Within a fortnight of leaving the “Carcass,” he was, through his uncle’s influence, received on board by the captain of the “Seahorse,” of twenty guns, one of the ships composing a squadron that was just then fitting out for the East Indies.  To quote himself, “Nothing less than such a distant voyage could in the least satisfy my desire of maritime knowledge.”  During an absence of three years he for much of the time, as formerly in his West India cruise, did the duty of a seaman aloft, from which he was afterwards rated midshipman, and placed, this time finally, upon the quarter-deck as an officer.  In the ordinary course of cruising in peace times, he visited every part of the station from Bengal to Bussorah; but the climate, trying even to vigorous Europeans, proved too much for his frail health.  After a couple of years he broke down and was invalided home, reaching England in September, 1776.  His escape from death was attributed by himself to the kind care of Captain Pigot of the “Dolphin,” in which ship he came back.  At this period we are told that, when well, he was of florid countenance, rather stout and athletic; but, as the result of his illness, he was reduced to a mere skeleton, and for some time entirely lost the use of his limbs,—­a distressing symptom, that returned upon him a few years later after his Central American expedition in 1780, and confirms the impression of extreme fragility of constitution, which is frequently indicated in other ways.

During this absence in the East Indies Captain Suckling, in April, 1775, had been named Comptroller of the Navy,—­a civil position, but one that carried with it power and consequent influence.  This probably told for much in obtaining for Nelson, who was but just eighteen, and had not yet passed the examinations for his first promotion, an acting appointment as lieutenant.  With this he joined a small ship-of-the-line, the “Worcester,” of sixty-four guns, on board which he remained for six months, engaged in convoy duty between the Channel and Gibraltar, seeing from her decks for the first time the waters of the Mediterranean and its approaches, since then indissolubly associated with his name and his glory.  He took with him a letter from his uncle to the captain of his new ship; but while such introduction, coming from so influential a quarter, doubtless contributed powerfully to clear from his path the obstacles commonly encountered by young men, Nelson had gained for himself a reputation for professional capacity, which, here as throughout his life, quickly won him the full confidence of his superiors.  In later years, when his admiral’s flag was flying, he recorded, with evident pride in the recollection, that while on board the “Worcester,” notwithstanding his youth, his captain used to say, “He felt as easy when I was upon deck as any officer of the ship.”  It is doubtful, indeed, whether Nelson ever possessed in a high degree the delicate knack of handling a ship with the utmost