Body Found in Barrel : snopes.com Legend: Imbibers drink the liquor from a barrel used to preserve a dead body. Examples: [Dale, 1978] Some years ago, the father of a friend of mine brought a fairly enormous house in the middle of Bodmin Moor, a sort of Georgian/Regency house built on the site of an older farmhouse. In the capacious cellars they found half a dozen very large barrels. 'Oh, good!' said mother. 'We can cut them in half and plant orange trees in them.' So they set to work to cut the barrels in half, but they found that one of them was not empty, so they set it up and borrowed the necessary equipment from the local pub. The cellar filled with a rich, heady Jamaican odour. 'Rum, by God!' said the father. It was indeed, so they decided to take advantage of some fifty gallons of the stuff before cutting the barrel in half. About a year later, after gallons of rum punch, flip and butter had been consumed, it was getting hard to get any more rum out of the barrel, even by tipping it up with wedges.

So they cut it in half, and found in it the well-preserved body of a man. [Iserson, 1994] British sailors used makeshift enbalming when Lord Nelson died at Trafalgar. Surviving officers decided to return the body to England rather than bury this famous admiral at sea. Reportedly his body was immersed in the ship's brandy stores, the only preservative available. The sailors, though, not wanting to go without their alcohol, siphoned out portions for drinking through a piece of macaroni, eventually draining the brandy dry. [Smith, 1996] During the winter of 1861, the conductor of a train received for transport a huge parcel addressed to a professor of the College of France. It had been sent from Java. On the way to Paris, the trains was held up on a siding waiting for an express to pass, and during the wait, the conductor and his assistant noticed the parcel was leaking. As the story puts it, it trickled "...

un liquide ambre, de gout tres fine at tres particulier." Naturally, he called in his mates, including the driver and fireman, and they boozed on until the express had passed. Wiping their moustaches, they hurriedly went on to their destination to be greeted by the professor who informed them that the parcel held the body of a "great ape of Borneo." Variations: Besides humans in their final repose, liquor-filled casks of this legend have been said to contain the bodies of monkeys being shipped from Africa to museums in the USA and Britain. Although tales from all branches of the legend usually conclude with the drinkers' either just realizing what they've been ingesting or becoming ill over it, some versions end with the tipplers' dying of a dread illness brought on by ingesting something a corpse had been stewing in. Origins: Versions of the basic legend about unwitting persons drinking a liquid used to preserve a corpse have been around for centuries. The most famous of these older tales features the transported remains of Admiral Nelson, but numerous stories dating as far back as 1861 about casks containing liquor-preserved monkeys going astray have also been meticulously recorded.

And as we'll see later, a kissing cousin of this legend was all the rage in the thirteenth century. The why of this legend goes a bit beyond the expected "person unknowingly ingests yucky foodstuff" theme, which carries the implied message that it is always better to look before leaping (or in this case, peek before quaffing). Folklorist Jan Brunvand states: Surely there is a strain of poetic justice in almost all of these stories, since regularly the contaminated alcohol is either drunk by someone who more or less deserves his fate, or else the corpse is that of someone who outranked the drinkers. Thus, gentiles (according to the story) eat the hated Jew; common sailors drink the admiral's brandy; Americans party on the defeated English general's wine, and those who have merely bought into the lordly manor drink up the rum left there by its past rightful owner.

Supplementing that idea is the oldest tale of this ilk, a gem from eight hundred years ago that features tomb despoilers who feed themselves their just deserts : The Arab historian Abd el Latif wrote in the thirteenth century of a group of treasure hunters who found an ancient sealed jar of honey while exploring the tombs beneath the Egyptian pyramids. They settled down to a delicious lunch, dipping their bread into the jar, until one of the diners pulled out a human hair. A quick investigation revealed the preserved body of a child curled up at the bottom of the jar. The historian credits the story to "an Egyptian worthy of belief." If he had checked further, we suspect he would have encountered the familiar chain of friends of friends of friends. That theme continues to imbue the legend to this day, as this more modern telling about "clever" workmen shows: As a lad, a foaf [friend of a friend] spent some 18 months helping to re-plumb a country house. The titled lady of the house said to the men, who were living in, that perhaps they might care to earn some money at weekends instead of going to the pub — they could clean the enormous chandeliers in the ball room.

