Troubridge’s failure to act at once upon his own judgment, and seize the heights above the fort, instead of waiting until he could communicate with the admiral, whereby were lost more than three invaluable hours, excites surprise, in view of the extremely high value set upon him as an officer by St. Vincent and Nelson; and is the more singular because the latter, in certain “Recommendations,” dated July 17, had indicated the heights, as well as the fort, among the objects to be secured.  It is, of course, possible that these Recommendations were not given out; but even so, the formal orders issued gave ample discretion.  This hesitation was wholly contrary to Nelson’s own readiness to assume responsibility, and probably accounts for his subsequent remark, in a private letter, that had he himself been present this first attempt would not have failed.  Occurring in an officer of Troubridge’s high standing, and contrasted with Nelson’s action at St. Vincent, as well as on many other occasions, the incident serves to bring out forcibly the characteristic eminence of the latter,—­the distinction between a really great captain and the best type of a simply accomplished and gallant officer.  It may safely be said that had Nelson been in the frigates that morning, and thought as Troubridge thought, he would either have had the heights without waiting for orders, or, to use his own words on a former occasion, would have “been in a confounded scrape.”

His first plan having miscarried, Nelson was nevertheless unwilling to forsake the enterprise wholly, without attempting a direct assault upon the town itself.  Meantime the enemy was not idle, but employed the delay caused by the wind to collect a greater force, and to develop further the preparations to repel attack.  At half-past five in the evening of July 24 the squadron reached an anchorage two or three miles north of Santa Cruz, and all boats were ordered prepared for a night expedition.  Captain Freemantle, of the frigate “Seahorse,” had with him his wife, whom he had lately married; and with them Nelson, who intended to lead the attack in person, supped that evening.  He was conscious of the imminent danger to which he was about to expose himself and his followers; it is indeed scarcely possible that he could, in undertaking the adventure, have expected to succeed, except through some happy accident skilfully improved,—­the deserved good fortune which had so often attended him.  It was not so much the hope of victory that moved him, as the feeling that to retreat baffled, without a further effort, would be worse than defeat.  This in fact was the reason which he afterwards gave.  “Although I felt the second attack a forlorn hope, yet the honour of our Country called for the attack, and that I should command it.  I never expected to return.”  “Your partiality will give me credit,” he wrote to Jervis, “that all has hitherto been done which was possible, but without effect:  this night I, humble as I am,