Squire Kit was asleep, but Jeremy came out like a boy out of school.
"Hallo, hallo, what news?"
"Villeneuve has been caught and plucked. Hoorah, sir, hoorah, no damned French fleet in the Channel."
"By George, Goffin!"
"The news had just come into Rye. I was in Hastings early, but, good Lord, one never hears anything but old women's gossip in Hastings! Calder fell in with Villeneuve off Ferrol. He had fifteen ships to twenty, but he went in and hammered at him. No great victory, sir, but he has kept Villeneuve from Brest and from the Channel."
Jeremy snapped his fingers.
"Sing old Rose, and burn the bellows! Good, by George—for England."
"Villeneuve got away into Ferrol, but he's there, sir, and not off Boulogne. And some of them are cursing Calder for not doing better. Why, damn 'em, he has stopped the Frenchman's rush. It's all up with him for a dash on the Straits of Dover. And I'll wager that Nelson is not very far from the coast of Spain."
He blew, perspired, and exulted.
"A drink, Jeremy, my man, my pulpit for a drink. Here's to old England!"