I may die before we make Port Royal; if I do,
you will take my love to Nelly, my lad?"
"I will indeed, sir, but I hope for better things," I said. "There
be good surgeons in Spanish Town, who will use all of their skill
to preserve a life so valuable to the country."
"We shall see," he replied. "This plaguey leg will have to come
off; maybe I shall return home with a wooden leg and stump about as
port admiral somewhere!
"At any rate, I hope I shall live long enough to see you a captain.
You have done well, my lad, and there will be a few vacancies, I
warrant you, when the court martial has done with those villains."
Before we reached Port Royal a French boat overtook us with a
letter to the admiral from Monsieur du Casse, who, being a brave
man, felt for the distress of his brave foe.
"Sir" (he wrote), "I had little hope on Monday last but to have
supped in your cabin, but it pleased God to order it otherwise; I
am thankful for it. As for those cowardly captains who deserted
you, hang them up, for by God, they deserve it."
Our return to harbor was a melancholy affair. There was universal
rage against the unworthy captains, and universal grief at the
plight of the admiral. His broken leg was taken off, an operation
which he bore with wonderful fortitude, and being of a robust
constitution, he gave the surgeons at first good hopes of recovery.
From his sick bed he issued a commission to Rear Admiral Whetstone
to hold a court martial for the trial of the four captains whom he
accused of cowardice, breach of order, and neglect of duty; and of
Captains Fogg and Vincent on the minor charge of signing the paper
against engaging the French.
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