After this brief mental struggle I could look at Malespina, glad that he was alive and sorry that he was hurt; and I remember, not without pride, that I did all I could to show him my feelings. Poor little mistress! How terrible must her anguish have been all this time. My heart overflowed with pitiful kindness at the thought—I could have run all the way to Vejer to say: “Señorita Doña Rosa, your Don Rafael is safe and sound.”
The luckless Malespina had been brought on board the Santa Ana from the Nepomuceno, which had also been captured, and with so many wounded on board that it had been necessary, as we learned, to distribute them or they must have perished of neglect. When the father and his daughter’s fiancé had exchanged the first greetings and spoken of the absent ones on shore, the conversation turned on the details of the battle. My master related all that had occurred on board the Trinidad and then he added: “But no one has told me exactly what has become of Gravina. Was he taken prisoner, or has he got off to Cádiz?”
“The Admiral,” said Malespina, “stood a terrific fire from the Defiance and the Revenge. The Neptune, a Frenchman, came to her assistance with the San Ildefonso and the San Justo; but our enemies were reinforced by the Dreadnought, the Thunderer, and the Polyphemus; so that resistance was hopeless. Seeing the Príncipe de Astúrias with all her tackle cut, her masts overboard and her sides riddled with balls, while Gravina himself and Escaño, his second in command, were both wounded, they resolved on giving up the struggle which was quite in vain for the battle was lost. Gravina hoisted the signal to retire on the stump of a mast and sailed off for Cádiz, followed by the San Justo, the San Leandro, the Montañes and three others; only regretting their inability to rescue the San Ildefonso which had fallen into the hands of the enemy.”
“But tell us what happened on board the Nepomuceno,” said my master, deeply interested. “I can hardly believe that Churruca can be dead; and, though everyone tells me that he is, I cannot help fancying that that wonderful man must still be alive somewhere on earth.”
But Malespina told him that it had been his misfortune to see Churruca killed and said he would relate every detail. A few officers gathered round him while I, as curious as they could be, was all ears in order not to lose a syllable.
“Even as we came out of Cádiz,” said Malespina, “Churruca had a presentiment of disaster. He had voted against sailing out to sea, for he knew the inferiority of our armament, and he also had little confidence in Villeneuve’s skill and judgment. All his predictions were verified—all, even to his own death: for there is no doubt that he had foreseen it as surely as he did our defeat. On the 19th he had said to Apodaca, his brother-in-law, before going on board: ‘Sooner than surrender my ship, I will blow her up or go to the bottom. That is the duty of every man who serves his king and country.’ And the same day, writing to a friend, he said: ‘If you hear that my ship is taken you will know that I am dead.’
“Indeed it was legible in his sad grave face that he looked forward to nothing but a catastrophe. I believe that this conviction, and the absolute impossibility of avoiding defeat while feeling himself strong enough for his own part, seriously weighed upon his mind, for he was as capable of great deeds as he was of noble thoughts.
“Churruca’s was a religious as well as a superior mind. On the 21st, at eleven in the morning, he called up all the soldiers and crew; he bid them all kneel and said to his chaplain in solemn tones: ‘Fulfil your function, holy Father, and absolve these brave souls that know not what this fight may have in store for them.’ When the priest had pronounced absolution Churruca desired them to stand up, and speaking in friendly but audible tones he added: ‘My children all:—In God’s name I promise heavenly bliss to all who die doing their duty. If one of you shirks it he shall be shot on the spot; or, if he escapes my notice or that of the gallant officers I have the honor to command, his remorse shall pursue him so long as he crawls through the rest of his miserable and dishonored days.’
“This harangue, as eloquent as it was wise, combining the ideas of religion and of military duty, filled every man on board with enthusiasm. Alas for all these brave hearts!—wasted like gold sunk at the bottom of the ocean! Face to face with the English, Churruca watched Villeneuve’s preliminary maneuvers with entire disapproval, and when the signal was given for the whole fleet to turn about—a maneuver which, as we know, reversed the order of battle—he told his captain in so many words that this blunder had lost us the day. He immediately understood the masterly plan struck out by Nelson of cutting our line through the centre from the rear, and engaging the whole fleet at once, dealing with our ships in separate divisions so that they could not assist each other.
“The Nepomuceno was at the end of the line. The Royal Sovereign and the Santa Ana opened fire and then all the ships in turn came into action. Five English vessels under Collingwood attacked our ship; two, however, passed on and Churruca had only three to deal with.
“We held out bravely against these odds till two in the afternoon, suffering terribly, however, though we dealt double
