Long before Bonaparte’s rise to ultimate power, however, the other European countries could see the writing appearing on the wall and began to take steps to prepare for a conflict that they knew was inevitable

One of those steps was to rescue Nelson from the doldrums; he was recalled to active service in 1793, when the French government declared war on Britain, summoned from his idle exile in Norfolk and given command of HMS Agamemnon, a third rate ship of the line that already had an illustrious history and which had taken part in several successful actions against the pre-revolutionary French navy off the coasts of North America and Canada.

Before his period of frustrating enforced activity, Nelson himself had seen action off those same coasts and, further south in the West Indies, just off Nevis, had brought himself to the notice of his superiors by seizing four merchant ships that were suspected of attempting to take cargo from the newly independent United States to the British colonies there.

The four captains in question had then brought charges against the young Englishmen for illegal seizure and, as the merchants on Nevis supported their action, Nelson was in danger of being imprisoned and had been forced to remain aboard Boreas for eight months, until the courts overturned the legal action against him.

Now, though, there was an all-out war declared and Nelson anticipated far more clear cut action, when he was ordered to take his 64-gun Agamemnon to the Mediterranean, where he was to be based out of the Kingdom of Naples.

He was not disappointed and was soon involved in a series of battles, but it was in 1794, during a joint operation with the army, at Calvi, in Corsica, that he lost the sight in his right eye, although, contrary to legend and popular belief, there is no evidence that he ever wore an eye patch as a result of this.

In fact, the shot which did the damage struck him above the eye, tearing away half the eyebrow and probably wrecking the optic nerve, whilst the eye itself remained outwardly normal in appearance.

Two years later, command of the Mediterranean Fleet passed to Sir John Jervis, who was an ardent admirer of the courageous and innovative Nelson, whom he immediately appointed as commodore of his flagship, HMS Captain.

By the following year, Jervis had switched his own flag to HMS Victory, but Nelson retained command of Captain and his rank of commodore, as Jervis led his fifteen ship force through the Straits of Gibraltar, to confront a 27 ship Spanish fleet off the Portuguese coast at Cape St Vincent in February 1797.

This was the first action in which Nelson’s bravery and tenacity really had the chance to shine through and the outcome of the overall battle would have been very different, had it not been for him.

Admiral Jervis, seeing the Spanish ships spread out along a twenty mile line, sailed through that line to split the leading eighteen vessels from the nine at the rear, which he began to engage.

Nelson had been ordered to pull Captain out of the British line and harry the leading Spanish ships, to delay them from turning about to join the furious battle going on behind them, but Nelson was not content to just prove of nuisance value.

Later, he reportedly said that it was his intention to show the Spanish that the Royal Navy was “not to be trifled with” and, to that end, he employed the sort of tactic that has been used against bullies in school yards for centuries - he picked on the biggest one and set about pounding it as hard as he could, regardless of his own safety.

The “biggest bully” in this case just happened to be not just the largest ship in the Spanish fleet, but the biggest warship afloat, the 130 gun Santissima Trinidad; this didn’t faze Nelson, who had great confidence that his gunners were far better and faster than their Spanish counterparts.

His faith in his men proved well founded, but even so, he was outgunned two to one and, although his broadsides wreaked havoc with the huge Spaniard, the arrival of the San Nicolas meant that sheer weight of shot caused terrible damage to the masts and rigging of the much smaller Captain.

Things were looking bleak for Nelson, but the timely arrival of Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood, in HMS Excellent, turned the tide and Collingwood’s gunners turned their fire against the San Nicolas with deadly effect, causing it to turn away and become entangled with the nearby San Josef.

The Santissima Trinidad was already trying to disengage and Collingwood turned his guns against her now, ensuring that she continued to withdraw, in order to allow Nelson the time and space to pull his own, badly battered ship out of the action.

