Enclosed is a letter from myself to King Ferdinand, which I require you to deliver personally into his hand.
I am yours,
Admiral Lord Hood
“Are you familiar with the expression ‘see Naples and die,’ Josh?”
“I believe you did say it to me the other day, sir,” his stepson replied, without much spirit. “When we first got our orders.”
Midshipman Josiah Nisbet was in titular charge of the Captain’s barge, though he would in all respects defer to Giddings as coxswain. Such a duty was part of his training, which after four months at sea was moving along tolerably well. He had been seasick in the Thames estuary, for which Nelson, who was prone himself, could not fault him. He attended to both his duties and his lessons, and had progressed well in all departments. Yet Nelson was concerned for the boy, who did not share with the other mids a seeming delight in their station. It was as though he had come to sea to please his stepfather, not because he himself desired it. Even the sweep of the Bay of Naples, as noble an aspect as nature had ever created, failed to move him.
The six-week voyage to the Mediterranean had done Nelson a power of good. He had spent the time in working up both crew and ship so that whenever the Admiral called for any manoeuvre it was carried out swiftly and with grace. With Berry he tinkered with each watch to balance them out in efficiency. His cannon, eighteen and twenty-four pounders, had been run in and out so frequently that Nelson knew in a fight he would get at least two broadsides a minute from his gunners, a rate of fire that no Frenchman could match. Activity, distance, and the companionship of sailors had eased his troubled mind, and allowed him to conclude that his difficulties with Fanny were more his fault than hers. A sailor, who by his very nature must hanker after the sea, must be a hard companion with whom to spend your life; a poor and frustrated one denied a ship so much worse.
Looking at Josiah, the thought did occur to Nelson that he was in such a buoyant mood that anyone else might appear glum. Since joining up with Lord Hood off Cadiz he had enjoyed an excellent rapport with the Admiral. Hood liked enterprising officers, and being back at sea had cleansed him of politicking. The kindred spirit who was prepared to stretch rules to gain a positive conclusion, the officer who talked about destroying the enemy not merely engaging them, was one that the admiral valued highly.
Hence this vital mission to Naples. The great French naval port of Toulon had surrendered to the British fleet, but Hood lacked the means to hold it against the revolutionary armies marching from Marseilles to recapture it. Nelson’s mission, to him, implied that he had his admiral’s trust, and it had also given Agamemnon the chance to snap up a prize on the way, a fully laden Levant merchant vessel, which Nelson had valued provisionally as worth at least ten thousand pounds. Three-eighths would be his share, less commission to Davidson, who was acting as his prize agent. Letters had already gone off to him and to Fanny, to tell her of the increase in their wealth.
And here in Naples he was going ashore as a man of substance, Hood’s representative, to treat with a king and his ministers on behalf of his own sovereign. With his signal gun he had saluted the kingdom, and Naples had replied most handsomely. His launch was surrounded by boats of all shapes and sizes, some with fishermen, others carrying people of obvious quality come to greet a British man-o’-war.
They were not the only eyes on the barge. From one of the higher chambers of the Castel Nuovo, Maria Carolina, using a telescope on a tripod, had both launch and occupants in view. Emma Hamilton was trying to focus on the same with the naked eye, but the distance was too great. The Queen was calmer now than she had been at first light, when she had been alerted to strange topsails on the horizon. Like most of her wealthy subjects, she stood in terror of the arrival of the French who, having chopped off the head of King Louis, would bring with them the seeds of revolution and murder.
That had occasioned panic in her husband and most of her courtiers, to the point where many had a coach and four laden with their possessions ready to flee. The Queen’s nerve had held firm enough to stop Ferdinand from leading a Gadarene rush to safety, which was singular given that her own sister Marie Antoinette was in grave danger of following her husband to the guillotine. There were enough elements in Naples, vocal ones these last months, who would gladly deliver her to the same fate.
