THE DEATH OF NELSON.

BY JOHN RODNEY.

L

ORD NELSON has always been my greatest hero. It may be merely because, fifty-nine years ago, in his last and my first cruise, I sailed under him; or, what is more probable, it is because nobody ever saw him without revering him, or knew him without loving him. know that he had faults; but I never think of them, not out of onesidedness, but because I never saw him commit one. I know nothing of what he was ashore; I only saw him afloat. Landsmen may dissect and pull his character to pieces, but seamen will ever adore his memory, for in all things he proved himself the greatest sailor that ever breathed.

From my earliest childhood I was destined for the navy. My father, a Portsmouth clergyman, and an ardent admirer of the service, resolved to dedicate me, his only son, to it. Fortunately, my own inclination completely coincided with his wishes. My earliest dreams and aspirations were of the sea, and, as was very natural, our great seaman, Lord Nelson, was the constant hero of them; for, almost weekly, news was brought of some action fought and gained by him. Once, in 1798, I remember perfectly (though I was but six years old at the time) the account of the victory of the Nile being announced at Portsmouth. The whole town was illuminated, and the hero's praise was the theme of every tongue. Then my father patted my head, and told me that I should be one day thus honoured. Oh how I longed, baby as I was, to go to sea at once; but my father had fixed on fifteen as the best age for entering the navy, and I knew that no entreaties of mine could move him to let me go sooner; so I made the best of it that I could, and passed all my leisure hours chatting with the sailors about, or sailing with the fishermen in, their boats.

It was early in September, 1805, that, according to my usual custom, I was sauntering on the sally-port beach, either peering through my spyglass (the pride of my heart) at the splendid fleet, anchored at Spithead, destined to gain the most glorious naval victory recorded in history, or chatting with Ned Collingwood, a midshipman of the flagship, the Victory, who was waiting with his boat, when suddenly every

seaman jumped to his feet and took off his hat. I turned round to seek the cause of this demonstration, and I saw a small, spare man, in an Admiral's uniform, approaching with a quick, nervous step. His right sleeve was pinned to his breast, which was completely covered with orders and medals. He looked marvellously young, in my eyes, to be an Admiral, and his whole figure betokened energy rather than strength; but there was something so commanding in his whole aspect as he raised his finger to his hat in return for the salute, that I instinctively uncovered my head as he passed. He remarked this involuntary and uncalled-for mark of respect, and, turning towards me with a quick movement, he looked at me keenly with his piercing eye-for he had

but one.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"John Rodney, sir," I replied, sinking my eyes beneath his gaze. "Ah!" he continued, 66 a namesake of our greatest sailor." (I have often wondered since how he had the face to say that.) "Would you like to go to sea?"

"I am going, sir," I replied, "as soon as I am fifteen."

"But why are you not already afloat?" the Admiral exclaimed impetuously. "You should be, you are big enough, and the war will be over before you make up your mind to leave the shore."

"My father will not let me, sir," I muttered, piteously.

He made an impatient gesture, and taking a note-book from his pocket he wrote a few words in it, tore out the leaf, and gave it to me as he stepped into the boat.

"Give this to your father, youngster," said he.

And he quickly left the shore.

I stood bewildered.

"Shove off, men !"

"Who is he?" I asked of an old boatman who had seen what had passed.

"Who be he?" replied the man, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who

be he? I thought as how all the world knowed that; why he be the great Lord Nelson!"

"Lord Nelson," I muttered all the way home-"Lord Nelson, the hero of my boyhood, seen at last, and spoken to by him also!

I never read the note of which I was the bearer. It was short, I know, and certainly sweet to me; for, as soon as he had read it, my father took me to the naval outfitter, ordered a midshipman's uniform for me, and then informed me that I was to sail with the Victory in a day or two. Of course that magical letter was the sole cause of this change in my circumstances.

Two days later, I was sitting at breakfast between my father and mother in the full pride of dirk, cocked-hat, and anchor-buttons.

"Well, Jack," said my father, as soon as we had finished, "what do you say to going on board?"

"The very thing, father !" I replied, jumping up. "I shall see you all again before sailing." And I jammed my hat firmly on my head, and stepped into the street.

I was walking jauntily along High Street, when I saw a naval officer approaching, whom, to my great joy, I soon perceived to be Lord Nelson. I was preparing to make him a dignified naval salute, but he stopped.

66 Have you been on board yet, youngster?" he asked; for he recognised me.

"Not yet, my Lord," I replied, bashfully; "but I was just going." "Then come with me. I'll take you in my barge," continued the great man, turning into a by-way, in order to avoid the crowd which always gathered round him wherever he was recognised.

It seemed so strange to me to have my many day-dreams at last fulfilled. To be a sailor, and a sailor following every sailor's hero!

I remember that my enthusiasm knew no bounds when the people suddenly discovered who he was, notwithstanding his efforts to remain unknown. The news that he was there spread like wild-fire, and men, women, and children thronged round him from all quarters of the town, like vultures round a carcase, cheering him and lauding him, some even falling on their knees and blessing him as he passed. And when I stepped forward to push them aside, to make way for him, he ordered me rather sharply back. I remember feeling then that I could have died for him a thousand deaths.