Nelson was having none of that, though, for the adrenelin was pumping in no uncertain fashion and he could see two Spanish ships, with their spars and rigging entangled, that were in no real shape to fight him in a gunnery duel.

Displaying fantastic seamanship, he managed to bring the near-crippled Captain alongside the helpless San Nicolas and led boarding parties onto her, quickly overwhelming her crew after a short, but bloody fight.

Not content with this, he led his men across her decks and onto the San Josef, with similar result and found himself in possession of two captured prizes.

By this time, the rest of the Spanish fleet were in full flight - apart from two other ships that the British captured and were only too glad to break off and get away from the deadly accurate fire of the Royal Navy’s supremely disciplined gun crews.

In all, apart from the four captured vessels and several more that had sustained severe damage, the Spanish lost more than three thousand men, whilst the British fleet lost only around three hundred.

It was a crushing and - for the Spaniards - completely embarrassing outcome to the day.

Nelson’s role in the crushing victory at Cape St Vincent was quickly recognised in London and he was knighted as a member of the Order of the Bath; in April that year, he was promoted to Rear Admiral of the Blue, the tenth highest rank in the Royal Navy and the press and public loved him.

Here was a man - despite his mother’s aristocratic connections - to whom the ordinary people could relate, especially as his men were quick enough to come forward and extoll his virtues, both as a leader of men and as a commander who really seemed to care about those who served under him.

Conditions in the Royal Navy at this time were horrendous; even for the officers it was no picnic, but for the lower ranks, life on board was often little better than a floating hell and discipline was unbelievably harsh.

Nelson was hampered by regulations and there was little he could do about the monotonous and unhealthy diet, nor the cramped conditions, but somehow he managed to inspire confidence and gratitude among his crews.

The press were not slow in picking up on this and Nelson swiftly became a living legend, whose name was on the lips of everyone in the land. The term “The Nelson Touch” was born.

And, before the year was out, the legend was to grow even greater, when, during an expedition to conquer Santa Cruz de Tenerife, he was shot in the right arm by a musket ball, which shattered the limb in several places.

Medical science of the day advocated but one treatment for all serious limb wounds, in order to prevent the rapid onset and spread of gangrene, which inevitably led to death and the arm was amputated almost immediately.

Nelson demonstrated his courage as he endured the operation to remove his arm, performed without anaesthetic, as was common in those days. The surgeon who performed the operation made a commenting note in his diary afterwards.

Nelson bore the pain without complaint, he wrote, but was given opium afterwards. Later, as he began his recovery, Nelson suggested that the surgeon should heat his knives first, as the cold knives were more painful and this procedure spread to other surgeons in the service quite rapidly.

The loss of his arm was not the only reversal of fortune which Nelson experienced, although an earlier misadventure seems to have been kept fairly quiet for several years, perhaps because the Admiralty considered its events might portray their emerging “superstar” in a less favourable light.

In December 1796, Nelson left the island of Elba for Gibraltar, transferring his flag to the frigate Minerva, commanded by Captain Cockburn, with a young Lieutenant Hardy also on board.

During the passage, a Spanish frigate, the Santa Sabina, was captured and Hardy was sent on board to command a prize crew.

However, the following morning, two Spanish ships of the line appeared, in company with another Spanish frigate and Nelson found himself outnumbered and seriously out-gunned.

Deciding that discretion was, for once, the better part of valour, Nelson decided to withdraw, leaving the Santa Sabina to be re-taken by the Spanish and Hardy to be taken prisoner.

Later, in Gibraltar, Hardy was exchanged for the original Spanish captain of the Santa Sabina and little resulted from Nelson’s actions, particularly as any right-thinking naval tactician would have advised against trying to take on such an overwhelming opposing force.

It was also mooted that Nelson considered it unlikely that the Spanish would simply open fire on the captured frigate, as they would have realised that a large number of their fellow countrymen remained on board as prisoners.

But, back - or forward - to 1798 and the recuperating little Admiral ...