She had available a barrel of whisky which could be used for the purpose and which she said she was otherwise going to throw out. Of course, the men agreed; they bought some methylated spirits for the chandelier job, bottled the whisky and drank it themselves. Afterwards the lady paid them handsomely, and said: "Of course, the best thing was that we were able to use the whisky for something useful instead of throwing it out. My husband died some years ago in Australia, and that whisky was used to pickle his body when it was brought home for burial." Unlike a closely-related legend about workers who fall into vats and whose unnoticed, decomposing bodies go on to form part of a potable or foodstuff sent on to consumers, "casked corpse" tales lack modern analogues and do not reflect current societal concerns. The explanation for these legends lies in a combination of hazily-remembered facts about famous bodies shipped in liquor, embellished with a bit of old-fashioned storytelling about sailors determined to have their daily tot or homeowners who make "fortuitous" finds. Yet before the storytelling can be added to the mix, there has to be a foundation of fact to build upon.

In the days before refrigeration and embalming, folks who died far away were sometimes transported home preserved as best they could be in a barrel of alcohol. (Embalming as we know it came into being at the time of the American Civil War, when the efforts of mortician Thomas Holmes, the first American to develop and use embalming fluid, resulted in the preserved bodies of fallen soldiers being returned to their families for burial. Prior to Holmes, all one could do was pack a body in ice and hold the funeral as soon as possible.) The most famous instance of preservation by immersion in alcohol was the casking of the remains of Lord Nelson in the ship's brandy stores after his death during the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. That much is true — Nelson was, in effect, pickled to get as much of him home in as decent a state as possible. But not in rum, as would later be claimed in lore. No, Nelson had been immersed in brandy for shipment home. At Gibralter the fluid was replaced with wine. According to baseless hearsay, when the barrel was opened in England, it was considerably less than full.

(In reality, Nelson arrived fairly topped up.) This gave rise to the story that sailors aboard the Victory had been unwilling to let a little thing like a decomposing dead Admiral get between them and their daily swigging and thus had been siphoning off generous helpings, eventually draining the funerary cask dry. Thanks to this bit of lore, the British Navy has come to use the term "tapping the Admiral" for getting an unauthorized drink of rum via a surreptitious straw. Nelson wasn't the only famous Brit whose remains were casked in booze to get them home. When Prince Henry of Battenberg died from malaria on a British expeditionary force to West Africa in 1895, his body was transported back to England for a royal burial in an improvised tank made from biscuit tins and filled with navy rum. The remains of less-famous personages have also been transported in this manner. In 1857, Nancy Martin of Wilmington, North Carolina, was on a year-long cruise with her father and brother when she died at sea.

The menfolk put her body into a large cask after first tying it to a chair and nailing the chair to the bottom of the barrel to prevent her from floating or sloshing. Whiskey, rum, and wine were poured in, then the barrel was sealed and stored belowdecks. Upon return to dry land, Nancy was buried, still in her booze-filled cask, in Oakdale Cemetery. (Captain Martin was also to lose his son on this same voyage; four months later the lad was swept overboard during a midnight squall.) It doesn't take all that much by way of fertile imagination to build on any of these true-life caskings — all one needs to make a good tale is to toss at it some thirsty sailors or a handful of parvenues who've inherited the manor but not the manners.

That someone's remains could be stored in liquor is enough to set such tales in motion; from there it's but a hop and a skip to the certainty that someone somewhere must have stumbled upon seemingly lucky find only to afterwards discover he'd been "tapping the admiral." Barbara "will you have a pint or a half Nelson?" Mikkelson Sightings: In 2006 Reuters news service reported that a Hungarian magazine had published a version of this story: Hungarian builders who drank their way to the bottom of a huge barrel of rum while renovating a house got a nasty surprise when a pickled corpse tumbled out of the empty barrel, a police magazine website reported. According to online magazine workers in Szeged in the south of Hungary tried to move the barrel after they had drained it, only to find it was surprisingly heavy and were shocked when the body of a naked man fell out. The website said that the body of the man had been shipped back from Jamaica 20 years ago by his wife in the barrel of rum in order to avoid the cost and paperwork of an official return.

According to the website, workers said the rum in the 300-litre barrel had a "special taste" so they even decanted a few bottles of the liquor to take home. The wife has since died and the man was buried in a proper grave. Reuters withdrew the story a few days later: ADVISORY: Hungary rum barrel story withdrawn The Budapest story headlined "Hungary workers get shock at bottom of rum barrel" issued on May 4 is withdrawn. Police said the incident, reported on a police magazine Web site, happened 10 years ago. Reuters has been unable to make any further checks to substantiate the story. Last updated: 9 May 2006 Corpses of Interest - BrightestYoungThings - DC Tickets>> >>>>>>>>>>>> Ok, back to the article! >>>>>>>>>>>> Before Knox died he said that he wanted to be buried within twenty feet of St. Giles, the national Cathedral of Scotland (the loose equivalent of Westminster Abbey–Sean Connery was knighted there). Here it’s worth noting that old Britannic cemeteries tend to grow over the centuries. Particularly the Scots, who are by nature thrifty and efficient people.

