William had believed that he was about to see his first action and was surprised on arriving at Plymouth to find that the enemies had fled. The Prince George docked there and William was given a brief leave of absence. His parents wished him to set out for Windsor without delay.

William was delighted although not as eager as he had thought he would be. After a few weeks at sea he had quickly adjusted himself to a midshipman’s life and he found it not as restricting as the schoolrooms of Kew. He had become a man; he listened to men’s talk; he had already engaged in fisticuffs after an argument with one of the midshipmen.

‘If you were not the King’s son,’ he had been told, ‘I’d teach you better manners.’

‘Don’t let that be a hindrance,’ William had retorted.

But his adversary had said it would not be fair for he was older and stronger; but William would not take that for an answer, and they had fought and William had not come out of the fray too badly. The rest of the company liked him because he did not seek special advantages. They forgot half the time who he was and as they knew him as Guelph he seemed exactly like one of them.

Now he was on his way to Windsor and when he arrived he was told that Their Majesties wished to see him without delay.

There were tears in the King’s eyes as he embraced him.

‘I’ve had good reports,’ he said. ‘Digby tells me you’ve done well. Good lad. Glad to hear it. Must remember to set an example.’

The Queen embraced him in her somewhat detached manner; she never showed much affection for any of them except George, and only to him by the way she looked at him and listened intently when he spoke.

The King wanted to know all about his adventures, how they had sailed up the Channel and put the French and Spanish to flight. He was clearly proud to have had a son involved in such an action and William felt pleased with himself; and decided that after all a sailor’s life was a good one and it was more satisfactory to be a midshipman on board Prince George than a child in the nursery.

He saw his two elder brothers who had come down to Windsor for the express purpose of being with him.

George was horrified at his uniform and the oaths which he had picked up, but also amused.

‘They’ve toughened you, William,’ he said, ‘but by God they’ve made a man of you.’

‘It’s an improvement in a way,’ added Frederick.

And they took him into their confidence and told him of George’s latest conquest and how assignations were made in the gardens at Kew while Frederick kept guard for his brother.

They talked with more frankness than they had ever shown before, and William knew that his brothers considered that in becoming a sailor he had become a man.

When he returned to the Prince George it was to a somewhat chilly reception.

‘His Highness has returned,’ declared one of the midshipmen. ‘But of course he had to go home to see Mamma.’

‘What do you mean?’ demanded William.

The boys continued to talk over his head.

‘No leave for the likes of us. Oh, but it’s different with His Royal Highness. He’s not old enough to leave his Mamma. So he has to run home to her and tell her what a rough lot he’s been put with.’

‘Nothing of the sort,’ cried William angrily. ‘It wasn’t my mother who said I was to go, anyway. It was my father.’

‘Ho! His Majesty’s command, eh?’

‘That’s about it,’ said William.

‘And while Master Guelph was going to balls and banquets, Sam here asked leave to go because his father was dying and did he get it? No. But it’s different with His Royal Highness.’

William turned to Sam, real concern showing on his face. ‘I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known. I’d never have gone. I’d have said you must go in my place. How is your father?’

‘Dead,’ was the laconic reply.

There was silence. William turned away. George would have wept and said something moving; but William could say nothing; yet his silence was more effective than words would have been.

Then someone shouted, ‘Wasn’t your fault, Guelph.’

William answered: ‘I have to do what they tell me. I get more freedom here on board than I ever did at home.’

The tension was broken. Someone laughed. ‘Who’d be a Highness? Never mind, Guelph, you can forget all about that here.’

They had realized once more that they really did like their young princeling.

It took only a day or so to adjust himself to life in the cockpit of Prince George. His brief stay with his family had made him forget how coarse the language could be – half of which he did not understand – how airless the cramped quarters, how nauseating the mingling odours and what it was like to live in the semi-darkness with only the constantly burning lamp swinging from the ceiling to relieve the gloom.

His fellow midshipmen were still ready to pounce on the slightest show of royalty; they laughed when he was relieved of duties to study with Mr Majendie. They watched him, when they remembered, for what they called airs and graces.

