Some little changes are needed in Santa Catalina. One stood out the other day.

The museum is the least visited place in the pueblo. Fewer feet cross its threshold than even the library. A former blacksmith’s workshop, it stands opposite the Town Hall in the unimaginatively named, Plaza de Museo. I sometimes wander in just to marvel at all the silence, dark and emptiness. The sensation must be similar to stepping from a space module into outer space.

Convinced it was the one place where nothing ever changed, on a recent visit, my eye was caught by a new addition. There was something familiar about it. A closer look was called for. A nineteenth century British naval tunic hanging on a wall. Tarnished gold braiding and epaulettes. Identical to the one Antolin’s grandfather once showed me. The old rascal. On a shelf beneath stood a brass telescope and a black eyepatch. ‘Donated to the people of Santa Catalina by Antolin Perez Ramirez’, a label read, ‘These items were the property of the notorious pirate, Lord Horatio Nelson, who fled the combined fleets of Spain and France in 1805 following The Battle of Trafalgar, to die an ignoble death at sea’. A neat slant on history.

Unable to suppress my annoyance, I took up the issue with the donor’s namesake and grandson after spotting the fisherman in Juani’s Bar. A few glasses of wine were required to launch the attack. I chose my moment carefully before pouncing. But instead of the calm and measured tones, I’d planned, my words spewed out as a high-pitched torrent. For his benefit, I informed him the Battle of Trafalgar was the greatest sea battle in history. Admiral Nelson never fled but died on board at the scene after being felled by a sharpshooter. In the manner of all mongrel Englishmen abroad, I rose into full hurt patriotic mode, insisting he wasn’t a pirate, but probably the greatest naval hero the world had ever known. I’d never seen such a libellous label. If we’d been speaking English I probably would’ve said labellous libel, so fortifying the wine of Santa Catalina. I concluded by stating the brief summary was a travesty of the truth and should be corrected forthwith. The honour of England was at stake.

Antolin smiled. Neither convinced nor impressed by outbursts of righteous indignation, he dismissed my argument as the usual British propaganda. Throughout history, he explained, English sailors were most famous for their piracy and other misdeeds. And then he asked what Nelson was doing off the coast of Santa Catalina if he wasn’t a pirate? He was an awful long way from home. I told him he was there to keep Napoleon from overrunning Europe. If he hadn’t been there Santa Catalinians would probably be speaking French today.

Fixing me with a beady gaze, Antolin inquired if it was true the Englishman wore an eyepatch. There could be no denying it. He blew an unpleasantly victorious breath. What more proof was needed he was a pirate? I suggested, rather pathetically, when viewed in retrospect, a crutch and a parrot. Then came the kick in the guts. To hear my so-called friend announce, next thing, I’d be telling him Nelson wasn’t gay.

Nelson was gay? Nobody told me. It wasn’t in any of the history books at my school. I stormed off.

Like you do, once home, I thought of all the other clever things I could’ve said to make the fisherman feel small. At the same time, experiencing some disconcert at the startling revelation. However ridiculous, the possibility couldn’t go ignored.

Then I remembered the admiral’s last three words. His famous dying request of Captain Hardy. As Lord Horatio lay mortally wounded on the decks of HMS Victory he breathed: ‘Kiss me Hardy.’

It doesn’t prove anything, but imagine the ripples it must’ve sent round the world. Even worse, what about when they finally washed up on the steps of Admiralty House?

Though rumoured to have dallied with Nell Gwynn, and Lady Hamilton – or someone like that – it doesn’t mean he wasn’t. He could’ve been bi. Thinking about it, as a young cabin boy, he must’ve had plenty of opportunity for relationships of a Socratic nature. Captain Thomas Hardy might’ve appeared a very good-looking chap after endless months at sea. But, in the absence of eyewitness accounts regarding the admiral’s sexual proclivities, the truth could remain a subject of conjecture for always. After hearing Antolin, it will with me.

On the other hand, until dramatic new proof surfaces – painting quite a different picture to the manly, pipe-smoking figure we all believe Nelson really was – we’ll never know for sure. Therefore, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It would be unethical and precipitate for the gay community to claim him as one of theirs based on the flimsy evidence so far.

To counter any such claims, on the heterosexual side of the argument, I don’t think Mrs Nelson ever uttered a word about her husband being gay. But then again, she wouldn’t, would she? And it’s an historical fact she never denied it. She might’ve had good reason. Perhaps, more telling, the publicity hungry Nelson never took the many opportunities afforded to deny he was gay. And even if he had, most newspapers treat public denials as confessions.

I don’t want create too much doubt, but isn’t ‘any port in a storm’ what sailors say? What exactly does that mean? We know plenty of Jolly Jack Tars have never been too fussy about ‘boarding handsome frigates by the stern’ when the fancy takes them. Nelson would’ve been quite aware of such practices, even if he didn’t approve, or take part.

It must be supposed, if he were gay, he would’ve been a regular in the gay bars of Marrakech, just before he won the historic Battle of Trafalgar. He might even have disguised himself in women’s clothes. That could be the reason there are no recorded sightings of him.

Just because there aren’t, we can’t assume he didn’t go. Back in those days when coming out wasn’t in, gay men kept in the closet. Nelson could easily have been afraid to reveal he was gay – if he was – because he might have been demoted and the Battle of Trafalgar would’ve been lost.

Another thing we have to bear in mind, even if he had been spotted cruising gay haunts, or cottaging the public toilets of Morocco, looking for rent boys, witnesses would’ve kept mum for fear of being asked what they were doing there in the first place.

If contemporary first-hand accounts of Nelson’s sex life are missing, they could have been removed from official documents in an attempt at a cover-up. For all we know, allusions to the number of firm buttocks on board could’ve been struck from the ship’s log. Why hasn’t anyone demanded to examine them? As far I’m concerned, if any surviving information as to what he did in his hammock exists, it’s being withheld. We don’t even know if he always slept in it alone. We can only attempt to deduce the truth from what little we do know.

Assuming he had a normal, healthy, carnal appetite, which is something else nobody denies, he would’ve been on the lookout for sexual partners at sea. Long voyages with all-male crews would’ve narrowed his field of choice considerably. It’s a matter of some concern that not one member of Victory’s crew ever openly admitted to any physical contact between themselves and Nelson beyond the call of duty. But all evidence points to the fact they were never asked. That, in itself, raises suspicions. If there were any records of interrogations they have mysteriously disappeared. Along with mentions of men ‘camping it up’ on the flagship. But that proves nothing. Whatever might have occurred, it seems to have gone to the grave with each acquiescent seaman.

The fact no questions were raised in parliament concerning Nelson’s sexual orientation reveals more about the prevailing moral attitude in Regency England than it does about the secret goings-on below decks. When I think more about it, to give Antolin his due, it becomes increasingly difficult to discount the possibility. Unless hard evidence is produced – denying Nelson was gay – the suspicion will always be there.

It is an indisputable fact many top admirals and generals have never admitted to being gay. If Field Marshall Rommel was gay he kept it a close secret, as did General Eisenhower, if he was gay.

Adolf Hitler never mentioned a word about being gay, neither did Winston Churchill. Yet yet both men spent long periods cooped up in secret underground bunkers with other men of the same sex, if you get my drift. It would do history a great disservice were we not to question the nature of some of the relationships formed.

To sum up, just because someone doesn’t admit to being gay it doesn’t mean they’re not. And just because they deny it doesn’t mean they aren’t either. People might whisper that about you. Or me. I’m not sure what to say at this point.



© 2009 Bryan Hemming

See Bryan's whole series at Missives from Santa Catalina