s
of catching him, and administering to him his own lying letter in a
sandwich. M. Latouche, however, escaped him in another way. He died,
according to the French papers, in consequence of walking so often up
to the signal-post upon Sepet, to watch the British fleet. "I always
pronounced that would be his death," said Nelson. "If he had come out
and fought me, it would at least have added ten years to my life." The
patience with which he had watched Toulon, he spoke of, truly, as a
perseverance at sea which had never been surpassed. From May, 1803, to
August, 1805, he himself went out of his ship but three times; each of
those times was upon the king's service, and neither time of absence
exceeded an hour. In 1804 the SWIFT cutter going out with despatches
was taken, and all the despatches and letters fell into the hands of the
enemy. "A very pretty piece of work," says Nelson; "I am not surprised
at the capture, but am very much so that any despatches should be sent
in a vessel with twenty-three men, not equal to cope with any row-boat
privateer. The loss of the HINDOSTAN was great enough; but for
importance it is lost in comparison to the probable knowledge the enemy
will obtain of our connexions with foreign countries. Foreigners for
ever say, and it is true, we dare not trust England: one way or other we
are sure to be committed." In a subsequent letter he says, speaking of
the same capture: "I find, my dearest Emma, that your picture is very
much admired by the French Consul at Barcelona, and that he has not
sent it to be admired, which I am sure it would be, by Buonaparte. They
pretend that there were three pictures taken. I wish I had them; but
they are all gone as irretrievably as the despatches, unless we may read
them in a book, as we printed their correspondence from Egypt. But from
us what can they find out? That I love you most dearly, and hate the
French most damnably. Dr. Scott went to Barcelona to try to get the
private letters, but I fancy they are all gone to Paris. The Swedish and
American Consuls told him that the French Consul had your picture and
read your letters; and the Doctor thinks one of them, probably, read the
letters. By the master's account of the cutter, I would not have trusted
an old pair of shoes in her. He tells me she did not sail, but was a
good sea-boat. I hope Mr. Marsden will not trust any more of my private
letters in such a conveyance: if they choose to trust the affairs of the