I never saw Captain Fogg again; but I had the pleasure to
serve with Captain Vincent seven years later, when we each
commanded a vessel in Admiral Baker's squadron that cruised about
the Irish coasts in search of Duguay-Trouin. He retired from the
service soon afterwards, and lived for twenty years longer in much
contentment. 'Tis sixteen years (so fast does time fly) since I was
bid to his funeral.
We continued to Portsmouth, where, the ship being paid off, I
hastened with Mistress Lucy, her faithful nurse and Joe, to be in
time to keep Christmas at Shrewsbury. My good friends Squire
Allardyce and his lady were in the seventh heaven of delight when I
restored Mistress Lucy once more to their arms, and overwhelmed me
with their praises when they heard from her a full recital of what
they were pleased to call my heroic deeds on her behalf. In truth I
think there was little of the heroic in anything I had done, but
just my plain duty, and what any man of honor would have attempted
for any woman in like circumstances.
The squire made a comical grimace when (after the ladies had
disappeared) I expressed this opinion.
"Ads bobs!" he cried, "what are young fellows made of nowadays!
Have you spirit for nothing but fighting the French, Mr. Humphrey
Bold? I could have sworn there would be a Mistress Bold by this
time."
I reminded him that I was as yet only a lieutenant on eighty pounds
a year (though I looked for my captain's commission when Prince
George should have had time to overlook Admiral Whetstone's
report).
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