The Story of Nelson also "The Grateful Indian", "The Boatswain's Son" — Text and Context

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In Category - Young Readers
Kingston, William Henry Giles, 1814-1880 Project Gutenberg 2007
Children's stories; Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction; Nelson, Horatio Nelson, Viscount, 1758-1805 -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction; Ship captains -- Juvenile fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words: 42,141
Reading time: 184 min
Text sections: 4
Kingston's narrative intertwines a boy's naval ambitions with a first-person account of captivity among Plains Indians, blending Horatio Nelson's biography with a buffalo hunt and a scalp-dance, though the excerpts show little of Nelson himself.
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Horatio was foremost in the fight; but the enemy seemed to know who he was, and aimed many a blow at his head. Sykes, not thinking of himself, defended him as a bear does her whelps. Blow after blow he warded off, till at last his own arm was disabled. Still, instead of getting over to the other side of the boat, he stood by the admiral. Down came another Spaniard's sword which Sir Horatio could not ward off, but Sykes sprung forward and received the blow on his own head, which it laid open. This did not make us less determined to beat the enemy. One after the other we cut them down till we killed eighteen, wounded the rest, and towed their launch off in triumph. It will just show you how the men who served with him loved the admiral. That was a desperate fight in a small way, let me tell you; but before long we had still worse work to go through.

"Many men are thought a great deal of if they gain one victory. Nelson never but once suffered a defeat. It was at the island of Teneriffe. He was sent there, by Sir John Jervis, with a squadron to cut out a rich Manilla ship returning to Spain, which lay in the harbour of Santa Cruz. Our squadron consisted of four ships of the line, three frigates, and the `Fox' cutter. Our first attempt at landing failed, and then the admiral, who never would be beaten, against the orders of Sir John himself; determined to take command of the expedition on shore. Midnight was the time chosen for the attack. The orders were, that all the boats should land at a big mole which runs out from the town. Away we pulled; the night was very dark, the boats got separated, and when we reached the mole there were only four or five boats there. A heavy fire was at once opened on us, but the admiral would not be turned back. Drawing his sword, he was springing on shore, but the same moment he was struck by a musket ball, and fell back into the arms of his step-son, Lieutenant Kisbet. The lieutenant and one of our men bound up his arm, while all those who could be collected jumped into the boat to shove her off. It was difficult work, for she had grounded. We pulled close under the battery to avoid the heavy fire from it. As we moved on, all we could see was the bright flashes from the guns extending in a long line in front of us. On again pulling out, a fearful cry was raised. It came from the `Fox' cutter. A shot had struck her between wind, and water, and down she went, leaving her crew struggling in the waves. The admiral had just before been lifted up in the stern-sheets by Mr Nisbet to look about him.

"`Give way, lads--give way,' he shouted, forgetting his own desperate wound. `We must save them.'

"Soon we were in among the struggling men, and hauling them into the boats as fast as we could, the shot all the time rattling about us. The admiral seemed to have recovered his strength, and worked away with his left arm, assisting in saving a great many. Eighty men were saved, but more than half the crew were lost. The first ship we came to was the `Seahorse.' Her captain's wife, Mrs Freemantle, was on board, but he was with the boats, and no one could tell whether he was alive or dead.

"`No, no,' exclaimed the admiral; `I can give the poor lady no tidings of her husband; she shall not see me in this state. Pull to another ship.'

