Many days had not elapsed before Captain Blackwood, on his way to London with despatches, called on him at five in the morning. Nelson, who was already dressed, exclaimed, the moment he saw him: “I am sure you bring me news of the French and Spanish fleets! I think I shall yet have to beat them!”
They had refitted at Vigo, after the indecisive action with Sir Robert Calder; then proceeded to Ferrol, brought out the squadron from thence, and with it entered Cadiz in safety.
“Depend on it, Blackwood,” he said, “I shall give M. Villeneuve a drubbing.”
But, when Blackwood had left him, he wanted resolution to declare his wishes to Lady Hamilton and his sisters, and endeavored to drive away the thought. “I have done enough,” he said; “let the man trudge it who has lost his budget.”
His countenance belied his lips; and as he was pacing one of the walks in the garden, which he used to call the quarter-deck, Lady Hamilton came up to him, and told him she saw he was uneasy.
He smiled and said:
“No, I am as happy as possible; I am surrounded by my family; my health is better since I have been on shore, and I would not give sixpence to call the king my uncle?”
She replied, that she did not believe him,—that she knew he was longing to get at the combined fleets,—that he considered them as his own property—that he would be miserable if any man but himself did the business, and that he ought to have them, as the price and reward of his two years’ long watching, and his hard chase.