Captain Lutwidge, seeing the boy"s danger,--he being separated from the bear only by a narrow chasm in the ice,--fired a gun. This frightened the bear away. Nelson then returned to face the consequences of his disobedience.
He was severely reprimanded by his captain for "conduct so unworthy of the office he filled." When asked what motive he had in hunting a bear, he replied, still trembling from the excitement of the encounter, "Sir, I wished to kill the bear that I might carry the skin to my father."
The expedition finally worked its way out of the ice and sailed for home.
Horatio"s next voyage was to the East Indies, aboard the Seahorse, one of the vessels of a squadron under the command of Sir Edward Hughes.
His attention to duty attracted the notice of his senior officer, on whose recommendation he was rated as a midshipman.
After eighteen months in the trying climate of India, the youth"s health gave way, and he was sent home in the Dolphin. His physical weakness affected his spirits. Gloom fastened upon him, and for a time he was very despondent about his future.
"I felt impressed," he says, "with an idea that I should never rise in my profession. My mind was staggered with a view of the difficulties I had to surmount and the little interest I possessed. I could discover no means of reaching the object of my ambition. After a long and gloomy revery in which I almost wished myself overboard, a sudden flow of patriotism was kindled within me and presented my king and my country as my patrons. My mind exulted in the idea. "Well, then," I exclaimed, "I will be a hero, and, confiding in Providence, I will brave every danger!""
In that hour Nelson leaped from boyhood to manhood. Thenceforth the purpose of his life never changed. From that time, as he often said afterward, "a radiant orb was suspended in his mind"s eye, which urged him onward to renown."
His health improved very much during the homeward voyage, and he was soon able to resume duty again.
At nineteen he was made second lieutenant of the Lowestoffe; and at twenty he was commander of the Badger. Before he was twenty-one, owing largely to his courage and presence of mind in face of every danger, and his enthusiasm in his profession, "he had gained that mark," says his biographer, Southey, "which brought all the honors of the service within his reach."
Pleasing in his address and conversation, always kind and thoughtful in his treatment of the men and boys under him, Nelson was the best-loved man in the British navy,--nay, in all England.
When he was appointed to the command of the Boreas, a ship of twenty-eight guns, then bound for the Leeward Islands, he had thirty midshipmen under him. When any of them, at first, showed any timidity about going up the masts, he would say, by way of encouragement, "I am going a race to the masthead, and beg that I may meet you there." And again he would say cheerfully, that "any person was to be pitied who could fancy there was any danger, or even anything disagreeable, in the attempt."
"Your Excellency must excuse me for bringing one of my midshipmen with me," he said to the governor of Barbados, who had invited him to dine.
"I make it a rule to introduce them to all the good company I can, as they have few to look up to besides myself during the time they are at sea." Was it any wonder that his "middies" almost worshiped him?
This thoughtfulness in small matters is always characteristic of truly great, large-souled men. Another distinguishing mark of Nelson"s greatness was that he ruled by love rather than fear.
When, at the age of forty-seven, he fell mortally wounded at the battle of Trafalgar, all England was plunged into grief. The crowning victory of his life had been won, but his country was inconsolable for the loss of the n.o.blest of her naval heroes.
"The greatest sea victory that the world had ever known was won," says W. Clark Russell, "but at such a cost, that there was no man throughout the British fleet--there was no man indeed in all England--but would have welcomed defeat sooner than have paid the price of this wonderful conquest."
The last words of the hero who had won some of the greatest of England"s sea fights were, "Thank G.o.d, I have done my duty."
HOW STANLEY FOUND LIVINGSTONE
In the year 1866 David Livingstone, the great African explorer and missionary, started on his last journey to Africa. Three years pa.s.sed away during which no word or sign from him had reached his friends. The whole civilized world became alarmed for his safety. It was feared that his interest in the savages in the interior of Africa had cost him his life.
Newspapers and clergymen in many lands were clamoring for a relief expedition to be sent out in search of him. Royal societies, scientific a.s.sociations, and the British government were debating what steps should be taken to find him. But they were very slow in coming to any conclusion, and while they were weighing questions and discussing measures, an energetic American settled the matter offhand.
This was James Gordon Bennett, Jr., manager of the New York Herald and son of James Gordon Bennett, its editor and proprietor.
Mr. Bennett was in a position which brought him into contact with some of the cleverest and most enterprising young men of his day. From all those he knew he singled out Henry M. Stanley for the difficult and perilous task of finding Livingstone.
