Now, this voyage to Malta suggests to me that he had not so completely convinced his conscience as the Journal would lead us to suppose. When the Admiral was sick at heart his indisposition was generally reflected in his bodily health; but during this expedition to Malta, which only lasted from the 15th of October to the 5th of November, including the voyage there and back, which took nine days going and five returning (our outward voyage, it must be remembered, being round the Island of Sicily instead of through the Strait of Messina), his spirits were as high as I ever knew them except on the eve of battle--as witness his treatment of the Marquis of Niza, who commanded the Portuguese squadron. This was in his very finest manner, both as a diplomatist and as a bluff British sailor. The Marquis' squadron was doing sentry's work for us outside the harbour of Valetta, which impregnable place the treachery or incapacity of the Grand Master had surrendered to the French without a blow being struck. This was the place which the Admiral said that you could not get into, if it was undefended, because you would want somebody inside to unlock the gates. The situation was that the French had Valetta; but that there were so few of them that the Maltese, who have only the heart of a rabbit, retained the rest of the island, and talked in a large way of the French surrendering. They talked in such a large way, in fact, that every one in Naples believed the French ready to surrender whenever the islanders were supplied with arms and stores and money. When our Admiral arrived, his instinct for grasping the heart of a situation told him that, even against his audacity and genius for attack, and his powerful ships, there was not the likelihood of an early surrender. He observed that the garrison had not begun to touch their bullocks; and decided, after making arrangements for the proper conduct of the blockade, to return to Naples, where he felt that his presence could be of effect in putting the forces of the kingdom into motion against the French. Now, I will not say that he was not a vain man; but no one can deny that his vanity took the form of recognising the value of what he had achieved, and of almost boyish pleasure in it, not of considering himself equal to doing what was patently above his powers. If he had a high opinion of what he could do, he bore it out with high actions. Any vanity he had before the event was the outcome of invincible courage, invincible confidence in his officers and men, and a sense of duty to his country which would not be satisfied without the completest results.