The British navy may well have ceased to count its victories.It is rich beyond the wildest dreams of success and fame.It may well, rather, on a culminating day of its history, cast about for the memory of some reverses to appease the jealous fates which attend the prosperity and triumphs of a nation.It holds, indeed, the heaviest inheritance that has ever been entrusted to the courage and fidelity of armed men.
It is too great for mere pride.It should make the seamen of to-day humble in the secret of their hearts, and indomitable in their unspoken resolution.In all the records of history there has never been a time when a victorious fortune has been so faithful to men making war upon the sea.And it must be confessed that on their part they knew how to be faithful to their victorious fortune.
They were exalted.They were always watching for her smile; night or day, fair weather or foul, they waited for her slightest sign with the offering of their stout hearts in their hands.And for the inspiration of this high constancy they were indebted to Lord Nelson alone.Whatever earthly affection he abandoned or grasped, the great Admiral was always, before all, beyond all, a lover of Fame.He loved her jealously, with an inextinguishable ardour and an insatiable desire - he loved her with a masterful devotion and an infinite trustfulness.In the plenitude of his passion he was an exacting lover.And she never betrayed the greatness of his trust! She attended him to the end of his life, and he died pressing her last gift (nineteen prizes) to his heart."Anchor, Hardy - anchor!" was as much the cry of an ardent lover as of a consummate seaman.Thus he would hug to his breast the last gift of Fame.