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WITH the end of the war English society swarmed into France, just as it did after the Peace of Amiens and after Waterloo. With it went Nelson from a mixture of motives. One was the desire to learn French; another was the desire to live cheaply, for Nelson was in his usual condition of having slightly less money than he believed he needed, which condition may be attributed partly to unqualified carelessness and partly to careless generosity. He had left England with the determination not to seek employment during peace-time, and with the expectation of spending at least six months in France; he came back to England in two months and immediately set about trying to obtain a ship. His letters afford no distinct statement of the motive of this complete reversal of his plans. He found himself entirely out of sympathy with the French nation despite a flirtation or two (wordless ones) with pretty girls with whom he had hardly a word in common. He disliked French manners, habits and points of view. But, besides all this, he fell in love with an English clergyman’s daughter at St. Omer, wrote to an uncle for an allowance in the event of marriage, almost certainly received the promise of one, and did not marry. Presumably the girl refused him, after a courtship which cannot have endured more than two months; but seeing that his letter to his uncle is dated after his arrival in England, it is just as probable that he never made a proposal, but thought better of the idea and went to sea, either to put himself out of the way of making it or else because the desire for employment suddenly overcame all other motives. However it was, Nelson came to London, called on Lord Howe, dined with him, and discarded all the wild plans he had hinted at to his Uncle Suckling—plans for applying for command of the East India Company’s marine, for seeking a government sinecure, for applying for a guardship—and accepted the First Lord’s offer of a frigate. Having thus set himself again to the diligent practice of his profession, the change of ministry which occurred simultaneously (January, 1784) did not disappoint him. He was given command of the “Boreas,” in which he sailed from Woolwich in April, 1784.

He had hoped for the East Indies, but the Admiralty decreed that it was to the West Indies that the “Boreas” should be despatched. We might say that this was one of the occasions which we can pick out as definitely affecting subsequent history, but we cannot be sure. We know what Nelson did on the West Indian station, but we cannot even guess to what activities his restless energy and his quest for responsibility would have led him in the East Indies. The Admiral commanding on the Leeward Islands station was Sir Richard Hughes, a man of undistinguished record. He was a man of only modest ability, and not one of ingenuity nor of vast energy. He was not successful in getting the best out of captains and his crews, and was a steady, easy-going, not-too-intelligent gentleman. His wife, who, with his children, sailed for the West Indies in the “Boreas,” was of different stuff, and it is to her that we owe several sympathetic and intelligent letters about Nelson at this period. Nelson clearly won her affection at the start (in a letter to his brother, who came with them as chaplain, he describes her as a “fine talkative lady”), and was to benefit from the fact, just as once he had benefited from the affection of Lady Parker.

The commissioning of the “Boreas” gave Nelson the usual bits of patronage associated with Captain’s rank; it was his turn to select “captain’s servants” as budding admirals, and he was able to take the Reverend W. Nelson, his elder brother, as chaplain. This brother had long hankered after such an appointment, despite Nelson’s arguments that he would find it very unpleasant under a tactless captain. Even under Horatio the one experience seems to have been sufficient, and he never tried the experiment again. The boys and midshipmen, on the other hand, were treated with the sympathy one would expect. Southey’s brilliant paraphrases of Lady Hughes’s letters have told us all about how he would coax timid youngsters into making the ascent to the masthead, and how he took the noon observation along with them daily—an odd little example, this, of the golden disciplinary rule of never giving an order one is not ready to carry out oneself—and how, on his arrival at Barbados, he laid down his rule of always being accompanied by one of the boys when dining with Governors and similar gentlemen, in order to habituate them to polite society.

