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("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23") - HMS Victory, flagship of the Royal Navy, the oldest commissioned
warship in the world, and Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson's flagship at the Battle of Trafalgar. (cannons boom)
(waves crash) (glass shatters) Victory's story, however,
begins 50 years before Trafalgar during the Seven Years' War, 1756 to 1763. In any conflict, the
Royal Navy's first job was to take the ships in
reserve and equip them with men and guns and
supplies and send them to sea. The second job is to build more ships. In 1759, Victory is laid down on the River Medway at Chatham. 1759, the Annus Mirabilis,
the Year of Miracles, the Year of Victories, that is the year from which
our ship takes her name. The Battle of Quiberon Bay,
Admiral Hawke with this fleet of Royal Navy ships
annihilates the French fleet. (muffled shouting)
(cannons boom) France no longer has a
fleet that poses a risk to Britain and the Royal
Navy, and therefore, we do not need a ship the size of Victory. So the decision is taken to build her over a much longer
period, almost six years. By the time she's floated
out on the 7th of May, 1765, the war has been over almost two years. Victory, a ship incredibly
expensive to build, a ship incredibly expensive to man, and a ship incredibly
expensive to operate at sea, is without a role. So she herself is placed in reserve where she sits for 13 years, finally brought forward for service during the American war of independence. Over the next two decades,
she takes part in the first and second battles of Ushant, (glass shatters)
(waves crash) ("Prelude in G Minor: Op. 23, No. 5") the Battle of Cape St. Vincent, the Battle of Cape Spartel,
the relief of Gibraltar, and the attack on Toulon, following which she's
been afloat for 30 years. Her condition is poor
and she's no longer fit to lie in the line of battle. The government decides
she's not worth the cost of maintaining and repairing, so she's to be converted
to a hospital ship. Before becoming a hospital ship, however, the government changes its mind. She's to become a prison ship this time, a catastrophic decision for Victory. She would never be able
to go out to sea again. Being such a large decision, the government takes a long
time to decide and, in fact, in 1800, reverses its
decision, changed its mind. She is to be repaired.
She is to go to sea again. Taking in hand in Chatham what is believed to be a middling repair in 1800, we end up spending more money than it cost to build her in the first place. We take three years before finally, she takes to the sea in
1803 as Nelson's flagship to go off to the Mediterranean and to what will become the Trafalgar campaign. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23. No. 5") The lower gun deck, home to the vast majority
of Victory's crew. Here, some 600 men eat, sleep, and spend their recreational period. On board the ship, whilst
there are three meals a day, only one of these is served
hot the main meal at midday. All work on board comes to a halt as the crew will eat together, 600 men altogether in
the messes on this deck. In terms of sleeping, 480 men can be accommodated on
the deck, slung in hammocks, which is suspended from
the beams above me. Conditions on board are
very, very cramped indeed with each man having
only 14 inches of space in which to sling his hammock. This makes diseases of
the respiratory system, such as tuberculosis and
bronchitis, very common indeed. The gun ports on this deck
will be kept fast tight unless the guns were being fired, and the atmosphere
developed into something that even referred to as a fog. It's warm. It's also humid. When the men come down
from their shift on deck, they will place their clothes
next to the airing stove in an attempt to get dry again, but this is always difficult
whilst we're at sea. As well as being home to the men, this area is home to the guns, and on the lower gun
deck, it's a 32 pounder, the heaviest of the
guns carried by Victory. Everything about the ship
is dictated by the number, weight, type, and size
of gun to be carried. When designing Victory, the designer knew that
there were 30 32 pounders to be mounted on the lower gun deck. That gave him the length of this deck and, therefore, the length of the ship. This is the most powerful cannon
carried on board the ship. The gun itself weighs in at three and a half tons sat on
its own gun carriage. It requires a gun crew of
some 12 men to operate it, and it can lob a ball of
iron waiting 32 pounds out to about 1,000 yards at point blank range, and it can do that one round
every 90 to 100 seconds. When the gun is stowed for sea, it is lashed with the muzzle, the front, up above the gun port. Including fraction, therefore, the first job of the gun
crew is to drop the gun onto its carriage, as you see here. It will then be hauled into
the ship so that the muzzle is within the gun port by about six feet. A powder man will step forward and hand to the loader the gunpowder charge. That charge will be placed into the gun to the length of his arm. He will then be handed the shot. We carry various types of shot dependent upon what we wish to achieve. Of course, the most common is
