On the morning of this day, the remnant of the enemy's ships put to sea to attempt to recapture some of their friends, but the gale coming on, the only result was the loss of two more of themselves, one of which fell into our hands before going ashore. The "VICTORY," with the small amount of sail she could show to the gale, laboured deeply in the heavy sea, and on the 24th, when the wind moderated a little, she was taken in tow by the _Polyphemus_. In the afternoon, managing to rig up some jury topmasts and a mizen-mast, she was more comfortable, but at 5 p.m. next day, on the storm increasing, the towing hawser parted, the mainyard carried away, and her sails split to ribbons. With nothing now to steady her, the "VICTORY" rolled dangerously and unmanageably, and an anxious night was passed, but happily for her as well as other of our ships, the violence of the wind abated in the morning, and the _Neptune_ taking her in tow, after two days brought her safely into Gibraltar. In the meantime Lord Nelson's remains had been placed in a cask of brandy, as the best means at hand of preserving them, and on the 3rd of November, having refitted, the "VICTORY," accompanied by the _Belleisle_, sailed on the melancholy duty of conveying the body of her hero to England, and, after a most boisterous passage, reached Spithead, on December 4th. Here she was the object of a most intense and reverential attention, her battered sides, with, in many places, the shot yet sticking in them; her still bloody decks; her jury masts and knotted rigging;--all attested the severity of the ordeal she had gone through; while the flag that still waved, but at half-mast, reminded the spectator that the great Admiral who had such a short time before sailed from that very anchorage to victory, had now, also, returned to his grave. Amongst other injuries, the "VICTORY'S" figure-head, a coat of arms supported by a sailor on one side and a marine on the other, was struck by shot, which carried away the legs of the soldier and the arm of the sailor, and the story goes (but we cannot vouch for its truth), that all the men who lost legs in the action were marines, and those who lost arms sailors. The figure-head is still the same, but the wounded supporters have been replaced by two little boys, who, leaning affectionately on the shield, seem certainly more fitted for the peaceful life of Portsmouth Harbour than for the hard times their more warlike predecessors lived in.