Sorry Lights, I only just saw your post there after all this time, thanks very much for sharing your experience:
Over the last few days, several memories from my navy life have surfaced. I believe they were triggered after I stumbled upon an internet documentary about the death of Nelson while searching for something of an entirely different nature. Coincidentally, I found and watched this documentary 2 days ago on 21st October..... the 204th anniversary of Nelson's death!
I have to mention that some of the details remembered here I've been able to verify from books that I've already read over the years, however, it's the emotional content that leads me to believe that what I was experiencing was an actual memory.
I now believe that the battle I've recounted earlier in this thread was the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, and I was serving aboard HMS Orion, a woman disguised as a male sailor. Through research, I've found out that the Orion survived the battle and at some point during this time, my true gender was exposed, probably while I was being treated for the severe injury to my right arm.
I remember that after the battle, we made our way back to port in the Orion. Word had already spread among the fleet of Nelson's death, and although upsetting, I was at first pretty much detached from the grief that every other sailor felt, probably on account of the shock of the battle and my own injuries. When I had deliberately got myself impressed into the navy, I never anticipated fighting in any battle, I'm sure I joined for the adventure and to see a bit of the world.
Fast forward... I and the rest of the crew have disembarked on an island
(I already know that this would have been Gibraltar) Due to the exposure of my true identity as a woman, I remember being questioned by the naval authorities, two men in high ranking uniforms asking me what the purpose of my being here was. I felt that they were easy on me due to the severity of my shock and injury, and maybe because I'd just played a part in serving my country in battle. They eventually offered me a lowly position usually reserved for women onboard one of the ships, which I declined, mainly because my illusions of an exciting life full of adventure at sea had just been shattered by recent events, I just wanted to get my feet back on dry land as soon as possible.
I was told that I was to be transferred to another ship and taken back to Portsmouth, where I would be free to go about my business outside of the navy. I was to report to
HMS Victory the next morning for the long journey home. It was at this time, as my own trauma began to subside, that Nelson's death began to have a similar affect on me as it did the other men. I would be travelling home on
'his' ship, where he had lived and died.
I remember boarding the badly damaged, but 'patched up' vessel and being escorted to the lower decks along with many other 'passengers' which included injured sailors, several other women, children and animals. We were free to move around the ship, as long as we didn't 'get in the way'. I remember the mood on the ship was extremely sombre, the jolly atmosphere I remembered on the Orion prior to the battle was not evident on this ship. Most of the sailors went about their daily tasks in silence, a few of them trying to cheer others with singing, but to no avail. It was the sombre atmosphere that had the biggest impact on me, there was certainly no sense of 'victory' as one would expect after winning the greatest battle in naval history, I felt as if I was in amongst a huge family that had just lost their own father.
I remember pulling a kindly looking sailor to one side while it wasn't so busy. He looked rather too old to be on this ship, at least in his 50's or 60's. I asked him if he would be good enough to escort me to the spot where Nelson had died. I don't think I realised at the time, that Nelson's body was still onboard, preserved in a huge keg of brandy in his cabin for the long voyage home. This was obviously kept under 24 hour guard and nobody was allowed to enter.
Noticing the sling on my arm and enquiring about the nature of my injury on the way, the old sailor took me to the location of Nelson's death, which was surprisingly close to where I was being accomodated. The first thing that struck me was the dried blood caked onto the floor for as far as I could see. This was the area where all the wounded sailors had been treated throughout the battle, and the sight and smell of blood still filled the entire deck. I was lead to a dimly lit corner and the old man pointed to the spot, I remember his words....
"This be where the great man drew his mortal breath ma'am". There was no visible evidence that anything had occured here except a few personal items that some of the men had left here in Nelson's memory. I had three yellow flowers that I had picked before I boarded the ship, with the intention of laying them where Nelson had died, and I did just that before crossing myself and uttering a short prayer. The whole feeling reminded me of the first time I visited the Victory as a 7 year old child in my present life, and how I spent a few short moments alone on the very spot where I had stood nearly 200 years before, that same sombre feeling, it was a moment where I could feel my two lives merged into one if that makes sense.
And that's where the memories end. I don't recall what happened to me when I arrived back in England yet. But the events of the last couple of days have really left me in a kind of poignant mood. Nelson's death has a much more personal meaning to me now than the fascination I've had with him for all the years of my present life.
Sorry this got a bit long, if you're still with me, thanks very much for reading, the story continues.... I hope
(sorry, I couldn't resist that one - 
)