solid shot, the cannonball. At point blank range, this
kind of ball can pierce about two and a half feet of solid oak. It is designed to smash
through the enemy's hull, scatter splinters, and those
splinters will kill and maim. It is anti-personnel in nature. If we are not use solid
shot, we have other options. We have bar shot. This is loaded into the
gun, and when fired, the twins rotate, almost
a circular saw effect. It is designed to cut through the masts and the spars and the
rigging of the enemy, stop them moving. If we can stop the opponent maneuvering, we can dictate at what
range the battle is going to be fought and how
it's going to be fought. It makes winning easier. If we're not to use bar shot,
then we have chain shot, which does the same job. Also available, grapeshot,
mini cannonballs held together by this canvas cover,
hence the name grapeshot. When the main charge in the gun goes off, the canvas disintegrates,
and the mini balls, along with the sabot plate and pin through the middle, spread out. This is designed to cut
through the sails of the enemy. Again, stop him moving, remove
his ability to maneuver, making it easier for us to win the battle. (grapeshot clangs) Whichever type of projectile
we're handed is placed into the gun again to the
length of the loader's arm, and everything is held in
place by a wad grommet, as we have here. Stops the cannonball
especially rolling about in the gun with the movement of the ship. That is all then rammed home to the base of the bore using the rammer, one of the tools we
have at deck level here, given three sharp taps
to ensure it's in place. The captain of the gun will
step forward wheel needle, the vent piece primer. He placed it into the vent. Down, it will prick a hole
into the gunpowder charge. The hole is actually
the secondary concern. He's priming to make sure the gunpowder is at the base of the bore. He will then take the powder horn and, using the small amount
of gun pounder in here, load the gun's vent. We now have a means of
conveying an ignition spark from the source of the gun
down to the gunpowder charge. The gun is now, for all
intents and purposes, ready for firing. It is run out and aimed,
relatively straightforward to do given the very close quarters at which we would be fighting. Waiting for the downward roll of the ship, the captain will the
gun lock, take his aim, and, when he is satisfied, fired. The gun lock, equipped with
a flint, will cause a spark. The spark ignites the powder in the vent, which in turn ignites
the gunpowder charge. The cannonball will leave the
mouth of the gun traveling at approximately 500 miles an
hour, head across the enemy, and, if we've done our job correctly, cause splinters, mayhem, and havoc. Newton's laws of motion states that every action has an
equal but opposite reaction. If a 32-pound cannonball goes
that way at 500 miles an hour, a three and a half ton
gun will go that way at about six miles an hour. The gun will we call into the ship. The gun crew will take a sponge which has been dipped in water, sponge the bore out to extinguish
the smoldering remnants of the last gunpowder charge, and repeat the whole process again, one round every 90 to 100 seconds. As we've said, speed and efficiency. (footsteps shuffle) There's a well-known
saying that naval tradition is nothing but rum, sodomy, and the lash. That overstates the importance
of the cat of nine tail, to be sure, but both Nelson and Hardy were not afraid of
using the lash as a tool in their approach to instilling discipline in a crew of 821 men. Here at the forward end
of the upper gun deck, we find the bilboes, the leg irons. If you had displeased Hardy
as captain of the ship for whatever reason,
drunkenness, insolence, insubordination, it's
here you will be brought. Secured to a bilbo, you're
given a length of rope and instructed to break it
apart into nine strands, the famed cat of nine tails. The following morning,
you'll be taken upon deck and given 12, 24, 36, or
even 72 lashes dependent upon the severity of your crime. After such punishment, a man's back would
closely resemble raw meat. He'd be brought down
behind me to the sick bay where the ship surgeon would rub salt and white vinegar into his wounds. Sick bay marks an important
addition to Victory as part of the 1800 to 1803 refit. It marks a change in the way the Navy is thinking about its crews. In the Napoleonic wars, feeding the insatiable
appetite of the Navy for men proves increasingly
difficult as the years go by. It takes a long time to
get a man skilled enough to serve at sea on a line of battleship. Having invested time, money, and effort in making sure the fleet is as efficient as it possibly can be, we want to ensure the men are kept well, so we have a sick bay high up
here on the upper gun deck, away from the rest of the crew where the air is clean and fresh. We can treat infectious diseases, we can return the men to health, and we can ensure the fighting
efficiency of the fleet. Another key aspect to
that fighting efficiency, in addition to keeping the
