Brief and cursory as is the notice of this action of the “Agamemnon” in Hotham’s despatches, he mentions no other ship-of-the-line as engaged at this time, and states that she and the frigate were so far detached from the fleet, that they were finally obliged to retire on account of other enemy’s vessels approaching.  Nelson’s journal says that two French ships, one of one hundred and twenty guns and a seventy-four, were at gunshot distance on the bow of the “Ca Ira” when he began to attack her.  These, with several others of their fleet, went about some time before one, at which hour the frigate, towing the disabled ship, tacked herself, and also got the latter around.  The “Agamemnon” standing on, she and the “Ca Ira” now crossed within half pistol-range; but, the French guns being too much elevated, the shot passed over their antagonist, who lost in this day’s work only seven men wounded.  Nelson then again tacked to follow, but by this time the French admiral had apparently decided that his crippled vessel must be rescued, and his fleet no longer defied by a foe so inferior in strength.  Several of the enemy were approaching, when Hotham made a signal of recall, which Nelson on this occasion at least had no hesitation in obeying, and promptly.  There was no pursuit, the hostile commander-in-chief being apparently satisfied to save the “Ca Ira” for the moment, without bringing on a general engagement.

In this affair, what is mainly to be noted in Nelson is not the personal courage, nor yet even the professional daring, or the skill which justified the daring.  It may be conceded that all these were displayed in a high degree, but they can scarcely be claimed to have exceeded that shown by other officers, not a few, when equally tried.  What is rather striking, account for it how we will, is that Nelson, here as always, was on hand when opportunity offered; that after three days of chase he, and he only, was so far to the front as to be able to snatch the fleeting moment.  “On looking round,” he says at ten o’clock, when about to begin the action, “I saw no ship-of-the-line within several miles to support me; the Captain was the nearest on our lee-quarter.”  With the looseness and lack of particularity which characterize most logs and despatches remaining from those days, and make the comprehension of naval engagements, other than the greatest, a matter of painful and uncertain inference, it is impossible accurately to realize the entire situation; but it seems difficult to imagine that among all the other thirteen captains, “where emulation was common to all and zeal for his Majesty’s service the general description of the fleet,” to use Hotham’s words, none could have been on the spot to support so promising an attempt, had there been “common” that sort of emulation which takes a man ever to the front, not merely in battle but at all times,—­the spirit that will not and cannot rest while anything remains to be done, ever pressing onward to the mark.  To