Southey on Nelson: The Life of Nelson by Robert Southey. Richard Holmes
large fields. The ships, however, moved something, and the ice itself was drifting westward. There was a thick fog, so that it was impossible to ascertain what advantage had been gained. It continued on the 9th; but the ships were moved a little through some very small openings; the mist cleared off in the afternoon; and it was then perceived that they had driven much more than could have been expected to the westward, and that the ice itself had driven still farther. In the course of the day they got past the boats, and took them on board again. On the morrow the wind sprang up to the N.N.E. All sail was set, and the ships forced their way through a great deal of very heavy ice. They frequently struck, and with such force, that one stroke broke the shank of the Racehorses best bower-anchor; but the vessels made way, and by noon they had cleared the ice, and were out at sea. The next day they anchored in Smeerenberg Harbour, close to that island of which the westernmost point is called Hakluyt’s Headland, in honour of the great promoter and compiler of our English voyages of discovery.
Here they remained a few days, that the men might rest after their fatigue. No insect was to be seen in this dreary country, nor any species of reptile, not even the common earthworm. Large bodies of ice, called icebergs, filled up the valleys between high mountains, so dark as, when contrasted with the snow, to appear black. The colour of the ice was a lively light green. Opposite to the place where they fixed their observatory was one of these icebergs, above three hundred feet high: its side towards the sea was nearly perpendicular, and a stream of water issued from it. Large pieces frequently broke off, and thundered down into the sea. There was no thunder nor lightning during the whole time they were in these latitudes. The sky was generally loaded with hard white clouds, from which it was never entirely free even in the clearest weather. They always knew when they were approaching the ice, long before they saw it, by a bright appearance near the horizon, which the Greenlandmen called the blink of the ice. The season was now so far advanced that nothing more could have been attempted, if indeed anything had been left untried: but the summer had been unusually favourable, and they had carefully surveyed the wall of ice extending for more than twenty degrees between the latitudes of 80° and 81°, without the smallest appearance of any opening.
The ships were paid off shortly after their return to England; and Nelson was then placed, by his uncle, with Captain Farmer, in the Seahorse, of 20 guns, then going out to the East Indies in the squadron under Sir Edward Hughes. He was stationed in the foretop at watch and watch. His good conduct attracted the attention of the master (afterwards Captain Surridge), in whose watch he was and, upon his recommendation, the captain rated him as midshipman. At this time his countenance was florid, and his appearance rather stout and athletic, but when he had been about eighteen months in India he felt the effects of that climate, so perilous to European constitutions. The disease baffled all power of medicine; he was reduced almost to a skeleton; the use of his limbs was for some time entirely lost; and the only hope that remained was from a voyage home. Accordingly, he was brought home by Captain Pigot, in the Dolphin; and had it not been for the attentive and careful kindness of that officer on the way, Nelson would never have lived to reach his native shores. He had formed acquaintance with Sir Charles Pole, Sir Thomas Trowbridge, and other distinguished officers, then, like himself, beginning their career: he had left them pursuing that career in full enjoyment of health and hope, and was returning from a country in which all things were to him new and interesting, with a body broken down by sickness, and spirits which had sunk with his strength. Long afterwards, when the name of Nelson was known as widely as that of England itself, he spoke of the feelings which he at this time endured. ‘I felt impressed,’ said he, ‘with a feeling that I should never rise in my profession. My mind was staggered with a view of the difficulties I had to surmount, and the little interest I possessed. I could discover no means of reaching the object of my ambition. After a long and gloomy reverie, in which I almost wished myself overboard, a sudden glow of patriotism was kindled within me, and presented my king and country as my patron. “Well, then,” I exclaimed, “I will be a hero! and, confiding in Providence, I will brave every danger!”‘ Long afterwards Nelson loved to speak of the feeling of that moment: and from that time, he often said, a radiant orb was suspended in his mind’s eye, which urged him onward to renown. The state of mind in which these feelings began is what the mystics mean by their season of darkness, of aridity, and of desertion. If the animal spirits of coarser enthusiasts fail, they represent it as an actual temptation, a snare of Satan. The enthusiasm of Nelson’s nature had taken a different direction, but in its essence it was the same. He knew to what the previous state of dejection was to be attributed; that an enfeebled body, and a mind depressed, had cast this shade over his soul, but he always seemed willing to believe that the sunshine which succeeded bore with it a prophetic glory, and that the light which led him on was ‘light from heaven.’
