The Story of Nelson 5

The Story of Nelson 5

The soldiers at the disposal of the intrepid adventurers were a mere

handful, scarcely 500 in all, but perhaps that fact added the necessary

spice of danger. Nelson left his ship, and “carried troops in boats one

hundred miles up a river, which none but Spaniards since the time of

the buccaneers had ever ascended,” to use his own words. He “boarded”

an outpost of the enemy, situated on an island in the river; “made

batteries, and afterwards fought them, and was a principal cause of

our success.” When the miniature expedition arrived at Fort San Juan

the rainy season had commenced, bringing malaria in its train. Nelson

was all for making an immediate attack, but Polson ruled the slower,

and perhaps surer, method of erecting batteries and so forth, in which

Nelson lent a willing hand. “I want words to express the obligations I

owe to Captain Nelson,” Polson told Governor Dalling. “He was the first

on every service, whether by day or night. There was not a gun fired

but was pointed by him, or by Captain Despard, Chief Engineer.” Fever

played havoc with the men; of the 200 sailors of the _Hinchinbrook_,

no fewer than “eighty-seven took to their beds in one night; and of

the two hundred, one hundred and forty-five were buried in mine and

Captain Collingwood’s[9] time: and I believe very few, not more than

ten, survived of that ship’s crew; a proof how necessary expedition is

in those climates.” Nelson’s own health was undermined by dysentery.

A few hours before the Spanish flag gave place to the Union Jack he

left the region of the fort in order to join the _Janus_ (44 guns), of

which he had been given command. The ship being stationed at Jamaica,

he was taken to Port Royal in a sloop. Here he met with a good and

tender-hearted friend in Lady Parker, the wife of Sir Peter Parker,

Commander-in-Chief at Jamaica, but he gained so little in strength that

he was compelled to ask leave of absence and leave the West Indies for

England. Had he stayed it is improbable that he could have rendered

useful service while in such a low condition. The expedition eventually

ended in failure. He sailed on the 4th September 1780 in the _Lion_,

commanded by Captain the Hon. William Cornwallis, a younger son of

Earl Cornwallis, who acted the part of nurse to the patient’s entire

satisfaction, and cemented a friendship which lasted until Nelson’s

death.

 

Having to resign the _Janus_ probably caused Nelson more torture than

his physical suffering, for he was intensely ambitious. It is stated

that when he arrived in England he would not proceed to Bath to drink

the waters until he had been conveyed to the Admiralty to beg for

another vessel. “This they readily promised me,” he observed in a

humorous way, “thinking it not possible for me to live.” At Bath he

stayed with Mr Spry, an apothecary, who resided at 2 Pierrepont Street;

his medical adviser was Dr Woodward.

 

On the 23rd January 1781 Nelson was able to inform Captain Locker that

he was “now upon the mending hand,” although he had been “obliged to

be carried to and from bed, with the most excruciating tortures.” Some

three weeks later further progress was reported; “My health, thank

God, is very near perfectly restored; and I have the perfect use of

all my limbs, except my left arm, which I can hardly tell what is the

matter with it. From the shoulder to my fingers’ ends are as if half

dead; but the surgeon and doctors give me hopes it will all go off. I

most sincerely wish to be employed, and hope it will not be long.”

 

Again the flicker of ambition is evident, always a good sign in a

patient. “I never was so well in health that I can remember,” he writes

on the 5th March. On Monday of the following week he began his return

journey to London. Unfortunately his progress was intermittent. He had

“good” days and “bad” days. Two months later we find Nelson telling his

beloved brother William that he has entirely lost the use of his left

arm and nearly of his left leg and thigh. However, the surgeon who was

attending him gave him hopes of recovery, “when I will certainly come

into Norfolk, and spend my time there till I am employed.”

