"What has poor little Horatio done," cried he, "that he, being so
weak, should be sent to rough it at sea? But let him come, and if a
cannon-ball takes off his head, he will at least be provided for."
Under such gloomy foreboding began the most dazzling career that the
sea, the mother of so many heroes, has ever seen.[1] Spain, after a
short hesitation, yielded the British demands, so that war did not
come, and the "Raisonnable," with other ships, was again put out of
commission. The incident of the Falkland Islands, however, had served
the purpose of introducing Nelson to his profession, for which
otherwise the opportunity might not have offered. Being so young when
thus embarked, he, in common with many of the most successful seamen
of that day, got scanty schooling; nor did he, as some others did, by
after application remedy the eccentricities of style, and even of
grammar, which are apt to result from such early neglect. His letters,
vigorous and direct as they are, present neither the polished diction
of Collingwood, nor the usual even correctness of St. Vincent and
Saumarez, but are, on the contrary, constantly disfigured by awkward
expressions and bad English. There was rarely, however, danger of
mistaking his meaning, as was sometimes charged against Lord Howe.

Here, before fairly parting with the humble home life, of which the
motherless boy had seen, and was throughout his career to see so
little, is a fit place to introduce two anecdotes associated with
those early days which his biographers have transmitted to us. We of
these critical times have learned to look with incredulity, not always
unmixed with derision, upon stories relating to the childhood of
distinguished men; but it can safely be said that the two now to be
given are in entire keeping, not merely with particular traits, but
with the great ruling tenor of Nelson's whole life. He and his elder
brother were going to school one winter day upon their ponies.