The Life of Horatio Lord Nelson | Page 2

composedly by the side of a brook which he
could not get over. "I wonder, child," said the old lady when she saw

him, "that hunger and fear did not drive you home." "Fear!
grandmama:" replied the future hero, "I never saw fear:--What is it?"
Once, after the winter holidays, when he and his brother William had
set off on horseback to return to school, they came back, because there
had been a fall of snow; and William, who did not much like the
journey, said it was too deep for them to venture on. "If that be the
case," said the father, "you certainly shall not go; but make another
attempt, and I will leave it to your honour. If the road is dangerous you
may return: but remember, boys, I leave it to your honour!" The snow
was deep enough to have afforded them a reasonable excuse; but
Horatio was not to be prevailed upon to turn back. "We must go on,"
said he: "remember, brother, it was left to our honour!"--There were
some fine pears growing in the schoolmaster's garden, which the boys
regarded as lawful booty, and in the highest degree tempting; but the
boldest among them were afraid to venture for the prize. Horatio
volunteered upon this service: he was lowered down at night from the
bedroom window by some sheets, plundered the tree, was drawn up
with the pears, and then distributed them among his school-fellows
without reserving any for himself. "He only took them," he said,
"because every other boy was afraid."
Early on a cold and dark spring morning Mr. Nelson's servant arrived at
this school, at North Walsham, with the expected summons for Horatio
to join his ship. The parting from his brother William, who had been
for so many years his playmate and bed-fellow, was a painful effort,
and was the beginning of those privations which are the sailor's lot
through life. He accompanied his father to London. The
RAISONNABLE was lying in the Medway. He was put into the
Chatham stage, and on its arrival was set down with the rest of the
passengers, and left to find his way on board as he could. After
wandering about in the cold, without being able to reach the ship, an
officer observed the forlorn appearance of the boy, questioned him; and
happening to be acquainted with his uncle, took him home and gave
him some refreshments. When he got on board, Captain Suckling was
not in the ship, nor had any person been apprised of the boy's coming.
He paced the deck the whole remainder of the day without being
noticed by any one; and it was not till the second day that somebody, as

he expressed it, "took compassion on him." The pain which is felt when
we are first transplanted from our native soil--when the living branch is
cut from the parent tree is one of the most poignant which we have to
endure through life. There are after-griefs which wound more deeply,
which leave behind them scars never to be effaced, which bruise the
spirit, and sometimes break the heart; but never do we feel so keenly
the want of love, the necessity of being loved, and the sense of utter
desertion, as when we first leave the haven of home, and are, as it were,
pushed off upon the stream of life. Added to these feelings, the sea-boy
has to endure physical hardships, and the privation of every comfort,
even of sleep. Nelson had a feeble body and an affectionate heart, and
he remembered through life his first days of wretchedness in the
service.
The RAISONNABLE having been commissioned on account of the
dispute respecting the Falkland Islands, was paid off as soon as the
difference with the court of Spain was accommodated, and Captain
Suckling was removed to the TRIUMPH, seventy-four, then stationed
as a guard-ship in the Thames. This was considered as too inactive a
life for a boy, and Nelson was therefore sent a voyage to the West
Indies in a merchant-ship, commanded by Mr. John Rathbone, an
excellent seaman, who had served as master's mate under Captain
Suckling in the Dreadnought. He returned a practical seaman, but with
a hatred of the king's service, and a saying then common among the
sailors--"Aft the most honour; forward the better man." Rathbone had
probably been disappointed and disgusted in the navy; and, with no
unfriendly intentions, warned Nelson against a profession which he
himself had found hopeless. His uncle received him on board the
TRIUMPH on his return, and discovering his dislike to the navy, took
the best means of reconciling him to it. He held it out as a reward that,
if he attended well to his navigation, he should go in the cutter and