men healthy with a sick bay, is to making sure that they are well fed. (footsteps shuffle) A typical eight-man mess on the middle gun deck of HMS Victory. Home to 1% of the ship's crew, they'd sling their hammocks here, and they would take the
meals here everyday. ("Hungarian Rhapsody No. 10 in E Major") It's almost impossible to
over emphasize the importance of food to the fighting
efficiency of the fleet. At the Battle of Trafalgar, there are 21,000 men in the British fleet. Each and every one of them is engaged in physically very demanding work. They need 5,000 calories per day. At any one time, there are
3/4 million ship's biscuits on board Victory. We have tons of beef. We have pork. We have rum. We have split peas. Throughout the period
in the Mediterranean, we find that Victory's taking on board between 50 and 60 live
bullocks every fortnight, and that will keep 821 men
well fed for about two weeks. Another source of calories
for these men is alcohol. Water goes brackish very
quickly when we are at sea. It is reserved really only for cooking. The main issue of liquid to the crew of the ship is in the form of beer, but beer at this point also
goes off really quite quickly. When it's available, the men are given six and a half gallons of beer a
week, almost a gallon a day. If that's not available, they'll
be given one pint of wine, and if wine is not available, then we'll fall back on
the old faithful of rum, and they'll get half a pint, which is equivalent in
strength to about two bottles of Navy proof rum today. It really is firewater. Huge number of calories,
35,000 calories a week. Key critical indeed to maintaining
the fighting efficiency of the fleet because we
are all about fighting and winning battles on the ship. The hold. Whilst the decks above us are
all about fighting at sea, the story for this area
is one of logistics, the supplies needed to keep Victory at sea for five or six months. Today, the hold is largely empty, exposing the ship's massive
structure and these huge riders, beams designed to secure
and strengthen the ship against the sea. Construction of a ship like
Victory in the late 18th century is as much a matter of art or science, and so when the ship
is floated out in 1765, she's actually heavier on one
side than she is on the other. That creates a list which
needs to be corrected. The method of correction,
257 tons of pig iron, the black iron bars here,
placed low down into the ship. They even her up on the keel. (muffled chatter) Those pig iron bars are essential for evening the ship's keel. However, in the hold, we
need to store barrels. Those barrels need a malleable surface that they can be bedded into,
and so on top of the pig iron, we have a further 200 tons of shingle. The shingle is a very good medium. It will move, the barrels
can be nestled down tight, and as barrels are
consumed as pork and beef and ship's biscuits are
removed and eaten by the crew, we can move the shingle around to keep the ship even in her trim. However, there are also
problems with the shingle. The water, the scum, the muck, and the detritus that filters down through the ship structure is held as though the shingle were a sponge, which means down here, it smells
bad, very, very bad indeed, and we have a lot of
dirt and lot of filth. There is a continual battle
to keep the hold clean. Its structure is whitewashed
almost continually. Down here, we will burn sulfur, brimstone, to purify the air and act as a fumigant to get rid of infestations
of animals and insects. We will also clean religiously with vinegar on a weekly basis. However, we will be continually
fighting a losing battle. Every few months when Victory
comes in close to land, all of the shingle would be placed into one of the wicked panniers, carried up to the deck
above, thrown over the side, and replaced with fresh. Plenty of work for the 821-man crew. The quantities of provisions
needed to keep Victory at sea for six months are vast. 300 tons of water onboard
will keep the ship going for five or six weeks alone. But in terms of food, 50 tons of beef, 50 tons of pork, 45
tons of ship's biscuits, that's about 750,000 ship's biscuits, 11,000 gallons of beer,
and in addition to that, 15 tons of peas are all needed just to keep the crew operating
at their peak efficiency. This area would've been
filled with barrels like those behind me to the deck above. The provisions in this
area are largely dried and, in the case of meat, salted. They will last a long, long time at sea, but they are not particularly appetizing, and the process of preservation reduces their nutritional value. Whenever it can, the Navy
strives to supply fresh food for the men on board the ship, fresh vegetables and indeed
fresh meat, livestock. When Victory is operating
in the Mediterranean, it is typical for some
50 to 60 live bullocks to arrive on board every two weeks or so. In addition to the Navy
supplying food for these men, the crew will take it upon
their own backs to supply food. Most messes, when the ship sails, will carry some form
of livestock with them, typically goats or sheep. These animals will be
killed relatively quickly. Caring for them and
showing that they are able to be fed at sea and
