approaching his eighteenth birthday, but the ship’s books had advanced his years by three and now had him over twenty, the official minimum age for a lieutenant’s commission. Moreover, he was close to completing the six years of sea service that were also needed, and there was little doubt about his ability to pass the obligatory oral examination. The tantalising prize of a first commission from the king seemed to be just around the corner.
But then, about the time Henery and Farmer were locked in combat by court martial, he was struck down by a stealthier foe. It was almost certainly malaria.
In the autobiography Nelson wrote twenty-three years later he simply described it as a life-threatening illness, and Surridge remembered it as a disorder ‘which nearly baffled the power of medicine’. The midshipman was wasted, his frame reduced almost to the skeleton and for a while he lost the use of his limbs. For years after his eventual recovery he suffered recurrent febrile attacks. Little was known about malaria in Nelson’s day, except of course for its devastating onset. The work of Ross, Manson and Bignami, establishing the role of the female mosquito in human malaria, was still a hundred or more years away and the prevailing eighteenth-century opinion attributed the disease to insanitation and fetid air. 24
Nelson’s enemy was most probably Plasmodium vivax , the commonest form of malaria in India. Though a ‘benign’ form and rarely deadly, if untreated it is prone to recur for several years and the acute attack can be extremely debilitating. The weakness of Nelson’s limbs may simply have reflected his emaciated condition, or been an indication of additional complications.
He was seen by the surgeon of the Seahorse , David Dalzell, and probably by others too. Captain Clerke of the Dolphin , Lieutenant Mather Fortescue of the Coventry and Marine Lieutenant Evan Evans of the Seahorse were also sick, and we know they were all examined by the surgeons of the naval hospital in Bombay as well as by doctors employed by the East India Company. Given the severity of Midshipman Nelson’s illness, it is to be presumed that he received no less attention. 25
Commodore Hughes certainly gave the youth every consideration. On 14 March 1776 he discharged Nelson from the Seahorse . The Dolphin was bound for England. Though about the same age, armament and dimensions as the Seahorse , she was worn out by her eastern service. Even though she had been dry docked in Bombay and the bottom rendered more or less watertight, many of her timbers were much decayed. Captain James Pigott, who was switched to the Dolphin and ordered to take her home, subsequently reported that ‘in bad weather [the ship] complains much in her upper works, her sides and decks being very leaky, notwithstanding she has been twice caulked since she came out of Bombay Dock’. With the ship went some fourteen serious invalids, including Clerke, Fortescue, Evans and Nelson. A return to England was considered essential to their recovery.
Nevertheless, Nelson would lose neither sea time nor pay, for Hughes had him rated midshipman on the Dolphin from 15 March and thereby protected his employment until the ship was paid off in England. Horace always spoke of Hughes with gratitude, and no less affectionately did he remember Pigott, the newly promoted postcaptain who took him home. Pigott’s ‘kindness at that time saved my life’, he said. 26
The Dolphin slipped from Bombay on 23 March, victualled for a six-month voyage. Her lieutenant was John Jervis, her master Richard Ogilvie and the surgeon and surgeon’s mate, who tended Horace in his sickness, were respectively Joseph Davis and Bernard Penrose. Of the three other midshipmen – Peter Templeman, Frederick Ross and William Scott – the last, a lad from Ashford, was officially of Nelson’s age. That Horace’s duties aboard the Dolphin were negligible or light is obvious, but over the six-month voyage
But then, about the time Henery and Farmer were locked in combat by court martial, he was struck down by a stealthier foe. It was almost certainly malaria.
In the autobiography Nelson wrote twenty-three years later he simply described it as a life-threatening illness, and Surridge remembered it as a disorder ‘which nearly baffled the power of medicine’. The midshipman was wasted, his frame reduced almost to the skeleton and for a while he lost the use of his limbs. For years after his eventual recovery he suffered recurrent febrile attacks. Little was known about malaria in Nelson’s day, except of course for its devastating onset. The work of Ross, Manson and Bignami, establishing the role of the female mosquito in human malaria, was still a hundred or more years away and the prevailing eighteenth-century opinion attributed the disease to insanitation and fetid air. 24
Nelson’s enemy was most probably Plasmodium vivax , the commonest form of malaria in India. Though a ‘benign’ form and rarely deadly, if untreated it is prone to recur for several years and the acute attack can be extremely debilitating. The weakness of Nelson’s limbs may simply have reflected his emaciated condition, or been an indication of additional complications.
He was seen by the surgeon of the Seahorse , David Dalzell, and probably by others too. Captain Clerke of the Dolphin , Lieutenant Mather Fortescue of the Coventry and Marine Lieutenant Evan Evans of the Seahorse were also sick, and we know they were all examined by the surgeons of the naval hospital in Bombay as well as by doctors employed by the East India Company. Given the severity of Midshipman Nelson’s illness, it is to be presumed that he received no less attention. 25
Commodore Hughes certainly gave the youth every consideration. On 14 March 1776 he discharged Nelson from the Seahorse . The Dolphin was bound for England. Though about the same age, armament and dimensions as the Seahorse , she was worn out by her eastern service. Even though she had been dry docked in Bombay and the bottom rendered more or less watertight, many of her timbers were much decayed. Captain James Pigott, who was switched to the Dolphin and ordered to take her home, subsequently reported that ‘in bad weather [the ship] complains much in her upper works, her sides and decks being very leaky, notwithstanding she has been twice caulked since she came out of Bombay Dock’. With the ship went some fourteen serious invalids, including Clerke, Fortescue, Evans and Nelson. A return to England was considered essential to their recovery.
Nevertheless, Nelson would lose neither sea time nor pay, for Hughes had him rated midshipman on the Dolphin from 15 March and thereby protected his employment until the ship was paid off in England. Horace always spoke of Hughes with gratitude, and no less affectionately did he remember Pigott, the newly promoted postcaptain who took him home. Pigott’s ‘kindness at that time saved my life’, he said. 26
The Dolphin slipped from Bombay on 23 March, victualled for a six-month voyage. Her lieutenant was John Jervis, her master Richard Ogilvie and the surgeon and surgeon’s mate, who tended Horace in his sickness, were respectively Joseph Davis and Bernard Penrose. Of the three other midshipmen – Peter Templeman, Frederick Ross and William Scott – the last, a lad from Ashford, was officially of Nelson’s age. That Horace’s duties aboard the Dolphin were negligible or light is obvious, but over the six-month voyage
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