 

At this period Nelson did not have to eat out his heart in chagrin and

disappointment owing to neglect as some of our modern naval officers

have had to do. In August 1781, when his health had improved, he was

given command of the _Albemarle_, a frigate of 28 guns, and on the 23rd

of that month he hoisted his pennant at Woolwich. The appearance of

the little vessel pleased him considerably, his officers and men even

more so, as his letters abundantly testify. “My quarter-deck is filled,

much to my satisfaction, with very genteel young men and seamen”; “I

have an exceeding good ship’s company. Not a man or officer in her I

would wish to change”; “I am perfectly satisfied with both officers

and ship’s company. All my marines are likewise old standers,” are

some of his remarks to correspondents. We must not imagine that Nelson

necessarily had a pattern-ship and a pattern-crew because of the kind

things he said of them. His recent recovery from serious illness has

doubtless to be taken into consideration. We all see the world and its

inhabitants through rose-coloured glasses after an enforced absence

from the ordinary duties and modes of life. A natural sweetness of

disposition may also partly account for his optimism. In later years

Samuel Rogers, the Banker-poet, recorded in his entertaining “Table

Talk” that “Lord Nelson was a remarkably kind-hearted man. I have seen

him spin a teetotum with his _one_ hand, a whole evening, for the

amusement of some children.”

 

The young captain’s first voyage in the _Albemarle_ was not unattended

by adventures. His reference to his experiences in the Autobiography is

slightly tinged with a semi-humorous cynicism one can readily forgive,

although it contrasts oddly with the remarks just quoted. “In August,

1781,” he writes, “I was commissioned for the _Albemarle_; and, it

would almost be supposed, to try my constitution, was kept the whole

winter in the North Sea.” He cruised to Elsinore, where he found a

number of vessels waiting for convoy to Portsmouth and Plymouth. “We

have not had any success;” he complains, “indeed, there is nothing you

can meet, but what is in force: the Dutch have not a single merchantman

at sea. One privateer was in our fleet, but it was not possible to lay

hold of him. I chased him an hour, and came fast up with him, but was

obliged to return to the fleet. I find since, it was the noted Fall,

the pirate.... What fools the Dutch must have been not to have taken us

into the Texel. Two hundred and sixty sail the convoy consisted of.”

 

On another occasion the British ships in the Downs mistook Nelson and

his motley collection for a Dutch fleet. Many of the sail-of-the-line

prepared for action and would have chased their friends had not Nelson

sent a cutter to inform the officers of their ludicrous error. In

the early days of 1782 the _Albemarle_ was ordered to Portsmouth to

take in eight months’ provisions, “and I have no doubt was meant to

go to the East Indies with Sir Richard Bickerton,[10] which I should

have liked exceedingly, but alas, how short-sighted are the best of

us.” The young captain then goes on to tell his brother William of

the fate which overtook him. During a fierce gale an East India store

ship collided with the _Albermarle_. “We have lost our foremast, and

bowsprit, mainyard, larboard cathead, and quarter gallery, the ship’s

[figure] head, and stove in two places on the larboard side--all done

in five minutes. What a change! but yet we ought to be thankful we did

not founder. We have been employed since in getting jury-masts, yards,

and bowsprit, and stopping the holes in our sides. What is to become of

us now, I know not. She must go into dock, and I fear must be paid off,

she has received so much damage.”

 

A letter to the same correspondent, dated the 8th February 1782,

reveals something of Nelson’s philosophy of life. “We all rise by

deaths,” he asserts. “I got my rank by a shot killing a post-captain,

and I most sincerely hope I shall, when I go, go out of [the] world

the same way; then we go all in the line of our profession--a parson

praying, a captain fighting.” He had his wish gratified, as we all

know. There was something more than a suspicion of the Stoic in Nelson,

for while it cannot be said that he was unaffected by passion, he

certainly displayed praiseworthy indifference to creature comforts

when at sea. That he grumbled to the authorities proves nothing to the

contrary. It was usually with reference to half-unseaworthy ships,

which added to the trials and troubles of his men and oftentimes

precluded him from doing himself justice where the enemy was concerned.

His letters prove conclusively that he had the utmost faith in God,

whom he regarded as a powerful Ally.