watered at sea is difficult, and, of course, animals are messy. So, of course, they will be slaughtered and consumed by the crew fairly quickly. When Victory clears
fraction on the morning of October 21st, 1805, any of this livestock
has to go over the side. So whether it's live bullocks
or whether it's turkeys and chickens and ducks
still in their coops, they are lifted from the
deck and thrown into the sea. Food is essential for
ensuring that the crew is fit to fight in a battle,
but when it comes to fighting, we also need some of the stores down here, 120 tons of cannonball
shot carried in the hold and 35 tons of black
powder in the magazine. ("Hungarian Rhapsody No. 10 in E Major") The grand magazine. Some 35 tons of gunpowder
or stored in this area, 794 of these barrels each capable of holding 100 pounds of black powder. Given the explosive nature
of the magazine's contents, there are special considerations when constructing the magazine. For a start, no ferrous metals
are allowed in the magazine, either when it's operational
or when it's constructed, because they can cause a spark. All of the fixings, both nails
and bolts, are of copper. Secondly, for obvious reasons, no naked flames in the magazine. That gives us a problem when it comes to putting light into this area. In the lamp room to my left, we have two candles providing
illumination for this area. The lamp room cannot be
accessed from the magazine. One must go from the deck above and drop down into or out of it. Other considerations for gunpowder is that it's extremely important it's kept as dry as possible. Underneath the magazine, there is a layer of charcoal
which serves as a desiccant, absorbing moisture in the atmosphere and trying to ensure that the humidity in the magazine is kept
as low as possible. The magazine is further protected
by a sheeting of copper, designed partly to keep water out and partly to keep rats out. Rats do have a fondness for gunpowder and, if breaking into the magazine, have the ability to leave a trail of gunpowder through the rest of the ship, which could prove disastrous
in the event of a fire. It's a widely held belief that
we employed powder monkeys in the Royal Navy to transport
the gunpowder charges from the magazine to the guns
where they were required. This is in fact incorrect. The preferred method of supplying guns was to use a bucket chain. A case of wood like this would
contain two gunpowder charges and will be handed out of the magazine to whichever gun deck required it. (bucket thuds) In the course of the battle, Victory fired 3,041 rounds
from her heavy guns. Of the 35 tons of powder
stored in this area, only seven and a half tons
was used, less than 1/4. This gives an indication of the way the Navy expected
its fleet to be used. Victory and ships liker were expected to fight a Trafalgar-scale battle on the far side of the world, repair, make it back to European
waters, fight a further battle, and then make it back to Britain. Everything is oversupplied, be
it shot, gunpowder, or food. As with all aspects of the
ships fighting capability, it's a story of speed and efficiency. The fighting efficiency of HMS Victory was largely the responsibility
of the commissioned officers, the military officers, if
you like, onboard the ship. The efficiency of the ship, however, as a unit is down to the
ability of the warrant officers. Onboard Victory, that's
the purser, the gunner, the carpenter, and the bosun. The purser is effectively
the ship's grocer, responsible for the stores
below, but the three others, they are the key men in
maintaining Victory at sea. A ship such as this was expected
to last many, many months, if not years, in between periods in port. She had to be capable
of maintaining herself, and the crew had to have all the skills and the tools and equipment
necessary to maintain her. Here on the orlop deck of Victory, we are in the carpenter's store. He's responsible for the ship's hull, effectively keeping the water out and maintaining the ship's strength. At the time of Trafalgar, that's
a man called William Bunce. Actually the tallest
person on board the ship, he's repeated to have been some
six feet seven inches tall. Here, we have his
storeroom and his workshop, where the small tasks involved
in maintaining the ship and her boats would go on. ("Marche Militaire, Op. 51") Next door, we have his cabin,
a small area where he lived and where he undertook
his administrative duties. Unlike commissioned
officers who were appointed for a relatively short
period of a commission, that is the period at which
a ship is on active service, the warrant officers were appointed to Victory on a semi-permanent basis. This means some of them got to know the ship very well indeed. The gunner at Trafalgar, William Rivers, had been appointed to the ship in 1793 and left her in 1812,
almost 20 years onboard. It was very common for these
men to bring their families with them when they joined the ship. We cannot say for sure
that women and children were onboard Victory at
the Battle of Trafalgar, but if they were, they were likely members of the warrant officers' families. The gunner's store is forward
of the carpenter's area. Next door, Rivers will be
