Read Online Breaking the Line by David Donachie - Free Book Online
Authors: David Donachie
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was to proceed to Minorca, which he believed to be under threat. To Nelson this smacked of tactical nonsense, and he declined to oblige his superior. He suspected that the ships Keith was worried about were unlikely even to be in the Mediterranean, and that if they were, the only place they could be of any use to the French cause was where he was already, in the Bay of Naples.
Minorca, to his mind, was not as important as a whole kingdom, though he felt it prudent to write to Lord Spencer, as he had to Keith, stating that he was so sure of the lightness of his decisions, that he was prepared to take whatever opprobrium came his way.
They sailed back to Palermo, the King to his hunting, Sir William to the shocking news that his treasures, valued at ten thousand pounds, which he had sent home for sale, had gone down with HMS Colossus off the Scilly Isles, leaving him with only what he had rescued when they fled Naples. Nelson went back to Emma and totheir communal existence in another rented villa, and to the permanent presence of Cornelia Knight who had lost her mother. The main task for all three was to console Emma’s husband for the loss of his statuary and classical urns. Nelson also found out from Emma that Ferdinand, who had already presented him with a jewel-encrusted sword, intended to grant to him the Duchy of Brontë, an estate in the south of Sicily with an annual income of some three thousand pounds.
He was mightily pleased, and wrote home at once to tell Fanny that she was a duchess. From then on, his letters and despatches, the first of which was a description of the huge ball thrown in his honour, were signed, Nelson & Brontë.
On the morning after the ball Emma came aboard Foudroyant, this time in the company of Cornelia Knight, claiming that the heat of the town was too great, and only on a ship berthed in the outer roads could a body find a cooling breeze. No one batted an eyelid when she requested that a harp she had left on board be brought on deck for her to play, and men worked contentedly as she plucked a gentle air.
‘Emma, my dear,’ said Cornelia Knight softly, and pointed to a bruised looking midshipman who was hopping from foot to foot, clearly eager to talk to her.
‘Mr Pasco.’
‘I am flattered, my lady, that you remember me.’
Emma smiled, noting the lad’s voice was rather thick, due to a swollen upper lip. ‘How can I forget such a fine storyteller? Cornelia, you must get Mr Pasco to recount his version of the battle of the Nile.’
‘If I could beg your indulgence, Lady Hamilton, I have a service to ask.’
‘Mr Pasco, if I can do it, you may have it.’ Pasco looked at Cornelia Knight, and Emma said, ‘You may speak openly, for Miss Knight is my best friend.’
‘The ball, last night, my lady.’
Emma suspected she knew what was coming, but thought to delay it a little so that Pasco might relax. ‘A magnificent affair, was it not? The fireworks were outstanding. I particularly enjoyed the moment that Prince Leopold thanked Lord Nelson.’
Pasco had found that rather mawkish, the nine-year-old Prince placing a laurel wreath on an effigy of Nelson before naming him guardian angel to his family.
‘Are you aware that there was some misfortune to do with the local gallants?’
‘Who could not be, Mr Pasco? The noise was tremendous. I believe it drowned the orchestra.’
‘It was not we mids who started it, my lady.’ Pasco wasn’t sure if that was the truth. He, and his companions, had been as drunk as lords before they ever left the ship. There was a Sicilian costermonger who might still be looking for his horse and cart since they had commandeered it as soon as they got ashore. Their behaviour at the ball had been far from perfect, but no olive-skinned rascal, to Pasco’s way of thinking, had the right to insult the women of his country, which is what they had done.
That a fight had broken out between the hot-headed young Sicilian noblemen and Nelson’s
Minorca, to his mind, was not as important as a whole kingdom, though he felt it prudent to write to Lord Spencer, as he had to Keith, stating that he was so sure of the lightness of his decisions, that he was prepared to take whatever opprobrium came his way.
They sailed back to Palermo, the King to his hunting, Sir William to the shocking news that his treasures, valued at ten thousand pounds, which he had sent home for sale, had gone down with HMS Colossus off the Scilly Isles, leaving him with only what he had rescued when they fled Naples. Nelson went back to Emma and totheir communal existence in another rented villa, and to the permanent presence of Cornelia Knight who had lost her mother. The main task for all three was to console Emma’s husband for the loss of his statuary and classical urns. Nelson also found out from Emma that Ferdinand, who had already presented him with a jewel-encrusted sword, intended to grant to him the Duchy of Brontë, an estate in the south of Sicily with an annual income of some three thousand pounds.
He was mightily pleased, and wrote home at once to tell Fanny that she was a duchess. From then on, his letters and despatches, the first of which was a description of the huge ball thrown in his honour, were signed, Nelson & Brontë.
On the morning after the ball Emma came aboard Foudroyant, this time in the company of Cornelia Knight, claiming that the heat of the town was too great, and only on a ship berthed in the outer roads could a body find a cooling breeze. No one batted an eyelid when she requested that a harp she had left on board be brought on deck for her to play, and men worked contentedly as she plucked a gentle air.
‘Emma, my dear,’ said Cornelia Knight softly, and pointed to a bruised looking midshipman who was hopping from foot to foot, clearly eager to talk to her.
‘Mr Pasco.’
‘I am flattered, my lady, that you remember me.’
Emma smiled, noting the lad’s voice was rather thick, due to a swollen upper lip. ‘How can I forget such a fine storyteller? Cornelia, you must get Mr Pasco to recount his version of the battle of the Nile.’
‘If I could beg your indulgence, Lady Hamilton, I have a service to ask.’
‘Mr Pasco, if I can do it, you may have it.’ Pasco looked at Cornelia Knight, and Emma said, ‘You may speak openly, for Miss Knight is my best friend.’
‘The ball, last night, my lady.’
Emma suspected she knew what was coming, but thought to delay it a little so that Pasco might relax. ‘A magnificent affair, was it not? The fireworks were outstanding. I particularly enjoyed the moment that Prince Leopold thanked Lord Nelson.’
Pasco had found that rather mawkish, the nine-year-old Prince placing a laurel wreath on an effigy of Nelson before naming him guardian angel to his family.
‘Are you aware that there was some misfortune to do with the local gallants?’
‘Who could not be, Mr Pasco? The noise was tremendous. I believe it drowned the orchestra.’
‘It was not we mids who started it, my lady.’ Pasco wasn’t sure if that was the truth. He, and his companions, had been as drunk as lords before they ever left the ship. There was a Sicilian costermonger who might still be looking for his horse and cart since they had commandeered it as soon as they got ashore. Their behaviour at the ball had been far from perfect, but no olive-skinned rascal, to Pasco’s way of thinking, had the right to insult the women of his country, which is what they had done.
That a fight had broken out between the hot-headed young Sicilian noblemen and Nelson’s
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