The frigate “Amazon,” sent ahead with the letters, was ordered to go on to Lisbon, get all the news she could, and rejoin at Cape St. Vincent.  She passed Gibraltar on the 29th, and, getting decisive information just outside the Straits, held on there.  It was not till the 6th that Nelson reached Gibraltar, where he anchored for only four hours.  This gain of a week by a frigate, in traversing ground for which the fleet took seventeen days, may well be borne in mind by those unfamiliar with the delays attending concerted movements, that have to be timed with reference to the slowest units taking part in the combination.

The days of chase, over which we have hurried in a few lines, passed for Nelson not only wearily, but in agony of soul.  Justified as his action was to his own mind, and as it must be by the dispassionate review of military criticism, he could not but be tormented by the thought of what might have been, and by his temper, which lacked equanimity and fretted uncontrollably to get alongside the enemy—­to do the duty and to reap the glory that he rightly conceived to be his own.  “I am entirely adrift,” he complained, “by my frigates losing sight of the French fleet so soon after their coming out of port.”  His purpose never faltered, nor did the light that led him grow dim.  His action left nothing to be desired, but the chafing of his spirit approached fury.  Lord Radstock, writing from London to his son, says:  “I met a person yesterday, who told me that he had seen a letter from Lord Nelson, concluding in these words:  ’O French fleet, French fleet, if I can but once get up with you, I’ll make you pay dearly for all that you have made me suffer!’ Another told me that he had seen a letter from an officer on board the Victory, describing his chief ’as almost raving with anger and vexation.’  This,” continues Radstock, who knew him very well, “I can readily credit, so much so, indeed, that I much fear that he will either undertake some desperate measure to retrieve his ground, or, should not such an opportunity offer, that he will never suffer us to behold him more.”

Being in London, the writer just quoted was in close touch with the popular feeling of anxiety, a suspicion of which he could well imagine Nelson also had, and which added to his burden.  “It is believed here,” he says on the 21st of May, “that the combined fleet from Cadiz is bound to the West Indies.  This is by no means improbable....  The City people are crying out against Sir J.O.,[92] and, as usual, are equally absurd and unjust.  Some are so ridiculous as to say that he ought to have captured some of the Toulon squadron, whilst others, more moderate, think that he might at all events, have so crippled the enemy as to have checked the expedition.[93] You may readily guess that your chief is not out of our thoughts at this critical moment.  Should Providence once more favour him, he will be considered our guardian angel; but, on the other hand, should he unfortunately take a wrong scent, and the Toulon fleet attain their object, the hero of the 14th of February and of Aboukir will be—­I will not say what, but the ingratitude of the world is but too well known on these occasions.”