Whenever a plague came through, the Scots would unearth older coffins, and pile in dead bodies like firewood. When they ran out of coffins to buddy up with, they’d just put down layer after layer of corpses and a fresh foot of dirt. Then, when another plague came through, they’d slather on another stack of bodies and another blanket of dirt. If you’ve ever noticed that most cemeteries in Britain are on hills, this is why–they didn’t start out on hills. Rather, they are literally mounds of hundreds and hundreds of corpses, so much so that the local topography has altered. One small problem with this highly compact method of disposing of bodies is that, with a thick layer of dead bodies deposited every few years, you eventually reach a “corpse saturation point.” So when a big rain comes through (in Scotland, roughly every two to four hours) arms will start poking up out of the ground. Not only is this unhygienic, it is also distasteful and bad for tourism. So in the case of the St. Gile’s cemetery, people started getting irritated with the amount of limbs popping up in between the national cathedral and then-parliament building.

They relocated the bodies to other cemeteries nearby (sort of suburban graveyards), but, wishing to honor John Knox’s request, left his body behind. When they eventually paved over the former graveyard to put in a parking lot, they left a yellow square above his body to signify the location. When I lived in Scotland there was usually a blue van parked on top of John Knox, but if you bent over you could still see the marker. I have since wondered: why didn’t they erect a statue, or placard, or animatronic John Knox to throw things at passing papists? My only explanation is that the Scots (again, a thrifty people) calculated that they would lose an entire car space worth of parking revenue annually, and so opted for the most cost effective option. In the next we meet Lord Nelson, whose body was transported to London in a barrel of brandy. Lord Nelson: Tapping the Admiral Now on to Lord Nelson, a British maritime hero whose body was preserved on the way back to London by pickling it in a barrel of brandy. Fair warning: Lord Nelson’s death is heroic, but the mortuary practice which followed it is gross and may even stop you from drinking for a few hours.

Lord Nelson, as you’ll recall, is the admiral who defeated Napoleon Bonaparte at the Battle of Trafalgar. The victory provided all sorts of good material for plucky British operettas about eating limes and wearing powdered wigs and such. More specifically, Trafalgar stopped Napoleon from invading Britain, thus sparing us from the prospect of palatable English cuisine. Back then the military didn’t have drones, so Lord Nelson actually had to show up on the deck of his ship to survey the battle personally. Unfortunately for him a French sniper managed to plug him, affording perhaps the most British death in all of history. When the captain of his flagship noticed that the admiral wasn’t around, he found Lord Nelson kneeling on the deck and bleeding profusely. Nelson told Captain Hardy, “I do believe they have done it at last… my backbone is shot through.” That anyone could refer to a musket ball shattering his spinal column and lodging in his gut with such eloquence and politeness is astounding. One time I bent over to pick up a bottle cap and threw my back out, and I could barely even swear coherently.

I did manage to swear, profusely in fact, but it took a lot of effort. If I got shot in the back with a musket I would not say things like, “I do believe.” I would say, “AAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAH! BURN FRANCE TO THE GROUND! EVEN PETS!” Captain Hardy ordered men to take the bleeding admiral below the decks, but on the way Lord Nelson paused the sailors carrying him so he could instruct a midshipman on how to properly handle a tiller. After relaying these helpful marine instructions despite having a steel marble lodged in his spine, Nelson draped a handkerchief over his face so that he would not cause alarm in the crew. Quite the team player. And again, almost obscenely British in his polite and orderly demeanor. Lord Nelson died a few minutes later, on the eve of his greatest military achievement. Recognizing that the admiral constituted a great war hero, his men sealed his body in a barrel of brandy they had on hand to pickle it on the return voyage to England. In Portugal they swapped the brandy out for wine.

