, the secretary,
had been killed an hour before. To Hardy's natural exclamation that he
hoped he was not badly hurt, he replied, "They have done for me at
last;" and when the expression of hope was repeated, he said again,
"Yes, my back-bone is shot through." "I felt it break my back," he
told the surgeon, a few minutes later. The ball had struck him on the
left shoulder, on the forward part of the epaulette, piercing the
lung, where it severed a large artery, and then passed through the
spine from left to right, lodging finally in the muscles of the back.
Although there was more than one mortal injury, the immediate and
merciful cause of his speedy death was the internal bleeding from the
artery. Within a few moments of his wounding some forty officers and
men were cut down by the same murderous fire from the tops of the
enemy. Indeed so stripped of men was the upper deck of the "Victory"
that the French made a movement to board, which was repulsed, though
with heavy loss.

The stricken hero was at once carried below, himself covering his face
and the decorations of his coat with his handkerchief, that the sight
of their loss might not affect the ship's company at this critical
instant. The cockpit was already cumbered with the wounded and dying,
but the handkerchief falling from his face, the surgeon recognized
him, and came at once to him. "You can do nothing for me, Beatty," he
said; "I have but a short time to live." The surgeon also uttered the
involuntary exclamation of encouragement, which rises inevitably to
the lips at such a moment; but a short examination, and the sufferer's
statement of his sensations, especially the gushing of blood within
the breast, which was vividly felt, convinced him that there was
indeed no hope. "Doctor, I am gone," he said to the Rev. Mr. Scott,
the chaplain, who knelt beside him; and then added in a low voice, "I
have to leave Lady Hamilton, and my adopted daughter Horatia, as a
legacy to my Country."

After the necessary examination had been made, nothing further could
be done, nor was attempted, than to obtain the utmost possible relief
from suffering. Dr. Scott and the purser of the "Victory" sustained
the bed under his shoulders, raising him into a semi-recumbent
posture, the only one that was supportable to him, and fanned him;
while others gave him the cooling drink--lemonade--which he
continually demanded. Those about did not speak to him, except when
addressed; but the