CAPTAIN HARDY AND THOSE WHO MANNED THE VICTORY

This is a glance at Captain Hardy, the captain of the Victory at Trafalgar, his lieutenants and other quarter-deck officers of Nelson’s flagship, and also something of the men who manned the Victory and where they came from.

Incidentally this should be said of Nelson’s own personal connection with the Victory. Nelson’s first association with the Victory dated back to many years before Trafalgar—ever since, indeed, the year in which he entered the Navy as a boy of twelve. At that time the Victory, in her seventh year afloat, was lying up in reserve at Chatham, the pride of the Medway, as the finest and biggest first-rate man-of-war in the British Navy. The boy Nelson while at Chatham saw her day after day for months, and must have gone on board her. Later on, during the four years that Nelson served in the Mediterranean under Hood and Jervis, between 1793 and 1797, the Victory was flagship of the fleet, and Nelson, as we know, was constantly on board her on business with the Admiral. It was on the Victory’s quarter-deck also that Sir John Jervis, after the battle of Cape St. Vincent, publicly embraced Nelson and congratulated him on the magnificent display of heroic daring that he had made that day. In October, 1805, Nelson had flown his flag on board the Victory for two and a quarter years, ever since the war began, having at the outset gladly accepted the offer of her for his flagship from what he knew of her as the fastest three-decker afloat.

At Trafalgar “Nelson’s Hardy,” Captain Thomas Masterman Hardy, was captain of the Victory. He was not the “Captain of the Fleet,” that post being officially vacant during Captain George Murray’s absence on leave in England owing to urgent private affairs. Hardy’s charming manner and tact, however, and his pleasant way of “getting on” with everybody he had to do with in all circumstances, enabled Nelson to manage for the time being without so invaluable an aid as “Friend Murray” had ever proved himself. Hardy and Nelson had served together for nearly nine years on and off, ever since they first met, when Hardy was a lieutenant in the Meleager, a frigate in Nelson’s flying squadron off the Eastern Riviera. When Nelson hoisted his broad pennant on board the Minerve, towards the end of 1796, Hardy went with him, and he owed something to Nelson during the cruise. Just before the battle off Cape St. Vincent, when the Minerve was passing the Straits off Gibraltar, with the Spanish fleet in pursuit of her, Hardy, then first lieutenant, put off in a boat to rescue a man who had fallen overboard. The man was picked up, but the boat was swept by the current right across the bows of the fast approaching enemy. On board the Minerve they gave the boat up for lost, when Nelson, risking the capture of the ship and all on board, brought-to. “By God,” he called out, “I’ll not lose Hardy!” “Back the mizen topsail!” They picked the boat up almost under the bowsprits of the enemy, and got off scot-free. After that, the brilliant way in which Hardy led the Minerve’s boats at the cutting out of the French brig-of-war Mutine won him his post-captaincy and the command of his prize, in which he served until after the battle of the Nile when Nelson moved him into the Vanguard in place of Flag-Captain Berry, sent home with the dispatches.

Ever since the battle of the Nile Hardy had followed Nelson’s fortunes as his flag-captain in the various ships on board which Nelson had his flag—in the Vanguard first of all, then in the Foudroyant, the San Josef, and the St. George. It was Hardy also who, on the night before the attack on Copenhagen, with cool daring, pulled with muffled oars close alongside the ships of the Danish line and took the soundings which practically enabled Nelson to win the battle.

“A bachelor of 35, rather stout in build, with light eyes, bushy eyebrows, square broad face, plenty of chin, and a mouth whose corners played between humour and grimness,” is the portrait that a contemporary gives of Captain Hardy in 1805.

Hardy—he lived to be Sir Thomas and K.C.B.—now lies in the mausoleum of the old pensioners’ burial ground at Greenwich Hospital—a veteran laid to his rest among veterans. No more fitting last abode surely could have been found for “Hardy of the Victory” than amongst those with whom he had lived and fought and had his being.