"We managed to reach the `Theseus,' a rope was lowered, he sprung up the side, and would have no help. We could scarcely believe our eyes, for we thought he was half dead. His was a wonderful spirit. Then he sent us off to try and save a few more of the poor fellows from the `Fox.' When we got back we found that he had made the surgeon at once cut off his arm. We brought him the news that Captain Freemantle, though badly wounded, had got off in safety to his ship. You may be sure that both he and all of us were very anxious to know what was going forward on shore. At length we heard that Captain Troubridge had managed to collect two or three hundred men--all who were not drowned or killed by shot--and having marched into the square, had taken the town. Of course, he could do nothing against the citadel. Some eight thousand Spanish troops were collecting about the place, but he was not a man to be daunted; telling them that he would burn the town if they molested him, he was able to draw off all his men in safety. During that business we lost two hundred and fifty men and officers. It was a sad affair, but though it was a failure every man engaged in it did his duty bravely, and no one could blame the admiral for what had happened. We heard that the Spaniards treated our wounded men who were left on shore with the greatest kindness and care. No one among the wounded suffered more than the admiral, and it was some months, I've heard say, before the pain left his arm.

"Once more we returned to old England, and the admiral went up to London to try and get cured of his wound. Since he left home he had lost an eye and an arm, and had been terribly knocked about besides; but people thought of what he had done, not of how he looked, and he was received with honour wherever he went.

"I and a few others of his old hands lived on shore, keeping a look-out for when he should get another command. We were afraid of being pressed, and made to serve somewhere away from him. One and all of us were ready enough to fight for our king and our country, provided we could fight under him. We had not long to wait. We soon got news that the `Vanguard' was to be commissioned to carry Sir Horatio Nelson's flag to join the Mediterranean fleet under Earl Saint Vincent. That was in the year 1798.

"We sailed from Gibraltar on the 9th of May with three line-of-battle ships, four frigates, and a sloop of war, to look after the French fleet, which consisted of thirteen ships of the line, seven frigates, twenty-four smaller ships of war, and a fleet of transports, bound, as we afterwards learned, for Egypt. If the French had conquered that country, they would have gone on, there is no doubt of it, to attack our possessions in India. The admiral, I dare say, knew the importance of stopping that French fleet. In spite of their numbers we did not fear them. Proud we were of our ship, and prouder still was our admiral of her and her crew and the fleet he commanded. While we were in the Gulf of Lyons, after it had been blowing hard all day, it came on one dark night to blow harder still, and, without warning, first our main and then our mizen-topmast went over the side, and lastly the foremast went altogether, so that we no longer could carry sail on it. What a crippled wreck we looked in the morning! There was a thick fog: not one of the squadron could be seen. We were boasting the day before that we were ready to meet more than an equal number of the finest ships the French could bring against us; and now we lay docked of our wings, and scarcely able to contend with the smallest frigate. Providence was watching over us, and we had good reason to believe this when some time afterwards we learned that that very day the French fleet sailed from Toulon, and passed within a few miles of us, while we were hid from them by the fog. At last Captain Ball, in the `Alexander,' came up, and towed us into the harbour of San Pietro in Sardinia, where in four days, with the aid of his and other two ships' companies, we got completely refitted and ready for sea. Away we went in search of the French fleet, with General Bonaparte himself on board. We heard of the French at Gozo, and our admiral would have attacked them there, but they had gone; then on we sailed for Egypt, hoping to find them off Alexandria, but not a sign of them could we discover. If we had had our frigates, we should have found them out fast enough. Leaving Alexandria, we steered for Syracuse, where we provisioned and watered; we visited the Morea; we hunted along the Greek coast. At last we entered the Gulf of Coron, where Captain Troubridge brought us the news that the French fleet had been seen steering from Candia for Egypt four weeks before. Instantly all sail was made for Alexandria. Still we scarcely expected to find the French fleet there. Great then was our joy when the signal was seen flying from the masthead of the `Zealous,' Captain Hood, that the enemy's fleet were moored in Aboukir Bay. Not a moment was lost in clearing the ships for action. We all knew that we had hot work before us. We found the French fleet moored in a sort of curve in the bay, but far enough from the shore to let some of our ships get inside of them; that is, between them and the land. This the French little expected, and many hadn't even their guns loaded on that side.

