LETTER XLIV.
Victory, April 19th, 1804.
MY DEAREST EMMA,
I had wrote you a line, intended for the Swift cutter; but, instead of her joining me, I had the mortification, not only to hear that she was taken, but that all the dispatches and letters had fallen into the hands of the enemy; a very pretty piece of work!
I am not surprised at the capture; but am very much so, that any dispatches should be sent in a vessel with twenty-three men, not equal to cope with any row-boat privateer.
As I do not know what letters of your's are in her, I cannot guess what will be said. I suppose, there will be a publication.
The loss of the Hindostan, was great enough; but, for importance, it is lost, in comparison to the probable knowledge the enemy will obtain of our connections with foreign countries! Foreigners for ever say—and it is true—"We dare not trust England; one way, or other, we are sure to be committed!" However, it is now too late to launch out on this subject.
Not a thing has been saved out of the Hindostan, not a second shirt for any one; and it has been by extraordinary exertions, that the people's lives were saved.
Captain Hallowell is so good as to take home, for me, wine as by the inclosed list; and, if I can, some honey. The Spanish honey is so precious, that if [any one has] a cut, or sore throat, it is used to cure it. I mention this, in case you should wish to give the Duke a jar. The smell is wonderful! It is to be produced no where, but in the mountains near Rosas.
The Cyprus wine, one hogshead, was for Buonaparte.
I would recommend the wine-cooper drawing it off: and you can send a few dozens to the Duke; who, I know, takes a glass every day at two o'clock.
I wish, I had any thing else to send you; but, my dearest Emma, you must take the will for the deed.
I am pleased with Charlotte's letter; and, as she loves my dear
Horatia, I shall always like her.
What hearts those must have, who do not! But, thank God, she shall not be dependent on any of them.
Your letter of February 12th, through Mr. Falconet, I have received. I know, they are all read; therefore, never sign your name. I shall continue to write, through Spain; but never say a word that can convey any information—except, of eternal attachment and affection for you; and that, I care not, who knows; for I am, for ever, and ever, your, only your,
NELSON & BRONTE.
Poor Captain Le Gros had your note to him in his pocket-book, and that was all he saved.
Mr. Este left him at Gibraltar, and went to Malta in the Thisbe.
Captain Le Gros is now trying. I think, it will turn out, that every person is obliged to his conduct for saving their lives.
She took fire thirteen leagues from the land.