Of

The fleet sailed early on the following day, the 14th. My life on board the Victory was that of any squeaker just torn from his home and knowing no more about the sea than the dirk at his side does. course many little events, extraordinary to me, occurred; but as I am not relating my own life, but that of Lord Nelson, I shall pass them over in silence. One or two, however, I cannot help recording, as they show the variety of ways by which the great Admiral endeared himself to those under him.

As is the case with most new-fledged sailors, I was rather frightened at the idea of first going aloft. Lord Nelson observed it (and what did he not observe?).

"What are you afraid to go aloft?" he said, in a kind voice.

"Rather, my Lord," I replied, touching my hat, and squinting timidly up the mast.

"Well, Mr. Rodney," he continued, laying his hand on my arm, "I am going a race to the mast-head, and beg that I may meet you there!"

What could I do? I could not refuse; so I went to the starboard main-rigging, and scrambled up as best I could, grazing my shins most cruelly against the ratlins.

"Admirably done, youngster!" said Lord Nelson, when I joined him in the top, where he had been waiting nearly five minutes. "How much is any person to be pitied who thinks getting up here either difficult or dangerous-eh, Mr. Rodney?"

Almost the next time I went aloft, it was not under such favourable auspices. I had neglected to obey some order given me by Captain Hardy, and he sent me there as a punishment. Some time after the Admiral came on deck, and, as was his invariable custom, glancing aloft, he saw me perched up there like a spitted lark. He asked the cause, and, hearing that I had been there some hours, he desired that I might be called down. He beckoned to me as soon as I reached the deck.

"There are three things, youngster," he said, with grave severity, as I stepped up and touched my hat to him, a little frightened, rather sulky, and very cold-" there are three things which you are constantly to bear in mind. First, you must always implicitly obey orders, without attempting to form an opinion of your own respecting their propriety. Secondly, you must consider every man your enemy who speaks ill of your king and country. Thirdly, you must hate every Frenchman as you do the devil."

Space would fail me were I to recount all the ways in which "Nelson the Great," "Nelson the Good," caused himself to be beloved by his crew. The task I have imposed on myself is to speak more immediately of his public life, and, above all, of his death.

We arrived at Cadiz, where the allied fleets of France and Spain had retired, on the 29th, Lord Nelson's forty-seventh birthday. We remained cruising near Cadiz for above a fortnight, hoping that the enemy would come out and give us battle; but Villeneuve, hearing that Lord Nelson commanded us, did not dare to encounter him. Either one or more men were at each mast-head during the whole day, watching for the allied fleet. At last, I remember, we almost gave up all hope, and put down every Frenchman and Spaniard as an arrant coward, because they would not give us the pleasure of giving them a good thrashing. At length, however, on the 19th of October, Ned Collingwood, who was signal-midshipman, reported that the Mars, which was the ship nearest

the land, was signalling that the enemy was leaving the port. But it was not our Admiral's intention to fight where we were. He knew perfectly well that the relative position of the combatants decides a battle at sea as much as it does on land; so he ordered the whole fleet to set sail and bear to the south-east. The wind was favourable; and, in excellent order, we threaded the Straits of Gibraltar, and continued to the east till we sighted Cape Trafalgar, and then we lay-to and waited for the enemy. Slowly and stately did they rise from the horizon, like huge snow-white seagulls. The battle could not begin at once, for, the wind being south, we could not bear down on our enemies, any more than they could on us; and we lay lazily rocking from side to side, the huge, unwieldy ships frequently changing places, as though too much excited to remain quiet, while innumerable boats were passing to and fro.

The 21st dawned. I was breakfasting with Lord Nelson; for he seemed to consider me, in some degree, his charge, having been the sole cause of my being then in the navy. Captain Hardy and Mr. Scott, the Admiral's secretary, were also of the party.

"Hardy," said Lord Nelson, after a very long silence, during which all our thoughts were fixed on one engrossing subject-the coming fight. "Hardy, I have always felt that my greatest victory would be gained on the 21st of October. It is an anniversary in my family; for on this day my uncle, Captain Suckling, with whom I first sailed, beat a French squadron of seven sail with his own and two other ships. I pray God that the wind may change, and that my prediction may be fulfilled."

Hardly had he spoken these words before the second lieutenant entered the cabin, and reported that the wind had veered towards the east.

Lord Nelson at once rose from his seat, and retired into the aftercabin, where, as I afterwards heard, he wrote the following prayer, so literally granted :

"May the great God whom I worship grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory, and may no misconduct in anyone tarnish it; and may humanity, after victory, be the predominant feature in the British fleet! For myself individually, I commit my life to Him that made me; and may His blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my country faithfully! To Him I resign myself, and the just cause which is intrusted to me to defend.—Amen! amen! amen!"

He immediately afterwards came on deck, and ordered the signal for