order was issued for the starboard guns on the
upper deck to cease firing. An eager-minded Frenchman, adapting his
desires as a spring-board to his conclusions, was actually able to
believe that Nelson's own ship had surrendered! He must have been off
his head; and his inductive process was soon amended by the logic of
facts, for his head was off him. The reason for silencing those guns was
good--they were likely to do more damage to an English ship which lay
beyond than to the foe at the portholes. The men who had served those
guns were ordered below, to take the place of men who never should fire
a gun again. Dan Tugwell, as he turned to obey the order, cast a glance
at the Admiral, who gave him a little nod, meaning, "Well done, Dan."

Lord Nelson had just made a little joke, such as he often indulged in,
not from any carelessness about the scene around him--which was truly
awful--but simply to keep up his spirits, and those of his brave and
beloved companion. Captain Hardy, a tall and portly man, clad in bright
uniform, and advancing with a martial stride, cast into shade the mighty
hero quietly walking at his left side. And Nelson was covered with dust
from the quarter-gallery of a pounded ship, which he had not stopped to
brush away.

"Thank God," thought Dan, "if those fellows in the tops, who are picking
us off so, shoot at either of them, they will be sure to hit the big man
first."

In the very instant of his thought, he saw Lord Nelson give a sudden
start, and then reel, and fall upon both knees, striving for a moment to
support himself with his one hand on the deck. Then his hand gave way,
and he fell on his left side, while Hardy, who was just before him,
turned at the cabin ladderway, and stooped with a loud cry over him. Dan
ran up, and placed his bare arms under the wounded shoulder, and helped
to raise and set him on his staggering legs.

"I hope you are not much hurt, my lord?" said the Captain, doing his
best to smile.

"They have done for me at last," the hero gasped. "Hardy, my backbone is
shot through."

Through the roar of battle, sobs of dear love sounded along the
blood-stained deck, as Dan and another seaman took the pride of our
nation tenderly, and carried him down to the orlop-deck. Yet even so, in
the deadly pang and draining of the life-blood, the sense of duty never
failed, and the love of country conquered death. With his feeble hand
he contrived to reach the handkerchief in his p