroline, without which Nelson (in his
Will, on the last day of his life) declared he could never have gone to
Egypt and fought the glorious battle of the Nile.
On the morning of Aug. 1, 1798, Nelson was off the city of Alexandria in
Egypt. His force amounted to thirteen seventy-four gun ships, one of
fifty guns, and one brig, all carrying 8,068 men, with 1,012 guns. The
French had also thirteen ships of the line, with eight frigates, brigs,
and bomb vessels. They had 11,230 men, with 1,226 guns. The French had
come to anchor in Aboukir Bay, at the mouth of the Nile.
The British were overjoyed at finding the French fleet. Nelson had
scarcely eaten or slept for days; but, now that the enemy were in sight,
he ordered dinner to be served on the Vanguard, and, on rising from the
table, is said to have exclaimed to his officers, "Before this time
to-morrow I shall have gained a peerage or Westminster Abbey."
After talking over the plan of battle with his officers, one of them
said with enthusiasm, "If we succeed, what will the world say?"
"There is no _if_ in the case," replied the admiral; "that we shall
succeed is certain; who may live to tell the story is a very different
question."
A little after six in the evening, Aug. 1, the fierce battle began.
Nelson had six colors flying in different parts of his rigging, lest
they should be shot away. The first two ships of the French line were
dismasted in a quarter of an hour; the third, fourth, and fifth were
taken at half-past eight.
Nelson received a severe wound in the head, which, though he supposed it
would prove fatal, Southey says the admiral would not allow touched
until the other wounded had been cared for. "I will take my turn with my
brave fellows," he said.
About nine the L'Orient, the flagship of the French Admiral de Brueys,
of one hundred and twenty guns, was seen to be on fire. Brueys was dead.
He had received three wounds, but would not leave his post. A fourth
cut him nearly in two. He requested to be left to die on the deck, and
expired a quarter of an hour afterwards.
When Nelson saw the ship on fire, he gave orders that boats should be
sent to the enemy. About seventy of her crew were saved by the English
boats. So heroic were her men that they continued to fire from the upper
decks after the lower were in flames. Between ten and eleven the huge
ship exploded. Officers and men jumped overboard, and most were lost in
that frightful commingling of fire and falling timbers which had been
shot high into the air.
Both fleets seemed paralyzed, and for a quarter of an hour no gun was
fired. All was darkness and silence save the groans of the dying, and
the swell of the ingulfing sea. Among those who perished were Commodore
Casabianca and his brave little son of ten or twelve, whom Mrs. Hemans
has immortalized in her poem:--
"The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form."
The battle raged till three in the morning. The French were
overwhelmingly defeated. "Victory is not a name strong enough for such a
scene; it is a conquest," said Nelson.
Of thirteen French sail-of-the-line, nine were taken and two burned; of
the four frigates, one was sunk and another was burned. Of the French,
5,221 were taken, drowned, burned, and missing. The English lost 218
killed and 677 wounded. Long after the battle a great number of bodies
floated about the bay in spite of all efforts to sink them. Many were
cast up on Nelson's Island, and the sailors raised mounds of sand over
them. For four leagues the shore was covered with wrecks. The day after
the battle, Aug. 2, at two o'clock, Nelson's ship gave public
thanksgiving to God. Other ships were recommended to do the same as soon
as convenient.
Part of L'Orient's mainmast was picked up by the English ship Swiftsure,
Benjamin Hallowell, captain. A coffin was made from this and presented
to Nelson with the note:--
"My lord, herewith I send you a coffin made of part of L'Orient's
mainmast, that when you are tired of this life you may be buried in
one of your own trophies; but may that period be far distant, is
the sincere wish of your obedient and much obliged servant,