sympathise with their old commander. Placed on a platform that projected over the side of the ship, Caracciolo was afforded another chance to discomfit Nelson, who, not wishing to look at the man, took refuge in examining the Italian officers. He saw in their eyes an almost malignant glow of satisfaction. They had fled with their king, abandoning homes and possessions; this man was to pay the price for their discomfort and they were happy.
Caracciolo was offered a cap to place over his head, which he declined. All watching could see in his black eyes that he was determined to die looking at men he despised. A gun was fired as the noose was placed round his neck, pulled enough to grip without being tight. The men who would hang him stood ready, in their hands the end of the rope that ran up to a well-greased block on the yard high above. Then the second gun banged out.
The sailors steadied themselves, then ran barefoot along the deck, rope over their shoulders, hauling the jerking body into the warm summer air. Nelson saw Caracciolo’s feet kick out at the nothingness beneath them, and the face suddenly suffused with blood. The tongue shot out of his pain-filled mouth as the noose cut off both air and the ability to scream. The man’s feet performed a frantic dance for more than a minute before the final spasms racked him. Then he was still, no more than a lifeless bundle twisting on the rope, moved by the breeze.
Nelson ordered the body to be cut down at sunset, less than two hours hence, so that at least the man would be given a decent burial. Ashore, he knew summary trials and executions were taking place, as the full force of the counter-revolution exacted its revenge.
The arrangements aboard Foudroyant were more circumscribed than they had been ashore. Sharing a bed with Emma was impossible in a ship of war ready for action. Certainly Nelson had ample space,but he also had a flag captain, Sir William Hamilton and a steady stream of Neapolitans begging temporary accommodation. Time alone with Emma was limited, although, as in all history, the lovers found the means to be together.
This required much use of the blind eye not only by Sir William but also by Tom Allen, John Tyson, Thomas Hardy and every officer on the ship. And the matter was no secret to the common seamen who remained aboard. In the main they were not as accustomed to Nelson and his ways as the old Agamemnons or the men who had served on Vanguard, so a certain amount of ribaldry was to be expected whenever Emma appeared. Those who had served with the Admiral before saw it their duty to put in their place these new-come upstarts, and if that took a clip round the ear, so be it.
Giddings was the handiest in that department. He might be getting on a bit but he was still a proper hard-case, as many of the Foudroyant’ s crew found to their cost. But what made Giddings’s view prevail was not fisticuffs but the nature of Nelson and Emma. They were so obviously happy in each other’s company, their relationship lifted the spirits of everyone aboard ship. Nothing could seem more natural in a beautiful sunlit bay, with matters proceeding well ashore, than Lady Emma Hamilton playing her harp on the dappled quarterdeck, while the Admiral paced, listened and occasionally stopped to admire.
It was hard to admire a monarch like King Ferdinand who, when he finally came to Naples, took up residence in Nelson’s flagship and refused to set foot ashore, where British sailors and marines, aided by the Russians and Edigio Bagio’s lazzaroni had laid siege to Fort St Elmo. Instead, he held his royal gatherings on Foudroyant’ s quarterdeck. Those who visited him looked exactly like the courtiers who had fawned on him before he fled, and Sir William pointed out to Nelson several of the nobility whom he suspected to be less than wholehearted monarchists.
The meetings took place to the background boom of siege cannon playing on the walls of St Elmo. Less
Caracciolo was offered a cap to place over his head, which he declined. All watching could see in his black eyes that he was determined to die looking at men he despised. A gun was fired as the noose was placed round his neck, pulled enough to grip without being tight. The men who would hang him stood ready, in their hands the end of the rope that ran up to a well-greased block on the yard high above. Then the second gun banged out.
The sailors steadied themselves, then ran barefoot along the deck, rope over their shoulders, hauling the jerking body into the warm summer air. Nelson saw Caracciolo’s feet kick out at the nothingness beneath them, and the face suddenly suffused with blood. The tongue shot out of his pain-filled mouth as the noose cut off both air and the ability to scream. The man’s feet performed a frantic dance for more than a minute before the final spasms racked him. Then he was still, no more than a lifeless bundle twisting on the rope, moved by the breeze.
Nelson ordered the body to be cut down at sunset, less than two hours hence, so that at least the man would be given a decent burial. Ashore, he knew summary trials and executions were taking place, as the full force of the counter-revolution exacted its revenge.
The arrangements aboard Foudroyant were more circumscribed than they had been ashore. Sharing a bed with Emma was impossible in a ship of war ready for action. Certainly Nelson had ample space,but he also had a flag captain, Sir William Hamilton and a steady stream of Neapolitans begging temporary accommodation. Time alone with Emma was limited, although, as in all history, the lovers found the means to be together.
This required much use of the blind eye not only by Sir William but also by Tom Allen, John Tyson, Thomas Hardy and every officer on the ship. And the matter was no secret to the common seamen who remained aboard. In the main they were not as accustomed to Nelson and his ways as the old Agamemnons or the men who had served on Vanguard, so a certain amount of ribaldry was to be expected whenever Emma appeared. Those who had served with the Admiral before saw it their duty to put in their place these new-come upstarts, and if that took a clip round the ear, so be it.
Giddings was the handiest in that department. He might be getting on a bit but he was still a proper hard-case, as many of the Foudroyant’ s crew found to their cost. But what made Giddings’s view prevail was not fisticuffs but the nature of Nelson and Emma. They were so obviously happy in each other’s company, their relationship lifted the spirits of everyone aboard ship. Nothing could seem more natural in a beautiful sunlit bay, with matters proceeding well ashore, than Lady Emma Hamilton playing her harp on the dappled quarterdeck, while the Admiral paced, listened and occasionally stopped to admire.
It was hard to admire a monarch like King Ferdinand who, when he finally came to Naples, took up residence in Nelson’s flagship and refused to set foot ashore, where British sailors and marines, aided by the Russians and Edigio Bagio’s lazzaroni had laid siege to Fort St Elmo. Instead, he held his royal gatherings on Foudroyant’ s quarterdeck. Those who visited him looked exactly like the courtiers who had fawned on him before he fled, and Sir William pointed out to Nelson several of the nobility whom he suspected to be less than wholehearted monarchists.
The meetings took place to the background boom of siege cannon playing on the walls of St Elmo. Less
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