"Well, Cuffe," said this uninviting-looking personage, twitching the stump of the maimed arm, "I see you are out of the flock; are you all ready for sailing?"
"We have one boat ashore after letters, my lord; as soon as she comes off we shall lift our anchor, which is only under-foot."
"Very well--I have sent the Ringdove to the southward on the same errand, and I see she is half a league from the anchorage on her way already. This Mr. Griffin appears to be a fine young man--I like his account of the way he handled his fire-ship; though the French scoundrel did contrive to escape! After all, this Rowl E--E--how do you pronounce the fellow's name, Cuffe? I never can make anything out of their gibberish--"
"Why, to own the truth, Sir Horatio--I beg pardon--my lord--there is something in the English grain of my feelings that would prevent my ever learning French, had I been born and brought up in Paris. There is too much Saxon in me to swallow words that half the time have no meaning."
"I like you all the better for that, Cuffe," answered the admiral, smiling, a change that converted a countenance that was almost ugly when in a state of rest into one that was almost handsome--a peculiarity that is by no means of rare occurrence, when a strong will gives expression to the features, and the heart, at bottom, is really sound. "An Englishman has no business with any Gallic tendencies. This young Mr. Griffin seems to have spirit; and I look upon it always as a good sign when a young man volunteers for a desperate thing of this sort--but he tells me he is only second; where was your first all the while?"
"Why, my lord, he got a little hurt in the brush of the morning; and I would not let him go, as a matter of course. His name is Winchester; I think you must remember him as junior of the Captain, at the affair off St. Vincent. Miller[4] had a good opinion of him; and when I went from the Arrow to the Proserpine he got him sent as my second. The death of poor Drury made him first in the natural way."
[4] Ralph Willet Miller, the officer who commanded the ship to which Nelson shifted his pennant, at the battle of Cape St. Vincent. This gentleman was an American, and a native Manhattanese; his near relatives of the same name still residing in New York. It is believed that he got the name of Willet from the first English Mayor, a gentleman from whom are descended many of the old families of the lower part of the state, more particularly those on Long Island.
"I have some recollection of him, Cuffe. That was a brilliant day, and all its events should be impressed on my mind. You tell me Mr. Griffin fairly grappled the lugger's cable?"
"Of that there can be no manner of doubt. I saw the two vessels foul of each other with my night-glass--and seemingly both were on fire--as plainly as I ever saw Vesuvius in a dark night."
"And yet this Few-Folly has escaped! Poor Griffin has run a desperate risk for little purpose."