 

Shortly afterwards Nelson sailed with a convoy to Newfoundland and

Quebec. The experience was anything but pleasant, and when he returned

to the latter place in the middle of September he was “knocked up

with scurvy,” the old-time sailor’s curse, owing to a diet of salt

beef for eight weeks. “In the end,” he says, “our cruise has been an

unsuccessful one; we have taken, seen, and destroyed more enemies than

is seldom done in the same space of time, but not one arrived in port.

But, however, I do not repine at our loss: we have in other things been

very fortunate, for on 14 August we fell in with, in Boston Bay, four

sail-of-the-line,[11] and the _Iris_, French man-of-war, part of M.

Vaudreuil’s squadron, who gave us a pretty dance for between nine or

ten hours; but we beat all except the frigate, and though we brought

to for her, after we were out of sight of the line-of-battle ships,

she tacked and stood from us. Our escape I think wonderful: they were,

upon the clearing up of a fog, within shot of us, and chased us the

whole time about one point from the wind....” Nelson managed to avoid

the enemy by “running them amongst the shoals of St George’s Bank,”

a manœuvre which caused the larger ships to stop pursuit. When he

prepared for action the commander of the frigate, deeming discretion

the better part of valour, wisely decided to rejoin his comrades.

 

After taking another convoy from Quebec to New York, Nelson sailed

under the command of Lord Hood for the West Indies, “the grand theatre

of actions.” Here he captured a French vessel attached to Vaudreuil’s

fleet, thereby getting some compensation for the loss of the frigate.

Her cargo consisted of naval material, and as some of the British ships

were urgently in want of topmasts the prize was more than usually

valuable.

 

He also attempted to recapture Turk’s Island, which had been taken by

the French. The proceeding was audacious in the extreme, as he had very

few ships at his disposal. An officer was sent on shore, under cover

of a flag of truce, to demand surrender. This proving abortive, a

little band of 167 seamen and marines, under Captain Charles Dixon, was

landed. The _Admiral Barrington_ then came up, and together with the

_Drake_, was about to bombard the town, when a concealed battery opened

upon them. A steady fire was maintained for an hour before Captain

Dixon, who had hoped to reach the enemy’s works while the ships were

engaging some of the French defenders, decided that the experiment was

too dangerous. The enemy’s guns were fought by seamen, the troops had

several field-pieces at their disposal, and two pieces of cannon were

mounted on a hill, consequently continued persistence would have been

foolhardy. “With such a force,” says the instigator of this expedition,

“and their strong position, I did not think anything further could be

attempted.”

 

Nelson succeeded in making himself thoroughly acquainted with Lord

Hood, who in his turn introduced him to Prince William, then a

midshipman and afterwards William IV., “our Sailor King.” There was

mutual admiration. “He will be, I am certain, an ornament to our

Service,” Nelson tells Locker. “He is a seaman, which you could hardly

suppose. Every other qualification you may expect from him. But he will

be a disciplinarian, and a strong one: he says he is determined every

person shall serve his time before they shall be provided for, as he

is obliged to serve his.” Such is Nelson’s comment. That of the future

monarch was not made at the time, but when Nelson went on board the

_Barfleur_ the incident made such an impression on the Prince that he

was able to paint a graphic word-picture of the event many years after.

Nelson “appeared to be the merest boy of a captain I ever beheld....

He had on a full-laced uniform; his lank, unpowdered hair was tied in

a stiff Hessian tail, of an extraordinary length; the old-fashioned

flaps of his waistcoat added to the general quaintness of his figure,

and produced an appearance which particularly attracted my notice; for

I had never seen anything like it before, nor could I imagine who he

was, nor what he came about. My doubts were, however, removed when Lord

Hood introduced me to him. There was something irresistibly pleasing

in his address and conversation; and an enthusiasm when speaking on

professional subjects that showed he was no common being.... Throughout

the whole of the American War the height of Nelson’s ambition was to

command a line-of-battle ship; as for prize-money, it never entered his

thoughts: he had always in view the character of his maternal uncle.”