Chapter V: General Indignation

"HALLO, Keene!—Mr. Jack Keene! At your service, sir!"

"Admiral! How do you? I was near giving you the go-by."

"Near running me down, you might say. Like to a three-decker in full sail. You are going indoors. Ay, ay, then I'll wait. I'll come another day. 'Twas in my mind that Mrs. Fairbank might be glad of a word. But since you are here—"

"She will be glad, I can assure you. Pray, sir, come in with me. This is a frightful blow. It was told me as I came off the ground after parade, and I hastened hither at full speed."

"Ay, ay, that did you," muttered the Admiral. "Seeing nought ahead of you but the Corsican, I'll be bound."

"Tis a disgrace to his nation," burst out Jack. "Sir, what do you think of the step?"

"Think! The most atrocious, the most abominable piece of work ever heard of. If ever a living man deserved to be strung up at the yard-arm, that man is Napoleon."

"It can never, sure, be carried out."

"Nay, if the Consul chooses, what is to hinder?"

"Government will not give up the vessels seized."

"Give them up! Knuckle down to the Corsican! Crouch before him, like to a whipped hound! Why, war had been declared. Our ambassador had had his orders to come home before ever the step was taken. Give up the ships! Confess ourselves wrong, in a custom which has been allowed for ages! We'll give nothing up—nothing, my dear Jack. Sooner than that, let Boney do his best and his worst. Wants to chase our vessels of war, does he? Ay, so he may, when they turn tail and run away. We shall know how to meet him, afloat, fast enough—no fear! With our jolly tars, and gallant Nelson at their head, there's a thing or two yet to be taught to the First Consul, or I'm greatly in error."

The two speakers stood outside Mrs. Fairbank's house in Bath, where they had arrived from opposite directions at the same moment. Both had walked fast, and each after his own mode showed excitement. The older of the two, Admiral Peirce, a grizzled veteran, made small attempt to hide the wrath which quivered visibly in every fibre of his athletic figure. He had usually a frank and kindly countenance, weather-beaten by many a storm, yet overflowing with geniality. The geniality had forsaken it this morning, and he looked like one whom an enemy might prefer not to meet at close quarters.

Jack Keene had, as he intimated, come straight from parade, not waiting to get rid of his uniform; and in that uniform the young Ensign looked older than in mufti. Also he seemed older in this mood of hot indignation, his light blue eyes sparkling angrily, and his brows frowning. For once, whatever might usually be the case, he had the air of a grown man.

"Tis a freak of Boney's—not like to last. The whole civilised world will cry out upon him. Not that he greatly troubles his pate with what folks may say," added the Admiral, reflecting that the civilised world had been for many years crying out upon Napoleon, with no particular result. "Still, there are limits to everything. Yes, yes, I will come in with you."

Jack led the way, and they found a forlorn trio within. Mrs. Fairbank knitted fast, with frequent droppings of stitches; and Polly, white and dismayed, had an arm round Molly, whom she was trying to comfort, while much needing comfort herself. Two days before, a letter had come from Colonel Baron, with a cheerful report of Roy, and Molly's happiness was sadly dashed by this new complication.

Jack was speedily by their side, doing his best to console them both. Molly, as earlier stated, was small and childish for her twelve years, and Jack was next-door to being her brother; so she cried quietly, leaning her face against his scarlet coat, while he whispered hopeful foretellings.

"This is truly a doleful state of things, ma'am," the Admiral observed, turning his attention, as in duty bound, towards the elder lady. "Who could have thought such wickedness possible? 'Tis prodigiously sad. I vow there was never such a being as this First Consul since first the world was created. But cheer up, ma'am. Never you mind about him, nor pretty Polly neither. Things will all come right in time—maybe sooner, maybe later—there's no sort of doubt."

"But are they indeed all prisoners, sir?" asked Polly.

"Nay, nay, not so bad as that! The First Consul may be but little removed from a fiend; yet even he does not war with women and with schoolboys. Mrs. Baron is free to return when she will, and to bring Roy with her. 'All the English from the ages of eighteen to sixty,' and any such as are in His Majesty's Service—those are the terms of the arrest. Roy being under eighteen, and not yet having a commission, is not included. 'Tis only Colonel Baron and Captain Ivor who are to be accounted prisoners of war. An atrocious deed, with harmless and innocent travellers."

That "only" sounded hard to Polly, though it was meant in all kindness. The Admiral was doing his best to bring a ray of sunshine into a cloudy prospect.

Before any one could reply, the door opened, and in sailed Mrs. Bryce, followed by her husband. They had found their way to Bath, avowedly to drink the waters; and Mrs. Bryce was looking her gayest, as befitted a fashionable visitor to fashionable Bath.

When once Mrs. Bryce was upon the scene, other people had no chance of saying much.

"So this is the outcome of it all!" she exclaimed, with uplifted hands. "A fortnight in Paris—more like to be a matter of years. Nap has 'em in safe keeping, and depend on 't, he'll not let them go in no sort of haste. I protest, when Colonel Baron told me of his purpose, I had an inkling in my mind of what should come to pass. Did I not warn him? Did I not tell him he should be content to stop at home? 'Tis now even as I foretold. If the mice will foolishly run into the trap, with their eyes open, what may be expected but that in the trap they must stay? My dear Mrs. Fairbank, I do most sincerely condole with you all."

Mrs. Fairbank parted her lips, and had time to do no more.

"Tis done now, and it cannot be undone. But 'tis a lesson for the future. Had the Colonel but shown his accustomed good sense, he would have taken warning by my words, and might now be sound and safe in England. But everybody has expected war. If England will not act at the bidding of old Nap, England has to fight. And England will not obey his will. Therefore we must needs fight."

"The Treaty of Amiens—" Mrs. Fairbank began to say.

"O excuse me, I beseech! We agreed, doubtless, in that Treaty, to carry out certain conditions, if old Nap should carry out certain others. And on his part those conditions have been broken. For months the Treaty has been worth so much waste paper. Since Boney has not kept his share of the agreement, we are free. What! are we to yield to the tyrant, and to do his will? I protest, England is not yet sunk so low."

The others tried to intimate how fully they agreed with the lively speaker, but she went on, unheeding—

"I have it all from my brother, who has it at first-hand from His Grace the Duke of Hamilton. I venture to think that's unimpeachable, ma'am. One thing is sure, our friends over the Channel will not be back this great while. I give them at the least three years. Nay, why not four or five?"

"Nay, why not forty or fifty?" drily asked Jack. "Nay, Molly!" —as he felt her start. "Who knows? The war may last but six months. And Roy is free."

But he could not speak of Ivor as free: and he saw Polly's colour deepen, her eyes filling. This could not be allowed to go on. A diversion had become necessary: and Jack's voice was heard to say something in slow insistent tones, making itself audible through Mrs. Bryce's continued outpour.

"A very great friend of his Grace—" reached her ears. Mrs. Bryce, being much of a tuft-hunter, stopped short.