The contents were as follows:—
"Sir,
"We commit to your charge a Buonapartist, Mons. St. Just, taken with the accompanying despatches from the French Government. You will deliver him and them to Admiral Lord Nelson, last heard of in Lat. —— Long. ——.
"If the Admiral find the information in the papers trustworthy, Mons. St. Just is to be brought back to England. If not, let Lord Nelson deal with him as the bearer of false news in time of war deserves.
Signed: George, Prince Regent.
——, First Lord of the Admiralty.
W. Pitt, First Lord of the Treasury
and Prime Minister.
And this shall be your warrant for what you do."
Meanwhile St. Just had been conducted to his cabin, a narrow room about ten feet long and from six to eight in width; its furniture a bunk, a chair and a seaman's chest, empty except for washing requisites of the commonest description, the lid forming a table in the daytime. The cabin was lighted by a small port hole.
This then was to be his abode for the next three weeks—or more, and then—? The reflection made him shudder. He knew his fate depended on the truthfulness of the despatches taken from him—or rather on their result.
The hours seemed to drag on terribly. For a change, he paced about his little cabin; then he threw himself upon his bunk and tried to sleep; and, at last, succeeded.
How long he slept he did not know, but it was dark when he awoke, aroused by the opening of his door. Someone came in with a lantern, which he hung up on an iron hook in the rafters overhead. Then he laid some books upon the sea chest. It was Sims, the officer who had brought him to the cabin.