han fifteen yards from that part of the deck
where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder,--about
a quarter after one, just in the heat of the action. He fell upon his
face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary's blood.
Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men
raising him up.

"They have done for me at last, Hardy," said he.

"I hope not!" cried Hardy.

"Yes," he replied; "my backbone is shot through."

Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed,
as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which
had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones
should be rove immediately:--then, that he might not be seen by the
crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his
stars.--Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the enemy,
England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the
news of the battle of Trafalgar.

The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he
was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the
midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the
wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all, except Captain
Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being
certain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood which he
felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him,
insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom
he might be useful: "For," said he, "you can do nothing for me."

[Illustration: HE FELL UPON HIS FACE]

All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to
give him lemonade, to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great
pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now
began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the
_Victory_ hurrahed, and at every hurrah a visible expression of joy
gleamed in the eyes, and marked the countenance of the dying hero. But
he became impatient to see Captain Hardy; and as that officer, though
often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal
cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried: "Will no one bring Hardy to
me? He must be killed! He surely is dead!"

An hour and ten minutes elapsed, from the time when Nelson received his
wound, before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in