ment Nelson's journal of the siege, that they might fully
understand the nature of his indefatigable and unequalled exertions. If
those exertions were not rewarded in the conspicuous manner which they
deserved, the fault was in the administration of the day, not in Lord
Hood. Nelson felt himself neglected. "One hundred and ten days," said
he, "I have been actually engaged at sea and on shore against the enemy;
three actions against ships, two against Bastia in my ship, four boat
actions, and two villages taken, and twelve sail of vessels burnt. I do
not know that any one has done more. I have had the comfort to be always
applauded by my Commander-in-Chief, but never to be rewarded; and, what
is more mortifying, for services in which I have been wounded, others
have been praised, who, at the same time, were actually in bed, far from
the scene of action. They have not done me justice. But never mind,
I'll have a GAZETTE of my own." How amply was this second-sight of glory
realised!

The health of his ship's company had now, in his own words, been
miserably torn to pieces by as hard service as a ship's crew ever
performed: 150 were in their beds when he left Calvi; of them he lost 54
and believed that the constitutions of the rest were entirely destroyed.
He was now sent with despatches to Mr. Drake, at Genoa, and had his
first interview with the Doge. The French had, at this time, taken
possession of Vado Bay, in the Genoese territory; and Nelson foresaw
that, if their thoughts were bent on the invasion of Italy, they would
accomplish it the ensuing spring. "The allied powers," he said, "were
jealous of each other; and none but England was hearty in the cause."
His wish was for peace on fair terms, because England he thought was
draining herself to maintain allies who would not fight for themselves.
Lord Hood had now returned to England, and the command devolved on
Admiral Hotham. The affairs of the Mediterranean wore at this time a
gloomy aspect. The arts, as well as the arms of the enemy, were gaining
the ascendancy there. Tuscany concluded peace relying upon the faith of
France, which was, in fact, placing itself at her mercy. Corsica was in
danger. We had taken that island for ourselves, annexed it formally to
the crown of Great Britain, and given it a constitution as free as our
own. This was done with the consent of the majority of the inhabitants;
and no transaction between two countries was ever more fairly or
leg