his junior in rank, were given appointments that had the appearance of placing them independent of his authority.  Seniors of inferior capacity were given control over him which, but for his whimsical magnanimity, might have cost us the loss of the fleet, their crews, and our high honour and superb fighting reputation.  Take for example Sir Hyde Parker’s command of the Baltic fleet, or Sir John Orde’s clumsy appointment to a squadron in the Mediterranean.  Nothing could be so harassing to the nerves of a man sure of his own superiority as to be burdened, not only with Orde’s arrogance, but his mediocrity.  He was obliged to resort to subterfuge in order to get his dispatches sent home, and here again the action of the Admiralty compelled him to break naval discipline by ordering a nephew of Lord St. Vincent, a clever young captain of a frigate, to whom he was devoted, to take the dispatches to Lisbon.  He told the young captain that Sir John Orde took his frigates from him, and sent them away in a direction contrary to his wishes.  “I cannot get my dispatches even sent home,” he said; adding, “You must try to avoid his ships.”  Nelson had not signed his orders, because Sir John Orde was his superior officer, but should it come to a court-martial, Hardy could swear to his handwriting, and he gave him the assurance that he would not be broken.  “Take your orders, and goodbye,” said he, “and remember, Parker, if you cannot weather that fellow, I shall think you have not a drop of your uncle’s blood in your veins.”  Other Nelsonian instructions were given, and the gallant captain carried them out with a skill worthy of his ingenious, defiant chief and of his distinguished uncle.

It was not only a slap in the face to Sir John Orde, but to those whose patronage had placed in a senior position a man who was not qualified to stand on the same quarterdeck with Nelson.  He smarted under the treatment, but unhappily could not keep his chagrin under cover.  He was always pouring his soul out to some one or other.  His health is always falling to pieces after each affront, and for this reason he asks to be relieved.  Here is an example of his moods.  “I am much obliged to your Lordships’ compliance with my requests,” he says, “which is absolutely necessary from the present state of my health,” and almost immediately after he tells a friend he “will never quit his post when the French fleet are at sea as a commander-in-chief once did.”  “I would sooner die at my post than have such a stigma upon my memory.”  This is a nasty dig at Lord St. Vincent, presumably for having a hand in the appointment of Sir John Orde.  Then he writes to Elliot that nothing has kept him at his post but the fear of the French fleet escaping and getting to Naples or Sicily.  “Nothing but gratitude for the good sovereigns would have induced him to stay a moment after Sir John Orde’s extraordinary command, for his general conduct towards them is not such as he had a right to expect.”  I have