Days before the impending battle of Trafalgar, a sailor on Horatio Nelson’s flagship Victory was so busy ensuring that each man’s letters home were secured for dispatch on a vessel bound for England that he forgot until after the ship had sailed that he hadn’t included his own. Hearing of it, Admiral Nelson had a signal hoisted to call the courier ship back so the sailor’s letter could be included.
About the same time, superiors in London ordered Nelson to send back a fellow admiral to England for a questionable court-martial. Nelson, realizing the man would feel disgraced if returned in a frigate rather than his own larger ship of the line, allowed him to sail home in it rather than retaining the three-decker for his own imperiled fleet.
These are but a few examples of the character of this small man, product of an up-country parson’s family. Over the last two centuries, with the exception perhaps of Winston Churchill, no one has so sparked the admiration and love of the British people. Like Churchill’s, Nelson’s funeral was partly staged on the River Thames, the Royal Navy at places of honor and the banks lined with citizens of a grateful nation. Such an honor is befitting the two men who, 150 years apart, thwarted invasion by a menacing continental foe by retaining sea superiority in the English Channel.
Nelson, of course, is less revered in the United States than in Britain, perhaps because his Royal Navy so plagued the young country in 1776-1781 and again in 1812-1814. Still, he was an exceptional person. He was flawed, to be sure, but ingenious, a brilliant strategist and tactician, and exceptionally likable.
If the word “genius” is to be applied to a military man, he must possess certain qualities, including the blessings of luck. Nelson had them aplenty. He was thoroughly trained in seamanship, having set to sea at age 12. He was bright and picked up his craft quickly. By age 20 he was a captain.
Join The Conversation
Comments