This commission, all the same, was not going to be a peaceful one without incident. Even before the “Boreas” left English waters things began to happen: first the pilot ran her aground, then Nelson had to intervene in a quarrel between a Dutch captain and his English crew, who apparently wanted to leave the Dutch service and were unable to because they were not allowed to take their belongings with them. Nelson settled the business by the high-handed method of ordering the Dutchman not to be allowed to leave his moorings nor to have any communication with the shore until men and goods were set free. What the Dutchman thought about it can well be guessed, but apparently Nelson’s action was approved by his superiors—a King’s ship in the Narrow Seas had an overwhelming authority. Next, at Portsmouth, Nelson, while riding round the town, was run away with by his horse, and after being carried all round and through the town, only escaped a worse accident by throwing himself off at full speed at the cost of some nasty bruises, while his companion (Nelson only says “a young girl” and we are left in the dark as to who she was) was only saved by some brave unknown catching her horse’s bridle.

A voyage begun under these auspices could hardly help being crammed with incident even without Nelson in command; as it was, Nelson made the most of the opportunities which came his way. Quite early in the cruise a restless note creeps into his letters. One of his fellow frigate captains is “no more of an officer as a captain than he was as a lieutenant.” Admiral Hughes is “tolerable, but I do not like him ... his wife has an eternal clack.” In short, “I detest this country ... the Admiral and all about him are great ninnies.” The only man worth counting on is Collingwood, with whom he was in infrequent contact.

It was not long before this fretting, restless young man of twenty-six found ample trouble to occupy his mind; he succeeded in a couple of months (as soon as the hurricane season was over, in fact, and activity was possible) in stirring up a couple of hornets’ nests. The first brought him much more trouble than the second, in this fashion. The Navigation Acts laid down that trade with British colonies could only take place in British-built ships manned to the extent of at least three-quarters by British subjects. The Leeward Islands possessed an extensive trade with the United States of America, which was carried on by American-built ships manned by American subjects. Up to two years before, until England recognized America’s independence, this had been legal enough, but things were different now. Hughes, easy-going man, wished to let well alone. He had no orders from home on the subject, and his mild good sense may have protested against the idea of arbitrarily interfering with a business which was contributing its mite towards the wealth of the world. Nelson, carrying Collingwood with him, saw matters in a different light. He claimed that the Statutes of the Admiralty specifically ordered all captains to enforce the Navigation Acts. That was the argument he employed, although from the tenor of his letters one is led to suspect that other leading motives were his restlessness and his desire to show the Americans what they had lost by their treason and revolt. Collingwood, on the other hand, brought into action the conservative argument that the Navigation Acts were helpful to the growth of England’s mercantile marine and augmented her prestige. Between them they pinned down Hughes into an admission that they ought to see the Act carried into execution, and with that off went Nelson to St. Kitts, where, to the consternation of islanders and Americans alike, the “Boreas” fell into the placid life of colonial export like the stork among the frogs, turned American shipping away, and generally caused trouble.