As a witness to the earlier reaction of the nobility, Emma was somewhat amused at everyone’s behaviour since the vessel had been positively identified as British. Inclined to boast without cause anyway, the Neapolitans she met now swaggered in a parody of bravery, and told her how they had spent the time since dawn loading guns, sharpening swords, preparing to repulse the French invader.
“Your British captain is not very imposing, Emma.”
“Might I be allowed a look, Your Majesty?”
Maria Carolina stood back from the spyglass and Emma peered through, adjusting the lens to get a clearer view. She homed in on the dark blue naval coat, but could see little of the face, obscured as it was by the crowd in front. The man was not tall, but that was commonplace. Few naval officers were, it being so uncomfortable to have too much height in a ship. Emma swung instead to look at the warship in the bay, twin rows of ports open to let in air, though with no guns run out. The sails were furled now, tight against the yards, but the vessel was still a hive of activity, ant-like creatures running through the rigging and traversing the decks. The tide had turned her near bow on to the shore, showing her as broad at the base and much narrower at the level of the deck, the figurehead a proud bust, coloured gold and carmine, with the royal arms at the base. Her pennants fluttered in the breeze and the boats that had gone out to her, to sell their wares and women, stood a way off, awaiting permission to come close enough to trade.
“It is the ship that matters, Your Majesty,” Emma said, as she swung the glass to the quay, fixing her gaze on her husband’s back. “That, I swear, is imposing enough.”
The reception committee on the public quay was numerous, led by the man Nelson must see first, the Ambassador, Sir William Hamilton, whose bearing identified him easily as an English grand seigneur. Nelson examined him carefully: tall, once handsome, now showing the lined face and prominent bones of his age. Nelson knew that Hamilton had been in his post for thirty years, and had become famous not only for his length of service but as a collector. There was also the matter of his marriage, which had occasioned a minor scandal, the ripples of which had reached Norfolk. The bride was thirty years his junior and a lady with a colourful past.
After weeks or months at sea, great self-control is required by a sailor to maintain his dignity when stepping ashore. Motionless dry land can easily make a man whose legs are in tune with the waves appear an idiot. Was Hamilton aware of this? Nelson didn’t know, but the Ambassador aided him by grasping his hand so firmly that his natural inclination to sway was choked off. Indeed, Hamilton held him in such a strong grip that Nelson felt he was keeping him upright while they exchanged names and courtesies.
“Captain Nelson, you have no notion what it does to my spirits in these troubled times to see a British man-o’-war anchored off Naples.”
Though not yet steady, Nelson had achieved some sense of balance, enough at least to carry off the rest of the introductions without support. In between the exchange of names, speaking rapidly, he brought Hamilton up to date with events: what had happened in Marseilles, which had tried to surrender to Hood only to face the Red Terror. Men, women, and children, whose only crime was gentility, had been murdered in cold blood on a guillotine set up in the main square. The citizens of Toulon, frightened by this, had surrendered their town to the British, along with the best part of the French Mediterranean fleet.
“A great coup, Captain,” Sir William cried, just before he introduced the Duke of Amalfi.
“A great burden, sir,” Nelson said, acknowledging the greeting of some count whose name he missed. “The Admiral lacks the means to hold Toulon. The Revolution was already on the m
arch to retake the town when I left. We had soldiers aboard in lieu of marines, but no more than two thousand in all. Even with the loyal French and half the sailors from the fleet we cannot hold out against a determined enemy. We must have more men, and Lord Hood has sent me here to request that the Two Sicilies provide them. What prospect have I of an immediate audience with the King?”
“Every likelihood, Captain Nelson. I sent my wife to see the Queen with that request in mind. Since Her Majesty holds her in the highest esteem, I’ll take the liberty of assuming acceptance and coach you directly to the palace.”
Nelson was surprised, but also pleased. He had little knowledge of British plenipotentiaries abroad, but he had them tagged as a slothful crew. Sir William Hamilton was clearly cut from a different batch of cloth, able to act with despatch even before he was asked, to the point of dragging him away from a crowd eager to press his hand. He got Nelson into his carriage, at the same time issuing instructions that would see the Captain’s stepson and the crew of the launch catered for in the article of food and shelter.
