GENERAL INDIGNATION
"HALLO, Keene!—Mr. Jack Keene! At your service, sir!"
"Admiral! How do you? I was near giving you the go-by."
"Near running me down, you might say. Like to a three-decker in full
sail. You are going indoors. Ay, ay, then I'll wait. I'll come another
day. 'Twas in my mind that Mrs. Fairbank might be glad of a word. But
since you are here—"
"She will be glad, I can assure you. Pray, sir, come in with me. This
is a frightful blow. It was told me as I came off the ground after
parade, and I hastened hither at full speed."
"Ay, ay, that did you," muttered the Admiral. "Seeing nought ahead of
you but the Corsican, I'll be bound."
"Tis a disgrace to his nation," burst out Jack. "Sir, what do you think
of the step?"
"Think! The most atrocious, the most abominable piece of work ever
heard of. If ever a living man deserved to be strung up at the
yard-arm, that man is Napoleon."
"It can never, sure, be carried out."
"Nay, if the Consul chooses, what is to hinder?"
"Government will not give up the vessels seized."
"Give them up! Knuckle down to the Corsican! Crouch before him, like
to a whipped hound! Why, war had been declared. Our ambassador had had
his orders to come home before ever the step was taken. Give up the
ships! Confess ourselves wrong, in a custom which has been allowed for
ages! We'll give nothing up—nothing, my dear Jack. Sooner than that,
let Boney do his best and his worst. Wants to chase our vessels of war,
does he? Ay, so he may, when they turn tail and run away. We shall know
how to meet him, afloat, fast enough—no fear! With our jolly tars, and
gallant Nelson at their head, there's a thing or two yet to be taught
to the First Consul, or I'm greatly in error."
The two speakers stood outside Mrs. Fairbank's house in Bath, where
they had arrived from opposite directions at the same moment. Both had
walked fast, and each after his own mode showed excitement. The older
of the two, Admiral Peirce, a grizzled veteran, made small attempt to
hide the wrath which quivered visibly in every fibre of his athletic
figure. He had usually a frank and kindly countenance, weather-beaten
by many a storm, yet overflowing with geniality. The geniality had
forsaken it this morning, and he looked like one whom an enemy might
prefer not to meet at close quarters.
Jack Keene had, as he intimated, come straight from parade, not waiting
to get rid of his uniform; and in that uniform the young Ensign
looked older than in mufti. Also he seemed older in this mood of hot
indignation, his light blue eyes sparkling angrily, and his brows
frowning. For once, whatever might usually be the case, he had the air
of a grown man.
"Tis a freak of Boney's—not like to last. The whole civilised world
will cry out upon him. Not that he greatly troubles his pate with what
folks may say," added the Admiral, reflecting that the civilised world
had been for many years crying out upon Napoleon, with no particular
result. "Still, there are limits to everything. Yes, yes, I will come
in with you."
Jack led the way, and they found a forlorn trio within. Mrs. Fairbank
knitted fast, with frequent droppings of stitches; and Polly, white and
dismayed, had an arm round Molly, whom she was trying to comfort, while
much needing comfort herself. Two days before, a letter had come from
Colonel Baron, with a cheerful report of Roy, and Molly's happiness was
sadly dashed by this new complication.
Jack was speedily by their side, doing his best to console them both.
Molly, as earlier stated, was small and childish for her twelve years,
and Jack was next-door to being her brother; so she cried quietly,
leaning her face against his scarlet coat, while he whispered hopeful
foretellings.
"This is truly a doleful state of things, ma'am," the Admiral observed,
turning his attention, as in duty bound, towards the elder lady. "Who
could have thought such wickedness possible? 'Tis prodigiously sad. I
vow there was never such a being as this First Consul since first the
world was created. But cheer up, ma'am. Never you mind about him, nor
pretty Polly neither. Things will all come right in time—maybe sooner,
maybe later—there's no sort of doubt."
"But are they indeed all prisoners, sir?" asked Polly.
"Nay, nay, not so bad as that! The First Consul may be but little
removed from a fiend; yet even he does not war with women and with
schoolboys. Mrs. Baron is free to return when she will, and to bring
Roy with her. 'All the English from the ages of eighteen to sixty,'
and any such as are in His Majesty's Service—those are the terms of
the arrest. Roy being under eighteen, and not yet having a commission,
is not included. 'Tis only Colonel Baron and Captain Ivor who are to
be accounted prisoners of war. An atrocious deed, with harmless and
innocent travellers."
That "only" sounded hard to Polly, though it was meant in all kindness.
The Admiral was doing his best to bring a ray of sunshine into a cloudy
prospect.
Before any one could reply, the door opened, and in sailed Mrs. Bryce,
followed by her husband. They had found their way to Bath, avowedly to
drink the waters; and Mrs. Bryce was looking her gayest, as befitted a
fashionable visitor to fashionable Bath.
When once Mrs. Bryce was upon the scene, other people had no chance of
saying much.
"So this is the outcome of it all!" she exclaimed, with uplifted hands.
"A fortnight in Paris—more like to be a matter of years. Nap has 'em
in safe keeping, and depend on 't, he'll not let them go in no sort of
haste. I protest, when Colonel Baron told me of his purpose, I had an
inkling in my mind of what should come to pass. Did I not warn him? Did
I not tell him he should be content to stop at home? 'Tis now even as I
foretold. If the mice will foolishly run into the trap, with their eyes
open, what may be expected but that in the trap they must stay? My dear
Mrs. Fairbank, I do most sincerely condole with you all."
Mrs. Fairbank parted her lips, and had time to do no more.
"Tis done now, and it cannot be undone. But 'tis a lesson for the
future. Had the Colonel but shown his accustomed good sense, he would
have taken warning by my words, and might now be sound and safe in
England. But everybody has expected war. If England will not act at the
bidding of old Nap, England has to fight. And England will not obey his
will. Therefore we must needs fight."
"The Treaty of Amiens—" Mrs. Fairbank began to say.
"O excuse me, I beseech! We agreed, doubtless, in that Treaty, to carry
out certain conditions, if old Nap should carry out certain others. And
on his part those conditions have been broken. For months the Treaty
has been worth so much waste paper. Since Boney has not kept his share
of the agreement, we are free. What! are we to yield to the tyrant, and
to do his will? I protest, England is not yet sunk so low."
The others tried to intimate how fully they agreed with the lively
speaker, but she went on, unheeding—
"I have it all from my brother, who has it at first-hand from His Grace
the Duke of Hamilton. I venture to think that's unimpeachable, ma'am.
One thing is sure, our friends over the Channel will not be back this
great while. I give them at the least three years. Nay, why not four or
five?"
"Nay, why not forty or fifty?" drily asked Jack. "Nay, Molly!" —as he
felt her start. "Who knows? The war may last but six months. And Roy is
free."
But he could not speak of Ivor as free: and he saw Polly's colour
deepen, her eyes filling. This could not be allowed to go on. A
diversion had become necessary: and Jack's voice was heard to say
something in slow insistent tones, making itself audible through Mrs.
Bryce's continued outpour.
"A very great friend of his Grace—" reached her ears. Mrs. Bryce, being
much of a tuft-hunter, stopped short.