Leaving some men to guard the San Nicholas, Nelson now turned to the San Josef, lying alongside. Again the order to board was given, Nelson, with a shout of "Westminster Abbey, or victory!" leading the way.

Berry, the first man to get on the San Nicholas, was again in front, and with his own hand helped Nelson into the main-chains. Hardly had they reached the deck before the Spaniards surrendered, Nelson receiving their swords himself, and coolly handing them over to one of the old Agamemnon's  crew, who had stuck by his side while the fight lasted.

When the Victory, the admiral's flagship, passed a few moments later, both of the Spanish ships of the line had struck their flags to Nelson.

Cheer after cheer rose from the Victory, and the ringing huzzas were taken up by the whole fleet.

"Nothing in the world was ever more noble than the action of the Captain from beginning to end." So wrote Sir Gilbert Elliot, who was with the fleet during the fight.

At 4 p.m. the orders to cease fighting, and to cover the four prizes and the crippled Captain, were given. The defeated enemy sailed away, and Nelson went on board the flagship. There Sir John Jervis met him on the quarter-deck, and, taking him in his arms, told Nelson he scarcely knew how to thank him.

On Captain Calder saying that the Captain's  wearing out of the line—which really won the battle—was an act of disobedience, the admiral replied, "It certainly was so; and if ever you commit such a breach of orders I shall forgive you also."

For this brilliant victory Jervis was made a peer, with the title of Lord St. Vincent. Nelson was offered a baronetcy, which he was too poor to accept, so he was made instead a Knight of the Garter.

Jervis made him a present which he valued highly—the sword of the Spanish rear-admiral. This gift he sent to the city of Norwich, saying that "he knew no place where it would give him or his family more pleasure to have it kept than in the chief city of the county where he was born."

His father wrote that "tears of joy had trickled down his aged cheeks" to read of his son's bravery. "The name and services of Nelson have sounded from the common ballad-singer to the public theatre," he add.

The Captain had been so knocked about in the battle as to be of no further use, so Sir Horatio, now a Rear-Admiral of the Blue, shifted his flag to the Theseus, a fine ship which had just come from England.

On Nelson's first going to the Theseus  there was some doubt how the crew would behave. There had lately been a mutiny in England among the sailors, in which the Theseus  had taken part. Nelson was so beloved that it was felt he was the captain to take command of discontented men.

His tact and kindness, as well as his bravery and renown, won the day.

Very soon after he came on board he received a packet which was dropped one night on the deck, and which enclosed a paper signed by the whole crew, containing these words:—

"Success attend Admiral Nelson! God bless Captain Miller! We thank them for the officers they have placed over us. We are happy and comfortable; and will shed every drop of blood in our veins to support them."

The paper ended by promising that the name of the Theseus  should be as famous as that of her captain; and the brave sailors kept their word, nor did they ever give trouble by their conduct.

Sir Horatio was now put in command of an in-shore squadron, which had orders to blockade Cadiz. There was a lot of work in small boats, and some fierce fights took place between the little craft on both sides.

At no time in his life was Nelson's bravery greater than in these hand-to-hand conflicts. The danger suited him, for he loved fighting for fighting's sake. Once his barge was boarded by a number of Spaniards, and in the hand-to-hand struggle John Sykes, his faithful coxswain, twice at great risk saved his admiral's life.

During the blockade news came that the Spanish treasure-ships from Mexico had heard that Lord St. Vincent was in wait for them, and had taken refuge at Teneriffe. This was found to be untrue, but a homeward-bound Manilla ship had put into Santa Cruz, and Nelson was told to command an assault on the town, and secure the treasure.

The attack was beaten back, though Nelson and his men fought with splendid bravery.

Nelson, while leading the force, was struck in the right arm by a grape-shot. His step-son, son, Josiah Nisbet, into whose arms he had fallen, with great skill and coolness bound the wound; otherwise he must have bled to death.

Returning to the ship, the wounded admiral refused all help, and, steadying himself with one hand, jumped up the ship's side. Arrived on deck, he called for the surgeon, and quietly told him "to get his instruments ready, for he knew he must lose his arm, and that the sooner it was off the better."

He bore the operation without a murmur, and never even mentioned his own wound in his despatches home. What he minded more was the failure of the attack; and what with fretting over this, and the pain of his wound, he became very ill.

"I am become," he said, "a burden to my friends, and useless to my country." To Lord St. Vincent he wrote: "I hope you will be able to give me a frigate to convey the remains of my carcass to England: a left-handed admiral will never again be considered as useful."

When he reached home, Nelson was greatly cheered by the splendid welcome he got. The freedom of the cities of London and Bristol was given to him, while the king received him most graciously, and decorated him with the Order of the Bath, besides giving him a pension of £1000 a year.

After a time the wound which had caused him so much suffering healed, and Nelson wrote to a London clergyman, begging him to announce in church the next Sunday: "An officer desires to return thanks to Almighty God for his perfect recovery from a severe wound, and also for many mercies bestowed upon him."

As soon as he was well he was given command of the Vanguard, 74 guns, in which he sailed to join the squadron off Cadiz. "I do assure you that the arrival of Admiral Nelson has given me new life," wrote St. Vincent, who, now an old man and in failing health, joyfully welcomed the return of the brilliant seaman he so trusted and admired.