Actually, what Naples did mattered little.  Under some contingencies, such as Nelson was contemplating when he wrote his letter, it might have mattered much whether he received the abundant support of small armed vessels which he indicated; but in the end supplies only were required, and those he had orders from Jervis to exact at the mouth of his cannon from all powers,—­friends or neutrals,—­Sardinia only excepted.  The fleet passed the Straits of Messina on the 20th of June, and continued south, keeping close to the Sicilian shore in hope of information, until the 22d, when it was off Cape Passaro, the southeastern extremity of the island.  There a Genoese brig was spoken, which had left Malta the previous day.  From her Nelson learned that Malta had surrendered to the French on the 15th, a week before, which was correct; but the information further stated, that, after landing a garrison, the expedition had sailed again on the 16th—­it was thought for Sicily.  This last news was untrue, whether by intention or not, for Bonaparte remained in Malta till the 19th; but upon it Nelson had to act.  Had he seen the captain of the stranger himself, he might have found out more, for he was a shrewd questioner, and his intellect was sharpened by anxiety, and by constant dwelling upon the elements of the intricate problem before him; but the vessel had been boarded by the “Mutine,” three hours before, and was now beyond recall.

At this season the winds in the Mediterranean prevail from the westward; therefore, with the six days’ start the enemy was believed now to have, no time could be lost.  Six days sufficed to carry the British squadron from its present position to Alexandria, which Nelson was already inclined to think the destination of the French.  Yet, being dependent upon a wind then practically constant in direction, it would not do to yield a mile of ground, except upon a mature, if rapid, deliberation.  Nelson’s own mind was, by constant preoccupation, familiar beforehand with the bearings of the different conditions of any situation likely to occur, and with the probable inferences to be drawn; his opinions were, so to say, in a constant state of formation and development, ready for instantaneous application to any emergency as it arose.  But he had, besides, exercised the same habit in the captains of the ships, by the practice of summoning them on board the flagship, singly or in groups; the slow movement of sailing vessels, particularly in the light summer weather of the Mediterranean, permitting such intercourse without materially affecting the progress of the fleet.  Invitations or commands so to visit the flagship were common.  “I have passed the day on board the Vanguard,” notes Saumarez on one occasion, “having breakfasted and stayed to dinner with the admiral.”  “It was his practice during the whole of his cruize,” wrote Berry, the flag-captain, “whenever the weather and circumstances would permit, to have his captains on board the Vanguard, where he would fully