Hardy, unable to restrain his tears, ascended the companion ladder. As the guns were fired into the passing squadron of Rear-Admiral Dumanoir, the ship shook violently, thereby causing the dying man intense agony. “Oh, _Victory_, _Victory_,” he cried, “how you distract my poor brain,” followed by “how dear is life to all men.” Then his wandering thoughts turned homeward, and the memory of happy hours at Merton made him add, “Yet one would like to live a little longer, too.” Hardy again entered the cockpit with the good news that fourteen or fifteen ships had struck. “That is well,” Nelson breathed, “but I bargained for twenty. Anchor, Hardy, anchor.” The Captain then asked whether Collingwood should not take the post of Commander-in-chief. The Admiral answered with all the force he could muster, “Not whilst I live, Hardy--no other man shall command whilst I live. Anchor, Hardy, anchor; if I live I’ll anchor.” Nelson was sinking: the moment for taking his long farewell of his Captain had come. “Don’t throw me overboard, Hardy. Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton; take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me, Hardy.” As the sorrowful officer bent over him consciousness began to fade. “Who is that?” he asked. On being told that it was Hardy, he whispered, “God bless you, Hardy.” His life flickered like the candle fixed on the beam above, and then slowly went out. He murmured that he wished he had not left the deck, that he had _not_ been a _great_ sinner, and said with deliberation, “Thank God, I have done my duty.” “God and my country” were the last words heard by the sorrowful little group gathered round their beloved master. In the arms of Mr Walter Burke, the purser of the ship, Nelson lay dead. And above, the heavy guns thundered a funeral dirge. As we have already seen, the _Victory_ was engaged in a duel with the _Redoutable_ when Nelson received his death wound. For a short period the Frenchman did not return the fire, and thinking that Captain Lucas was about to surrender, the _Victory’s_ guns also kept silence. But the interval had been used for another purpose. The French crew were swarming over the bulwarks of the British flagship, climbing chains, and even clambering over the anchor in their attempt to get on board. A desperate resistance was offered, Captain Adair was killed by a musket ball, as well as eighteen marines and twenty seamen.