responsible for ensuring the guns were well maintained and all
of the small arms onboard, the pistols, the muskets,
the pikes, and the hatchets, are maintained to a fighting standard. He has a small team of armorers and assistants to help him in that role. On the other side of the ship, we have the bosun, one Henry
William Wilmot on board. He's responsible for the ship's rigging, the flags, the ropes,
the masts, and the yards, along with the sails. This small team are key to
maintaining Victory's ability as a seagoing ship. ("Polonaise in F Sharp Minor, Op. 44") The lower gun deck was stood next to the ship's main capstan,
used for raising the anchors, physically the most demanding
role on board the ship. To prepare for this task,
we need to clear the area. The first thing to do is remove
these very large pillars, essential for maintaining
the ship's strength at sea, but they get in the way of
the operation of the capstan. A jack is placed on the deck, pushed up, it spreads the beam away from the deck, and the pillar can be removed. Victory's anchors weigh
four and a half tons. They're connected to the
ship by a very large cable, two feet 24 inches in circumference. That is too large to pass
around the capstan itself. In order to raise the anchor, therefore, we use a small cable,
this, called the messenger, 16 inches in circumference. It is wrapped around
the capstan four times to give it sufficient purchase, a lot of friction needed
here, runs forward, round two rolls at the
front end of the ship, aft along the other side,
and is lashed onto itself. We therefore have a loop. Next, capstan bars are taken and plugged into the capstan head. On this level, we have 12 capstan bars. This, however, is a two-tier capstan. On the deck above, we can fit another 14. Each bar requires 10 men. 260 men, therefore, are required to bring in
the anchor and its cable. Once the bars are in place,
the men start walking round. At the other end of the ship,
the youngest men on board, the boy seamen, nippers, as they're known, embark on the process of nipping, tying the anchor cable to the messenger. They walk along next to
the knotted piece of rope, and when the anchor
cable gets to the point to where it drops down to the
deck below to the cable tier, the knot securing it to
the messenger is untied, the cable drops below, the messenger comes up to
roll around the capstan, and the boys walked forward
to repeat the process. It's worth remembering that, although we call it raising the anchor, we are not, in fact, pulling
the anchor to the ship. If it were that easy to move an anchor, it wouldn't hold our Victory. What we are now doing
is dragging our three and a half thousand
ton ship to the anchor. As we pass over the top of the anchor, it comes up from the seabed and then only for the final few feet is
it lifted up and lashed alongside the ship in a
process known as catting. If your impression of a
sailor on board Victory is the salty old sea dog with
the big, gray, bushy beard, that's completely the wrong image. These are relatively young men, typically in the mid 20s and
at the peak of physical prime. ("Polonaise in F Sharp Minor, Op. 44") The gunroom. This area is home to the midshipmen, the trainee officers on board the ship. Arriving in the Navy at the age of 12, they will effectively be
serving an apprenticeship, learning the skills of a life at sea. These young men courted at the aft end of the lower gun deck live very much as the rest of the ship's crew do, the ordinary ratings on board. The tiller arm moving about them overhead, simple wooden tables. The idea is that these men
will learn identical skills to the ordinary men onboard. A midshipman is expected
to be able to climb a mast, splice a rope, and serve a gun. He's also expected to learn those skills that allow him to achieve
Victory leading the crew of a ship like Victory in battle. Sat here with the likes
of Nelson and Hardy on the deck above, the Navy
fully expects that their skill will percolate through to the decks here and the midshipmen in this room, and we will continue to develop the sense of overwhelming psychological superiority that the Royal Navy possesses
in the early 19th century. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") Victory's great cabin, Nelson's quarters, actually divided into four separate rooms, the steerage next door
to us, the anteroom. It's where the clarks and
the secretaries are based. It's where the administration happens. We have the dining
cabin, self explanatory, the day cabin behind me, a
private terry for Nelson, where also his office
where he's going to work, and we have the bed place next door to us. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") Nelson's job as an admiral
really is one of administration. It's about making sure
that our ships and our men are where we need them to
be when we need them to be, provisioned, equipped,
trained, and drilled. He also needs to make
sure that his captains, his band of brothers, as
he previously called them, know what is expected of them, know how he expects them
to fight the battle. And is here to the dining cabin
over a period of two nights at the end of September,