Nevertheless, no sooner was Nelson’s influence removed from Hughes than the latter was beset by arguments from all in the islands pointing out the disturbance likely to be caused and the doubtful legality of his orders. Hughes, as was only to be expected of one of his temperament, tried to shuffle off responsibility by sending orders to his captains to be guided by the wishes of the governors of individual islands, and not to interfere with trade if the governors did not desire them to do so. And, naturally, the governors, whose main idea was to keep their people contented and prosperous, did not want the Acts enforced. General Shirley, Governor of St. Kitts, promptly told Nelson so and requested him to leave off his present course of action. No effort of imagination is needed to realize what Nelson thought of this business of being put under a soldier’s orders and required to break an Act of Parliament of which he highly approved. Shirley was sent away with a flea in his ear (Nelson writes that he “trimmed him up”), for nothing Hughes could do could make Shirley Nelson’s hierarchical superior. As to Hughes himself, Nelson came to the most serious decision an officer of a fighting service could possibly take. He wrote to him announcing that he declined to obey his orders in this matter, and he gave public notice that he would continue to enforce the Navigation Acts as heretofore. Hughes dilly-dallied; the poor man had been thrust into a position of unexpected unpleasantness, and he had not the force of will to carry through his intentions. Nelson’s defiance called forth at first the natural response, to supersede him and court-martial him for disobedience, but Hughes found his other captains hesitant about the legality of his decision regarding the permission to trade, which made him rather doubtful as to what would be the verdict of the court-martial, and at the same time gave him to fear lest he should receive similar defiance from any other captain sent to St. Kitts. A stronger man might still have carried the matter through with a high hand—we can picture Jervis or Hood in such a situation—but Hughes hesitated. He allowed Nelson to proceed, and assumed the extraordinary attitude of a disinterested observer. During some of the trouble which Nelson’s activity brought down on the head of his captain, Hughes was actually present with his flag flying in the port, and yet he made no attempt to interfere. Neither Americans nor islanders were going to give up a profitable trade without a struggle; when Nelson displayed his determination by sending into port for condemnation an American vessel which was caught in the act, they attempted to obtain British registration for their ships, only to find that Nelson refused to be influenced by such registration, and continued to send the ships in. Not even a legal decision in Nelson’s favour, confirming every one of his actions, ended the struggle. The inhabitants of Nevis incited the masters of the American vessels to bring suit against Nelson for assault and imprisonment. Four thousand pounds damages were claimed, and for weeks Nelson had to remain on board the “Boreas” to avoid arrest. But news of the business at last reached England, along with a memorial from Nelson to the King stating his position. Back came despatches; Hughes was highly commended for his zeal in suppressing the trade, and instructions were given for the defence of Nelson at the Government’s expense and with the approval of the local governors.

Nelson was nominally cleared of all possibility of blame. Had his first judgment been at fault, he would have been liable not merely to dismissal from the navy for his disobedience, but also for damages for his disturbance of trade, to an amount which the exasperation of the trade would have raised to a figure sufficient to leave him for life in a debtor’s prison. That was the stake he had risked; his reward was nothing except the knowledge of having done his duty. He received no official statement of approval of his actions. His further employment in peace-time was rendered unlikely. He had antagonized powerful interests outside the service, and within it he had infuriated Hughes and gained himself a reputation as a restless customer, the sort of captain no Admiral who valued his peace of mind (and most Admirals do) would willingly see under his command—as long as peace endured.

His motive cannot instantly be stated. First and foremost, of course, was the desire to do his duty; that goes quite without saying. But there were other factors: his restless energy, his poor opinion of Hughes, his antagonism towards the Americans—all played their part. And, obscurely but certainly, there was a slight additional motive. Nelson’s independence of mind was such that a course of action which he thought right was more attractive still if acted upon without orders, and much more attractive if acted upon against orders. Let it be repeated that Nelson had to be sure that the course of action was right before he entered upon it against orders. But, once he was sure, that course of action attained additional attractiveness if to act upon it meant disobeying some one of whom he did not hold too high an opinion. The same trait is not unusual in the character of most people, but generally it avoids notice in consequence of being overlain by fear of responsibility or dislike of attracting attention. Nelson offered more than one example of it later in his career.

This subject of controversy was not the only one which arose during that eventful commission. At the time when the Navigation Acts affair was at its height Nelson in the “Boreas” came to Antigua, and there found a broad pendant flying by the authority of the Commissioner of the Navy, who happened to be a Captain Moutray, much Nelson’s senior, but in civil employ and not military. Nelson, as senior captain in employment, promptly announced that the pendant had no business to be flying; and, when he was informed that Hughes had issued orders to his captains to conform to any directions of Moutray’s, he denied that Hughes had any power to give such orders, and it was only to save causing Moutray unnecessary pain that he refrained from ordering the pendant to be struck at once. Once more Hughes submitted to the energetic vigour of this subordinate (Hughes was, of course, quite wrong in trying to put his captains under command of a half-pay officer) and the Admiralty bore Nelson out—in this case, however, with the sharp comment that it might have been better if Nelson had consulted first with Hughes before taking control himself. A very sound opinion; but the Admiralty did not know Hughes as well as Nelson did. This very comment goes to illustrate the attraction the disobeying of ill-conceived orders had for Nelson.