According to crew hearsay, the level of brandy had dropped precipitously from when they had plopped Lord Nelson in. Made of stout stuff and very likely raging alcoholics, the crew of the HMS Victory went ahead and drank the brandy knowing that it had an admiral stewing in it. To this day the phrase “tapping the admiral” is a colloquial expression for grabbing a drink, particularly in the British Navy. A macabre reference to Lord Nelson’s final voyage, when nasty seamen helped themselves to the brandy they pickled him in. Jeremy Bentham: Still Attending Meetings You may not remember Jeremy Bentham from high school history class, as he never became an American president nor was portrayed by John Wayne in any films. However Bentham has nonetheless influenced you deeply, because he is the founder of Utilitarianism. Utilitarianism is a school of thought asserting that you should base ethical and policy decisions on whichever option maximizes the amount of happy people and reduces the amount of unhappy people. This was groundbreaking at the time because most law prior to Bentham was based on rigid adherence to the Bible, and trying to outlaw any fun which surpassed dancing around a maypole in terms of pleasure.

It’s worth reading about his philosophy in and of itself, particularly if you are from one of the Red States which is suspicious of pleasure and continually trying to work out zoning regulations by re-interpreting Leviticus. Today we’re more interested in Jeremy Bentham’s corpse than his philosophical contributions. Jeremy Bentham stipulated in his will that his body was to be dissected and then preserved in such a way that it could be displayed for future generations. Thus after donating his body to science, his skeleton was dressed in his clothing, seated on a chair, and put on display at University College London. A wax replica of his head, complete with his hair and a dapper hat, is poking out of the collar. Originally Bentham intended to have his mummified head put there, but in the process of preserving his noggin, it turned leathery and fairly gruesome, even for an 19th century English corpse. For years the university kept Bentham’s mummified head in the same display case as his body, but stopped after drunken students kept stealing it. One group of students held the head captive for ransom; another smuggled it to Aberdeen. The last straw came when some kids took it outside for football practice.

Nowadays Bentham’s head is fairly secure; at least enough so that I wasn’t able to steal it. Perhaps most interesting is that Jeremy Bentham’s mummified presence is still occasionally required to attend meetings. On the centennial and sesquicentennial anniversaries of University College London’s founding, Bentham’s corpse was wheeled into a meeting of the College Council. In the official records, Jeremy Bentham is listed as “present but not voting.” In other words, Jeremy Bentham has abstained from beyond the grave! This also makes Jeremy Bentham the most successful bureaucrat in history: he has been able to attend meetings and do nothing of consequence for over two centuries. ---------------------------------------------------- Jolly Rogues | Hicks the Pirate | CD Baby Music Store Album Notes Farewell to Nova Scotia A traditional lively Celtic style folk piece, also known as The Nova Scotia Song (1950), it appears to have been written just before or during World War I. It harkens to Atlantic Canada’s wooden ship, seafaring past and tradition notes that its Canadian author had lost a brother at sea during wartime.

Most likely the song’s inspirational origins can be traced to weaver-poet Robert Tannahill’s (1774-1810) “The Soldier’s Adieu” printed in an 1808 Glasgow newspaper. Fathom the Bowl Also known as “The Punch Ladle”, this 19th C. drinking song appears in an 1858 broadside and was published in an 1891 songbook. Punch (English from Hindi 1669 meaning “5”) had five ingredients - spirits, water, lemon juice, sugar and spice. It seems that originally the song was for gentlemen and officers, later drifting to the common folk. Due to the price of spirits, it has been speculated that the piece is related to 17th/18th C. smuggling while terminology places location as southern England. “Crystal clear fountain” refers to winter storms and the term fathom relates to measuring a depth or here, deeply dipping the ladle into the bowl to get all the punch.

Hicks the Pirate Penned in a March 1861 broadside by “The Saugerties Bard” and folk balladist Henry Sherman Backus (1798-1861), this song - to the 18th C. air “The Rose Tree” - presents the sordid tale of “pirate” Albert W. Hicks. A NYC “gang member” (see movie Gangs of New York), Hicks was abducted onto an oyster sloop, murdered the crew, was found guilty of “piracy on the high seas” and hanged in 1860 leading to a period of notoriety. Haul Away Joe Of unknown origins, this tack and sheet, long drag work shanty was known and used by late 18th C. British sailors before becoming popular aboard Yankee ships especially between 1812 and 1860. One verse indicates a writing after the French Revolution. While it first appears in print in 1917, part of the chorus is found in an 1859 diary.

