“Now, my lad,” said his friend, Lieutenant O’Loughlin, “what do you say to that? Your little Mabel, whom you had the impudence to call plain, with eyes like a gazelle! Now, you see, she has turned out, what I always prophesied, a lovely girl. I am astonished at you! What’s beauty! Faith, now I recollect, you were half in love with that——”
“Come, come, O’Loughlin,” interrupted our hero, laughing, “do not think to have it all your own way. Perhaps if I were to give Agatha Volney a little sketch of a certain——”
“I cry quits,” said the Lieutenant, with a smile; “but, by the way, Agatha’s sister is going to be married shortly to young Lord Stinthorp—a splendid match. Madame Volney, fortunately, has been left a very handsome legacy by a relation who died out at Cuba, which places her in a position she is entitled to fill.”
“I rejoice to hear it, old friend. Where did you get all this intelligence?”
“In letters brought out by the Etna gun-boat. We go out to the Mediterranean before we return to England, so that it may be some time before we receive news again.”
One morning after this conversation, Sir Sidney Smith received orders from Sir John Borlais Warren, who commanded the force, to proceed with the Diamond, and have a look into Brest harbour. This order aroused the spirits and energies of the frigate’s crew, because there was considerable risk in the undertaking. Anything but an inactive life for a British sailor.
The Diamond was accordingly disguised as much as possible, so as to resemble a French frigate.
With the wind blowing due east, the frigate commenced beating up for the entrance, and as it approached, the crew could perceive three French ships of war, also working up to windward. As the day declined, Sir Sidney made up his mind to anchor, so as to be able to take advantage of the next flood tide. The frigate therefore let go her anchor between Porte St. Matthew and the Bec-du-Rez. Distant about two miles from them was perceived a large ship, and nearer to the Bec-du-Rez lay a remarkable looking vessel, lugger-rigged.
The moment William Thornton turned his glass upon this last-mentioned vessel, he said aloud:—
“By Jove! that’s her.”