The Victory, with the fleet under my command, left Gibraltar twenty- seven days ago….
Nelson and Bronté_.
That's right. Do the thing thoroughly if you're going to do it at all. Come home yourself, and bring your fleet with you. It might get in the way of the Combined Squadron if it stopped off Cadiz. Pity to be rude, you know!
As soon as Lord Nelson's flag was descried at Spithead, the ramparts, and every place which could command a view of the entrance of the harbour, were crowded with spectators. As he approached the shore, he was saluted with loud and reiterated huzzas, as enthusiastic and sincere as if he had returned crowned with a third great naval victory.
That third great victory, where was it now?
Poor little chap! poor little Nelson!
And what was this? The Moniteur, Paris, August 12. Boo-woo-woo…. Bob Calder's battle. [Footnote: Sir Robert Calder had fought an indecisive action with Villeneuve in July.] Bob Calder ought to be shot. Had em and then wouldn't hammer em. Call emselves sailors!
Vice-Admiral Calder stood off with thirteen ships, and left the Combined Squadron masters of the sea.
Masters of the Sea!
O good God! good God!