At Toulon a powerful squadron was being made ready. Genoa signed a treaty with the all-conquering Frenchmen, who were now so powerful that the British fleet was for a time forced to leave the Mediterranean. Bastia was abandoned; the Island of Elba was kept for a short time, but even Elba had to be given up after a little. Before this took place, however, Nelson had a sharp action while on the frigate Minerve, which showed that our sailors were still what he declared they always ought to be, "almost invincible."

The Minerve, after a hot fight, captured the Spanish frigate La Sabina, whose captain, Don Jacobo Stuart, a descendant of the unlucky royal house of Britain, was taken prisoner.

While the Minerve  was taking possession of her prize, two ships of the line and another Spanish frigate came in sight. A sharp chase followed, and the little Minerve, her masts and sails damaged during her late fight, was hard put to it before she could shake off her pursuers and reach a place of safety in the port of Ferrajo.

Don Jacobo had remained a prisoner on board during the pursuit; but no sooner was the Minerve  safe than Nelson returned him his sword and sent him back under a flag of truce to Spain. Such a generous deed was contrary to the usual custom of war, but Nelson felt it to be worthy of "the dignity of his country" to treat one of their exiled royal family with this respect. The Stuarts all were brave men, whatever their faults, and this Stuart was no exception.

"He was the best officer in Spain, and his men were worthy of such a commander," said Nelson, who always honoured a brave man even though he was an enemy.

Nelson received much praise for this brilliant little action and "dignified retreat," as the admiral called it, before a much larger force of the enemy. It was the first sign of more brilliant victories to follow.

Shortly afterwards the Minerve  had another exciting escape from the enemy.

Slipping out of Gibraltar in order to join Jervis and his ships, the little vessel was espied by the whole Spanish fleet, which quickly started off in pursuit. They gained fast; one huge ship was already quite close, and Nelson, fairly brought to bay, had already given the order to "clear for action."

"Before the Dons get hold of that bit of bunting I will have a struggle with them," he said, pointing to his flag; "and sooner than give up the frigate I'll run her ashore."

At this anxious moment a shout of "Man overboard" was heard, and Lieutenant Hardy, in whose arms Nelson died at Trafalgar, on the instant lowered a boat and started to save the drowning seaman. Soon those on the Minerve  saw that the boat, which had by this time picked up the sailor, could not regain the frigate, try as hard as they might.

The leading Spaniard was already within gun-shot; to stop meant almost certain loss of the ship. Nelson's mind was made up on the instant; come what might, he would not desert a shipmate in danger.

"By God, I'll not lose Hardy!" he shouted; "back the mizzen topsail!"

The order was quickly obeyed; the frigate slowed down in face of her pursuers. The Spaniards, astonished at this daring act, for some strange reason failed to press on and the Minerve, with Hardy and the rescuing party safe on board, went on her way unharmed.

That same night, in a haze, the little frigate, which seemed to bear a charmed life, had an even more thrilling and mysterious adventure.

Suddenly she found herself sailing in the very midst of a large fleet, which they knew could not be that of Jervis. Partly hidden by the fog, Nelson continued on his way, obeying, the Spanish admiral's signals, and behaving just as though the Minerve  were one of the enemy's frigates.

It was a time of breathless excitement. Should the fog lift, and the enemy discover the strange ship in their midst, Nelson knew that he would have no mercy shown him and no chance of escape.

Whether he was with the Spanish main fleet or only a portion of it he had no means in the darkness of finding out. He himself thought that he was in company with a squadron on its way to the West Indies. In this case his mind was made up; unprepared as the Minerve  was for such a long voyage, she would have to sail at her best speed, ahead of the enemy, and trust to reach the islands in time to warn them to be ready to meet an attack.

The suspense was growing greater every minute, with the prospect of dawn and the mist clearing. Suddenly the ships went about and pointed towards Cadiz: the Indies was not their object.

Nelson, now satisfied that he had been sailing in the very middle of the Spanish Grand Fleet, turned and rejoined Jervis; and at seven that evening he went on board his own ship, the Captain.

All night the ships sailed in close order prepared for action, our sailors standing to their guns. At daybreak next morning the enemy were in sight, their twenty-seven ships of the line advancing in straggling array.

They were divided in squadrons, six ships in the lee division, the main body of twenty-one sail being in the weather division. Three ships from the larger division, however, quickly crossed over before the British could get near enough to engage them, and joined the leeward squadron.

The British were at first sailing in two columns, "line ahead," a half-dozen of their faster ships pressing on under full canvas to cut in between the gradually widening gap in the enemy's divisions.

Before the Spaniards had time to form a regular order of battle, and while they were still in confusion, Jervis had split their force in two. He was thus able to fling his whole fighting force on the larger Spanish squadron, before their friends to leeward could come to their aid. When they attempted to do so they were beaten back, after some rough handling.

Nelson, who was in the rear of the British line, now saw that the enemy's leading ships of the weather division were bearing up before the wind, and would in a short time either pass behind the British rear and join the lee division, or else avoid the fight by sailing away before the wind.

In a moment, and without orders, he made up his mind to spoil the foeman's plan. Giving orders to "wear ship," he turned and threw himself on the enemy's van.

He had disobeyed the admiral's orders, but the Spanish admiral's plans had been prevented. The Dons were brought to bay by one ship; it only remained for the other British vessels to hasten up and complete the enemy's ruin.

From the rear on the starboard tack the Captain  now took the lead on the larboard, and single-handed she at first engaged the foe.

The Culloden, Blenheim, and the Excellent—the latter under the command of Collingwood—were the first to arrive and bring help to the Captain  in her gallant fight against such odds.

When Collingwood, to use Nelson's own words, "disdaining the parade of taking possession of beaten enemies, with every sail set, pushed up to save his old messmate," Nelson's gallant vessel had suffered severely.

She had lost her fore-topmast, not a sail, shroud, or rope was left, her wheel was shot away.

Thus, unfit for further service in the line, and unable to pursue, there was only one thing left; and, putting her helm a-starboard, Nelson gave the order so dear to a British seaman, "Out cutlasses, and board!"

First into the San Nicholas  the boarders leapt. Captain Miller had started to lead his men. "No, Miller, I must have that honour!" said Nelson, slipping in front of his junior officer, and heading the attack in person.

Many of our sailors, climbing to the yards which were locked in the Spaniard's main-rigging, dropped down on deck from above. The foe could not resist their furious charge—our seamen swept the decks. The enemy were driven below; such as still remained yielded, and the officers gave up their swords.