"_'Vanguard,' at Sea, Nov. 27th._--I don't know when I have been so low; though, thank God, I have not felt the sea-sickness much, in spite of the gale, which has been very bad. The hope of action keeps me up. The General will, I trust, have news of the Emperor which will make him act firmly. War once declared, I shall destroy all the privateers which have been gathering in Leghorn as a neutral port--I daresay as many as a hundred of them. The British ships are, I think, all right, though the weather is so thick that we cannot make any out; but I have no hope of the Portuguese having followed us in such weather. I do hope there will be some action, for the past five days here have been very heavy on my spirits: the weather has been so infernal that we shall be six days making Leghorn from Naples; and the contrast between my beautiful chamber in Sir William's palace, overlooking the Bay of Naples, and my cabin with a gale of wind blowing, cannot be described. It is not the cabin, it is not the gale--I do not mind them: I have been through it all, and worse, before--but it is the loneliness. Instead of the very finest of society, the witty, well-informed Sir William, most admirable of hosts, and my beautiful Lady with her laughing eyes and caressing smile, there being no English of my rank on board, I have only my own company or the General's--Naselli's. We can, fortunately, neither of us talk the other's language, or I fear I should have more of his company, and I have an instinctive aversion to him. He was intended for a Chamberlain and to die of apoplexy. I shall write to Emma. "_Later._--I have written to dear Emma. "My dear Lady Hamilton,--How I miss you and the good Sir William, who, with my father and my good wife, are my only comforts in life, now that I cannot have the ships I want, or even the authority from their Majesties, to finish with these French! How shall I ever thank you and Sir W. for all your goodness to me? You have been so wonderfully hospitable; and for you yourself, you kept me alive. You gave me health, and such a friendship as I had not dreamed was possible in the world. How I miss that gentle voice; the soothing touch of those hands; the friendly glance of those clear eyes; the laughter lurking about the corners of that mouth, which it is difficult for any man to take his eyes off! But dear Sir William will be jealous, if that good man were capable of misunderstanding an upright man's esteem for his Lady, and were not aware that-- 'To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever,' as the new Scotch poet that Campbell (my secretary), has been reading, says. "Your affectionate "Nelson."