"Oh! it was a magnificent sight, as on we sailed, receiving a hot fire from the shore batteries, but not answering a shot, while silently we furled our sails, and got ready for anchoring. I believe that silence made the hearts of the Frenchmen quake more than our loudest hurrahs would have done. It was evening; the sun was just sinking into the ocean as we entered the bay. The `Goliath' led the way, followed by the `Zealous,' and then came the `Orion,' all anchoring inside the enemy's line. The `Vanguard' (our ship) was the first which anchored outside, within half pistol-shot of the `Spartiate.' We had six colours flying, just as a sign to the Frenchmen that come what might we were not likely to strike to them; and now there was very little to be seen but the flashes and thick smoke from the guns. Other ships followed us outside the French line, but the greater number were inside. No sooner were our anchors dropped than we opened fire, our example being followed by the other ships as they brought up. We blazed away in right earnest; there was no flinching from our guns. What the Frenchmen were about I cannot tell, but we seemed to fire two shots to their one; but then their guns carried heavier metal than ours, and they had many more of them. It was so dark that we had to get our fighting-lanterns hung up along the decks. Just fancy us then stripped to the waist, with handkerchiefs bound round our heads, and straining every nerve as we ran in and out, and cleaned and loaded our heavy guns, and blazed away as fast as we could. We were covered, too, with smoke and powder, and before long most of us were sprinkled pretty thickly with our own or our shipmates' blood. Such was the sight you would have seen between decks on board every ship in the action.

"I must tell you what happened in other parts. There was a shoal we had to pass on our starboard hand. The `Culloden,' the ship of the brave Captain Troubridge, struck on it when standing in, for by that time the darkness of night had come on. He instantly made signals which prevented the other ships, the `Alexander,' `Swiftsure,' and `Leander,' following, and getting on shore. They did their best to help off the `Culloden,' but could not get her off so stood on into the battle. Before even they opened their fire, five of the enemy's ships had struck. On standing on, Captain Hollowell fell in with the old `Billyruffian' (`Bellerophon'), with already two hundred dead and wounded, and almost a wreck from the tremendous fire of `L'Orient' of 120 guns. The `Swiftsure' took her place, and soon made the Frenchman pay dear for what she had done. I heard of this afterwards. A seaman at his gun can know little more of an action than what he sees before his nose, and that is chiefly smoke and fire, and part of the hull and rigging of one ship, and men struck down, and timbers and splinters flying about, and yards and blocks rattling down, while he hears alone the roar of the guns, the shouts, and shrieks, and groans of those around him. This sort of terrible work was going on for some time, when the word got about that the admiral himself was desperately wounded in the head. It made our hearts sink within us with sorrow, but it did not cause us to fight less fiercely, or be less determined to gain the victory. How anxiously we waited to hear what the surgeons would say about the wound of our noble chief! and when we were told that it was merely the skin of his head which was hurt, and which had almost blinded him, how hearty the cheer we gave. It must have astonished the Frenchmen, who could not tell the cause. Then at it again we went blazing away like fury, the round-shot and chain-shot and bullets whizzing and tearing along our decks, making the white splinters fly, and sending many a poor fellow out of the world, when suddenly the darkness, which had till now surrounded us, was lighted up by the bright flames which darted out of every port and twisted round the masts of a burning ship. We soon learned that she was a French ship, the big `L'Orient,' with which the `Billyruffian' had been engaged. Never did I see such a sight; in a few minutes she was just one mass of flame, from her truck to the water's edge. Her miserable crew, from one end of her to the other, were leaping into the water to avoid the scorching heat. `Out boats!' was the order, and each of our ships near at hand sent as many boats as could be manned to the rescue of our unfortunate enemies. Had they been our own shipmates, we could not have exerted ourselves more. Still the battle raged from one end of the line to the other. Suddenly there was a sound as if the earth were rent asunder. In one pointed mass of flame up went the tall masts, and spars, and the decks of the huge `L'Orient.' They seemed, in one body of fire, to rise above our mastheads, and then down they came, spreading far and wide, hissing into the water among the boats and the hundreds of poor wretches struggling for their lives. Among them was the French commodore. Captain Casabianca, I heard, was his name. He was a brave man. He had his son with him, a little fellow only ten years old, as gallant, those we rescued told us, as his father. They were blown up together. We saw the two, the father holding on his son clinging to a spar. We pulled towards them, but just then a bit of the burning wreck must have struck them and carried them down, for when we got up to the spot they were nowhere to be seen. That's the worst of a battle; there are so many young boys on board who often get as cruelly hurt as the men, and haven't the strength to bear up against their sufferings. Well, as I was saying, we pulled about, picking up the half-burnt struggling wretches wherever we could find them among the bits of floating wreck. Only seventy were saved out of many more than a thousand men on board. That was about ten o'clock. For some time not a shot was fired. Every man felt that something awful had happened, but still many of the Frenchmen hadn't given in. So at it again we went, and blazed away at each other till three in the morning. When daylight returned, only two of the enemy's ships of the line had their colours flying, and they had not been engaged. They, with two frigates, cut their cables in the forenoon, and stood out to sea, we having no ships in a fit state to follow them. There were thirteen French line-of-battle ships when the action began; we took nine, two were burned, and two escaped; and of the four frigates one was sunk and another burned; while the enemy lost three thousand one hundred and five men in killed and wounded. Captain Westcott was the only captain killed, but we lost in all nearly nine hundred other officers and men. As soon as the battle was over, an order was issued that all on board every ship should return thanks to Almighty God, who had given us the victory. Many a hearty thanksgiving was offered up that day. It was a solemn ceremony; not a word was spoken fore and aft till the chaplain began the prayers. A dead silence reigned throughout the fleet. The Egyptians and Arabs on shore could not make it out, I've heard say; and even the French officers, prisoners on board, infidels as they were, listened with respect, and could not help believing that there must be a God who had given us the victory. Hard work we had to get our ships and prizes fit for sea again after the battering they had got; as it was, we had to burn four of our prizes, as it would have taken too long to refit them; and then at last away we sailed with the larger part of the fleet for Naples.

