On the 22d, being in the Gulph of Lyons, at two in the morning, a most violent squall of wind took the Vanguard, which carried away all the topmasts; and, at last, the foremast.  The other ships also experienced, though in a less degree, the ill effects of this severe gale.  To add to the disaster, the line of battle ships lost sight of their three frigates on this eventful day; which proved to be that on which the French armament had, at length, taken it’s departure from Toulon, and was then actually passing within a few leagues of the unconscious sufferers employed to watch it’s motions.

The little squadron now bore up for Sardinia; the Alexander taking the Vanguard in tow, and the Orion looking out ahead for a pilot to conduct them into St. Pierre’s Road.  This anchorage they happily reached on the 24th; and expected to have met with that friendly reception which their distresses demanded, from a power professing neutrality.  The governor of St. Pierre, however, had received orders from the French, not to admit any British ship; but no dread of hostilities could prevent the brave admiral from resolutely anchoring in the road.

In a letter, written this very day, dated on board the Vanguard, St. Peter’s Island.  Sardinia, May 24, 1798, and addressed to Lady Nelson, he thus describes the effect produced on his mind by the dangers just escaped.

     “MY DEAREST FANNY,

“I ought not to call what has happened to the Vanguard, by the cold name of accident:  I believe, firmly, it was the Almighty’s goodness, to check my consummate vanity.  I hope it has made me a better officer, as I feel it has made me a better man.  I kiss, with all humility, the rod.  Figure to yourself, on Sunday evening, at sun-set, a vain man, walking in his cabin, with a squadron around him, who looked up to their chief, to lead them to glory; and in whom their chief placed the firmest reliance, that the proudest ships, of equal numbers, belonging to France, would have bowed their flags; and, with a very rich prize lying by him—­Figure to yourself, on Monday morning, when the sun rose, this proud, conceited man, his ship dismasted, his fleet dispersed, and himself in such distress that the meanest frigate out of France would have been an unwelcome guest.  But it has pleased Almighty God to bring us into a safe port; where, although refused the rights of humanity, yet the Vanguard will, in two days, get to sea again as an English man of war.”

This is the letter of a truly Christian hero, as well as of a most affectionate and tender husband.  It will not be hastily believed, by the reflecting part of mankind, that he who possessed so high a sense of all the relative duties as the immortal Nelson, had not afterwards good reasons for being separated from the wife whom he could once consent thus to address.  What those reasons were, the reader will, probably, in the sequel, be enabled to form a tolerably correct judgment.