He has his monument elsewhere: in his native Dorset, where there stands a massive column of stone, which the men and women of his county in their pride and affection subscribed for, and set up on a spur of Blackdown (or Blagdon) Hill, overlooking the little village of Portisham where Hardy lived as a boy, whence also he set out to accompany Nelson to Trafalgar. It stands in sight of the house where the Captain of the Victory was born, on the one hand; while on the other it looks out across the vales towards the sea, not many miles away: a lonesome, wind-swept spot; a place to visit by oneself, say on some calm December afternoon, a little before the shortening winter twilight closes round, and look out from, seaward for choice—

Looking seaward from the top of the monument, standing there over nine hundred feet above the sea—twice and a quarter the height of St. Paul’s Cathedral—“the eye rests on an unbroken panorama of coast-line, extending from the Isle of Wight and St. Katherine’s Point on the east, to Start Point and the Tors of Dartmoor on the west.... Far down below lie, clearly spread out as if on a map, Weymouth and the Backwater, as well as Portland and the Chesil Beach, whilst St. Aldhelm’s Head and the Purbeck Hills to the left, and Thorncombe Beacon with Golden Cap beyond it to the right, stand out in prominent grandeur.”

These were Captain Hardy’s officers on board Nelson’s flagship, a complete list of the lieutenants and other quarter-deck officers serving in the Victory on the 21st of October, 1805:—

Lieutenants—John Pasco [Flag-Lieutenant] (wounded); John Quilliam; John Yule; Edward Williams; Andrew King; George Miller Bligh (wounded); George L. Brown; Alexander Hills; William Ram (killed).

Master—Thomas Atkinson.

Surgeon—William Beatty.

Purser—Walter Burke.

Chaplain—Rev. John A. Scott.

Secretary—John Scott (killed).

Gunner—William Rivers.

Boatswain—William Wilmet.

Carpenter—Wm. Bunce.

Marine Officers—Captain—Charles W. Adair (killed); Lieutenants—Lewis Buckle Reeves (wounded); James G. Peake (wounded); Lewis Roteley.

Master’s Mates and Midshipmen—William Chaseman; J. R. Walker; Thomas L. Robins; Samuel Spencer; Wm. H. Symons; Robt. C. Barton; James Green; Richard Bulkeley (wounded); John Carslake; Henry Carey; John Felton; Festing Grindall; Daniel Harrington; John Lyons; David Ogilvie; Alexander Palmer (killed); John Pollard; James Poad; Oliver Picken; William Rivers (wounded); James Robertson; Richard F. Roberts: Robert Smith (killed); Philip Thovez; Thomas Thresher; James Sibbald; Daniel Salter; Francis E. Collingwood; George A. Westphal (wounded).

Surgeon’s Mates—Neil Smith; William Westenburgh.

Clerk—Thomas Whipple (killed).

First Class Volunteers—Henry Lancaster; Charles Chapell; J. R. Walker.

Midshipman William Ward Perceval Johnson of the Childers sloop-of-war, a former first-class Volunteer in the Victory, was on board the flagship at Trafalgar as the guest of his former messmates. He died in December, 1880, at the age of ninety, one of the five last survivors of Trafalgar, and the last surviving officer of those on board the Victory.

At Trafalgar the Victory’s nominal complement as a first-rate, comprising the “ship’s company,” numbered 837 officers and men, including in the total as well, 40 boys, 145 marines, and 8 “widows’ men.” She had actually on board on the 21st of October 804 of all ranks and ratings, with, in addition, 26 “supernumeraries for victuals”—under which category Nelson himself and his secretary and personal suite and certain others were returned. There were 24 officers, including Captain Hardy and 9 lieutenants, and the various warrant officers; and 31 mates, midshipmen, and clerks. In action 50 men were at the quarter-deck guns; 20 were stationed on the forecastle; 150 on the main-deck; 180 on the middle-deck; and 225 on the lower-deck, where the heaviest guns were. These, it may be observed, had 15 men told off to each, as compared with 12 men each to the middle-deck guns, and 10 men each to the guns on the main-deck, quarter-deck, and forecastle. The signal-staff, comprising a lieutenant, with a mate, 3 midshipmen and 9 men, were on the poop, where the marines had also their post. Forty-eight men and boys were employed in and about the ship’s three magazines in handing and passing cartridges, besides 19 more at the hatchways. All these were in addition to the powder-men—one man to each gun—employed on the battery decks in supplying the guns’ crews in action. Six men were told off to attend to the wounded in the cockpit under the orders of the surgeon and his mates—not a very large number in the circumstances; and there were also the small-arm men, the carpenter’s gangs to stop shot-holes and attend to leaks, men told off to see to the state of the rigging, and others in the various storerooms, at the helm, and so on. This brief résumé will give an idea of the distribution of the Victory’s ship’s company at quarters.

