It was dusk when they boarded the Vanguard, her riding light lit, and her huge bulk dim and mysterious in the twilight. Blue Peter already flying, the yacht had, of course, been sighted and Nelson was at the gangway, eager to see the Ambassador, who might have news of the first consequence, and unconscious of the slight figure that crouched abaft. He started back in surprise when he saw her. Only the rope ladder for the men was available but he had a chair rigged up instantly and had her hoisted on deck. She stood there silent for a minute and motioned to her husband.
“I have a word for you, Admiral,” he said easily, “and her Excellency wished to bid you Godspeed on your errand. Can we be private?”
Without a word, Nelson led the way to his cabin. His mind was so pressed with anxieties that his only thought was of the result of Troubridge’s errand ashore.
“Have they got the order?” he asked.
“After a fashion, yes. But I fear not one that will serve your purpose, sir,” said Hamilton. “You know the King of old, and this time he shelters himself behind his Minister. We must hope for the best, unless indeed—”
He looked at Emma. His hope was that the Queen might have sent some offer to deal with the King. Her silence promised, not fulfilment, but possibility.
“Sir Horatio, I rejoice to see you,” said the soft fluty notes he remembered so well. “And how is Josiah?”
He made some hurried answer, and looked at Sir William. What were they there for?
“I want you to look at this paper,” she said, her voice shaking. “ ’Tis known to my husband, if not to you, that the Queen, in virtue of having brought an heir to the throne, has the right to a seat on the Council and a voice in all decisions. I urged Her Majesty but now to use her power. She feared to do so for fear of complications, not only with the King, but with the French. I urged her on my knees and with tears for the sake of all her hopes, her kingdom, her children—” Her voice broke with excitement and the throbbing of her heart. Nelson’s face fixed on her, though as yet he could not comprehend. He was white as death. If he must return to Gibraltar for victualling, good-bye to the French and all his hopes. His thin hand shook on the table. Sir William took a paper from her hand and read it to himself, while the two looked at each other in silence.
“Sir,” he said, extending it, “I offer you from my Lady Hamilton a Royal order for provisioning and watering the Fleet where you will.” He spoke with the rigid composure of his caste and rank. Emma, near breaking down, all sparkling, glowing, trembling at last, stared at Nelson. He mastered himself by an effort that for a minute seemed beyond him and took the paper and read it. Then laid it on the table and stood as if before his King.