The captains stood there dogged and disconsolate. Bad news to take back to Nelson and he fuming and raging as it was. Emma marked all from her retirement. Sir William left the room to make himself ready and still the two men waited there, not exchanging a word, evidently on tenter-hooks.
Presently back came the Ambassador, and away they went. She could hear the carriage rolling down the street. She slipped from her hiding place and stood a minute to think, then flew upstairs, light as the Emma of Up Park, and into the stately plumed hat and long silk cloak, and ordered her own carriage. The Queen should know the rights of this business. It was two o’clock when the men got back from the audience and Troubridge carried a paper in his hand and a frowning dissatisfied face above it. A ministerial order written under the King’s eye, hedged with conditions, barbed with restrictions, to the governors of the Sicilian ports, permitting the wounded to be taken ashore, and victualling and water to be accorded under certain circumstances, in case of need.
“And I’m a Dutchman,” said Hamilton, flinging himself exhausted into a chair, “if you get anything out of that damned order. For why? Isn’t it obvious it can be twisted any way, and, if convenient, the King can send a hint to throw every damned difficulty in your way?”
Troubridge also swore quietly as he sat and looked at the paper. It was better than nothing and that was all. A diplomatic shift to fob them off and please the French. Indeed, it might prove worse than nothing and a mere loss of time. The two sat silent, thinking dangerous thoughts. If it came to forcing the Sicilian King, as it very well might, why, then—neither of them cared to consider the consequences.
And as they sat, her Excellency entered, still plumed and cloaked, pale with some feeling she did not disclose, but greeting them warmly and kindly.
“Sir William, I would give much to see our old friend the Admiral before he puts to sea. Would there be any objection on the part of these officers if we ordered our own yacht and went back with them to Capua?”
Her eye warned him; he was cordial at once. “Why, certainly, it would be a pleasure to see Sir Horatio and I might well be able to give him some hints that would be useful with the governors whom I know. Would a lady be in the way, Captain Troubridge? And how is the wind?”
“Fair.” No difficulty about that, but every moment was precious. Could her Excellency hasten?
“I am ready now,” said Emma. “Let us go.”
She spoke scarcely a word while the swift yacht cut the water to Capri but sat, wrapped, as it were, in her own thoughts. The two captains had so much to discuss with Sir William that they were well content that it should be so. It was no time for small talk with even the most charming of women. What Nelson would say to bringing her aboard they could not tell. Sir William must answer for that.