1805 that the captains of the fleet come to hear Nelson and hear his tactics for battle. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") Prior to this, battles
in the age of sail had by and large been fought by
forming fleets into lines. You would sail your line
opposite your opponent's line, shoot at him, and the winner
was basically the person who lasted the longest. Decisive battles were very, very rare. Battles of annihilation
were very, very rare. Nelson does not believe in rare. Nelson believes in annihilation. He will not have the French
fleet in a line with the Spanish and the English fleet in
a line and fight away. His plan is to take his
fleet and bisect the French and Spanish, drive through them, split them up into three separate groups. This is the age of sail. If you need to turn your ship
around, it takes a long time. Nelson knows that the French
and Spanish outnumber him. He knows he has to get
rid of some of those ships for a portion of the battle. By breaking through the line,
the front end of the French and Spanish fleet has got to turn around. That's going to take
them four or five hours. The second and third parts of
the French and Spanish fleet will now pile into the English line, bringing about the pell-mell
battle that Nelson desired. He knows that his gunners
are better trained and therefore faster. This battle will depend upon the rate of fire of the British gunners. And if, having sat here
and listened to Nelson, the captains do not understand,
there is the catchall. No captain can do very
wrong if he places his ship alongside that of an enemy, the epitome of the Royal
Navy's fighting spirit. (footsteps shuffle) Nelson's bed place. Even in this most private of areas, home comforts give way to
the fighting efficiency of the ship. So it's in between these two 12-pound guns that we find Nelson's cot
complete with its drapes. In battle, this cabin ceases to exist. The bulkheads, the walls are taken away to open up the whole of the great cabin to become part of the upper gun deck, and men will man the full broadside of 12-pound guns that we have here. And it's in battle that the cot might have the opportunity
to fulfill its second role because if Nelson had been buried at sea, the cot would've served as his coffin. ("Carmen Variations") Dawn, October 21st, 1805, and it's here to the
quarterdeck of Victory that Nelson comes. As a sun rises, out on the
horizon about 12 miles away, Nelson can see a line of French and Spanish ships five
miles long, 33 ships. Behind us here, we've got
13 ships in a ragged line, and across to the
starboard side, my right, we have Nelson's number
two, Cuthbert Collingwood, in royal sovereign, 13 ships over there. There is a long, slow swell
rolling in. A storm is coming. If Nelson wishes to obtain
a Victory, it must be today. ("Carmen Variations") In these conditions, it will be five, possibly six hours before battle is joined with the French and Spanish. Nelson has got his fleet
where it needs to be, when it needs to be, and
with the crews highly trained and the officers knowing
what is expected of them. There is nothing left for him to do. As the crew below beat to
quarters, he goes to his cabin, writes a codicil to his will
to ensure that his mistress, Emma Hamilton, and his
daughter are cared for in the event of his death, and
he writes his famous prayer. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") On the older being given, it's the job of the Royal Marines to beat the men to quarters. Victory's decks now become
a scene of frantic activity. Everything that might get in the way of fighting the ship must be removed. Here on the upper gun deck, the great cabin and all its partitions and the sick berth and all
its partitions cease to exist. Everything is removed. Within minutes, the only
items remaining on this deck are the guns, the tools necessary for the fighting of the guns, and the men necessary for
the fighting of the guns. Now sat waiting for Victory to come within range of the enemy fleet, the men are faced with a stark reality. The stove having been dismantled, there is no ability to cook food, and they must go into
battle with nothing more than a little raw pork and half a pint of white wine to sustain them. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") Nelson returns to the
quarterdeck at about 11:30. The French are now much, much closer, a matter of hundreds of yards away. Nelson calls for his
signal lieutenant, Pasco. He instructs him. He wishes
to make a signal to the fleet. England confides that
every man will do his duty. England is confident that
every man will do his duty. Pasco looked through the
code book and understands that confides is not in the code book. It will take too long
to send that message. and he suggests to Lord Nelson that expects be substituted for that word. Nelson agrees and tells Pasco to be quick, as he wishes to make another signal. 12 flag hoists from the mizzenmast of Victory convey the
message to the fleet. Collingwood still on
the ship, a mile away, wants simply to get on with the job. Having hoisted the famous signal, Nelson now sends a further one. Engage the enemy more closely, and those flags are left
