and he therefore treated him with the most
considerate respect. He wished him to share
in the glory of the coming battle, but Sir
Robert being eager for his justification, Nelson
sent him home in his own ninety-gun ship, which
could ill be spared. This was chivalry carried
almost too far for the national good.

On the 9th, Nelson had written to his
favourite officer, the brave and simple-hearted
Collingwood, enclosing him his plan of attack,
wishing to give full scope to his captain's
judgment in carrying out his intentions.

"My dear Coll," he said, in his hearty way,
"we can have no little jealousies. We have
only one great object in view, that of annihilating
our enemies, and getting a glorious peace
for our country. No man has more confidence
in another than I have in you; and no man
will render your services more justice than your
very old friend, NELSON AND BRONTE."

The order of attack was grand in its simplicity
The true sea-warrior instinct and experience
had struck out a plan as admirable as if
it had been forged by the brain of a Newton.
The fleet was to move in two lines, and like two
swift sword-fish pierce into the enemy; it was to
be preceded by an advanced squadron of eight
of the swiftest two-deckers. Collingwood was
to chop the enemy in two about the twelfth
vertebra from the tail ship. Nelson himself was to
give the coup de grace at the centre—the heart—
whilst the advanced squadron was to cut off
about three or four from where he would break
through. In this way the assailants would
always be one-fourth superior to those portions
they broke off. There was professional genius
in these well-aimed blows.

Nothing was sham, mysterious, nor inflated
about his directions. His "precise object" was
a close and decisive action; therefore, "if
signals were not seen or clearly understood, no
captain would do wrong," he said, "if he placed
his ship alongside that of an enemy." One of
his last orders was that the name and family of
every man killed or wounded in the action
should be, as soon as possible, returned to him,
to transmit to the Patriotic Fund.

About half-past nine on the morning of the
19th, the Mars, the nearest of the line of scout-
ships, repeated the signal that the enemy was
at last stealing out of port. The wind was
light, with partial breezes. Nelson instantly
gave the signal for a chase in the south-east
quarter. About two, the repeating ships
announced the French fleet at sea. The next day,
seeing nothing, and the wind blowing fresh from
the south-west, Nelson began to fear the French
had run back to shelter. A little before sunset,
however, Blackwood, in the Euryalus, reported
that the French were still pressing westward,
and that way Nelson had determined they
should not go but over his sunken fleet. Still,
however, thinking they were inclined to run for
Cadiz, Nelson kept warily off that night.

At daybreak, the French fleet of thirty-three
sail of the line, and seven large frigates, formed
a crescent, in close line of battle, off Cape Trafalgar,
near the southernmost point of Andalusia,
They were on the starboard tack, about twelve
miles to leeward, and standing to the south.
Eighteen of the enemy were French, and fifteen
Spanish. Nelson had twenty-seven sail of the
line, and four frigates. The French vessels
were larger and heavier than ours, and they had
on board four thousand skilled troops, and many
dreaded and extremely skilful Tyrolese riflemen.

Soon after daylight, Nelson was on deck,
eagerly eyeing the French crescent. He
had on his admiral's frock-coat—his "fighting
coat," as he called it—which he had worn in
many victories; but he did not put on the sword
which his uncle, Captain Suckling, had used,
when, on that very day many years before, he
had beaten off a French squadron. Nelson
had wished this day to be the day of battle,
and had even half superstitiously expected the
coincidence. He wore, as usual, on his left
breast, four stars of various orders of knighthood,
one of them being the Order of the Bath, which
he specially valued as the personal and free gift
of the king. Dr. Scott, the chaplain, Mr. Scott,
Lord Nelson's public secretary, and Mr. Beatty,
the surgeon, trembled when he thus made
himself a conspicuous mark for the enemy by these
decorations. "In honour," he had exclaimed on
a former similar occasion, "I gained them (the
orders), and in honour I will die with them."
Other captains had been more prudent, others
equally reckless. Captain Rotherham, of the
Royal Sovereign, had been warned not to wear
his large gold-laced cocked-hat. "Let me alone,"
said the old bull-dog, testily; "I have always
fought in my cocked-hat, and I always shall."
And so in his cocked-hat he paced the deck and
went into action. Collingwood, that brave
Newcastle man, could be brave and prudent too. He
ordered his lieutenant (Clavell) to pull off his
boots and put on silk stockings, as he himself had
done. "For," said he, "if we should get a shot
in the leg, it would be more manageable for the
surgeon." He was also very particular that his
boatswain bent all the old sails, to save the
newer canvas.

The blue liquid battle-plain was ready for the
fight. There was no need of digging graves in
that vast cemetery. Europe and Africa were
watching the combatants. Already the shot
was piled, and the powder passed up from the
magazines. The sailors stood laughing by their
guns, thinking what a fine sight the captured
French vessels would make at Spithhead. The
men that in half an hour would be stretched
dead and mangled on the red and splintered
planks, were busy getting their tompions and
fire-buckets and cartridges ready, or lashing
cutlasses round the masts ready to hand. As the
men were clearing Nelson's cabin and removing
any bulkheads that were still left, they had
to displace the picture of Lady Hamiton—that
high-spirited and beautiful woman, originally
a maid-servant, then an artist's model, who had
obtained so extraordinary a hold over Nelson's
mind—the admiral called out to the men,
anxiously: