Bowden remembered himself and moved to Pasco, lying full length on an old sail close by with his eyes shut. Crouching down, he said, ‘L’tenant Pasco, sir. Sir – it’s Bowden, come to report.’
Not sure if he’d been heard, he was about to repeat it when Pasco stirred and groaned, feeling tenderly for his right side and arm. ‘Report then, Mr Bowden,’ he said hoarsely. For some reason the guns above had just ceased their heavy rumble and thunderclap din.
‘Mr Robins is certain he’ll have a signals team together directly, sir.’
‘As will serve a flagship?’
‘He’s confident it will be so, sir.’
In the cessation of noise a faint but clear burst of cheering could be heard from above. ‘How goes the battle, then?’
‘We’ve taken Redoutable, Villeneuve and his flagship, and – and others I can’t name. We’ve won a famous victory, I believe, sir.’
Pasco slumped back with a smile. Bowden asked diffidently, ‘You’re wounded, sir?’
‘A grape-shot in the starb’d side is all,’ Pasco said, biting his lip. ‘Nothing as will stop me coming on deck when the sawbones lets me.’
Lowering his voice, Bowden ventured, ‘That’s Lord Nelson, sir. Is he – does he fare well, at all?’
‘I don’t know to be sure. The medical gentlemen are looking very grave, so I suppose it’s serious enough.’
Another muffled burst of cheering came down, longer than the first.
A peevish voice intervened: ‘What is the cause of that?’ It was Nelson, trying to rise.
Pasco levered himself up and told him, ‘It seems yet another enemy ship has struck to us, my lord. I have it from Mr Bowden here.’
‘That is good,’ Nelson said, his voice weak and gasping, clearly gratified. Scott helped him to a sip of lemonade and continued rubbing, while Burke on the other side held his shoulders.
Bowden rose to go but felt Pasco’s hand urgently on his ankle. ‘Sir?’
‘Hunker down, lad.’ Doing as he was told he felt Pasco fiddle at his back. ‘I thought so. Take off your coat.’
As Bowden tried to do so it stuck to him and a burning pain made him gasp.
‘You’ve taken a knock yourself, did you not know? Something’s laid open your back, younker.’
In the heat of the action he hadn’t noticed, but now a dull throb underlay the sharp burn.
‘Stay – sit down here. We’ll get the doctor to look at it when he’s able.’
‘Sir, it’s only a—’
‘No sense in taking chances now the battle’s won. Do as I say.’
Obediently he sat next to Pasco and tried to keep the horror of the infernal regions at bay. He was so close he couldn’t help but hear Nelson’s agitated plea. ‘Hardy! Will no one bring Hardy to me?’ he groaned. ‘He must be killed. Surely he is destroyed.’
Time dragged, and for Bowden the sight of Nelson in such agony was trying beyond reason. Those caring for him continued to murmur that Hardy would come as soon as he could, but it did not seem to ease his anxiety.
At length a figure came cautiously down the ladder. ‘Sir, I’m desired by Captain Hardy to assure you he is unharmed and will be down to see you presently.’
Nelson, his eyes closed and clearly semi-conscious, asked who it was brought the message. ‘It’s Mr Bulkeley, my lord,’ the purser said loudly.
‘It is his voice,’ Nelson said, almost in surprise. Then, rising above his pain, he turned unseeing eyes to the midshipman and added, ‘Remember me to your father, if you please.’
Later there was whispering among those who held him and the surgeon was sent for. ‘Yes, my lord?’
‘Ah, Beatty. I’ve sent for you to say that all power of motion below my breast is gone and you very well know I can live but for a short time.’
The surgeon carefully tested for feeling in Nelson’s legs, but the commander-in-chief whispered, ‘Ah, Beatty, I’m too certain of it. Scott and Burke have tried it already. You know I am gone.’
Beatty straightened slowly, finding the words with difficulty. ‘My lord, unhappily for our country nothing can be done for you.’ He turned his head away quickly, the glitter of tears caught in the lanthorn light.
Nelson subsided but said calmly, ‘I know it. I feel something rising in my breast which tells me. God be praised, I have done my duty.’
Cold with horror, Bowden heard it all and sat unspeaking until Victory’s captain came below.
‘Well, Hardy,’ Nelson whispered, after he was told of his arrival, ‘how goes the day with us?’
‘Very well, my lord,’ Hardy said softly, taking his hand. ‘We’ve got twelve or fourteen of the enemy’s ships in our possession but five of their van have tacked and show an intention of bearing down on Victory. I’ve therefore called two or three of our ships round us and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing.’
‘That is well, but I bargained on twenty.’ Nelson choked and recovered, a spasm of anxiety causing him to try to raise himself. ‘Anchor, Hardy, anchor!’ he panted wretchedly.
The captain frowned. ‘I suppose, my lord, Admiral Collingwood will now take upon himself the direction of affairs.’
‘Not while I live, I hope, Hardy!’ Nelson gasped forcefully. ‘No, do you anchor, Hardy.’
‘Shall we then make the signal, sir?’
‘Yes – for if I live, I’ll anchor!’
The spasm past, Nelson lay back but spoke once more. ‘Don’t throw me overboard, Hardy.’
Shocked, Hardy answered, ‘Oh, sir, no – certainly not!’
After a few moments Nelson rallied and said, his weak voice charged with feeling, ‘Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy – do take care of poor Lady Hamilton.’
The effort seemed to exhaust him but he went on faintly, ‘Kiss me, Hardy.’
His friend knelt and kissed him on the cheek, and Nelson murmured, ‘Now I am satisfied. Thank God I have done my duty.’
Hardy stood for a minute or two, his face a mask, then knelt again and kissed him once more. ‘Who is that?’ Nelson whispered.
‘It is Hardy, my lord.’
‘God bless you, Hardy,’ Nelson said feebly.
The captain of Victory then left.
Bowden could not tear his eyes away from the scene; he saw the faithful Scott lean down as Nelson said weakly, ‘Doctor, I have not been a great sinner.’ The chaplain, overcome, could not speak and Nelson went on, ‘Remember, I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a legacy to my country.’
Slipping in and out of consciousness he muttered, ‘Never forget Horatia,’ and again, ‘Thank God I have done my duty.’
A little time passed, then Scott called out, distraught. Beatty was with his assistants but came immediately. He took Nelson’s wrist and felt the forehead, then stiffly rose, shaking his head. He stood for a moment, looking down on the still figure. Then, collecting himself, he looked about him.
Catching sight of Bowden sitting against the side he stepped across. ‘Sir, are you able to walk?’
Bowden nodded, speechless.
‘Then you shall have the infinitely melancholy duty to inform the captain that his lordship is no more and, consequently, his flag needs must be hauled down.’
Chapter 14
The feeling of unreality deepened. It seemed the eyes of half London were on them as L’Aurore lost way, carefully and precisely ceasing to move, her bows into the swift current of the Thames. Her anchor plunged as she eased into position astern of the vessel they had escorted from the open sea to the heart of the capital.
It was the Honourable George Grey’s yacht Chatham, on its most important mission ever: to take the body of Horatio, Lord Nelson, from Victory at the Nore to Greenwich, where it was to lie in state. Now, opposite the magnificence of Wren’s buildings, the final act was to take place that would see Nelson return from the sea to the land that had given him birth.