for a minute or two; then knelt again,
and kissed his forehead.

"Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless
you, Hardy." And Hardy then left him forever.

Nelson now desired to be turned on his right side, and said: "I wish I
had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone."

Death was, indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to his chaplain:
"Doctor, I have not been a great sinner." His articulation now became
difficult; but he was distinctly heard to say, "Thank God, I have done
my duty!" These words he had repeatedly pronounced; and they were the
last words he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four,--three
hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.

Within a quarter of an hour after Nelson was wounded, above fifty of the
_Victory's_ men fell by the enemy's musketry. They, however, on their
part, were not idle; and it was not long before there were only two
Frenchmen left alive in the mizzen-top of the _Redoubtable_. One of them
was the man who had given the fatal wound: he did not live to boast of
what he had done. An old quartermaster had seen him fire; and easily
recognized him, because he wore a glazed cocked hat and a white frock.
This quartermaster, and two midshipmen, Mr. Collingwood and Mr. Pollard,
were the only persons left on the _Victory's_ poop; the two midshipmen
kept firing at the top, and he supplied them with cartridges. One of the
Frenchmen, attempting to make his escape down the rigging, was shot by
Mr. Pollard, and fell on the poop. But the old quartermaster, as he
cried out, "That's he, that's he," and pointed at the other, who was
coming forward to fire again, received a shot in his mouth, and fell
dead. Both the midshipmen then fired, at the same time, and the fellow
dropped in the top. When they took possession of the prize, they went
into the mizzen-top, and found him dead; with one ball through his head,
and another through his breast.

The _Redoubtable_ struck within twenty minutes after the fatal shot had
been fired from her. During that time she had been twice on fire,--in
her fore-chains and in her forecastle. The French, as they had done in
other battles, made use, in this, of fireballs and other
combustibles--implements of destruction which other nations, from a
sense of honour and humanity, have laid aside--which add to the
sufferings of the wounded, without determining the issue of the
combat--which none but the cruel would employ, and