The Battle of the Nile

Two-hundred and ten years ago today a British fleet under the command of Admiral Horatio Nelson engaged a roughly equal French fleet at anchor in Aboukir Bay, Egypt. The British achieved an amazing victory destroying or capturing eleven of thirteen French ships of the line while losing none of their own ships. The defeat doomed Napoleon's Egyptian campaign to failure eventually forcing him to abandon his veteran army to it's fate.

The Battle of the Nile secured British control of the Western Mediterannean and all but locked the remaining French fleet into their harbors until, reinforced by their Spanish allies, the fleet would break out for the Trafalgar campaign and their own doom at the hands of the British Fleet, again under the command of Lord Nelson.

During the battle the French 118 gun First Rate Ship of the Line L'Orient, under the command of Luc Julien Joseph Casabianca exploded when flames reached her powder magazines. The explosion was so powerful that it was felt fifteen miles away. Casabianca's fearless behavior during the action, refusing to leave his post on the burning ship, was recognized and admired by French and British witnesses alike. To this day a vessel in the French Navy carries the proud name of Casabianca. Casabianca's son, twelve year old Giocante, refused to leave his father's side and was immortalized in the poem by Felicia Hemans which, while recognized by many to this day, is seldom read in it's entirety these days.


Casabianca
by Felicia Hemans

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud–'say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,
'My father! must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound–
The boy–oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part–
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.