The shanty is often sung with an Irish accent and the word “Joe” is substituted during work with “pull” or “haul” or in ors case “to me” (ie pull the rope/line toward me). Sailor’s Hornpipe Beginning in the 16th C., British sailors need a means to exercise solo and in cramped quarters. The hornpipe/dance became the medium and this tune the mechanism. In classic 4/4 time, Samuel Pepys mentioned it in his diary as “Jig of the Ship” and by 1797 as “College Hornpipe” and “Jack’s the Lad.” Most popularly played on a whistle or a squeezebox, John Philip Sousa incorporated it into his “Jack Tar March” and in the 1930s (and ever more) it was synonymous with Popeye the Sailor Man cartoons and thus with all sailors and the sea. Roll the Old Chariot Along A traditional 18th/19th C.

“walk away” and rowing work shanty sung toan old Scottish tune, it appears to have African-American roots (“American Negro Folk Songs”) and apparently was used by The Salvation Army as a revivalist hymn. The golden chariot is supposed to be the conveyer of our souls to heaven. At one time, this piece could be heard at corn shuckings and log rollings in the swampy areas southern America. Its first verse alludes to Admiral Nelson, hero of the Battle of Trafalgar (1805), whose body was preserved in a brandy barrel from which sailors drank for courage Old John Webb Possibly tainted history but based on some historic fact and a 1730s broadside, this political, social ballad of Salem, MA definitely has its origins in several 16th/17th C. Scottish boarder songs of criminals/jail breaks (“Archie o Cawfield”, “Bold Dickie”, “Jock o the Side”). “Archie” arrived in Massachusetts in the early 1700s. John Webb was a Salem mint master at odds with England over old tenor/bill tenor (currency) and new currency.

“Bill Tenor” is a recent name addition and “billie” was a Scottish usage for comrade. Thus most likely, Billy breaking things is either a friend or a brother of John helping his leave jail. Of note, a Boston newspaper reported that Webb was released for insufficient evidence. Still the song is relevant to the currency crisis, romantic and a link to other “outlaw types.” Speed the Plow & Mason’s Apron Originally “The Naval Pillar“ or “Nelson’s Pillar,” the first tune picked up its current name when it was used in Thomas Morton’s 1800 London Comedy “Speed the Plow” The second tune, “Mason’s Apron” is a traditional Celtic tune with strong Irish fiddle ties but a Scottish melody origins. In Masonic Lodges, the symbolic, plain white lambskin apron is part of the initiation ritual and a decorated version is worn by all Master Masons. Leaving of Liverpool A sailor’s ballad from the 19th century telling the familiar tale of leaving one’s love behind.

Captain Burgess was a historical figure and the “Davy Crockett” was a clipper ship built in 1853, which sailed in many services until 1899 when she was grounded off of New York and broken up by a winter gale. Old Maui A foc’s’le or fore bitter shanty related to whaling in the north Pacific Ocean and Bering Straits/Artic grounds in the 1840s-1850s. The tune apparently is that of 18th C. “The Miller of Dee” while the lyrics have been found transcribed by crewmen from the records of the New Bedford, MA bark “Waverly” 1859-63; the “Atkins Adams” of New Bedford, 1858; and the “Europa” 1868-70 of Edgartown, MA. While American whaled the Pacific by 1787 and used the Hawaiian islands as a base by 1819, a Sag Harbor, NY ship “Superior” appears to have been the first north of the Bering Straits in 1848.

The songs historical details seem to date its origins to the 1840s. Golden Vanity “Lowlands Low”, “Sweet Trinity” and “Sir Walter Raleigh Sailing on the Lowlands” (Samuel Pepys 1682/1685 broadside) are other versions of this song with hundreds of variants . While Holland was known as the lowlands, common period usage had Lowland Sea as the Mediterranean Sea and location of this tale. The enemy is most likely Turkish though also appearing as French or Spanish. Several traditional tunes have accompanied the words and while not historical “fact’ per se, the story is ”all-too-likely.” Dungeon Rock Copyright (C)2010 Alpeg Music. All Rights Reserved. A pirate legend from Lynn, Massachusetts recounting the arrival of pirates who bartered with the locals for supplies, but were captured by the British Navy. One pirate escaped and, according to legend, hid in the Lynn Woods until an earthquake buried him alive in 1658.

Many have tried in vain to find his “treasure.” The tune was adapted from the English Traditional tune, “Dives and Lazarus” and the lyrics were composed by Alan & Peg Hicks of the Jolly Rogues. Irish Rover A traditional Irish wit, deception and nonsense story telling of an unlikely ship, with a strange crew and an unusual cargo that sinks in a storm with but a lone survivor - the singer, an Irish bricklayer going to NYC to work on the city hall, “I’m the last of the Irish Rover”, telling the tale. The tune dates perhaps to the 1830s/1840s and while may have been heard in late 19th C. stage or music halls, does have a 1901 Scottish version “Katey of Lochgoil.” Captain Kidd, Live! A confessional ballad meant to entertain, tell a story and educate one on life lessons, this song came to New England in the early 1700s with English settlers and was despised by ministers.