The ship’s books account for the nationality, or place of birth, of 633 of the officers and men on board the Victory, as mustered on the 17th of October, the last muster day before the battle (the Thursday before Trafalgar), not taking into reckoning the marines or the boys and supernumeraries. Of the total, 411 were of English birth, 64 were Scotsmen, 63 Irishmen, and 18 Welshmen. Three men were from Orkney and Shetland, 2 from the Channel Islands and 1 (Lieutenant Quilliam) from the Isle of Man. The remainder—71 men, were foreigners, from all quarters of the known world almost, got together, for the most part, out of merchant ships under impress warrants: 7 Dutchmen, 22 Americans, 2 Danes, 3 Frenchmen, 1 Russian, 3 Norwegians, 6 Swedes, 2 North Germans from Hamburg and 1 Prussian, 9 from various islands in the West Indies, 2 Swiss, 2 Portuguese, 1 African, 1 from Bengal and 1 from Madras, 4 Italians, and 4 Maltese.[13]

Of the Englishmen on board: Kent, the old maritime county of England in the day of the Cinque Ports, and the county of Admiral Rooke, who won Gibraltar for the British Empire, contributed twenty-seven; Devonshire, the county of Drake and Raleigh, twenty-four; Hampshire, twenty; Somerset, the county of Blake and Rodney and the Hoods, four; Hardy’s county, Dorset, sent fourteen, one of them from Captain Hardy’s own native village of Portisham; Nelson’s county, Norfolk, contributed fifteen; Suffolk, whence came Admiral Vernon and Broke of the Shannon, twelve; Essex, nine; Sussex, five; Cornwall, the county of Grenville of the Revenge, and “the great twin brethren” of the Seven Years’ War, Hawke and Boscawen, seven; Northumberland, Yorkshire (the county of Martin Frobisher and Captain Cook), and Lancashire, eighteen each; Durham, seventeen; Lincolnshire, seven; Herefordshire and Oxford, six each. Wiltshire and Gloucester, five each. Old Benbow’s county of Shropshire had one representative on board the Victory at Trafalgar. The other counties, men from which were in Nelson’s flagship that day, represented by four men each, or fewer, were Berkshire and Bedford, Worcestershire, Hereford and Cheshire, Surrey, Cambridgeshire, Notts, Middlesex, Leicester, Staffordshire (the county of Anson and St. Vincent), Derby, Northampton, Cumberland, and Westmoreland. London was represented on the Victory’s books by a hundred and fifteen men, Liverpool and Shields by ten each, Newcastle by fourteen, Bristol by five, Sunderland by four, Manchester by three. Birmingham, Leeds, Bury, Winchester, Canterbury were among other places represented on board; and nearly every coast town from Tweedmouth, Hull and Grimsby, and round to Falmouth and St. Ives, had two or three men with Nelson. There were Scotsmen there from nearly every Scottish county, from Caithness and Banff, Ross, and Cromarty, Aberdeen and Inverness, Fife and Forfar, Berwick, Renfrew, Galloway, Lanark, the county of that preux chevalier among British naval officers, Cochrane, Lord Dundonald, “the daring in war,” Ayr and Argyll. Eleven men from Edinburgh were on board; five from Glasgow; seven from Dundee, the birthplace of Duncan of Camperdown; with men from Leith, and Peterhead, Dumbarton, and Greenock. From Ireland, in like manner, men from Donegal fought the Victory’s guns side by side with men from County Down and Roscommon, Meath and Carlow, Galway and Sligo, Cavan, Wexford and Waterford, Tipperary and County Cork. Fourteen men from Dublin were in the British flagship at Trafalgar; eleven from Cork; ten from Waterford City and Belfast; Carrickfergus and Kinsale were also represented on board.

There were men of all ages between twenty and fifty in the crew of the Victory at Trafalgar, and boys from ten years old—the age of little Johnnie Doag, an Edinburgh boy, rated as a “First Class Boy,” and probably the youngest person present on either side at Trafalgar—to lads of eighteen or nineteen. Four others of the thirty-one in the flagship (nine short of the complement) were just twelve years old, and six others, thirteen. The great majority of the men on board were from twenty to thirty years of age. About 10 per cent were over forty, the majority of these being between forty-seven and fifty. One of the “powder-monkeys” on board the Victory, it was discovered later, was a woman. Her husband was also on board the ship. She was a native of Port Mahon, and an officer who saw her there in 1841 described her as being then “a sturdy woman of 70.” The last survivor of the seamen and marines on board the Victory at Trafalgar died at Dundee in November, 1876.

