Dennis M’Carty, an old and faithful servant of Captain Hood’s, who was quartered at one of the main-deck guns in the cabin, stood firm enough till the batteries opened on the Juno.  No sooner had the firing commenced, and the shot began to come whizzing over and through all parts of the ship, than Dennis, to the great amaze and scandal of his companions, dropped the side tackle-fall, and fairly ran off from his gun.  Nothing in the world, however, could be further from poor Pat’s mind than fear—­except fear for his master, behind whom he soon stationed himself on the quarter-deck; and wherever Captain Hood moved, there Dennis followed, like his shadow; totally unconscious of any personal danger to himself, though the captain was necessarily in the hottest of the fire.  At length, Sir Samuel, turning suddenly round, encountered the Irishman full butt.

“Hallo!  Dennis,” exclaimed the captain, “what brings you here?  Go down to your gun, man!”

“Oh, by the powers! your honour,” replied Dennis, “sure I thought it likely you might be hurt, so I wished to be near you to give you some help.”

There was no resisting this; the captain laughed; and poor Dennis was allowed to take his own way.

Another remarkable instance of his courage and disinterestedness was afforded at the battle of the Nile.  Previous to entering into that great action, Nelson hailed Captain Hood’s ship, and consulted him as to the best method of attack.

“What think you,” said the Admiral, “of engaging the enemy to-night?”

“I don’t know the soundings,” was the answer, “but, with your permission, I will lead in and try.”

The result is well known; but I believe it is not so generally known that, in the first draft of the despatch which Nelson wrote, he gave to Captain Hood the merit of confirming him in his determination of attacking the French fleet that night.  On showing this letter, however, to Hood himself, he entreated that it might be altered, saying “that they were all brothers, engaged in the cause, and that the admiral would have received exactly the same advice from any other captain in the fleet whom he might have consulted.”  The paragraph was therefore omitted in the despatch.

I have this anecdote of the change in the despatch from one of his nearest connections, and one of the dearest friends to his memory.  He himself particularly wished the alteration in the despatch not to be told at the time; but, as the story crept out somehow, it seems very material that the facts should be well authenticated.  When the circumstance was mentioned to Sir Samuel Hood many years afterwards, by the friend from whom I have received authority to state it, he confessed that it was so; but exclaimed,—­

“How the devil could all this have got wind?—­I never mentioned it before to a living soul.”

As there is hardly any professional anecdote which retains its freshness of interest more entire than the memorable parley above described between Nelson and Hood, on the eve of the battle of the Nile, I venture to give another version of it, which is substantially the same, and is calculated to confirm, in a pleasing manner, all that is essential.  The following particulars I have been favoured with by Captain Webley Parry, then first lieutenant of the Zealous.