‘There are plenty ready to fight, he says, sir, but none accustomed to discipline.’
A gesture, half contemptuous, was all Humbert’s reply, and he now turned away and walked the deck alone and in silence. Meanwhile the bustle and movements of the crew continued, and soon the great ships, their sails all coiled, lay tranquilly at anchor in a sea without a ripple.
‘A boat is coming out from the shore, general,’ whispered the lieutenant on duty.
‘Ask the fisherman if he knows it.’
Conolly drew the peasant’s attention to the object, and the man, after looking steadily for a few seconds, became terribly agitated.
‘What is it, man—can’t you tell who it is?’ asked Conolly.
But although so composed before, so ready with all his replies, he seemed now totally unmanned—his frank and easy features being struck with the signs of palpable terror. At last, and with an effort that bespoke all his fears, he muttered—’ ‘Tis the king’s boat is coming, and ‘tis the collector’s on board of her!’
‘Is that all?’ cried Conolly, laughing, as he translated the reply to the general.
‘Won’t you say that I’m a prisoner, sir; won’t you tell them that you “took” me?’ said the fisherman, in an accent of fervent entreaty, for already his mind anticipated the casualty of a failure, and what might betide him afterwards; but no one now had any care for him or his fortunes—all was in preparation to conceal the national character of the ships. The marines were ordered below, and all others whose uniforms might betray their country, while the English colours floated from every mast-head.
General Humbert, with Serasin and two others, remained on the poop-deck, where they continued to walk, apparently devoid of any peculiar interest or anxiety in the scene. Madgett alone betrayed agitation at this moment, his pale face was paler than ever, and there seemed to me a kind of studious care in the way he covered himself up with his cloak, so that not a vestige of his uniform could be seen.