The Admiral was convinced that Naples was the destination of the French, and at once started to throw himself upon them. He was equally convinced that no harm would come to Sicily, with Keith’s fine fleet in hot pursuit of the French, and wrote to Sir William that he should be back in eight days and to calm Her Majesty’s distress. He was his old self again, almost back to health, and full of spirits at the prospect of meeting the French fleet. With Admiral Lord Keith behind him to look after the future of the two Kingdoms, he was ready to fight the French till every ship he had was sunk.
We were off Palermo on the 21st, but did not enter the harbour; we only lay to for a couple of hours, while the Admiral went ashore to see Her Majesty and afterwards brought Sir William and Lady Hamilton on board, the latter with baggage. Nor could the Admiral’s expectation of finding the French fleet at Naples bring a shadow of anxiety to her rosy, laughing face.
“If the French are there, Nelson,” she said, “there will be another Nile, and we shall be there to see it this time.”
I do not know if such a prospect had any particular attraction for Sir William, but he did not show the white feather. Possibly he thought that the French fleet would be in no hurry to put themselves in a trap at Naples, but that there might be need of a diplomatist who understood the value of conflicting Neapolitan promises. However, My Lady was all for a battle: a battle she longed for, with her dear Admiral distributing thunderbolts. Then we resumed our voyage, making Naples on the 24th.
Off Ischia we had the news that put the Admiral into a fury we were glad to see him in again. He did not make the innocent suffer in his furies, and he had not had the health for the like for months past. There was no French fleet at Naples; and Cardinal Ruffo, who commanded the Army of Vagabonds, the only people who were worth anything in the Kingdom of Naples, had made a most unintelligible treaty with the rebels, allowing them Heaven knows what.
It was a strange voyage that. Here were we, eighteen of the line, just outside the Bay, where we were in full expectation of finding five-and-twenty of the French line. We had not had a bulkhead in the ship for many weeks past. Even the cabin occupied by Sir William and My Lady was made of canvas screens; and yet when the boat came aboard us off Ischia, here was this beautiful woman, in the costly and delicate costume which befitted her as a Court lady, standing beside the Admiral, who had gone forward to receive the messenger. She certainly did say, “I will interpret for you,” as a sort of explanation or excuse for her presence. I, of course, was only in attendance to take orders.
The Admiral first smiled, and was then very much perturbed as she translated the message to him from the Cardinal, which informed him that there were no French or rebels, except in the castles and the citadel and one or two unimportant fortified points. So far so good. But the Cardinal went on to say that he had concluded a treaty by which the patriots——
“Patriots!” cried the Admiral. “May he be d—d with these vile homicidal rebels!”
“——by which the rebels,” her Ladyship corrected herself, “were to evacuate the castles within twenty-one days unless previously relieved by the French fleet; they marching out with all the honours of war, and the British Admiral providing vessels to take them to Toulon free of all charge, and giving hostages to the French in the citadel for the safe deliverance of the same.”
“A pretty treaty!” shouted the Admiral: “what’s Foote doing?”