"The battle I've been telling you about was called the battle of the Nile. It was, I've heard say, one of the most glorious and important ever fought on the sea."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: Lord Hood was commander-in-chief. The object of the attack was to co-operate with the patriot Corsicans, who, under their well-known gallant general Paoli, desired to liberate themselves from the yoke of France, then ruled by the tyrannical and cruel convention. The story of the struggles of Corsica to gain her independence is deeply interesting.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER THREE.

"After lying at Naples for a long time, Lord Keith came out and took the chief command, and we sailed with a squadron for Malta. On our way we fell in with a French fleet, the biggest ship of which was the `Genereux,' one of the line-of-battle ships which had escaped from the Nile. We captured her and a frigate, and not long afterwards the `Guillaume Tell,' the other line-of-battle ship, after in vain attempting to escape from Valetta harbour, surrendered to us; and thus every ship of the fleet which had escorted Bonaparte to Egypt was captured, except, I fancy, one frigate.

The excerpts from W.H.G. Kingston's The Story of Nelson present a curious disjunction between the title's promise and the actual content. The opening frames a boy's desire to be a sailor and a visit to Greenwich Hospital, where he hopes to hear tales of Nelson from veterans. Yet the surviving text quickly shifts to a detailed buffalo hunt on the American plains, narrated in the first person, with the protagonist living among Native Americans. The catalog subjects list both Nelson and Indians of North America, but the excerpts offer no scenes of Nelson's life or naval battles. Instead, the reader encounters a vivid description of pemmican preparation and a scalp-dance that horrifies the narrator. This editorial note examines how the catalog subjects relate to what the excerpts actually show.