This interesting detail in regard to the Victory’s crew should be mentioned in addition. Practically 30 per cent of the seamen were volunteers, so the ship’s muster-book states. It records in the column headed “Whence and whether Prest or not,” the word “Vol” against 181 of the names, out of a total of 628 able and ordinary seamen and landsmen.

There were, of course, men of all callings in civil life among the crew—as swept on board by the press-gang for the most part. According to inquiries made by officers on their own account, almost every trade and calling of every-day life contributed its quota in those times to the assortment on board our men-of-war. Collingwood, it is on record, had among the impressed men sent to one of his ships, a black San Domingo general, who had somehow found his way across the Atlantic; and also a Sussex market gardener, and a milkman, these last sent to him for top-gallant-yard men—poor fellows!

On board the Elizabeth, a seventy-four, for instance, out of a ship’s company 395 in number, only 177, it is on record, were seamen or of callings connected with the sea: merchantman-sailors, fishermen, watermen, and dockyard hands. The other 218 were stated thus: 108 labourers, 5 joiners, 6 tailors, 14 weavers, 5 coopers, 6 blacksmiths, 3 whitesmiths, 1 slater, 1 umbrella-maker, 1 butcher, 10 shoemakers, 1 poulterer, 2 stocking-makers, 1 dry-salter, 7 farmers, 1 coppersmith, 4 servants, 3 gardeners, 2 curriers, 1 mattress-maker, 1 tobacco manufacturer, 1 fustian-cutter, 1 cotton manufacturer, 1 clockmaker, 1 watchmaker, 2 waiters, 1 brickmaker, 2 bricklayers, 1 soldier, 1 stonecutter, 2 sawyers, 7 painters, 1 corn-factor, 1 staymaker, 1 glassmaker, 2 hatters, 1 wiremaker, 1 potter, 1 miller, 1 mason, 1 miner, 1 chimney sweep. The same kind of mixture was found on board another seventy-four, with these additional items: 1 linen draper, 1 artificial flower-maker, 1 milliner, 1 hinge-maker, 6 more hatters, 5 more barbers, and another umbrella-maker, 1 button-maker and 1 thimble-maker, 2 flax and hemp dressers, 3 coach and harness makers, 4 dyers, 1 tanner, 1 maltster, 1 calendarman, 2 wool-combers, 1 pipe-borer, 1 warehouseman, 1 tallow-chandler, 1 sadler, 3 pedlars, 1 violin-maker, 1 schoolmaster, and 1 optician. All was fish that came to the press-gang’s net.

Again, too, to take another case. Captain T. Byam Martin (afterwards Sir Thomas and Admiral of the Fleet), of the Implacable, in May, 1808, checked the composition of his ship’s company man by man, and sent the results of his investigation to his brother. “I have just now,” he wrote, “been amusing myself in ascertaining the diversity of human beings which compose the crew of a British ship of war, and as I think you will be entertained with a statement of the ridiculous medley, it shall follow precisely as their place of nativity is inserted in the ship’s books: English 285, Irish 130, Welsh 25, Isle of Man 6, Scots 29, Shetland 3, Orkneys 2, Guernsey 2, Canada 1, Jamaica 1, Trinidad 1, St. Domingo 2, St. Kitts 1, Martinique 1, Santa Cruz 1, Bermuda 1, Swedes 8, Danes 7, Prussians 8, Dutch 1, Germans 3, Corsica 1, Portuguese 5, Sicily 1, Minorca 1, Ragusa 1, Brazils 1, Spanish 2, Madeira 1, Americans 28, West Indies 2, Bengal 2. This statement does not include officers of any description, and may be considered applicable to every British ship, with the exception that very few of them have so many native subjects.”

