is certainly full of the bravest men, but they are mostly below the rank of admiral; and brave as they almost all are, there was a sort of heroic cast about Nelson that I never saw in any other man, and which seems wanting to the achievement of impossible things which became easy to him, and on which the maintenance of our superiority at sea seems to depend against the growing navy of the enemy.”  “The clamour against poor Sir Robert Calder is gaining ground daily,” wrote Radstock, condemnatory yet pitiful towards the admiral who had failed duly to utilize the opportunity Nelson then was seeking in vain, “and there is a general cry against him from all quarters.  Thus much one may venture to say, that had your old chief commanded our squadron, the enemy would have had but little room for lying or vapouring, as I have not a shadow of a doubt but that he would either have taken or destroyed the French admiral.”

But there was but one Nelson, and he meantime, faint yet pursuing, toiled fruitlessly on, bearing still the sickness of hope deferred and suspense protracted.  “Midnight,” he notes in his private diary of June 21st.  “Nearly calm, saw three planks which I think came from the French fleet.  Very miserable, which is very foolish.”  “We crawled thirty-three miles the last twenty-four hours,” he enters on the 8th of July.  “My only hope is, that the enemy’s fleet are near us, and in the same situation.  All night light breezes, standing to the eastward, to go to the northward of St. Michael’s.[106] At times squally with rain.”  Amid these unavoidable delays, he was forecasting and preparing that no time should be lost when he reached the Straits and once more came within the range of intelligence.  The light winds, when boats could pass without retarding the ships, were utilized in preparing letters to the officials at Gibraltar and Tangiers, to have ready the stores necessary for the fleet upon arrival.  These papers were already on board the two frigates remaining with him, with the necessary instructions for their captains, so that they might part at any moment judged fitting, irrespective of weather conditions.  Again he cautions the authorities to keep his approach a profound secret.  No private letters for Gibraltar were permitted in the mail-bags, lest they should unwittingly betray counsel.  The vessels were directed to rejoin him forty miles west of Cape Spartel, giving him thus time to decide upon his course before he reached Gibraltar; for it was quite on the cards that he might find it imperative to hurry north without anchoring.  On the 13th of July, five hundred miles from Cape St. Vincent, one of these ships left him, probably the last to go.