Hardy is gone into Plymouth, to see our Dutchman safe.  I think, she will turn out a good prize.

Gaetano desires his duty to Miledi!  He is a good man; and, I dare say, will come back:  for, I think, it cannot be a long war; just enough to make me independent in pecuniary matters.

If the wind stands, on Tuesday we shall be on the coast of Portugal; and, before next Sunday, in the Mediterranean.

To Mrs. Cadogan, say every kind thing; to good Mrs. Nelson, the Doctor, &c. &c.

If you like, you may tell him about the entailing of the pension:  but, perhaps, he will be so much taken up with Canterbury, that it will do for some dull evening at Hilborough.

I shall now stop, till I have been on board the Admiral.  Only, tell Mrs. T. that I will write her the first safe opportunity; I am not sure of this.

I shall direct to Merton, after June 1st.  Therefore, as you change, make Davison take a direction to Nepean; but, I would not trouble him with too many directions, for fear of embroil.

  May 23d.

We were close in with Brest, yesterday; and found, by a frigate, that Admiral Cornwallis had a rendezvous at sea.  Thither we went; but, to this hour, cannot find him.

It blows strong.  What wind we are losing!  If I cannot find the Admiral by six o’clock, we must all go into the Amphion, and leave the Victory, to my great mortification.  So much for the wisdom of my superiors.

I keep my letter open to the last:  for, I still hope; as, I am sure, there is no good reason for my not going out in the Victory.

I am just embarking in the Amphion; cannot find Admiral Cornwallis.

May God in Heaven bless you! prays your most sincere

  NELSON & BRONTE.

Stephens’s publication I should like to have.

I have left my silver seal; at least, I cannot find it.

LETTER XXXII.

  [July 1803.

MY DEAREST EMMA,

Although I have wrote letters from various places, merely to say—­“Here I am,” and “There I am;”—­yet, as I have no doubt but that they would all be read, it was impossible for me to say more than—­“Here I am, and well:”  and I see no prospect of any certain mode of conveyance, but by sea; which, with the means the Admiralty has given me, of small vessels, can be but seldom.

Our passages have been enormously long.  From Gibraltar to Malta, we were eleven days:  arriving the fifteenth in the evening, and sailing in the night of the sixteenth—­that is, three in the morning of the seventeenth—­and it was the twenty-sixth before we got off Capri; where I had ordered the frigate, which carried Mr. Elliot to Naples, to join me.

I send you copies of the King and Queen’s letters.  I am vexed, that she did not mention you!  I can only account for it, by her’s being a political letter.