Of those who fought on board the Victory’s special companion-in-arms at Trafalgar, the “Fighting” Téméraire, Ireland contributed just two-fifths of the total ship’s company—220 men out of 550.[14] They came from all parts, according to the ship’s books, mostly from Waterford, Belfast, Limerick, and Wexford; and about a third from Dublin, Newry, Kildare, Galway, Kilkenny, and Cork. Scotland supplied the Téméraire with 58 men; hailing, the greater number of them, from Aberdeen, Inverness, Dundee, Greenock and Glasgow, Leith and Edinburgh. Wales contributed 38 men all told; from Swansea, Cardiff, Pembroke, and Milford, for the most part. Of all the Englishmen on board the “Fighting” Téméraire at Trafalgar, one county by itself contributed practically a third of the number—Devonshire. They counted 52 men, drawn from all over the county: Bideford and Barnstaple, Exeter, Tavistock, Dorlish [sic], Ilfracoome [sic], Tiverton, and Dartmouth and Paignton. From London came 30 men in all. Lancashire had as many representatives in the ship as all Wales, 38—all except three hailing from Liverpool or Manchester. Somerset had 24, Cornwall 20, Yorkshire 13, Northumberland and Durham 10 each. These are the numbers from the other English counties: Norfolk 8 men, Hampshire 7, Kent 6, Cumberland and Gloucestershire each 5; Essex, Dorset, Chester each 4; Middlesex 3; Derbyshire, Warwick, Sussex, Cambridge, Worcester, and Suffolk each 2; Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Shropshire, Leicester, Surrey, Hereford, and The Isle of White [sic] 1 man each. There were 8 Manxmen at Trafalgar on board the “Fighting” Téméraire; 2 Jerseymen, and 1 man from Guernsey. Jamaica had 1 man on board, and Newfoundland 2 men. As usual, a number of foreigners figure on the books—66 altogether. They included: 28 Americans, 9 Germans (mostly from Hamburg and Emden), 6 Swedes, 5 Portuguese, 3 Frenchmen, 3 Spaniards, 1 Dutchman, 1 Cape-Dutchman, 1 from “Sclavonia” (Peter Valentine by name), 1 Viennese (Emil Joaquim), 1 from Old Calabar (a negro named Ephraim) and the remainder from Santa Cruz and other non-British islands in the West Indies.

The log of the Victory for the day after the battle accounts for all who fell on board Nelson’s flagship, whether killed or wounded. It sets out the full list in this form:—

“A return of men killed and wounded on board his Majesty’s ship Victory, bearing the flag of the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., Duke of Bronté, Vice-Admiral of the White and Commander-in-Chief, on the 21st day of October, 1805, in an engagement with the combined fleets of France and Spain off Cape Trafalgar. Thomas Masterman Hardy, Esq., Captain.

One or two eye-witnesses’ accounts from on board the Victory, at and immediately after Trafalgar, give interesting glimpses of what went on in the ship during the fight. First of all, there is the formal, matter-of-fact tale as set out in the log:—

“At 11.30 the enemy opened upon the Royal Sovereign. At 11.40 the Royal Sovereign commenced firing on the enemy. At 11.50, the enemy began firing on us and the Téméraire.

“At noon, standing for the enemy’s tenth ship, with all possible (sail) set. Light airs and cloudy. Standing towards the enemy’s van with all sail set. At 4 minutes past 12, opened our fire on the enemy’s van in keeping down their line. At 20 minutes past 12, in attempting to pass through the enemy’s line, we fell on board of the 10th and 11th ships, when the action became general. About 1.15, the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., and Commander-in-Chief was wounded in the shoulder.

“At 1.30 the Redoutable having struck her colours we ceased firing our starboard guns, but continued engaging the Santisima Trinidad and some of the enemy’s ships on the larboard side. Observed the Téméraire between the Redoutable and another French ship of the Line, both of which had struck. Observed the Royal Sovereign with the loss of her main and mizen-masts, and some of the enemy’s ships around her dismasted. At 3.10 observed four sail of the enemy’s van tack and stand along our line to windward. Fired our larboard guns at those which could reach them. At 3.40 made the signal for our ships to keep their wind and engage the enemy’s van coming along our weather line. At 4.15 the Spanish Rear-Admiral to windward struck to some of our ships which had tacked after them. Observed one of the enemy’s ships blow up, and 14 sail of the enemy standing towards Cadiz, and 3 sail of the enemy standing to the southward. Partial firing continued until 4.30, when a victory having been reported to the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., and Commander-in-Chief, he then died of his wound.”

Then we have this personal narrative from one of the men on deck, as told in a quaint letter which James Bagley, a marine of the Victory, wrote home to his sister, while the ship was lying at Spithead with Nelson’s body on board, awaiting orders to proceed round to the Nore:—

After her arrival in English waters with Nelson’s body on board, the Victory, while on her way round to the Nore, was delayed for some days by head winds in the Downs. A very interesting letter from a visitor to her, dated from Dover, the 16th of December, 1805, is in existence.

