HORATIO NELSON.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 250, 22 October 1928, Page 6

HORATIO NELSON.

Year by year the celebration of Trafalgar Day increasingly shows the tremendous admiration which the sea-loving Briton possesses for the greatest sailor who ever led his fleet upon the seas. Horatio Nelson was born in the rectory of Burnham Thorpe. The little village, situated in a quaint corner of Norfolk, was the centre of his lirst impressions, and the memory of the quiet English landscape, with its high, tangled hedges, where wild roses and clematis tossed their sprays, and scarlet poppies gleamed through the golden corn, remained with him to the end. In the hour of triumph there rose before him the vision of a homely landscape, and he rejoiced in the thought of "the pure air of Burnham Thorpe mixed with the fine parts of a clear purling stream bordered with cresses and thyme." His tastes and hopes had appeared centred on the land. Cultivating roses in his father's garden realised his ideal of existence. It was an astonishment to his family when he declared his wish "to go with Uncle Maurice to sea."

Strange to say, he was not led to embrace a naval career by the passion for "a lif6 on the ocean wave," which is characteristic of the English boy, but by an anxious desire to relieve his father's financial burdens. It was duty that sent this delicate, sensitive boy to sea. He suffered from cold, from sea sickness, from toothache, and we hear of his fainting from cold at the Tower of London—the rendezvous of pressed men. He even lost for a time the use of his left arm and leg, and cried in anguish, "My body is unequal to my task." When at the siege of Calvi he lost his right eye, he did not inform bis family for six weeks, and then we find him writing cheerfully. The second accident was harder to bear. The loss of his right arm in the disaster of Teneriffe awoke the despairing cry, "A left-handed Admiral would never be considered useful." But the nation stood by him when he came back with the empty sleeve pinned on his breast. In the tremendous burst of enthusiasm after the Battle of the Nile sailors pressed around him displaying as treasures fragments of the shirt sleeve from the amputated arm. "I had their huzzas before," said Nelson. "I have their hearts to-day." When he set out on his last journey those who surrounded him were in tears, and some knelt and craved his blessing as he passed by. It waa their last sight of the great sailor who had won both their loyalty and their love.

When the great day came, and Lieutenant Pasco had given the signal, "England expects every man to do his duty," Nelson turned to Captain Blackwood and said, "Now I can do no more. We must trust to the great Disposer of all events, and to the justice of our cause. I thank God for the great opportunity of doing my duty." 6

Then came the signal for close action, and the great Battle of Trafalgar began. Here was Lord Collingwood with column ready to break through the enemy's line and cut off the twelve rear ships. Here was Nelson with his column, keeping watch over the enemy's van. The centre and rear of the French and Spanish fleets were defeated before their van could offer them any assistance. Meanwhile Nelson and his friend Hardy walked up and down the deck regardless of the shot flying all around them; and then m the moment of victory came this terrible shot from the mizzentop of the French low bl ° which laid the great captain

Carlyle has told us that "the Commander over men" is the most important of great men. To few has it been given to reign over the minds and hearts of sailors as did the hero of Trafalgar. One of them wrote after his death: "The men in our ships have done nothing but cry. Chaps that fought like the devil sit down and cry like wenches." The stillness of the immense crowd thronging the banks as the body was conveyed in a barge to Whitehall was only broken by sobs.

Trafalgar Day was long held sacred by all who fought on that day. On the wall of the room where they met hung the portrait of Nelson wearing naval uniform, his orders pinned on his breast, and surrounded by a laurel wreath. Each guest in turn, raising his glass, would salute the picture. Faces glowed with excitement. With the aid of spoons, forks and knives the old sea dogs sought to reconstruct on the tablecloth the plan of the great fight. Memories of early days grow vivid; one veteran thanks God fervently "that he was there!" Another confesses sadly that the plague raging at Gibraltar held him in quarantine. A third proudly relates that as a "midshipmite" he walked the quarterdeck with the great sailor, and saw him call the Quartermaster to tie the riband of his "queue," which had become loose. He had looked in the face of a homesick boy with a gentle, understanding smile, and had bidden him take courage He had spoken tenderly to a wounded tar. One had been present when he fell, had seen him carried down to the cockpit, had heard him direct that a handkerchief should be placed over his face so that the crew should not learn the truth, and that the tiller ropes should be replaced. Even at that solemn moment his mind was alert to perceive details of seamanship. And then came the last request, "Kiss me, Hardy" words that stirred the heart of the nation to its depths.

To this day admirers pass into the United Service Institution (London) to see the Nelson relics—the Chippendale chair from the Burnham rectory, the dirk he wore as a midshipman, the telescope he is said to have put to his blind eye in order to ignore an inconvenient signal, the log book of H.M.s. Victory, the bust of his beloved friend Captain Hardy, the "queue" of hair cut off after death, and the foreign orders badges, medals, stars and jewels which mirrored the high esteem of the world.