e west. The ships in each column
followed each other so closely that sometimes the bow of one was thrust
past the quarter of the ship in advance of it. Nelson, in the _Victory_,
headed one column, Collingwood, in the _Royal Sovereign_, led the other,
and each flagship, it was to be noted, led with a clear interval between
itself and its supports.

Villeneuve had a tactician's brain, and his battle-plan was admirable.
In a general order, issued just before leading out his fleet, he told his
captains, "There is nothing to alarm us in the sight of an English fleet.
Their 64-gun ships have not 500 men on board; they are not more brave
than we are; they are harassed by a two-years' cruise; they have fewer
motives to fight well!" Villeneuve explained that the enemy would attack
in column, the French would meet the attack in close line of battle; and,
with a touch of Nelson's spirit, he urged his captains to take every
opportunity of boarding, and warned them that every ship not under fire
would be counted a defaulter.

Nelson's plan was simple and daring. The order of sailing was to be the
order of battle. Collingwood leading one column, and he the other, would
pierce the enemy's lines at points which would leave some twelve of the
enemy's ships to be crushed betwixt the two British lines. Nelson, whose
brooding genius forecast every changing eddy of battle, gave minute
instructions on a score of details. To prevent mistakes amid the smoke
and the fight, for example, he had the hoops on the masts of every
British ship painted yellow; every ship was directed to fly a St.
George's ensign, with the Union Jack at the fore-topmast, and another
flying from the top-gallant stays. That he would beat the enemy's fleet
he calmly took for granted, but he directed that every effort should be
made to capture its commander-in-chief. Nelson crowned his instructions
with the characteristic remark, that "in case signals were obscure, no
captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside of an enemy."

[Illustration: The Attack at Trafalgar, October 21st, 1805. Five minutes
past noon. From Mahan's "Life of Nelson."]

By twelve o'clock the two huge fleets were slowly approaching each other:
the British columns compact, grim, orderly; the Franco-Spanish line
loose, but magnificently picturesque, a far-stretching line of lofty
hulls, a swaying forest of sky-piercing masts. They still preserve the
remark of one prosaic British sa