“I am just come from on board the Victory,” says the writer. “She is very much mauled, both in her hull and rigging, has upwards of 80 shot between wind and water: the foremast is very badly wounded indeed, and though strongly fished, has sunk about six inches: the mainmast also is badly wounded, and very full of musket shots: she has a jury-mizen mast, and fore and main top masts, and has a great many shot in her bowsprit and bows; one of the figures which support the Arms has both the legs shot off. I clearly ascertained that Lord Nelson was killed by a shot from the main top of the Redoutable: he was standing on the starboard side of the quarter-deck with his face to the stern when the shot struck him, and was carried down into one of the wings: he lived about one hour, and was perfectly sensible until within five minutes of his death. When carrying down below, although in great pain, he observed the tiller ropes were not sufficiently tight, and ordered tackles to be got on them, which now remain. The ship he engaged was so close that they did not fire their great guns on board the enemy, but only musketry; and manned the rigging on board; but nearly the whole that left the deck were killed. The ship had 25 guns dismounted by the Victory’s fire. A shot carried away four spokes from the wheel of the Victory, and never killed or wounded any of the men steering. Temporary places have been fitted up between the decks for the wounded men, which are warmed by stoves.”

We will take our leave of the Victory for the present with a second letter, dated “Sheerness, the 24th of December,” on the Victory’s arrival in the Medway, bound for her home port, Chatham, to repair there after the battle. It was just two days after Nelson’s remains had been removed to Greenwich Hospital on the way to St. Paul’s.

“The inhabitants of this place had yesterday the satisfaction of welcoming the old Victory and her gallant crew to the River Medway: the noble ship passed close to the Garrison Point, and was received with an enthusiastic cheering from the shore, which was returned by her crew. The civilities of the officers of the Victory have been beyond belief in satisfying the anxious curiosity of numbers who have been on board to see the ship and the spot where our gallant Nelson fell and died. The fatal bullet that deprived him of his valuable life is in the possession of the surgeon of the Victory, just as he extracted it from the body, with part of the epaulet and coat adhering to it. Many of the poor wounded fellows are on board, nearly well and in good spirits. The bullets in the lower part of the mainmast are so thick that it is surprising how anyone on the quarter-deck could have escaped, especially the brave Captain Hardy, whose amiable character seems to be the greatest alleviation the officers and crew of the Victory have for the loss of their Nelson.”

The splendid service that the Royal Sovereign rendered on the 21st of October, 1805, should appeal to every British man and boy. In the words of Captain Blackwood—“Nelson’s Blackwood”—who watched the fight, written immediately after the battle, “of the Victory and the Royal Sovereign it is impossible to say which achieved the most.” The Royal Sovereign had been with Nelson off Toulon in 1804. She had gone home to refit when Nelson went across the Atlantic in pursuit of Admiral Villeneuve. She rejoined the British fleet off Cadiz just ten days before Trafalgar, when Collingwood, who had hitherto had his flag in the Dreadnought, moved into her.

Two interesting preliminary glimpses of Admiral Collingwood on board the Royal Sovereign, on the morning of Trafalgar Day, are given us by his biographer, Mr. G. L. Newnham Collingwood, who had access to the Admiral’s papers and letters after his death, and took all possible pains to get together everything that could be gathered about him from those who served with Collingwood in the great battle.

Admiral Collingwood’s “personal conduct on that memorable day well deserves to be recorded. It has been said that no man is a hero in the eyes of his valet de chambre, but that this is not universally true is proved by the account which was given ... by Mr. Smith, Admiral Collingwood’s valued servant. ‘I entered the Admiral’s cabin,’ he observed, ‘about daylight, and found him already up and dressing. He asked if I had seen the French fleet, and on my replying that I had not, he told me to look out at them, adding that in a very short time we should see a great deal more of them. I then observed a crowd of ships to leeward, but I could not help looking with still greater interest at the Admiral, who, during all this time, was shaving himself with a composure that quite astonished me.’”

