on the mahogany touched some nerve of the brain: he saw it widen into
a pool of blood, from which, as they picked up a shattered seaman and
bore him below, a lazy stream crept across the deck of the flag-ship
towards the scuppers. He moved his feet, as he had moved them then,
to be out of the way of it: but recovered himself in another moment
and went on--

"He told me, my lord, that the _Victory_ after passing under the
_Bucentaure's_ stern, and so raking her that she was put out of
action, or almost, fell alongside the _Redoutable_. There was a long
swell running, with next to no wind, and the two ships could hardly
have cleared had they tried. At any rate, they hooked, and it was
then a question which could hammer the harder. The Frenchman had
filled his tops with sharp-shooters, and from one of these--
the mizen-top, I believe--a musket-ball struck down the Admiral.
He was walking at the time to and fro on a sort of gangway he had
caused to be planked over his cabin sky-light, between the wheel and
the ladder-way. . . . Admiral Collingwood believed it had happened
about half-past one . . ."

"Sit down, man, and drink your wine," commanded the First Lord as the
dispatch-bearer swayed with a sudden faintness.

"It is nothing, my lord--"

But it must have been a real swoon, or something very like it: for he
recovered to find himself lying in an arm-chair. He heard the
Secretary's voice reading steadily on and on. . . . Also they must
have given him wine, for he awoke to feel the warmth of it in his
veins and coursing about his heart. But he was weak yet, and for the
moment well content to lie still and listen.

Resting there and listening, he was aware of two sensations that
alternated within him, chasing each other in and out of his
consciousness. He felt all the while that he, John Richards
Lapenotiere, a junior officer in His Majesty's service, was assisting
in one of the most momentous events in his country's history; and
alone in the room with these two men, he felt it as he had never
begun to feel it amid the smoke and roar of the actual battle.
He had seen the dead hero but half a dozen times in his life: he had
never been honoured by a word from him: but like every other naval
officer, he had come to look up to Nelson as to the splendid
particular star among commanders. _There_ was greatness: _there_ was
that which lifted men to such deeds as write man's name across the
firmament! And, strange