SCENE VII. The cockpit. The dimly-burning lights, the smoke, the

heat, and against the bulkheads the wounded, the dying, and the dead. The surgeons half naked, with blood-sprinked faces, arms, and garments; the "idlers"--all too busy here. Moan and groan and mournful cry. What a terrible scene! What a fearful place to die in!

But as the hero is borne down here, even wounded men forget their own pains and misery as they draw the chief surgeon's attention to the bearers.

"Doctor, doctor," they cry, "it is the admiral! It is Lord Nelson himself!"

The dying Hero is borne tenderly into the midshipmen's berth, and laid upon a bed. Even the surgeon, who hastens to help him, sees how unavailing all his efforts must be. The poor admiral can read his doom written in the surgeon's pitying face. Yet it only confirms what he himself had thought before. His days are numbered, his hour is come. He is in pain, in agony, so much so that he wishes death would come to relieve him--wishes it were all, all over; and yet not for a little. Hardy he must see, and it seems such an interminable time before he can come to him. "Will no one bring him?" he moans piteously. "Perhaps he is slain. He is surely dead."

But overhead the battle rages on and on, and he can hear the wild "hurrahs!" of the men as ship after ship strikes her flag.

Hardy comes at last and bends mournfully over him, utterly unable to suppress his emotion. But Hardy must tell him how the battle goes. Then this faithful officer, with a heart bursting with emotion, shakes hands, and rushes once again to his post on deck.

But see! Hardy has returned; and Nelson can talk now only of the dear ones at home.

"God bless you, Hardy," he says feebly, and shortly after, "Thank God, _I have done my duty!_"

And these are the last words the Hero speaks. His breast heaves, there is one long-drawn, but half-stifled sigh, and--_Nelson is no more_.