This is what Collingwood said to his flag-lieutenant and the other officers, on the Admiral’s first coming up on deck: “Admiral Collingwood dressed himself that morning with peculiar care, and soon after, meeting Lieutenant Clavell, advised him to pull off his boots. ‘You had better,’ he said, ‘put on silk stockings, as I have done; for if one should get a shot in the legs, they would be so much more manageable for the surgeon.’ He then proceeded to visit the decks, encouraged the men to the discharge of their duty, and, addressing the officers, said to them, ‘Now, gentlemen, let us do something to-day which the world may talk of hereafter.’”

Then we have this incident, which occurred in the forenoon, as the British fleet was closing on the enemy:—

“Lord Nelson had been requested by Captain Blackwood (who was anxious for the preservation of so invaluable a life) to allow some other vessel to take the lead, and at last gave permission that the Téméraire should go ahead of him, but resolving to defeat the order which he had given, he crowded more sail on the Victory and maintained his place. The Royal Sovereign was far in advance when Lieutenant Clavell observed that the Victory was setting her studding-sails, and with that spirit of honourable emulation which prevailed between the squadrons, and particularly between these two ships, he pointed it out to Admiral Collingwood, and requested his permission to do the same. ‘The ships of our line,’ replied the Admiral, ‘are not yet sufficiently up for us to do so now, but you may be getting ready.’ The studding-sail and royal halliards were accordingly manned, and in about ten minutes the Admiral, observing Lieutenant Clavell’s eyes fixed upon him with a look of expectation, gave him a nod, on which that officer went to Captain Rotherham and told him that the Admiral desired him to make all sail. The order was then given to rig out and hoist away, and in one instant the ship was under a crowd of sail, and went rapidly ahead. The Admiral then directed the officers to see that all the men lay down on the decks and were kept quiet.”

The Royal Sovereign’s captain at Trafalgar, Collingwood’s flag-captain, was, like his Admiral, a gallant Northumbrian, Edward Rotherham, the son of a Hexham doctor. Of him that day the following story is told. As the battle was about to open, it was pointed out to Captain Rotherham that the unusually big cocked hat that he wore would probably render him a special target for the marksmen in the enemy’s tops. “Let me alone,” was all Rotherham’s reply, “Let me alone. I’ve always fought in a cocked hat and I always will!”

As pre-arranged by Nelson, the British lee column at Trafalgar, fifteen ships strong, began the action before the weather column, by leading down and breaking the enemy’s line near its centre. The manœuvre was begun a few minutes before noon, when, at Collingwood’s order, the Sovereign, with every sail set and every reef shaken out, dashed forward by herself, sailing “like a frigate,” ahead of the whole British fleet. Taking on herself the fire of the enemy’s line, centre and rear, as she advanced, she swept resistlessly under the stern of the Spanish flagship Santa Anna, a gigantic 112-gun three-decker, nearly a mile in front of Collingwood’s second astern, the Belleisle—“the most remarkable incident of the battle, a feat unparalleled in naval history,” as it has been called. “See,” exclaimed Nelson with delight to Captain Hardy, as he watched the Sovereign’s advance; “see how that noble fellow Collingwood carries his ship into action!” Just at the moment, as it happened, on the Royal Sovereign’s quarter-deck, Collingwood himself was saying to his captain, “Rotherham, what would not Nelson give to be here!”

We know from what a French officer at Trafalgar wrote, that the confident daring of the Sovereign’s single-handed advance “positively appalled Villeneuve!”[18]

King George the Third, in effigy, led his own fleet that day. The Royal Sovereign’s figure-head was an immense full-length carving of the King, represented in the battle-day panoply of a Roman Emperor, his sword at his side and a sceptre in hand, his red war cloak (paludamentum) on his shoulders, with two attendant winged figures, Fortune and Fame, blowing trumpets on either side.

As the Sovereign closed on the enemy, a French ship, the Fougueux, ranged up close under the stern of the Santa Anna, as though to bar the passage through the line to Collingwood. Captain Rotherham noted this, and pointed it out to the Admiral. Collingwood’s reply was: “Steer straight for the Frenchman and take his bowsprit!” So they closed, and then, driving through the line just under the towering Spanish’s ship’s stern, the Sovereign opened the fight with her full broadside treble-shotted. The terrific discharge, at one blow, it has been related, disabled fourteen guns, and put a large part of the crew hors de combat. “El rompio todos” were the words of an officer of the Santa Anna. After that the Sovereign ranged alongside the big Spaniard to leeward to fight the battle out gun-muzzle to gun-muzzle.