UNLUCKY COLLINGWOOD

Gisborne Times, Volume LXXXIV, Issue 12869, 23 May 1936, Page 9

UNLUCKY COLLINGWOOD

ADMIRAL NELSON OVERSHADOWED. TRAFALGAR. ANI) THE AFTERMATH. .

A NEGLECTED PATRIOT

\yHEN Nelson fell-back dead in the cockpit ol the Victory a lew minutes after Hardy had told him that tho enemy had struck, the chief command of the fleet passed automatically to his old friend, Vice-Admiral .Cuthbert Collingwood. And so by the 1 ortlino ol war the man who has gone down to history at Nelson’s second fiddle was at last given the position of eminence ho deserved. But even in death Nelson overshadowed him. Through dying in (lie hour of victory. Nelson became a figure of* romance, tho embodiment of self-sacrificing heroism. Collingwood’s skilful leadership of the van (which laid the foundations of victory at Trafalgar) is often forgotten, and to his discredit if is remembered that he lost, prizes worth £4,000,000 by failing to anchor immediately after the battle, as Nelson had advised.

A Race for Promotion.

Tho two first, met in the West Indies. Collingwood had just gone through his baptism of fire at Bunker Hill; Nelson was a lieutenant in the Lowestoffe. His promotion to the flagship left a vacancy which Collingwood filled. Thereafter, says Mr Geoffrey Murray, in his admirable “Life of Admiral Collingwood,” they raced each other for promotion, Nelson leading by a short head all the way. Their rivalry did not weaken the friendship which grew up between them. It was an odd friendship, for Collingwood, a Puritanical Tynesidcv, did not seem to have much in common with the frail, sensual Nelson. Yet, says Mr Murray, weighed in the scales of friendship they balanced perfectly. Nelson might make fun of Collingwood, both to his face and behind his hack, hut he never went beyond the hounds of fun. Collingwood was his sheet anchor. Fie knew that he could in all circumstances count, on his unfaltering loyalty. Collingwood's almost fanatical thoroughness was an antidote to his own dashing met hods. ■

Nelson’s Influence.

Nelson would probably have achieved greatness without C'ollingwood’s aid. For Collingwood their meeting was a vastly important moment in his career:— The impingement of the little man upon the Tynesider meant, in effect, a complete reorientation in mental outlook. Flo was fascinated, drawn out of himself, made over. Nelson keyed up Collingwood and unlocked bis mind. The North Countryman acquired an assurance, a belief in himself that ho had lacked before. In Nelson’s company he was invigorated, stimulated, enlarged. Info became exciting.

The future Admiral’s development had been slow, it took him Jive years, instead of the normal two, to qualify as a midshipman. Eleven years passed in undistinguished service. It was the action known as “Tho Glorious First of .lime,” fought off Ushant in 1794, that revealed his outstanding gifts as a naval si rategist. Ho was then foyty-five.

A Belated Award

As usual, ill-luck dogged him. His flag-captain, shut up in a cabin with a leg amputated, was unable to got him tho decoration he coveted. To understand how cruel a blow the loss of this medal was we must remember that in his day social usage expected a man to parade the proofs of his valour. Nelson scarcely over took off his orders; ho even wore them at dinner in his cabin 1

Collingwood, acutely conscious of his own zeal,-looked at tho shining discs on the tunics of his peers and writhed under the lash of a humiliation Averse than the .scourging of whips.

Ultimately he did get his medal. When lie was offered a. decoration after Cape St. Vincent lie- announced that he would not accept it so long as lie was denied a medal for Oshant . Tho Admiralty gave in. It even tried 1o save its face by explaining that the former medal* would have boon sent earlier if a. proper conveyance could have been found!

The Born Sea-Dog.

The stern, granitic Collingwood mellowed after that triumph. A vcin o r modesty appeared: he was gentler with his subordinates. Mr Murray gives us this attractive picture of him as the born sea-dog:— When the weather was rough or the approach of enemy ships was rumored, ho neA'er went to bed, but, taking off his epaulettcd coat, wrapped 'himself in a flannel dressing-gown and dossed 1 on a sofa in his cabin. Seamen of long experience marvelled to see him in times of tempest striding tlio deck, hatless, his grey hair streaming in the Avind, the rain pouring down through the shrouds and forming in ■ glistening heads on Iris broAvn, lined fact, his eyes, keen and Avide as an eagle’s, forever on the watch. He was impervious to .all discomforts and the racking i pains of -exposure, ague,' cold, and rheumatism the moment he scented danger.

There were some peculiar defects in his character. One that .Mr Murray emphasises was his unholy joy in scandal. Behind their hacks he criticised his friends ruthlessly and sometimes unfairly. It was his officers who sulferod most from his cutting tongue, for lie always showed compassion towards his seamen, recognising Ihe brutality of the treatment they had to put up with. If is sarcasm was crushing. He was seen one day to walk across the deck and, fixing an officer with his eye, take off his hat—for the formalities of courtesy must, on all occasions be observed—and exclaim: “1 have been thinking whilst J. looked at you how strange it is that a man should grow so big and know so little. That’s all, sir, that’s all.” And again lie swept off his hat, and bowed to his victim. The blunderer, with scarlet checks and fuming heart, followed suit.

Economy and Patriotism

Ho had a passion for economy—and yet ho was prodigally generous. It is often thus with men who come from the .North of England and Scotland. During the four and a-half years of liis command in the Mediterranean he cost the country only £54 in extraordinary outlays. Aboard his ships stray rope-ends were never thrown away; he ordered that they must be picked up from the decks and saved!

His devotion to his country never wavered. Indeed it was responsible for his premature end. Sick and exhausted, a martyr to gastric trouble, ho repeatedly begged the Admiralty tc; relievo him of bis Mediterranean command-—but it did not suit the Government’s convenience to release him. The only favor he ever asked —that the peerage granted him after Trafalgar should be perpetuated through liis grandchildren—was curtly refused. Towards the end of his life be seems to have resigned himself to the bleak destiny which had decreed that he should always be “second fiddle” and the victim of ingratitude. ({ I Have reviewed the actions of my past life,” he murmured on his death-bed, “and I am happy to say that nothing gives me a moment’s unsasiness.’E