flying at the mizzen of Victory as she goes into battle. It is the responsibility
of Hardy to put Victory through the French and Spanish
fleet at the right point. He's looking for the
French Admiral's flagship. The French, however,
break the admiral's flag at the last possible moment. Hardy is left with a choice. Does he pass in front of
the French ship Bucentaure or astern of her? He asks Nelson's advice. Nelson
makes a fateful decision. It matters not where we pass Bucentaure. Hardy decides there is a gap at the back of the French flagship, and that is where Victory
is steered towards. (muffled shouting)
(cannons boom and break glass) A carronade, unlike a cannon, which has a long bore and
is reasonably accurate over reasonable ranges, the
carronade is a smashing weapon. It has a short bore, much,
much shorter than a cannon. On the upper deck of Victory here, the cannons fire 12-pound cannonballs. This fires 68 pounds of cannonball. As Victory pushes through the
line of the combined fleet, she passes the stern of the
French flagship Bucentaure. The carronade throws
68 pounds of solid shot into the stern of the French ship who follow by a further 1.5 tons of shot as Victory passes Bucentaure. On the French flagship,
almost 200 men are killed. 90 are wounded. The French command and control system has been dealt a knockout blow. (muffled shouting)
(cannon booms and breaks ship) For Victory, however, we have a problem. The next ship to which we are now going to collide is Redoutable,
commanded by a Captain Lucas. A professional officer, he's trained his men
in how to board ships. He's trained his men in
close quarters fighting. They rain fire down onto
the upper decks of Victory. 200 grenades are thrown onto the ship. A fire is set amid
ships, and all the while, Nelson and Hardy pass to and
for in this small corridor as guns around them fire back and forth. (muffled shouting) To all intents and purposes,
Nelson's job is now done. The fleet is in action, his
captains have been instructed, the crew is well trained, and
he's getting on with the job. As he paces the quarterdeck
here back and forth with 12 pounders recoiling around him, he's left to dictate
his pulse battle report. That process, however, is
interrupted when his secretary, Mr. Scott, is cut in two by a cannonball. Not wishing to see the admiral upset, the crew of Victory
hurriedly lifts Scott's body from the deck and throw
it over the ship's side. Nelson, seeing what has happened, remarks somewhat laconically,
"Was that poor Scott?" Conditions on the quarterdeck of Victory now begin to deteriorate. A rank of Royal Marines are cut through and dismembered by a single bar shot. Nelson and Hardy continue
to pace the deck, Nelson remarking to his captain, "This is too warm work,
Hardy, to last long." Another shot comes through
and smashes the ship's wheel. The crew have to move
below to steer the ship. Hardy and Nelson continue to pace. Hardy gets to this spot here in front of where the wheel once was, turns, and finds Nelson lying on the deck. He rushes over to his commander in chief. "They have done for me at last, Hardy. My backbone is shot through." Nelson has been shot by
a French seaman or Marine from a distance of 14 meters, 45 feet. A ball of lead half an
inch across has smashed through his shoulder, passed
through the left lung, severing a branch of the pulmonary artery, passed through his backbone,
and lodged in the muscle underneath his right shoulder blade. There is nothing that can be done for him. Hardy summons over
members of Victory's crew. They lift Nelson from the deck and prepare to carry the him below down the ladder. Nelson instructs that they stop. He orders that a handkerchief is taken out and placed over his medals and his face. He is aware of the
potentially terrible impact upon the morale of Victory's crew if he is seen to have been wounded. The men then carry him down below. (muffled shouting)
(cannons boom) The cockpit on Victory's orlop deck. It's to hear that battle
casualties will be brought to see the ship surgeon, William Beatty. Beatty would be very used to dealing with a wide range of injuries at sea, though injuries as a result of battle would be even more horrendous than he was typically used to seeing, gunshot wounds, splinter wounds, amputations of both lower limb
and arm very common indeed. In the course of the battle,
Beatty treats 102 people, 91 of whom actually survive. Triage, prioritization of casualties, is a relatively new concept at this time. In some ships in the fleet, you'll be treated on a first
come first serve basis. We know that Beatty had
it assistants stationed to go through the line of
men as they built up here awaiting treatment to drag the ones that needed it most quickly
to the front of the queue. Gunshot wounds are
relatively straightforward to diagnose for him. He takes his index finger and places it into the bullet hole. If he can touch a bullet, he knows it can be removed
and he will operate. If he cannot touch a bullet, then he cannot operate because he knows he will be unsuccessful. Amputations, a little more tricky. A well-trained surgeon should be capable of taking an arm off in
about one and a half minutes, although it would take