“I have sick men aboard, Sir William, who would benefit from being ashore. I require fresh victuals, greens, beef, and citrus fruits. My water is so brackish as to be undrinkable and I have little time for delay.”
“Use the credit of my office, sir, to purchase anything you need.”
“The expense will be great.”
“My credit hereabouts is greater, Captain,” said Sir William, without pomposity. “Longevity and a consistency of policy have seen to that.”
“I thank you, sir.”
“It is I who must thank you and Admiral Hood. My task in Naples is never easy, but these last months since the outbreak of war have been strewn with difficulty. I must confess that, at times, my own conviction that we would see something of a British fleet in these waters has been sorely tried.”
They had to talk over the noise of cheering and the endless stream of flowers flung at them by an emotional Neapolitan mob, each man sizing up the other as an aid to those first impressions. Sir William, urbane and dignified, was struck by the seeming youth of this fellow, obviously a senior captain, as well as his application. He was in control of both his subject and his mission. While careful to be polite, Nelson nevertheless had a grasp of what he needed and how he intended to go about getting it. He spoke quickly and succinctly, describing the situation of Hood and his fleet clearly and graphically, explaining the terrain at Toulon and how he, if he were in command, would go about securing it.
“I fear you’re wasted at sea, sir, given your grasp of the finer points of land warfare. For my sins I am an old soldier, so I know of what I speak.”
“Never fear, Sir William, I have chosen my career well. My name was unknown to you not half an hour ago. That will not long remain the case for our fellow countrymen. Soon they all will know the name of Nelson!”
Such self-assurance would normally have made Sir William uncomfortable, but somehow the way Nelson said it, the lack of artifice and the look of conviction on his face when he did so, rendered it truthful rather than conceited. Then Nelson demonstrated that he also had good sense, in the way he listened intently to his host as Sir William gave him a brief account of Naples, its court, its politics, and the personalities who mattered.
“The Marquis de Gallo, who heads the government, is a man who feels his country is best served by doing nothing. He is the type who would neither support a friend nor oppose an enemy. He has one abiding wish, and that is to stay in his post and increase his already considerable fortune.”
“Does the King trust him?”
“It matters not one jot if he does. Flatter the King but place no store by his promises. The Queen matters most but avoid any attempt at flattery with her. She responds to clear ideas simply expressed, and whatever she decides will be in consultation with her favourite minister, General Acton.”
“Is he party to our cause?”
“He is an Englishman, Captain Nelson. He cannot help but be so. And it stands you in good stead that he is also an ex-naval officer. The ‘general’ is an honorific from Ferdinand. Acton knows that he who controls the Straits of Messina controls the fate of the Kingdom of Naples.”
Hamilton, too, was under scrutiny, and Nelson liked what he saw. His manner was open and friendly, and he had about him an air of sound common sense. Accustomed still to the social mores of home, he was taken by Hamilton’s total lack of condescension, his readiness to treat him as an equal and to defer to him in any area of his own expertise. At the same time he had a certain steadiness about him, and gave the impression that ample time was available even if there was, in truth, precious little. Nelson judged that if he had still been a soldier, Hamilton would be a cool fellow in battle, which was the highest praise he could bestow.
The crowds thickened as the carriage approached the gates to the Palazzo Reale. People were there, Hamilton explained, because they were unsure of what was taking place. “They sway greatly, Nelson, from bellicosity to abject fear in seconds.” He indicated the floor of the carriage. “Do not be fooled by these flowers. They’re as fickle as they are emotional. Ferdinand fears his own people as much as he fears the arrival of the French—with good cause.”
“Then he must be eager for a military victory.”
“I daresay, such are his dreams, that he wins one every time he sleeps.”
