Every Man Will Do His Duty (34 page)

The surgeon immediately repaired to him, and found him on the verge of dissolution. He knelt down by his side, and took up his hand; which was cold, and the pulse gone from the wrist.

On the surgeon’s feeling his forehead, which was likewise cold, his Lordship opened his eyes, looked up, and shut them again.

The surgeon again left him, and returned to the wounded who required his assistance; but was not absent five minutes before the steward announced to him that “he believed his Lordship had expired.” The surgeon returned, and found that the report was but too well founded: his Lordship had breathed his last, at thirty minutes past four o’clock; at which period Dr. Scott was in the act of rubbing his Lordship’s breast, and Mr. Burke supporting the bed under his shoulders.

Thus died this matchless hero, after performing in a short but brilliant and well filled life, a series of naval exploits unexampled in any age of the world. None of the sons of fame ever possessed greater zeal to promote the honour and interest of his king and country; none ever served them with more devotedness and glory, or with more successful and important results. His character will for ever cast a lustre over the annals of this nation, to whose enemies his very name was a terror. In the battle off Cape St. Vincent, though then in the subordinate station of a captain, his unprecedented personal prowess will long be recorded with admiration among his profession. The shores of Aboukir and Copenhagen subsequently witnessed those stupendous achievements which struck the whole civilized world with astonishment. Still these were only preludes to the Battle of Trafalgar: in which he shone with a majesty of dignity as far surpassing even his own former renown, as that renown had already exceeded every thing else to be found in the pages of naval history; the
transcendantly brightest star in a galaxy of heroes. His splendid example will operate as an everlasting impulse to the enterprising genius of the British Navy.

FROM THE TIME
of his Lordship’s being wounded till his death, a period of about two hours and forty-five minutes elapsed; but a knowledge of the decisive victory which was gained, he acquired of Captain Hardy within the first hour and a quarter of this period. A partial cannonade, however, was still maintained, in consequence of the enemy’s running ships passing the British at different points; and the last distant guns which were fired at their van ships that were making off, were heard a minute or two before his Lordship expired.

A steady and continued fire was kept up by the
Victory
’s starboard guns on the
Redoubtable,
for about fifteen minutes after Lord Nelson was wounded: in which short period Captain Adair and about eighteen seamen and marines were killed; and Lieutenant Bligh, Mr. Palmer midshipman, and twenty seamen and marines, wounded, by the enemy’s musketry alone.

The
Redoubtable
had been on fire twice, in her fore chains and on her forecastle: she had likewise succeeded in throwing a few hand grenades into the
Victory,
which set fire to some ropes and canvas on the booms. The cry of “Fire!” was now circulated throughout the ship, and even reached the cockpit, without producing the degree of sensation which might be expected on such an awful occasion: the crew soon extinguished the fire on the booms, and then immediately turned their attention to that on board the enemy; which they likewise put out by throwing buckets of water from the gangway into the enemy’s chains and forecastle, thus furnishing another admirable instance of deliberate intrepidity.

At thirty minutes past one o’clock, the
Redoubtable
’s musketry having ceased, and her colours being struck; the
Victory
’s men endeavoured to get on board her: but this was found impracticable; for though the two ships were still in contact, yet the top sides or upper works of both fell in so much on their upper decks, that there was a great space (perhaps fourteen feet or more) between their gangways; and the enemy’s ports being down, she could not be boarded from the
Victory
’s lower nor middle deck. Several seamen volunteered their services to Lieutenant Quilliam, to jump overboard, swim under the
Redoubtable
’s bows, and endeavour to get up there; but Captain Hardy refused to permit this. The prize, however, and the
Victory,
fell off from each other; and their separation was believed to be the
effect of the concussion produced by the
Victory
’s fire, assisted by the helm of the latter being put to starboard.

Messrs. Ogilvie and Collingwood, midshipmen of the
Victory,
were sent in a small boat to take charge of the prize; which they effected. After this, the ships of the enemy’s van, that had shown a disposition to attack the
Victory,
passed to windward; and fired their broadsides not only into her and the
Téméraire,
but also into the French and Spanish captured ships indiscriminately: and they were seen to back or shiver their topsails for the purpose of doing this with more precision.

