enthusiasm with the hope of a great conflict and a sure victory. It
was a creeping nightmare to him which was only relieved by his
resolute opinion that his fame and the terror of his name had caused
Villeneuve to fly from inevitable destruction. The idea of strategy
did not enter into his calculations. A further consolation to him was
that his arrival had saved the islands and two hundred ships loaded
with sugar from being captured, so that the gain was all on his side.
So far as the West Indies were concerned, the French expedition ended
not only in a dead loss, but was a humiliating fiasco, unless, as I
have stated before, it was a preconceived decoy for some other
purpose. But whether it were strategy or decoy, it taxes one's
intelligence to conceive why the French fleet did not proceed to
bombard the British possessions on arrival, then steal into safe
obscurity and make their way back to European waters. The evasion of
Nelson's scouts in any case was a matter of adroit cunning. Had a man
of Nelson's nimble wits and audacious courage commanded the enemy's
fleet, the islands would have been attacked and left in a dilapidated
condition. Nelson's opinion was that the Spanish portion of the
expedition had gone to Havana, and that the French would make for
Cadiz or Toulon, the latter he thought most likely, with the ultimate
object of Egypt. And with this vision floating in his mind, he
determined to make for the Straits. On the 13th June, 1805, he sailed
from Antigua, and was almost merry at the thought of getting close at
their heels, and toppling them into ruin before they had got into the
Mediterranean. He regarded them in the light of miserable naval
amateurs that could be whacked, even with the odds against him. Five
days after sailing, one of his scout ships brought the news given by a
vessel they spoke that she had sighted them steering north on the
15th, and as the colours of each dying day faded away and brought no
French fleet in view or intelligence of them, he grew restive and