Appearing in an 1813 broadside, it claims to be the warning words of a dying Kidd who began as a servant of the King, killed a crewmember (accident or mutiny?), was arrested as a pirate in Boston and hanged in London 1701 (apparently, he mounted a weak defense). The tune appeared on an unsigned 1790 manuscript in Massachusetts and the ballad is believed to have been the basis for Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Treasure Island.” Recorded live in Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, UK in 2004. Gibraltar Gibraltar Excursions Gibraltar, The Rock of today is a bizarre anomaly of Moorish, Spanish, and—especially—British influences. There are double-decker buses, "bobbies" in helmets, and red mailboxes. Millions of pounds have been spent in developing its tourist potential, and a steady flow of expat Brits comes here from Spain to shop at Morrisons supermarket and High Street shops.

This tiny British colony—nicknamed "Gib" or simply "the Rock"—whose impressive silhouette dominates the strait between Spain and Morocco, was one of the two Pillars of Hercules in ancient times, marking the western limits of the known world and commanding the narrow pathway between the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. The Moors, headed by Tariq ibn Ziyad, seized the peninsula in 711, preliminary to the conquest of Spain. The Spaniards recaptured Tariq's Rock in 1462. The English, heading an Anglo-Dutch fleet in the War of the Spanish Succession, gained control in 1704, and, after several years of local skirmishes, Gibraltar was finally ceded to Great Britain in 1713 by the Treaty of Utrecht. Spain has been trying to get it back ever since. In 1779 a combined French and Spanish force laid siege to the Rock for three years to no avail. During the Napoléonic Wars, Gibraltar served as Admiral Horatio Nelson's base for the decisive naval Battle of Trafalgar, and during the two world wars, it served the Allies well as a naval and air base.

In 1967 Franco closed the land border with Spain to strengthen his claims over the colony, and it remained closed until 1985. Britain and Spain have been talking about joint Anglo-Spanish sovereignty, much to the ire of the majority of Gibraltarians, who remain fiercely patriotic to the Crown. There are likely few places in the world that you enter by walking or driving across an airport runway, but that's what happens in Gibraltar. First you show your passport; then you make your way out onto the narrow strip of land linking Spain's La Linea with Britain's Rock. Unless you have a good reason to take your car—such as loading up on cheap gas or duty-free goodies—you're best off leaving it in a guarded parking area in La Linea, the Spanish border town. Don't bother hanging around here; it's a seedy place. In Gibraltar you can hop on buses and take taxis that expertly maneuver the narrow, congested streets. The Official Rock Tour—conducted either by minibus or, at a greater cost, taxi—takes about 90 minutes and includes all the major sights, allowing you to choose where to come back and linger later.

When you call Gibraltar from Spain or another country, prefix the seven-digit telephone number with 00–350. If you're calling from within Gibraltar, note that the former five-digit number is now prefixed by 200. Gibraltar’s currency is the Gibraltar pound (£) whose exchange rate is the same as the British pound. Euros are accepted everywhere, although you will get a better exchange rate if you change your euros to pounds. Dining Sacarello's Right off Main Street, this busy restaurant is as well known for its excellent coffee and cakes as it is for the rest of its food. There's a varied salad and quiche buffet, as well as stuffed baked potatoes and daily specials, which could include fish-and-chips, or brandy-pork stuffed with cheese and bacon. Top your meal off with a specialty coffee with cream and vanilla. The restaurant has several warmly decorated rooms with cozy corners, dark-wood furnishings, and low-beamed ceilings, and the whole place has an old-fashioned English feel. Waterfront Easily distinguished by its flags and located right at Queensway Quay, this restaurant is a favorite with locals, especially for the Sunday Carvery.

It was refurbished in 2014; navy and white are the colors that predominate among the cane furniture and the various Mediterranean touches. In addition to the upstairs and downstairs dining inside, there's also a generous terrace and several tables that sit perched on the quay, allowing for views over the marina and to the mountains in Spain. The menu is distinctly international, with à la carte specialties such as steaks (they're aged on the premises), and British staples such as bangers and mash (sausages with mashed potatoes and onion gravy). Service is efficient and comes with a smile. Sights St. Michael's Cave This is the largest of Gibraltar's 150 caves; a visit here is part of the tour of the Upper Rock Nature Preserve. This series of underground chambers full of stalactites and stalagmites is sometimes used for very atmospheric (albeit damp) concerts and other events.