This business occurred during the months of the hurricane season, during which Nelson was in close contact with Moutray. Curiously, he seems to have made a friend of Moutray despite the disagreement, and, perhaps not so curiously, he made a much greater friend of his wife. To Mrs. Moutray he gave all his devotion for a time, and her departure with her husband left him, so he wrote, without a single valuable friend in the islands. They were rather charming letters he wrote to Mrs. Moutray and about her; the lack of literary grace is more than made up by his wistful sincerity. “I am really an April day; happy on her account, but truly grieved were I only to consider myself.” He wrote to his brother to see that his sister met Mrs. Moutray that winter at Bath. “What an acquisition to any female to be acquainted with,” he writes.

Then came Prince William Henry to the station, to serve as captain under Nelson’s command. The two got on well together, and Nelson held a high opinion of the Prince’s professional talents—though how much of it was due to Nelson’s inherent respect for Royalty cannot be said. There is a portentous supplement in the letter stating this opinion—“Some others, I have heard, will tell another story.” Anyway, Prince William found himself involved in a disagreement with one of his lieutenants, who demanded a court-martial and raised endless trouble by that demand, which eventually resulted in the despatch by Nelson of two vessels to Jamaica. The Admiralty’s reply to the report sent in by Nelson bore the ominous rider—“My lords are not satisfied with the reasons you have given.... You will be answerable for the consequence, if the Crown should be put to any expense upon that account.” So much for Royalty.

The last occurrence of note on the station was the declaration to Nelson by a merchant of Antigua (after a fruitless approach to Prince William) concerning frauds upon the Admiralty alleged to have been committed during the last war at various West Indian dockyards. Nelson took the matter up, but (as must necessarily be the case when a number of powerful people are interested in the suppression of evidence) it took years to sift the truth of the matter. Nelson was bothered both by this and by a renewal of the Nevis prosecution long afterwards, while he was on half-pay in England. There can be small wonder that he wrote, as he did, “This last year I have been plagued to death,” although there is the very pertinent reply to this complaint that nearly all his troubles he brought upon himself—he plunged into everything he thought could relate to his duty without a care as to what it might cost him in trouble and sacrifice. In nearly all the incidents related here a more cautious, or less active, or more indolent officer, or one with less self-assurance might have held back, to the delight of Sir Richard Hughes and his fellow occupiers of comfortable berths, although probably not to the benefit of the service.

Even the end of the commission was not peaceful, for the return of the “Boreas” to home waters coincided with the Netherlands dispute, wherein France and Prussia faced each other on the verge of war across the prostrate body of the United Provinces. A France in a better financial condition would have fought, but as it was she had to yield; experience had already taught her that although she might face war with England alone, war against England in alliance with a powerful Continental state was too exhausting and too perilous. But the danger persisted for several months, during which the “Boreas” was kept in commission and fully engaged upon the task of finding men for the Royal Navy by the process of intercepting merchant ships in the Channel and seizing the bulk of their crews. Pitt had been in power for some time now, and his whole-hearted policy of reducing expenses had been bad for the navy—it was likely that the number of ships available for immediate service was smaller than that at the disposal of France, without considering any accession of strength France could look to from her allies. The condition of the English army at this period was too lamentable for discussion and certainly too lamentable for the army to carry any weight in the settlement of affairs.

We can find in Nelson’s correspondence no trace of distaste for the press-gang work upon which he was engaged: on the contrary, the activity and ingenuity it called for suited him admirably. It came to an end with the settlement of the dispute in the manner desired by Prussia and England and the turning of French attention to internal rather than to external affairs. In November, 1787, the navy was demobilized (if an expression of such technical significance can be applied to a process so floundering as occurred in those days) and the “Boreas” was paid off. A commission crammed with incident had come to an end. What was possibly the most important incident had not yet been noticed; it deserves the distinction of a new chapter.