His interest, however, was far better than he imagined. During his absence, Captain Suckling had been made Comptroller of the Navy; his health had materially improved upon the voyage; and, as soon as the Dolphin was paid off, he was appointed acting lieutenant in the Worcester, 64, Captain Mark Robinson, then going out with convoy to Gibraltar. Soon after his return, on the 8th of April, 1777, he passed his examination for a lieutenancy. Captain Suckling sat at the head of the board, and when the examination had ended, in a manner highly honourable to Nelson, rose from his seat, and introduced him to the examining captains as his nephew. They expressed their wonder that he had not informed them of this relationship before; he replied that he did not wish the younker to be favoured; he knew his nephew would pass a good examination, and he had not been deceived. The next day Nelson received his commission as second lieutenant of the Lowestoffe frigate, Captain William Locker, then fitting out for Jamaica.
American and French privateers, under American colours, were at that time harassing our trade in the West Indies: even a frigate was not sufficiently active for Nelson, and he repeatedly got appointed to the command of one of the Lowestoffe’s tenders. During one of their cruises the Lowestoffe captured an American letter-of-marque: it was blowing a gale, and a heavy sea running. The first lieutenant being ordered to board the prize, went below to put on his hanger. It happened to be mislaid; and, while he was seeking it, Captain Locker came on deck. Perceiving the boat still alongside, and in danger every moment of being swamped, and being extremely anxious that the privateer should be instantly taken in charge, because he feared that it would otherwise founder, he exclaimed, ‘Have I no officer in the ship who can board the prize?’ Nelson did not offer himself immediately, waiting, with his usual sense of propriety, for the first lieutenant’s return; but hearing the master volunteer, he jumped into the boat, saying, ‘It is my turn now; and if I come back, it is yours.’ The American, who had carried a heavy press of sail in hope of escaping, was so completely water-logged that the Lowestoffe’s boat went in on deck, and out again, with the sea.
About this time he lost his uncle. Captain Locker, however, who had perceived the excellent qualities of Nelson, and formed a friendship for him, which continued during his life, recommended him warmly to Sir Peter Parker, then commander-in-chief upon that station. In consequence of this recommendation he was removed into the Bristol flagship, and Lieutenant Cuthbert Collingwood succeeded him in the Lowestoffe. He soon became first lieutenant; and on the 8th of December, 1778, was appointed commander of the Badger brig, Collingwood again succeeding him in the Bristol. While the Badger was lying in Montego Bay, Jamaica, the Glasgow, of 20 guns, came in and anchored there, and in two hours was in flames, the steward having set fire to her while stealing rum out of the after-hold. Her crew were leaping into the water, when Nelson came up in his boats, made them throw their powder overboard, and point their guns upward; and, by his presence of mind and personal exertions, prevented the loss of life which would otherwise have ensued. On the nth of June, 1779, he was made post into the Hinchinbrook, of 28 guns, an enemy’s merchant-man sheathed with wood which had been taken into the service. A short time after he left the Loτυestoffe, that ship, with a small squadron, stormed the fort of St Fernando de Omoa, on the south side of the bay of Honduras, and captured some register ships which were lying under its guns. Two hundred and fifty quintals of quicksilver, and three millions of piastres, were the reward of this enterprise; and it is characteristic of Nelson that the chance by which he missed a share in such a prize is never mentioned in any of his letters, nor is it likely that it ever excited even a momentary feeling of vexation.
Nelson