‘Avast there, my hearty!’ was a constant cry. ‘The son of a whore is as good a man here as the son of a king.’

‘I’d agree with that,’ was William’s good-humoured comment. ‘It’s the man himself we have to work with, not his father.’

Although he could be hot-tempered his anger died quickly; he was more likely to resort to fisticuffs – at which he was quite accomplished – than words. He was not quick-witted but he was good-natured; and if he could help anyone he would.

Resentment grew into an amused tolerance. Willie Guelph was not a bad sort and as long as he kept his royalty to himself they would not complain.

He learned to swear like the rest of them. When they went ashore he would go off in the company of his friends and like theirs his greatest interest was in the girls of the town.

He was a regular fellow, this Guelph; he was accepted; he was an example of the truth of the saying that one man was as good as another.

The Prince George was at Spithead once more and Christmas was approaching. A message was sent to Admiral Digby that Prince William was to return to Windsor where he would pass a few days with his family.

Some opposition had been expressed to the Prince’s absences of duty – there had been several of them since he had joined the Navy – and the Earl of Sandwich had actually spoken to the Queen on the subject. Such favouritism could not add to the popularity of His Royal Highness, he pointed out; at which the Queen looked at him very coldly and replied that she thought his son’s career was a matter for His Majesty to decide. Sandwich, who prided himself on his bluntness, retaliated with ‘If Your Majesty does not know your duty, I know mine!’ which made the Queen very angry but because her word carried no weight with the King she allowed the insult to pass. However, William still continued to enjoy frequent leaves from duty.

This was a sad occasion, for during this one he was to say good-bye to Frederick who was to be sent to Germany to learn how to be a soldier.

The Prince of Wales was in despair. He and Frederick were inseparable. What was he going to do without Frederick? Who was going to help him to meet the ladies of his choice? In whom was he going to confide? And if Frederick was to become a soldier why could he not do so in England? Why did the King believe that only the Germans knew how to train soldiers? The Prince of Wales wanted to be a soldier too. If Frederick had to go he would like to go with him. ‘A Prince of Wales cannot leave the country,’ said the King. ‘Then let us train in England,’ retorted the Prince, which so shocked the King that his eyes bulged and he called his son a young jackanapes whose insolence was growing beyond endurance.

So it was not a very happy occasion.

The King was very solemn, full of advice and maudlinly sentimental, for since the Prince of Wales had started to cause so many scandals Frederick had become his favourite son.

His Majesty made all the arrangements in detail just as he had with William and the last day arrived and the family gathered for the last evening as they had for William.

William was unhappy because of George’s grief. George had been sorry to lose William but he knew that William would be frequently returning to England and have his spells of leave. It would not be so with Frederick. He would stay in Germany perhaps for years.

George wept and embraced Frederick; they mingled their tears. It was most affecting.

‘And to think,’ said George to William, ‘that the old fool could have let him train in England – then we need not have been separated.’

‘William must stay with us for my birthday celebrations,’ declared the Queen. ‘Frederick has gone, so William must stay.’

William was delighted. Although he had now grown used to life at sea he found the complete change stimulating. The contrast between his exquisite brother George and his shipmates was overwhelming. They seemed rougher when he returned to them, and George seemed to grow more and more elegant. But perhaps this was the truth for George was becoming increasingly interested in his clothes and had even invented a new style of shoe buckle which was being worn everywhere and known as ‘the Prince of Wales’s Buckle’. The young women – William’s prevailing passion – were different too. He liked the girls he met in taverns but he liked fine ladies too; and now that he was a man he could discuss his adventures with George which was interesting. George’s approach was entirely romantic – very different from that of the sailors. George had to adore the object of his passion; she had to be perfect, angelic, an ideal of womanhood. It was a new outlook and a fascinating one; and was more satisfying to William’s nature – which was not unlike that of George in this respect. To be in love was an ecstatic experience. Without it, to George’s fastidious mind, there was no great pleasure to be found in associating with women.