go, while the officers attacked me on all sides for an account of the siege of Kaiserswerth, of which they had not yet heard full accounts, and we were just leaving the square when there appeared at the door of the French consul's house a man who, no sooner did he observe us and our English appearance-which betrays us all over Europe, I have noticed, though I know not why-and also the brilliancy of the officers' dress, than he set to work bowing and grimacing like a monkey; also he began calling out salutations to us in French, and asking us how the English did now in the wars? and saying that, for himself, he very much regretted that France and England had got flying at one another's throats once more, since if they were not fools and would only keep united, as they had been in the days of him whom he called le grand roi Charles Deux, they might rule the world between them; which was true enough as regarded their united powers (if not the greatness of that late king of ours), as many other people more sensible than he have thought.
"'Tis a merry heart," said Mr. Beauvoir, smiling on the fantastic creature as he gibbered and jumped about on his doorstep, while the others looked contemptuously at him, for we soldiers had but a poor opinion of the French, though always pleased to fight them; "a joyous blade! Let us return his civility"; whereupon he took off his hat, which courtesy we all imitated, and wished him "Good day" politely in his own language.
"Ha! you speak French, monsieur," the other said at this; "also you have the bonne mine. English gentlemens is always gentlemens. Ha! I ver' please see you." – he was himself now speaking half English and half French. "Je vous salue. Lagos ver' triste. I always glad see gentlemens. Veuillez un verre de vin? C'est Français, vrai Français! Ver' goot."
"'Tis tempting," said the chaplain of the Pembroke, his face appearing to get more red than before at the invitation. "Well, we can do no harm in having a crack with him. Only-silence, remember," and he glanced at the officers. "Not a word of our doings-lately, now, or to come."
"Never fear," said the eldest. "We can play a better game than that would be," whereon the chaplain, after bowing gracefully to our would-be host, said in very fair French that, if he desired it, we would all drink a glass of wine with him-only he feared we were too many.
"Not a jot, not a jot," this strange creature cried, beckoning all of us into the house and forthwith leading us into a whitewashed room, in the middle of which was a table with, upon it, a great outre of wine, bound and supported by copper bands and flanked with a number of glasses, so that one might have thought he was ever offering entertainment to others. Then, with great dexterity, he filled the requisite number of glasses, and, after making us each touch his with ours, drank a toast.
"A la fin de la guerre," he said, after screaming, first, "Attention, messieurs," and rapping on the table with his glass to claim that attention, "à l'amitié incassable de la France et de l'Angleterre. Vivent, vivent, vivent la France et l'Angleterre," and down his throat went all the wine.
"A noble toast," said Mr. Beauvoir, with a gravity which-I know not why! – I did not think, somehow, was his natural attribute, "a noble toast. None-be he French or English-could refuse to pledge that," and, with a look at the others, away went his liquor, too, while my brother officers, with a queer look upon their faces, which seemed to express the thought that they scarce knew whether they ought to be carousing in this manner with the representative of an enemy, swallowed theirs.
"Ha! goot, ver' goot," our friend went on, "we will have some more." And in a twinkling he had replenished the glasses and got his own up to, or very near to, his lips. And catching a glance of Mr. Beauvoir's grey eye as he did this, I felt very sure that the reverend gentleman knew as well as I did, or suspected as well as I did, that these were by no means the first potations our friend had been indulging in this morning.
"Another toast," he cried now, "sacré nom d'un chien! we will drink more toasts. A la santé" – then paused, and muttered: "No, no. I cannot propose that. No. Ce n'est pas juste."
"What is not just, monsieur?" asked Mr. Beauvoir, pausing with his own uplifted glass.
"Why, figurez-vous, I was going to commit an impolitesse-what you call a rudesse-rudeness-in your English tongue. To propose the continued prosperity of France-no! vraiment il ne faut pas ça. Because you are my guests-I love the English gentlemens always-and it is so certain-so very certain."
"The continued success of France is very certain, monsieur?" said one of the grenadiers, looking darkly at him. "You say that?"
"Sans doute. It cannot be otherwise. On sea and land we must triumph now-and then-then we shall have la paix incassable. Oh! yes, now that Chateaurenault is on the seas, we must perforce win there-win every-everything. And for the land, why-"
"Chateaurenault is on the seas!" exclaimed the chaplain, looking very grave. "And how long has that been, monsieur?"
"Oh, some time, some time." Then he put his finger to his nose and said, looking extremely cunning in his half drunkenness. "And soon now he will be free to scour them, turn his attention to you and the Dutch-curse the Dutch always, they are cochons!-soon, ver' soon. Just as soon as the galleons are unloaded at Vigo-when we need protect them no more."
Swift as lightning all our eyes met as the good-natured sot said this in his boastfulness; then Mr. Beauvoir, speaking calmly again, said:
"So he is protecting them at Vigo, eh? 'Tis not often they unload there."
"Ah, non, non. Not ver' often. But, you see, you had closed Cadiz against them, so, naturellement, they must go in somewhere."
"Naturally. No-not another drop of wine, I thank you."
CHAPTER VIII.
ON BOARD H. M. S. PEMBROKE
A good snoring breeze was ripping us along parallel with the Portuguese coast a fortnight later, every rag of canvas being stretched aloft-foretop gallant royals, mizzentop gallant royals and royal staysails. For we had found the main body of the fleet at last, after eleven days' search for them, and we were on the road to Vigo.
Only, should we be too late when we got there? That was the question!
Let me take up my tale where I left off. Time enough to record our hopes and fears when that is told.
Our French friend, whose boastfulness had increased with every drop of Montrâchet he swallowed (and 'twas real good wine, vastly different, the chaplain, who boasted himself a fancier, said afterward, from the filthy concoctions to be obtained in that part of Portugal), had been unable to hold his tongue, having got upon the subject of the greatness of his beloved France, and the consequence was that every word he let fall served but to corroborate the Earl of Marlborough's information and my statement. Nay! by the time he allowed us to quit his house, which was not for half an hour after he had first divulged the neighborhood of Chateaurenault and the galleons, and during which period he drank even more fast and furious than before, he had given us still further information. For, indeed, it seemed that once this poor fool's tongue was unloosed, there were no bounds to his vaunts and glorifications, and had it not been that he was our host and, also, that every word he said was of the greatest value to us, I do, indeed, believe that one or other of the officers would have twisted his neck for him, so exasperating was his bragging.
"Pauvre Angleterre! Pauvre Angleterre!" he called out, after we had refused to drink any more, though he himself still kept on unceasingly; "Poor England. Ah, mon Dieu, what shall become of her! Beaten at Cadiz-"
"Retired from Cadiz, if you please, monsieur," one of Pierce's officers said sternly, "because the Dutch ships had runout of provisions, and because, also, the admiral and his Grace could not hope to win