The two midshipmen of the
Victory
had just boarded the
Redoubtable,
and got their men out of the boat; when a shot from the enemy’s van ships that were making off cut the boat adrift. About ten minutes after taking possession of her, a midshipman came to her from the
Téméraire;
and had hardly ascended the poop, when a shot from one of those ships took off his leg. The French officers, seeing the firing continued on the prize by their own countrymen, entreated the English midshipmen to quit the deck, and accompany them below. The unfortunate midshipman of the
Téméraire
was carried to the French surgeon, who was ordered to give his immediate attendance to him in preference to his own wounded: his leg was amputated, but he died the same night.

The
Redoubtable
suffered so much from shot received between wind and water, that she sank while in tow of the
Swiftsure
on the following evening, when the gale came on; and out of a crew originally consisting of more than eight hundred men, only about a hundred and thirty were saved: but she had lost above three hundred in the battle.

It is by no means certain, though highly probable, that Lord Nelson was particularly aimed at by the enemy. There were only two Frenchmen left alive in the mizzen top of the
Redoubtable
at the time of his Lordship’s being wounded, and by the hands of one of these he fell. These men continued firing at captains Hardy and Adair, Lieutenant Rotely of the marines, and some of the midshipmen on the
Victory
’s poop, for some time afterwards. At length one of them was killed by a musket ball: and on the other’s then attempting to make his escape from the top down the rigging, Mr. Pollard (midshipman) fired his musket at him, and shot him in the back; when he fell dead from the shrouds, on the
Redoubtable
’s poop.

The writer of this will not attempt to depict the heartrending sorrow and melancholy gloom, which pervaded the breast and the countenance of every individual on board the
Victory
when his Lordship’s death became generally known. The anguish felt by all for such a loss, rendered doubly heavy to
them,
is more easy to be conceived than described: by his lamented
fall they were at once deprived of their adored commander, and their friend and patron.

The battle was fought in soundings about sixteen miles to the westward of Cape Trafalgar; and if fortunately there had been more wind in the beginning of the action, it is very probable that Lord Nelson would still have been saved to his country, and that every ship of the line composing the Combined fleets would have been either captured or destroyed: for had the
Victory
been going fast through the water, she must have dismasted the
Redoubtable,
and would of course have passed on to attack another ship; consequently his Lordship would not have been so long nor so much exposed to the enemy’s musketry. From the same circumstance of there being but little wind, several of the enemy’s ships made off before the rear and bad sailing ships of the British lines could come up to secure them.

The
Victory
had no musketry in her tops: as his Lordship had a strong aversion to small arms being placed there, from the danger of their setting fire to the sails; which was exemplified by the destruction of the French ship
L’Achille
in this battle. It is a species of warfare by which individuals may suffer, and now and then a commander be picked off: but it never can decide the fate of a general engagement; and a circumstance in many respects similar to that of the
Victory
’s running on board of the
Redoubtable,
may not occur again in the course of centuries.

The loss sustained by the
Victory
amounted to fifty-five killed, and a hundred and two wounded; and it is highly honourable to the discipline and established regulations of the ship, that not one casualty from accident occurred on board during the engagement.

In 1806, Beatty was appointed physician to the Greenwich Hospital, where he remained until 1840, two years before his death. In 1807 he published
An Authentic Narrative of the Death of Lord Nelson, with the Circumstances preceding, attending, and subsequent to that Event; the Professional Report of his Lordship’s Wound; and several Interesting Anecdotes.
A second edition was published the following year.

On October 21, 1805, Nelson effectively ended any threat of a combined French and Spanish fleet being able to spearhead Napoleon’s desired invasion of Great Britain. It was, in fact, the last great fleet action of the age. From this point on, the Royal Navy controlled the seas, except for isolated instances. But on land the case was very different. As Christopher Lloyd observes in his book
Lord Cochrane,
“Before the end of 1807 the entire coastline from St. Petersburg to
Lisbon was under the direct or indirect control of Napoleon. That control which culminated with the occupation of Spain by 100,000 men early in 1808, was not to last long; but at the moment it looked as if Napoleon’s Continental System would succeed in bleeding Britain white” (p. 42). On the water, however, Lloyd noted, “in 1808 Collingwood could write of the Mediterranean that there was ‘nothing but ourselves: it is lamentable to see what a desert the waters are become’” (p. 42).

