Such is the fortune of Britannia, because she never boasts, but grumbles
always. The boaster soon exhausts his subject; the grumbler has matter
that lasts for ever.
Nelson had much of this national virtue. "Half of them will get away,"
he said to Captain Blackwood, of the Euryalus, who was come for his
latest orders, "because of that rascally port to leeward. If the wind
had held as it was last night, we should have had every one of them. It
does seem hard, after waiting so long. And the sky looks like a gale of
wind. It will blow to-night, though I shall not hear it. A gale of wind
with disabled ships means terrible destruction. Do all you can to save
those poor fellows. When they are beaten, we must consider their lives
even more than our own, you know, because we have been the cause of it.
You know my wishes as well as I do. Remember this one especially."
"Good-bye, my lord, till the fight is over." Captain Blackwood loved his
chief with even more than the warm affection felt by all the fleet for
him. "When we have got them, I shall come back, and find you safe and
glorious."
"God bless you, Blackwood!" Lord Nelson answered, looking at him with a
cheerful smile. "But you will never see me alive again."
The hero of a hundred fights, who knew that this would be his last, put
on his favourite ancient coat, threadbare through many a conflict with
hard time and harder enemies. Its beauty, like his own, had suffered
in the cause of duty; the gold embroidery had taken leave of absence in
some places, and in others showed more fray of silk than gleam of yellow
glory; and the four stars fastened on the left breast wanted a little
plate-powder sadly.
Pages:
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702