(Signed) “BELLAMY DUDGEON.”
“Well, it may be true, or it may be a lie,” said the Marquis, pouring carefully; “my opinion is the latter; but I have nothing to do with it officially, according to the new arrangements. Every gentleman must judge for himself. And I mean to abide by my own judgment, which strongly recommends me to finish this bottle.”
“Probably you are right enough; and in your place perhaps I should do the same,” the Admiral answered, quietly; “but be the alarm either true or false, I am bound to act otherwise. All Naval Officers present will be good enough to follow me, and prepare to rejoin if ordered. We shall very soon know from the signal-point, unless fog has set in suddenly, whether we are bound to beat a general alarm.”
All the sons of the sea arose quietly, and were despatched with brief orders to the right and left, to communicate with their signal stations, while Stubbard hurried back to his battery.
“What cold blood they do display!” whispered the Frenchman, who had returned with the author of the plot to watch the issue from a point of vantage. “My faith, they march slowly for their native land! Not less than six bottles of great French wine did I anticipate to steal through the window, while they fell out precipitous. But there sits a man big enough to leave me nothing—not even a remainder of my own body. Soul of St. Denis, can it be that they question the word of a gentleman?”
“Not they!” replied Carne, who was vexed, however; “they are taking things easily, according to the custom of the nation. But two good things we have done, friend Charron; we have learned their proceedings, and we have spoiled their feasting.”
“But not at all; they are all coming back to enjoy it all the more!” cried the Frenchman. “Oh that I were an Englishman, to get such a dinner, and to be so loyal to it!”