A Title Without Its Hero

The catalog lists Nelson, Horatio Nelson, Viscount, 1758–1805 as a subject, yet the excerpts contain no direct depiction of Nelson. The narrator visits Greenwich Hospital hoping to hear stories of Nelson from veterans, but the text then jumps to a buffalo hunt. The only mention of Nelson is in the narrator's boyhood admiration: he looked upon Nelson as "far greater men" than ancient heroes. This suggests the book may be a frame story where the narrator's own adventures are meant to parallel Nelson's virtues, but the excerpts do not confirm this. Readers expecting a biography of Nelson will find instead a first-person account of life among the Sioux, with detailed hunting and conflict scenes.

Indians and the Frontier

The catalog subject "Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction" is well-supported by the excerpts. The narrator lives with an Indian named Sigenok, participates in a buffalo hunt, and witnesses a scalp-dance. The text includes specific cultural details: pemmican is described as made from pounded meat and fat, with the Cree etymology given. The narrator's brother Malcolm tries to convert Sigenok to Christianity and "civilised" life, but Sigenok refuses, saying he cannot abandon hunting and fighting. The excerpts show a tension between admiration for Indian skills (the narrator praises Sigenok's hunting) and horror at practices like the scalp-dance, which the narrator declines to describe. This aligns with juvenile adventure fiction of the period, but the catalog does not indicate the moralizing tone.

Seafaring Life in Name Only

The catalog lists "Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction" and "Ship captains -- Juvenile fiction," yet the excerpts contain no sea voyage, ship, or captain. The opening mentions a visit to Greenwich Hospital, a naval institution, and the narrator's ambition to be a sailor. However, the bulk of the excerpts takes place on land, among Indians. The narrator's brother Malcolm is present, but no ship or captain appears. The only nautical element is the narrator's stated desire to go to sea, which is never fulfilled in the excerpts. This suggests the book may have a later section at sea, but the provided text does not support the seafaring subject. Readers seeking maritime adventure will find instead a frontier narrative.

The excerpts from The Story of Nelson reveal a work that is less about its titular hero than about a boy's adventures among Native Americans. The catalog subjects accurately reflect the presence of Indian fiction, but the seafaring and Nelson subjects are barely evident. Readers should approach this text as a hybrid: a frame story that promises naval biography but delivers a detailed, first-person account of Plains Indian life, complete with buffalo hunting and cultural conflict. The narrative voice is consistent, but the focus shifts dramatically from the opening pages.

That rainy afternoon, Kingston’s captivity narrative lingered—not the battles, but the quiet ache of a boy far from home. The same loneliness surfaced later, almost shyly, in Foxholme Hall, and Other Tales — Themes and Context, where waiting and belonging feel like seasons turning. I closed the book and just sat there, listening to the rain.

James Wilson
3 weeks ago

Dylan Wilson
3 weeks ago

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  • ...
    Aaron Amanda Morgan - 1 month ago
    The stories are well-intentioned and carry solid moral lessons, but the pacing can be slow and the language is quite dated. The tales of adventure and virtue are engaging enough, but younger readers might struggle with the old-fashioned prose. It's a decent pick for history buffs and those who appreciate vintage children's literature, but more casual readers may find it a bit tedious.

  • ...
    Luis Howard - 3 weeks ago
    This collection of moral tales is a charming window into 19th-century children's literature. The stories of Nelson, the grateful Indian, and the loyal boatswain's son are not just entertaining but also deeply instructive, emphasizing virtues like gratitude, courage, and integrity. The language is a bit formal for modern tastes, but the timeless lessons and vivid storytelling make it a rewarding read for those interested in historical fiction and classic values.

  • ...
    Dylan Forbes - 6 days ago
    While the book aims to teach valuable lessons, its heavy-handed moralizing and outdated stereotypes (especially in 'The Grateful Indian') make it problematic for modern audiences. The plots are predictable and the characters lack depth. It serves more as a historical artifact than an enjoyable read. I'd recommend it only for academic study of children's literature, not for personal enjoyment.


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