W
HEN WE LAST HEARD
from Midshipman William Dillon, he was engaged in the bloody lower-deck action of the Glorious First of June. He spent much of the next eight years on the West Indies station. From 1803 to 1807, Dillon was held in captivity by the French, after being
detained while under a flag of truce off Holland. Now he returns to face the morass of government and Navy bureaucracy, all the more difficult to navigate as he was unlawfully detained and thus not necessarily considered by the British to be, technically, a prisoner of war. But Dillon perseveres in rallying as much influence at the Admiralty as he possibly can, primarily through Admiral Gambler, on whose ship Dillon served at the Glorious First of June (see page 12).

Finally, twenty-seven years old and entering the prime of his career, he anxiously returns to action, albeit with a somewhat disadvantageous commission.

MY ARRIVAL IN LONDON
was a new era in my existence. I lost no time in presenting myself to the Hon. Mr. Pole, the Secretary to the Admiralty, first of all delivering to him the secret information I had received in Paris relating to a certain number of troops collected in the neighbourhood of Brest, which were intended to be landed on the coast of Ireland. Our conversation was a long one, during which I acquainted him that I had ascertained while in Paris that the French Government had obtained our private naval signals. He admitted the fact, and remarked that, when he had taken office, the private signals were kept in an outer room, open to any person who chose to enter it. Consequently they found their way to our enemies. “However” said he, “I have altered all that. They are now secure.” He then desired me to call on Lord Mulgrave, the then First Lord of the Admiralty, about 12 o’clock. He would, he said, apprize his Lordship of my return to England, and ensure my being received.

I accordingly presented myself at the hour mentioned. My audience was a gracious one, but very cold. Many subjects were discussed, particularly the detention of Capt. Wright in the Temple, where he terminated his existence.
¹
His Lordship positively assured me that, if our Government could have ascertained the real facts of his case, a French officer would have been similarly treated by us. But all inquiries led to nothing certain. Some years afterwards Sir Sidney Smith visited the Temple and devoted much time in trying to find out the fate of that officer, who had served under him and become his personal friend. But all his exertions failed.

His Lordship made many inquiries about Mr. Temple’s escape,
²
and I stated what little I knew of it. He then assured me that he had been dismissed the Navy—the Board could not sanction such conduct. The most extraordinary thing was, after what had passed between Lord Mulgrave and me about him, he was the first person I met upon coming out of the Admiralty. He made his bow and offered his hand. In doing so he had mistaken his man, as I turned my back upon him and passed by without acknowledgment. With Lord Mulgrave I left a memorial, stating what I suffered during my captivity, and my loss of promotion. He admitted that I had very strong claims on my country. I could not help mentioning the interest my friend Gambier took in my advancement. He was then before Copenhagen in command of the British fleet. “When he returns,” said I, “your Lordship will hear more of me than I can state myself.” As I was retiring his Lordship invited me to dine with him on the 24th.

My next duty was to present myself at the Transport Board. The Secretary, Mr. McLeay’s, reception I shall never forget. He greeted me with the warmth of an old friend. “Welcome to England,” he said. “I wish you joy! We have had trouble enough about you, and I’m heartily glad to see you at last. Your trial has been a severe one. Let us hope all will be right in good time.” When I was requested to attend the Board, I was very kindly
received, Capt. Sir. Rupert George
³
of the Navy being the chairman. I was overloaded with questions, and replied to them as far as my abilities would admit. They acknowledged that my confined position at Verdun would not admit of my communicating any intelligence of consequence. They expressed a proper feeling in behalf of our unfortunate countrymen, prisoners of war and those detained in France, at the same time frankly declaring that our government had done its best to effect an exchange; but all had failed. They cordially congratulated me upon my having obtained mine, and, after a very interesting conversation relating to our political position, I retired.