Harry got back at luncheon time to Texford, where the family were
assembled in the dining-hall. Sir Reginald--a fine-looking old man, the
whiteness of whose silvery locks, secured behind a well-tied pig-tail,
was increased by the hair-powder which besprinkled them--sat at the foot
of the table in the wheel-chair used by him to move from room to room.
His once tall and strongly-built figure was slightly bent, though,
unwilling to show his weakness, he endeavoured to sit as upright as
possible while he did the honours of his hospitable board. Still it was
evident that age and sickness were making rapid inroads on his strength.
He had deputed his niece, Mrs Castleton, to take the head of his table.
She had been singularly handsome, and still retained much of the beauty
of her younger days; with a soft and feminine expression of countenance
which truly portrayed her gentle, and perhaps somewhat too yielding,
character--yielding, at least, as far as her husband, Ralph Castleton,
was concerned, to whose stern and imperious temper she had ever been
accustomed to give way.
"My dear Harry, we were afraid that you must have lost your way," she
said, when the young midshipman entered the room.
"I rode over to the post-office at Morbury for letters, and had to wait
while the bag was made up. I slung it over my back, and I fancy was
taken for a government courier as I rode along. I have brought
despatches for every one in the house, I believe; a prodigious big one
for you, Uncle Fancourt, from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty,
I suspect, for I saw the seal when it was put into the bag," he said,
addressing a sunburnt, fine-looking man, with the unmistakable air of a
naval officer, seated by his mother's side. "Mr Groocock, to whom I
gave the bag, will send them up as soon as he has opened it. There is
something in the wind, I suspect, for I heard shouting and trumpeting
just as I rode out of the town. Knowing that I had got whatever news
there is at my back, I came on with it rather than return to learn more
about the matter."
"Probably another enemy's ship taken," observed Captain Fancourt.
"Are the Admiralty going to send you to sea again, Fancourt?" asked Sir
Reginald, who had overheard Harry's remark.
"They are not likely, during these stirring times, Sir Reginald, to
allow any of us to remain idle on shore if they think us worth our salt,
and I hope to deserve that, at least," answered Captain Fancourt.
"You are worth tons of that article, or the admiral's despatches greatly
overpraise you," observed Sir Reginald, laughing at his own joke. "I
remember reading with great delight the gallant way in which, after your
captain was wounded, you fought the _Hector_ on your voyage home from
the West Indies, when she was attacked by two 40-gun French frigates.
You had not, I fancy, half as many men, or as many guns mounted, as
either one of them, while, in addition to their crews, they were full of
troops, yet you beat them off when they attempted to board; and though
they had pretty well knocked your ship to pieces, you compelled them to
make sail away from you, leaving you to your fate. If I recollect
rightly, you bore up for Halifax with more than half your crew killed
and wounded."
"You give me more credit than is my due, Sir Reginald," observed Captain
Fancourt, "I was but a young lieutenant, though I did my duty. Captain
Drury fought the ship, and we should all have lost our lives had not we
fallen in with the _Hawk_ brig, which rescued us just as the old
_Hector_ sank under our feet."
"Well, well, when our enemies find out that it is the fashion of English
sailors to fight till their ship goes down, they will be chary of
attacking them with much hopes of victory."
While the baronet was speaking, Harry had taken his seat next to a
pretty dark-eyed young girl, giving her a kiss on the cheek and at the
same time a pat on the back, a familiarity to which his sister Julia was
well accustomed from her sailor brother, who entertained the greatest
admiration and affection for her.
"You should not treat the demoiselle in that mode at table, Monsieur
Harry," observed a lady who was sitting on his other side.
"I beg your pardon, Madame De La Motte, I ought, I confess, to have paid
my respects to you first."
"Ah, you are mediant, incorrigible," said the lady, in broken English,
laughing as she spoke.
"No, I am only very hungry, so you will excuse me if I swallow a few
mouthfuls before we discuss that subject," said Harry, applying himself
to the plate of chicken and ham which the footman had just placed before
him. "I'm afraid that you think I have forgotten my manners as well as
the French you taught me before I went to sea. But I hope to prove to
you that I retain a fair amount of both," and Harry began to address the
lady in French. When he mispronounced a word and she corrected him he
bowed his thanks, repeating it after her.
"Ah, you are _charmant_, Monsieur Harry, you have not forgotten your
manners any more than the language of La Belle France, which I will
continue to teach you whenever you will come and take a lesson with
Mademoiselle Julia. When will you come?"
"Every day that I am at home till my country requires my services,"
answered Harry.
