MacMillan's Reading Books Part 7

supposing that she had struck because her great guns were silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. A ball, fired from her mizen-top, which, in the then situation of the two vessels, was not more than fifteen yards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary's blood.

Hardy (his captain), who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up.

"They have done for me at last, Hardy," said he.

"I hope not," cried Hardy. "Yes," he replied, "my backbone is shot through."

Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove immediately; then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar. The c.o.c.kpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants.

He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood he felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; "For," said he, "you can do nothing for me." All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the 'Victory' hurrahed, and at every hurrah a visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes and marked the countenance of the dying hero.

But he became impatient to see Captain Hardy; and as that officer, though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried, "Will no one bring Hardy to me? He must be killed! He is surely dead!"

An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his wound before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence, Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful yet sublimest moment. "Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the day with us?" "Very well," replied Hardy; "ten ships have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the 'Victory.'

I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing." "I hope," said Nelson, "none of our ships have struck?" Hardy answered, "There was no fear of that." Then, and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. "I am a dead man, Hardy," said he; "I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon; come nearer to me."

Hardy observed that he hoped Mr. Beattie (the surgeon) could yet hold out some prospect of life. "Oh no," he replied, "it is impossible; my back is shot through--Beattie will tell you so." Captain Hardy then once more shook hands with him, and, with a heart almost bursting, hastened upon deck.

By this time all feeling below the breast was gone; and Nelson, having made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him, "You know I am gone; I know it--I feel something rising in my breast (putting his hand on his left side) which tells me so." And upon Beattie's inquiring whether his pain was very great, he replied, "So great, that he wished he were dead." "Yet," said he, in a lower voice, "one would like to live a little longer too!"

Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the c.o.c.kpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken, he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly, but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well," cried Nelson, "but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger voice, he said, "Anchor,! Hardy, anchor." Hardy upon this hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. "Not while I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to raise himself from the bed; "do you anchor." His previous order for preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity of this. Presently, calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, "Don't throw me overboard," and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the king to order otherwise. "Kiss me, Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek, and Nelson said, "Now, I am satisfied. Thank G.o.d, I have done my duty." Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "G.o.d bless you, Hardy." And Hardy then left him for ever.

SOUTHEY.

[Note:_The death of Nelson_ took place at the Battle of Trafalgar, 1805.]

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

I.

Of Nelson and the North, Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand, In a bold, determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.

II.

Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line: It was ten of April morn by the chime: As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath For a time.

III.

But the might of England flushed To antic.i.p.ate the scene; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly s.p.a.ce between.

"Hearts of oak!" our captains cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships.

Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun.

IV.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack, Till a feebler cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back;-- Their shots along the deep slowly boom;-- Then cease--and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or, in conflagration pale, Light the gloom.

V.

Out spoke the victor then, As he hailed them o'er the wave, "Ye are brothers! ye are men!

And we conquer but to save:-- So peace instead of death let us bring; But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our king."

VI.

Then Denmark blest our chief That he gave her wounds repose; And the sounds of joy and grief From her people wildly rose, As Death withdrew his shades from the day While the sun looked smiling bright O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away.

VII.

Now joy, Old England, raise!

For the tidings of thy might, By the festal cities' blaze, Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; And yet amidst that joy and uproar, Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore!

VIII.

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died;-- With the gallant good Riou;-- Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave!

While the billow mournful rolls, And the mermaid's song condoles; Singing glory to the souls Of the brave!

CAMPBELL

[Notes: This is the first specimen of the "ode" in this book. Notice the variety in length between the lines, and draw up a scheme of the rhymes in each stanza. The battle was fought, and Copenhagen bombarded, in April, 1801.

_It was ten of April morn by the chime_. It was ten o'clock on the morning in April.

_Like the hurricane eclipse_. The eclipse of the sun in storm.]

LOCHINVAR.

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed is the best; And, save his good broad-sword, he weapon had none; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone!

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar!