The boat now came close under our lee, and Conolly being ordered to challenge her in English, the collector, standing up in the stern, touched his hat, and announced his rank. The gangway-ladder was immediately lowered, and three gentlemen ascended the ship’s side and walked aft to the poop. I was standing near the bulwark at the time, watching the scene with intense interest. As General Humbert stood a little in advance of the rest, the collector, probably taking him for the captain, addressed him with some courteous expressions of welcome, and was proceeding to speak of the weather, when the general gently stopped him by asking if he spoke French.
I shall never forget the terror of face that question evoked. At first, looking at his two companions, the collector turned his eyes to the gaff, where the English flag was flying; but still unable to utter a word, he stood like one entranced.
‘You have been asked if you can speak French, sir?’ said Conolly, at a sign from the general.
‘No—very little—very badly—not at all; but isn’t this—am I not on board of——’
‘Can none of them speak French?’ said Humbert shortly.
‘Yes, sir,’ said a young man on the collector’s right; ‘I can make myself intelligible in that language, although no great proficient.’
‘Who are you, monsieur?—are you a civilian?’ asked Humbert.
‘Yes, sir. I am the son of the Bishop of Killala, and this young gentleman is my brother.’
‘What is the amount of the force in this neighbourhood?’
‘You will pardon me, sir,’ said the youth, ‘if I ask, first, who it is puts this question, and under what circumstances I am expected to answer it.’