And who was this young man who was chosen to undertake a work which required the highest qualities of manhood to carry it to success?
Henry M. Stanley, whose baptismal name was John Rowlands, was born of poor parents in Wales, in 1840. Being left an orphan at the age of three, he was sent to the poorhouse in his native place. There he remained for ten years, and then shipped as a cabin boy in a vessel bound for America. Soon after his arrival in this country, he found employment in New Orleans with a merchant named Stanley. His intelligence, energy, and ambition won him so much favor with this gentleman that he adopted him as his son and gave him his name.
The elder Stanley died while Henry was still a youth. This threw him again upon his own resources, as he inherited nothing from his adopted father, who died without making a will. He next went to California to seek his fortune. He was not successful, however, and at twenty he was a soldier in the Civil War. When the war was over, he engaged himself as a correspondent to the New York Herald.
In this capacity he traveled extensively in the East, doing brilliant work for his paper. When England went to war with King Theodore of Abyssinia, he accompanied the English army to Abyssinia, and from thence wrote vivid descriptive letters to the Herald. The child whose early advantages were only such as a Welsh poorhouse afforded, was already, through his own unaided efforts, a leader in his profession.
He was soon to become a leader in a larger sense.
At the time Mr. Bennett conceived the idea of sending an expedition in search of Livingstone, Stanley was in Spain. He had been sent there by the Herald to report the civil war then raging in that country. He thus describes the receipt of Mr. Bennett"s message and the events immediately following:--
"I am in Madrid, fresh from the carnage at Valencia. At 10 A.M. Jacopo, at No.--Calle de la Cruz, hands me a telegram; on opening it I find it reads, "Come to Paris on important business." The telegram is from James Gordon Bennett, Jr., the young manager of the New York Herald.
"Down come my pictures from the walls of my apartments on the second floor; into my trunks go my books and souvenirs, my clothes are hastily collected, some half washed, some from the clothesline half dry, and after a couple of hours of hasty hard work my portmanteaus are strapped up and labeled for "Paris.""
It was late at night when Stanley arrived in Paris. "I went straight to the "Grand Hotel,"" he says, "and knocked at the door of Mr. Bennett"s room.
""Come in," I heard a voice say. Entering I found Mr. Bennett in bed.
""Who are you?" he asked.
""My name is Stanley," I answered.
""Ah, yes! sit down; I have important business on hand for you.
""Where do you think Livingstone is?"
""I really do not know, sir."
""Do you think he is alive?"
""He may be, and he may not be," I answered.
""Well, I think he is alive, and that he can be found, and I am going to send you to find him."
""What!" said I, "do you really think I can find Dr. Livingstone? Do you mean me to go to Central Africa?"
""Yes, I mean that you shall go and find him wherever you may hear that he is.... Of course you will act according to your own plans and do what you think best--BUT FIND LIVINGSTONE.""
The question of expense coming up, Mr. Bennett said: "Draw a thousand pounds now; and when you have gone through that, draw another thousand; and when that is spent, draw another thousand; and when you have finished that, draw another thousand, and so on; but, FIND LIVINGSTONE."
Stanley asked no questions, awaited no further instructions. The two men parted with a hearty hand clasp. "Good night, and G.o.d be with you,"
said Bennett.
"Good night, sir," returned Stanley. "What it is in the power of human nature to do I will do; and on such an errand as I go upon, G.o.d will be with me."
The young man immediately began the work of preparation for his great undertaking. This in itself was a task requiring more than ordinary judgment and foresight, but Stanley was equal to the occasion.
On January 6, 1871, he reached Zanzibar, an important native seaport on the east coast of Africa. Here the preparations for the journey were completed. Soon, with a train composed of one hundred and ninety men, twenty donkeys, and baggage amounting to about six tons, he started from this point for the interior of the continent.
Then began a journey the dangers and tediousness of which can hardly be described. Stanley and his men were often obliged to wade through swamps filled with alligators. Crawling on hands and knees, they forced their way through miles of tangled jungle, breathing in as they went the sickening odor of decaying vegetables. They were obliged to be continually on their guard against elephants, lions, hyenas, and other wild inhabitants of the jungle. Fierce as these were, however, they were no more to be dreaded than the savage tribes whom they sometimes encountered. Whenever they stopped to rest, they were tormented by flies, white ants, and reptiles, which crawled all over them.