"I really insist, monsieur," cried the admiral, good-naturedly, "that you shall take part of my chaise to London. You are a stranger, and it will help to keep up your spirits by the way."
"You are very good, Monsieur Howell," replied the Frenchman, with a polite bow and forced smile, misconstruing ill-judged benevolence into a wish for his person to grace a triumph, "but I have accepted the offer Monsieur le General Denbigh was so good as to make me."
"The comte is engaged to me, Howell," said the general, with a courtly smile, "and, indeed, you must leave the ship to-night, or as soon as we anchor. But I shall take day-light and to-morrow."
"Well, well, Denbigh," exclaimed the other, rubbing his hands with pleasure as he viewed the increasing power of the wind, "only make yourselves happy, and I am contented."
A few hours intervened before they reached the Bay of Plymouth, and round the table, after their dinner, were seated the general and English admiral. The comte, under the pretense of preparing his things for a removal, had retired to his apartment to conceal his feelings; and the captain of the ship was above, superintending the approach of the vessel to her anchorage. Two or three well emptied bottles of wine yet remained; but as the healths of all the branches of the House of Brunswick had been propitiated from their contents, with a polite remembrance of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette from General Denbigh, neither of the superiors was much inclined for action.
"Is the Thunderer in her station?" said the admiral to the signal lieutenant, who at that moment came below with a report.
"Yes, sir, and has answered."
"Very well; make the signal to prepare to anchor."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"And here, Bennet," to the retiring lieutenant, "call the transports all in shore of us."
"Three hundred and eighty-four, sir," said the officer looking at bis signal-book.
