"I should not fail to remember this in making my testamentary arrangements."
It was enough to mention the journey to Archy. The eyes of Europe were turned on Gibraltar. The moment was fast approaching when the last mortal struggle was coming between the dauntless garrison and the gigantic naval and military power of France and Spain, and no young man of spirit but would have been fascinated at the idea of seeing the climax of these great events. Archy could not start soon enough to please himself, and, within the week, had taken the road to London. He travelled in state, in Lord Bellingham's private post-chaise, which was to take him to London. He carried with him letters to Admiral Kempenfelt, who commanded the Royal George—one of the splendid fleet of thirty-four vessels that were being made ready at Spithead, night and day, for an effort to save Gibraltar—and numerous other letters, calculated to forward his journey to France under a flag of truce, and he had also a considerable sum of money in gold.
He stopped but a day in London, to have his safe-conduct viséd at the Admiralty. Then he sent the post-chaise back with a long letter to his grandfather, and a short but affectionate one to Trevor Langton's mother. In this last, he actually forced himself to send his love to Mary and Isabel, but he could not forbear adding at the bottom:
"P.S.—Dear Aunt,—I hope my cousins are not pining away for Captain Paul Jones. He admires the ladies very much, but I do not think he has the intention to ask any particular fair one to share his glorious destiny with him. Break this gently to my cousins.
"A. B."
That very afternoon Archy took post for Portsmouth, and arrived there in a few hours. He went to the celebrated Angel Inn, and tumbled into bed, and was astir early the next morning to find a way of reaching the mighty and invincible Rock.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Paul Jones did possess this list, and he never revealed the source of his information, which was supposed to be some one high in authority at the Admiralty.