A NEW VERSION OF NELSON'S DEATH.

Evening Star, Issue 4166, 4 July 1876, Page 4

A NEW VERSION OF NELSON'S DEATH.

The 'Revue de France' publishes an episode, very little known, of the battle of Trafalgar, which we reproduce with every reservation, as the French papers say. The author of the article attributes the death of Nelson to a sailor called Gersale\ and he gives an account of the event as related to him by this Breton sailor :—" A loud explosion- resounded above the din of battle. A wild, triumphant cry rose from our ship. ; "We had disabled two of the rascals which threatened us, and the English admiral's ship, swinging round, fell to leeward with her stern towards Tis. Had. we then, done her any serious harm 1 Yes, indeed! From the mteen-top, where I was stationed, I saw that the tiller-ropes had been cut away. Some blue-jackets pushed to reeve new ones, amidst the confusion

caused by the hurrying to and fro of the men who were picking up and carrying ' belowthe dead and wounded. Agroupof officers were standing at the top of the poop-ladder, amongst them a little slim man, wearing three stars on his breast, wno was giving' some orders. I. heard him speak. I cast my eyes downwards and on the taffrail of his shm, whjch a wave just then lifted Tip, I read, '«The Victory.' I again looked earnesly at the officer. His thin face was haughty and calm, and one could have said that he smiled. I understood, then that I saw Nelson. My heart gave one throb. I felt myself grow pale with anger. ,1 raised'my musket to my shoulder and took aim. But a storm of impressions passed through my brain. He was so quiet! So proud ! He suspected his danger so little ! He, the chief, the conqueror of A,boukir, a sort of Napoleon of the sea. I againraised my arm. NoJ As sure as therd is a living God, I [could not have fired. I did not wish to fire. Why, at that moment did the English fire a broadside at us 1 Was that a brave tfdt—ten*against one? It seemed done 5 on'> Volley followed Voltey. We were slaughtered--cut doyi£ The

mizen-top alone stood erect admidst it drooping rigging. Our guns were dismounted, and no longer returned the enemy's fire. For the third time the voice of our commander reached us in the top. 'Courage, my children,' it cried, and ' Fire for France.' France! . . . . A vision swam before my eyes; and the admiral for ever appearing through tKe smoke—always smiling —I aimed and fired. The admiral rooled on the deck as though one had pushed him violently! from behind. .Eagerly I looked over the top to look. What cries i what lamentations on board the English ship ! The officers threw themselves on their knees, wringing their hands. One of them with swollen countenance, turned . towards, and raising his clenched fist, hurled at us these words, which I have often repeated, and which I got explained to me later on. * Dam your eyes! Dam your hand! You French scoundrels.' He mixed up his language and ours, which he didn't know well. I was quite giddy j it seemed to me that I was dreaming; when a violent blow on the head turned me over insensible. I awoke to find myself a prisoner in England."