"I never learned French, but I should think it must be a very difficult
language to acquire," observed a pale middle-aged lady of slight figure
who sat opposite Harry, turning her eyes towards him, but those orbs
were of a dull leaden hue, the eyelids almost closed. She was totally
blind.
Her features were beautifully formed, and had a peculiarly sweet and
gentle expression, though the pallor of her cheeks betokened ill-health.
"I will help you to begin, Miss Mary, while you are here, and then you
can go on by yourself," said Madame De La Motte, in her usual sprightly
way.
"I thank you, madame," answered Miss Mary Pemberton, "but I am dependent
on others. Jane has no fancy for languages, and her time is much
occupied in household matters and others of still higher importance."
"Yes, indeed, Mary speaks truly," observed Miss Pemberton, a lady of a
somewhat taller and not quite so slight a figure as her sister, and who,
though her features had a pleasant expression, could not, even in her
youth, have possessed the same amount of beauty. She always took her
seat next to Mary, that she might give her that attention which her
deprivation of sight required. "While we have such boundless stores of
works on all important subjects in our own language, we waste our time
by spending it in acquiring another."
"Very right, my good cousin, very right," exclaimed Sir Reginald; "stick
to our good English books, for at the present day, what with their
republicanism, their infidelity, and their abominable notions, we can
expect nothing but what is bad from French writers."
"Pardonnez moi, Sir Reginald," exclaimed Madame De La Motte, breaking
off the conversation in which she was engaged with Harry, and looking up
briskly. "Surely la pauvre France has produced some pure and religious
writers, and many works on science worthy of perusal."
"I beg ten thousand pardons, madame, I forgot that a French lady was
present. I was thinking more of the murderous red republicans who have
cut off the heads of their lawful sovereign and his lovely queen, Marie
Antoinette. I remember her in her youth and beauty at the court of her
brother, the Emperor Leopold, when I paid a visit to Germany some years
ago. When I think how she was treated by those ruffians with every
possible indignity, and perished on a scaffold, my heart swells with
indignation, and I am apt to forget that there are noble and honest
Frenchmen still remaining who feel as I do."
"Ah, truly Sir Reginald, we loyal French feel even more bitterly, for we
have shame added to our grief and indignation, that they are our
compatriots who are guilty of such unspeakable atrocities as are now
deluging our belle France with blood," said Madame De La Motte, putting
her handkerchief to her face to hide the tears which the mention of the
fate of the hapless queen seldom failed to draw from the eyes of French
loyalists in those days.
"You will pardon me, madame, for my inadvertent remark," said Sir
Reginald, bowing as he spoke towards the French lady.
"Certainly, Sir Reginald, and I am grateful for your sympathy in the
sufferings of those I adore."
Just at that instant the butler entered the room bearing a salver
covered with letters, which most of the party were soon engaged in
reading. An exclamation from Captain Fancourt made every one look up.
"There is indeed news," he exclaimed. "Sir Roger Curtis has arrived
with despatches from Earl Howe announcing a magnificent victory gained
by him with twenty-five ships over the French fleet of twenty-six, on
the 1st June, west of Ushant; seven of the French captured, two sunk,
when the French admiral, after an hour's close action, crowded sail,
followed by most of his ships able to carry their canvas, and made his
escape, leaving the rest either crippled or totally dismasted behind
him. Most of our ships were either so widely separated or so much
disabled, that several of the enemy left behind succeeded in making
their escape under spritsails. One went down in action, when all on
board perished; another sank just as she was taken possession of, and
before her crew could be removed, though many happily were saved. There
had been several partial actions between them."
Exclamations of delight and satisfaction burst from the lips of all the
party on hearing this announcement.
"I only wish that I had been there," exclaimed Harry, and Captain
Fancourt looked as if he wished the same.
"You might have been among those who lost their lives," observed Miss
Pemberton; "we would rather have you safe on shore."
"We must take our chance with others," said Harry. "I only hope, Uncle
Fancourt, that you will soon be able to get me afloat again, though I am
not tired of home yet."
"I shall be able to fulfil your wishes, for the Admiralty have appointed
me to the command of the _Triton_, 38-gun frigate, ordered to be fitted
out with all despatch at Portsmouth. Before many weeks are over she
will, I hope, be ready for sea. I shall have to take my leave of you,
Sir Reginald, sooner than I expected. I must go down at once to look
after her. Harry need not join till I send for him."
"I congratulate you, Fancourt," said Sir Reginald, "though I am sorry
that your visit should be cut short." The great battle was the subject
of conversation for the remainder of the day, every one eagerly looking
forward to the arrival of the newspapers the next morning for fuller
particulars.