"If you really want a race, I'll arrange the whole thing," said I. And I brought the two wrathful old gentlemen together, rode with them to the starting-point, gave the word, and off they went as hard as they could pelt. I followed, cheering them on. The general began to draw ahead, when his horse baulked at a soft place. The admiral's horse did the same, throwing his rider upon his neck.
"Get back into the saddle and he'll go through," I shouted, for I knew the horse. The admiral hove himself into his seat, and won the race. He wouldn't have won, if his adversary hadn't baulked.
The members of the Board of Admiralty came down to Plymouth to witness the autumn military manoeuvres. I offered to drive them all in my coach; and they were settled in their places—Mr. Goschen the First Lord, Admiral Sir Alexander Milne, the Earl of Camperdown and Mr. Shaw-Lefevre—when out of the house came Rear-Admiral Beauchamp Seymour.
"Get down!" he shouted. "Gentlemen, you must get down."
They asked him why.
"You don't know that boy," said Seymour. "He's not safe. He'll upset you on purpose, just to say he's upset the whole Board of Admiralty!"
And he actually ordered my guests off my coach, so that they had to go in barouches.
Sir Harry Keppel often came sailing with me in my little yacht. We were out together, when I said to him,
"I cannot weather that ironclad, sir."
"Then run into her, my dear boy," said Keppel placidly.