The skull of a Neanderthal woman (now in the British Museum) was found at the nearby Forbes Quarry eight years before the world-famous discovery in Germany's Neander Valley in 1856; nobody paid much attention to it at the time, which is why the prehistoric species is called Neanderthal rather than Homo calpensis (literally, "Gibraltar Man," after the Romans' name for the Rock, Calpe). Great Siege Tunnels These tunnels, formerly known as the Upper Galleries, were carved out during the Great Siege of 1779–82 at the northern end of Old Queen's Road. You can plainly see the openings from which the guns were pointed at the Spanish invaders. They form part of what is arguably the most impressive defense system anywhere in the world. The privately managed World War II Tunnels, which are nearby, are also open to the public but are less dramatic. Nefusot Yehuda Synagogue The Death of Lord Nelson, 1805 The Death of Lord Nelson, 1805 Printer Friendly Version >>> It was one of the greatest sea battles in British history and gave birth to a legend.

Off the coast of Spain's Cape Trafalgar Peninsula, the British Fleet, led by Lord Horatio Nelson, took on a combined French and Spanish force to determine who would be the master of the waves. England's very existence was at stake for France's Napoleon Bonaparte was poised to send his powerful army across the English Channel to conquer the island. The only obstacle standing in his way was the British fleet. Lord Nelson The battle commenced on October 21, 1805 with Nelson's famous words signaled to his fleet: "England expects that every man will do his duty." Nelson had devised an unorthodox battle plan that called for his ships to attack the enemy broadside in two parallel lines, break into the enemy's formation and blast his opponents at close quarters. As Nelson watched from the deck of the HMS Victory the battle soon turned into a confused melee of combat between individual ships. The fighting was at such close quarters that the Victory became entangled with the French ship Redoubtable. Locked together in a deadly ballet, each ship blasted its enemy at point-blank range.

From his perch in the upper rigging of the Redoubtable, a French sharpshooter took aim at a prized target on the deck of the Victory, fired and sent a musket ball into Nelson's left shoulder. Continuing its journey, the bullet tore a path through the Admiral's upper body before smashing into his lower back. It was a mortal wound. Nelson was carried below decks while the battle raged on. He lived long enough to hear the news of the Redoubtable's surrender and of his fleet's victory after four and one-half hours of combat. ADVERTISMENT Ah, Doctor! - it is all over; it is all over. Dr. William Beatty was a physician aboard the Victory and attended Nelson as he lay dying. The doctor published his account soon after the battle. We join his story as Nelson and the Captain of the Victory observe the battle from the ship's quarter deck: "Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy walked the quarter-deck in conversation for some time after this, while the enemy kept up an incessant raking fire.

A double-headed shot struck one of the parties of Marines drawn up on the poop, and killed eight of them; when his lordship, perceiving this, ordered Captain Adair, to disperse his men round the ship, that they might not suffer so much from being together. In a few minutes afterwards a shot struck the fore-brace-bits on the quarter-deck, and passed between Lord Nelson and Captain Hardy; a splinter from the bits bruising Captain Hardy's foot, and tearing the buckle from his shoe. They both instantly stopped; and were observed by the Officers on deck to survey each other with inquiring looks, each supposing the other to be wounded. His lordship then smiled, and said: 'This is too warm work, Hardy, to last long;' and declared that 'through all the battles he had been in, he had never witnessed more cool courage than was displayed by the Victory's crew on this occasion.' . . .

About fifteen minutes past one o'clock, which was in the heat of the engagement, he was walking the middle of the quarter-deck with Captain Hardy, and in the act of turning near the hatchway with his face towards the stern of the Victory, when the fatal ball was fired from the enemy's mizzen-top. . . The Victory in battle Click image to see the battle plan The ball struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, and penetrated his chest. He fell with his face on the deck. Captain Hardy, who was on his right (the side furthest from the enemy) and advanced some steps before his lordship, on turning round, saw the Sergeant Major of Marines with two seamen raising him from the deck; where he had fallen on the same spot on which, a little before, his secretary had breathed his last, with whose blood his lordship's clothes were much soiled. Captain Hardy expressed a hope that he was not severely wounded; to which the gallant Chief replied: 'They have done for me at last, Hardy.' - 'I hope not,' answered Captain Hardy.