a good five minutes then to tidy the wound up post amputation. When Victory had been under
fire for about 90 minutes, this area has come to resemble
"a butcher's shambles," as Beatty writes. Laid out along the ship's side, we have a queue of about
30 men awaiting treatment, sat watching their fellow
seamen going under the knife. Beatty is in between
patients when he hears a cry from forward along the deck. "Mr. Beatty, the admiral is here. Mr. Beatty, the admiral is wounded." (footsteps shuffle) It's to this spot here on the orlop deck that Nelson is carried. Beatty comes forward to
be greeted by the admiral. "Mr. Beatty, there is
nothing you can do for me. My backbone is shot through." Nelson explains that with
every beat of his heart, he feels a gush of blood
into his left breast. Beatty knows very quickly there is nothing that can be
done for the admiral. He does not attempt to treat him but returns quite quickly to those for whom he can be of some service. Nelson on the orlop
deck here is surrounded by men who are very well known to him, his steward, Chevallier. He has his foreign intelligence secretary, the Reverend Scott. They strip him to the
waist. It's very hot here. He's laid against the ship's side. His chest is rubbed to ease the pain. He's given sips of lemonade,
and all around him, the noise of battle goes on. "Victory, Victory, how you torment me," he explains as the guns go
off directly over his head. He becomes obsessed with the
concern that Captain Hardy, his close friend, has been killed. He doesn't believe
anyone could've survived on the upper deck of
the ship for very long. Beatty is unable to come below
because he has the battle to fight and the ship to look after. (muffled shouting)
(cannons boom and break ship) As Nelson is carried below, the situation on Victory
is becoming serious. The top masts have been shot away, a fire has been set to amid
ships following the throwing of 200 grenades onto the
deck from the Redoutable. Most of the men in this
area have been killed. The crew of Redoutable, sensing they are gaining the upper hand, begin to board Victory,
clambering up over the chains, aiming to get to the forecastle here and, from here, gain control of the ship. At this point, two things happen. Reinforcements come up from below decks and begin to push the French
back over the ship's side, and the fighting Temeraire, HMS Temeraire, comes down the far side of Redoutable. She now finds herself in a
very dangerous situation, British ships on either side of her. For the British, we have
a different concern. If we discharge guns now, they will pass through the French ship and hit our own men on the other side. We have to depress our guns to fire down and through Redoutable. The attempt to board
having been abandoned, the French now sets about
defending their ship as they are pounded. Captain Lucas fight on for a further hour before eventually surrendering. (muffled shouting)
(cannons boom) By 4:30 in the afternoon, the guns of the fleet are falling silent. A victory has been won but at some cost. 3,041 rounds have been fired by Victory. She's used seven and a
half tons of gunpowder. 51 of her crew are dead. 11 will die over the days
and the weeks to come. 102 have been injured. Across the fleet as a whole, 500 British sailors have lost their lives. The ships are in a terrible
state, and a storm is coming. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") With almost two hours after the battle, Hardy comes below to tell Nelson that a magnificent Victory has been won. Nelson has one concern. "How many ships? 14 or 15, my Lord?" "Nelson that is well, but
I had bargained on 20." "Thank God I have done my duty." It's at this point that
his thoughts change. Every discussion prior to
this point is about his duty, his duty to his king, his
country, and his fleet. His thoughts post this point
are about Emma Hamilton and his daughter, Horatia. He sat on the deck of his ship with not very long to live at all, his thoughts turning to
those closest to him. He craves human affection.
He craves human touch. "Kiss me, Hardy." Hardy bends, kisses him on the forehead, stands for a moment's
reflection, bends again, kisses him on the cheek, stands and overcome with emotion, leaves. Nelson now goes downhill very quickly. Falling onto his right-hand side, he asks to be left in that position. It eases the pain. But the blood that had
filled his left lung now drains into his
right, speeding his death, as he, in effect, drowns in his own blood, muttering, "Drink, drink,
fan, fan, rub, rub," and finally, "Thank God
I have done my duty." He passes away quite quietly. It's a death befitting
Britain's greatest naval hero and ensured his immortal memory. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5") Today, Victory's permanently
dry docked in Portsmouth, a part of the National
Museum of the Royal Navy. Over the next decade and a half, the ship will be subject to a program of conservation intended
to ensure she survives for a further 250 years, continues to epitomize the fighting spirit of the Royal Navy, and
remains the nation's flagship. ("Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5")
