As far as September 14th, I am at the Admiralty's disposal; but, if Mr. Buonaparte do not chuse to send his miscreants before that time, my health will not bear me through equinoctial gales.

I wish that Sir William was returned; I would try and persuade him to come to either Deal, Dover, or Margate: for, thus cut off from the society of my dearest friends, 'tis but a life of sorrow and sadness.

But, _patienza per forza_!

I hope you will get the house. If I buy, no person can say--this shall, or not, be altered; and, you shall have the whole arrangement.

Remember me most kindly to Mrs. Nelson, the Duke, and Lord William.

Write to me in the Downs.

May the Heavens bless and preserve you, for ever and ever! is the constant prayer of, my dear Emma, your most affectionate and faithful

NELSON & BRONTE.

The Mayor and Corporation of Sandwich, when they came on board to present me the freedom of that ancient town, requested me [to] dine with them. I put them off for the moment, but they would not be let off. Therefore, this business, _dreadful_ to me, stands over, and I shall be attacked again when I get to the Downs. But I will not dine there, without you say, approve; nor, perhaps, then, if I can get off.

Oh! how I hate to be stared at.

LETTER XV.

Deal, August 18th, 1801.

MY DEAREST EMMA,

Your dear, good, kind, and most affectionate letters, from Sat.u.r.day to last night, are arrived, and I feel all you say; and may Heaven bless me, very soon, with a sight of your dear angelic face. You are a nonpareil! No, not one fit to wipe your shoes. I am, ever have been, and always will remain, your most firm, fixed, and unalterable friend.

I wish Sir William had come home a week ago, then I should have seen you here.

I have this morning been attending the funeral of two young Mids: a Mr. Gore, cousin of Capt. Gore, and a Mr. Bristow. One nineteen, the other seventeen years of age.

Last night, I was all the evening in the Hospital, seeing that all was done for the comfort of the poor fellows.

I am going on board; for nothing should keep me living on sh.o.r.e, without you were here. I shall come in the morning, to see Parker, and go on board again directly.

I shall be glad to see Oliver: I hope he will keep his tongue quiet, about the tea-kettle; for, I shall not give it till I leave the Medusa.

You ask me, what Troubridge wrote me? There was not a syllable about you in it. It was about my not coming to London; at the importance of which, I laughed: and, then, he said, he should never venture another opinion. On which, I said--"Then, I shall never give you one." This day, he has wrote a kind letter, and all is over.

I have, however, wrote him, in my letter of this day, as follows--_viz._ "_And I am, this moment, as firmly of opinion as ever, that Lord St. Vincent, and yourself, should have allowed of my coming to town, for my own affairs; for, every one knows, I left it without a thought for myself_."

I know, he likes to be with you: but, shall he have that felicity, and _he_ deprive me of it? No; that he shall not!

But this business cannot last long, and I hope we shall have peace; and, I rather incline to that opinion. But the Devil should not get me out of the kingdom, without being some days with you.

I hope, my dear Emma, you will be able to find a house suited for my comfort. I am sure of being HAPPY, by your arrangements.

I have wrote a line to Troubridge, about Darby.

Parker will write you a line of thanks, if he is able. I trust in G.o.d, he will yet do well!

You ask me, my dear friend, if I am going on more expeditions? And, even if I was to forfeit your friendship, which is dearer to me than all the world, I can tell you nothing.

For, I go out; [if] I see the enemy, and can get at them, it is my duty: and you would naturally hate me, if I kept back one moment.

I long to pay them, for their tricks t'other day, the debt of a drubbing, which, surely, I'll pay: but _when, where, or how_, it is impossible, your own good sense must tell you, for me or mortal man to say.

I shall act not in a rash or hasty manner; that you may rely, and on which I give you my word of honour.

Just going off. Ever, for ever, your faithful

NELSON & BRONTE.

Every kind thing to Mrs. Nelson.

LETTER XVI.

Medusa, Downs, August 31st, 1801.

MY DEAR EMMA! DEAREST, BEST, FRIEND OF NELSON,

Sir William is arrived, and well; remember me kindly to him. I should have had the pleasure of seeing him, but for _one of my lords and masters_, TROUBRIDGE; therefore, I am sure, neither you or Sir William will feel obliged to him.

The weather is very bad, and I am very sea-sick. I cannot answer your letter, probably; but I am writing a line, to get on sh.o.r.e, if possible: indeed, I hardly expect that your letter can get afloat.

I entreat you, my dear friend, to work hard for me, and get the house and furniture; and I will be so happy to lend it to you and Sir William!

Therefore, if you was to take the Duke's house, _a cake house_, open to every body he pleases, you had better have a booth at once; you never could rest one moment quiet. Why did not the Duke a.s.sist Sir William, when he wanted his a.s.sistance? why not have saved you from the distress, which Sir William must every day feel, in knowing that his excellent wife sold her jewels to get a house for him; whilst his own relations, great as they are in the foolish world's eye, would have left a man of his respectability and age, to have lodged in the streets. Did the Duke, or any of them, give him a house _then_?

Forgive me! you know if any thing sticks in my throat, it must out.

Sir William owes his life to you; which, I believe, he will never forget.

To return to the house--The furniture must be bought with it; and the sooner it is done, the better I shall like it.

Oh! how bad the weather is!

The devils, here, wanted to plague my soul out, yesterday, just after dinner; but I would have seen them d.a.m.ned, before they should have come in. The Countess Montmorris, Lady this, that, and t'other, came along-side, a Mr. Lubbock with them--to desire they might come in. I sent word, I was so busy that no persons could be admitted, as my time was employed in the King's service. Then they sent their names, which I cared not for: and sent Captain Gore, to say it was impossible; and that, if they wanted to see a ship, they had better go to the Overyssel (a sixty-four in the Downs.) They said, no; they wanted to see me. However, I was stout, and will not be shewn about like a _beast_! and away they went.

I believe, Captain Gore wishes me out of his ship; for the _ladies_ admire him, I am told, very much: but, however, no Captain could be kinder to me than he is. These ladies, he told me afterwards, were his relations.

I have just got your letters; many thanks, for them! You do not say, in the end, Sir William is arrived.

I am glad, that you approve. You may rely, my dear friend, that I will not run any unnecessary risk! No more boat work, I promise you; but, ever, your attached and faithful