'Yes,' replied his lordship; 'my backbone is shot through.' Captain Hardy ordered the seamen to carry the Admiral to the cockpit. . . His lordship was laid upon a bed, stripped of his clothes, and covered with a sheet. While this was effecting, he said to Doctor Scott, "Doctor, I told you so. Doctor, I am gone;" and after a short pause he added in a low voice, "I have to leave Lady Hamilton, and my adopted daughter Horatia, as a legacy to my country." The surgeon then examined the wound, assuring his lordship that he would not put him to much pain in endeavoring to discover the course of the ball; which he soon found had penetrated deep into the chest, and had probably lodged in the spine. This being explained to his lordship, he replied, "he was confident his back was shot through." The back was then examined externally, but without any injury being perceived; on which his lordship was requested by the surgeon to make him acquainted with all his sensations.

He replied, that "he felt a gush of blood every minute within his breast: that he had no feeling in the lower part of his body: and that his breathing was difficult, and attended with very severe pain about that part of the spine where he was confident that the ball had struck; for," said he, "I felt it break my back." These symptoms, but more particularly the gush of blood which his lordship complained of, together with the state of his pulse, indicated to the surgeon the hopeless situation of the case; but till after the victory was ascertained and announced to his lordship, the true nature of his wound was concealed by the surgeon from all on board except only Captain Hardy, Doctor Scott, Mr. Burke, and Messrs. Smith and Westemburg the assistant surgeons. The Victory's crew cheered whenever they observed an enemy's ship surrender. On one of these occasions, Lord Nelson anxiously inquired what was the cause of it; when Lieutenant Pasco, who lay wounded at some distance from his lordship, raised himself up, and told him that another ship had struck, which appeared to give him much satisfaction.

He now felt an ardent thirst; and frequently called for drink, and to be fanned with paper, making use of these words: 'Fan, fan,' and 'Drink, drink.' He evinced great solicitude for the event of the battle, and fears for the safety of his friend Captain Hardy. Doctor Scott and Mr. Burke used every argument they could suggest, to relieve his anxiety. Mr. Burke told him 'the enemy were decisively defeated, and that he hoped His lordship would still live to be himself the bearer of the joyful tidings to his country.' He replied, 'It is nonsense, Mr. Burke, to suppose I can live: my sufferings are great, but they will all be soon over.' Doctor Scott entreated his lordship 'not to despair of living,' and said 'he trusted that Divine Providence would restore him once more to his dear country and friends.' � 'Ah, Doctor!' replied lordship, 'it is all over; it is all over.' The Death of Lord Nelson An hour and ten minutes however elapsed, from the time of his lordship's being wounded, before Captain Hardy's first subsequent interview with him. . .

They shook hands affectionately, and Lord Nelson said: 'Well, Hardy, how goes the battle? How goes the day with us?'- 'Very well, my Lord,' replied Captain Hardy. . . 'I am a dead man, Hardy. I am going fast: it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Pray let my dear Lady Hamilton [Lord Nelson's mistress] have my hair, and all other things belonging to me.' . . .Captain Hardy observed, that 'he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life.' � 'Oh! no,' answered his lordship; 'it is impossible. My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so.' Captain Hardy then returned on deck, and at parting shook hands again with his revered friend and commander. His Lordship became speechless in about fifteen minutes after Captain Hardy left him. . . and when he had remained speechless about five minutes, his Lordship's steward went to the surgeon, who had been a short time occupied with the wounded in another part of the cockpit, and stated his apprehensions that his Lordship was dying. The surgeon immediately repaired to him, and found him on the verge of dissolution.

He knelt down by his side, and took up his hand; which was cold, and the pulse gone from the wrist. On the surgeon's feeling his forehead, which was likewise cold, his Lordship opened his eyes, looked up, and shut them again. The surgeon again left him, and returned to the wounded who required his assistance; but was not absent five minutes before the Steward announced to him that 'he believed his Lordship had expired.' The surgeon returned, and found that the report was but too well founded: his Lordship had breathed his last, at thirty minutes past four o'clock; at which period Doctor Scott was in the act of rubbing his Lordship's breast, and Mr. Burke supporting the bed under his shoulders. References: Dr. Beatty's account is found in: Beatty, William, The Death of Lord Nelson (1807); Adkins, Roy, Nelson's Trafalgar: the battle that changed the world (2005); Howarth, David A., Trafalgar: the Nelson touch (1969). How To Cite This Article: "The Death of Lord Nelson, 1805", EyeWitness to History, (2007).

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Question: Whose body was preserved in a barrel of brandy for the sea journey home?
Answer: Lord Nelson