Horatio Nelson

I was born in Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk, in 1758: slight of frame, often unwell, and chronically seasick. Yet the quarterdeck suited me. My uncle, Captain Suckling, set me on the path; ice, tropics, and war sharpened it. I learned early that caution at sea often ruins more men than shot.

At Cape St Vincent I left the line without orders and bore straight for the Spaniards. Aboard Captain we boarded San Nicolás, then crossed her decks into San Josef—two first-rates taken hand to hand. Months later at Santa Cruz de Tenerife I lost my right arm in a failed assault and learned failure can steady the hand as much as victory.

At the Nile I attacked at evening, anchoring to control our broadsides and to pound the French from both sides of their moorings. I prized initiative and close action; no captain, I held, can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of an enemy.

At Copenhagen I put the glass to my blind right eye and did not see the recall. At Trafalgar I kept the long blockade, chased to the West Indies and back, hoisted 'England expects...', and refused to cover my stars. I sought to break the enemy's will at the muzzle—costly, decisive, and, in my case, final.