Ferdinand, dressed in black and grubby in appearance, towered over his visitor. He greeted Nelson fulsomely, naming him as the saviour of his nation, and enveloping him in an embrace both crushing and malodorous. That remark raised a round of applause from the assembled courtiers to which King Ferdinand responded with a joyous shout. Then he introduced his chief minister, the Marquis de Gallo.
He looked as slippery as Hamilton had described: bland of feature, with blank black eyes and dry skin, vain in the way he spoke and moved, as if Nelson’s presence had interrupted far more important business. It was the royal consort who cut across him. The Queen had a presence her husband lacked, and the wit to discuss with her Minister of Marine and the Army what response Naples should make to the request, which had been communicated to her a mere ten minutes before the audience had been granted. It was Acton who spoke: short, deeply tanned, with sharp bird-like features and a look in the eye that denoted deep intelligence.
“Their Sicilian Majesties are cognisant of the joint responsibility of both their nation and yours, Captain. The plague from France must be halted and thrown back into the gutters of Paris from where it emanated. Both my sovereign lord and his queen have had to bear the tragedy of personal loss as well as witness the turmoil released on Europe by these demons. But they are also responsible to the nation God has given them the power to rule.”
“That nation is safe,” Nelson replied, speaking somewhat before he should. “The French have no fleet and what few capital ships they have at sea are poorly manned, ill prepared, and blockaded in Hyerés Bay.”
“We have a land border as well, Captain.”
“You have even less to fear from that source, Sir John. There is no army closer than Toulon to threaten you.”
“It could be said, Your Majesty,” interposed Sir William, addressing the vacant-looking King, “that the Neapolitan border stands at that very spot. Hold Toulon and France can never menace Naples.”
Sir William had warned Nelson not to expect any decisions, cautioned him that the court of the Two Sicilies moved at a snail’s pace when it moved at all. Acton replied on the King’s behalf. “His Majesty King Ferdinand has already arrived at that very conclusion, and is prepared to put at the immediate disposal of Lord Hood a force of six thousand men, plus the vessels to carry them, which are at this very moment being made ready to sail.”
The slight nod between Acton and the Queen, allied to the faraway look in the eyes of King Ferdinand, was enough to tell all present who had really made that decision. The frown on the face of the Marquis de Gallo showed that not everyone agreed.
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�I’ve never known the like, Nelson,” exclaimed Sir William, “in thirty years of being here. Somnolence, not zeal, is the common currency around these parts, hunting and whoring excluded, of course.”
“I would have wished to decline this feast tonight. Apart from being knocked up from months at sea there are matters aboard my ship to see to.”
“It is one of the burdens of my office, Captain Nelson. A royal wish is not that at all. It is a command. And I fear that this means your ship will have to wait. Besides, I would be most upset if you declined to be my guest.”
“Perhaps for tonight. But I must get back aboard tomorrow.”
“Possibly,” replied Sir William, with an enigmatic smile.
Their progress to the Palazzo Sessa was just as noisy and flower-bedecked as their previous journey, it seemed, with every citizen of Naples eager to show their relief at Nelson’s appearance. The noise died as the gates shut behind them, and Nelson picked blooms out of the brim of his hat. The cool of the entrance hall was pleasant after the heat of the open carriage, and Sir William was flattered by the attention of his visitor to the classical statuary that decorated the vestibule.
The rest of the palazzo was like that, an Aladdin’s cave that he was encouraged to wander, cooling drink in hand, while Sir William went to find his wife, to tell her of their guest, and to forewarn her of the ball at the Palazzo Reale that night. Emma was in her music room, playing an early harpsichord piece by the recently deceased Mozart, from which she broke off as soon as he entered. She stood up, the loose gown dropping to cling to her figure, in a way that still took away her husband’s breath.
“How fared our naval officer?”
“Captain Nelson fared amazingly, Emma. He has quite enchanted the King, and Acton has pre-empted the request he was about to make for military help. Six thousand troops promised in the blink of an eye!”
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