“Yes, sir,” replied he; “that you never presume to touch your hat to me again, unless we sail together, and then that’s a different sort of thing.”

A week later, O’Brien’s preparations were complete.  I had bought a new umbrella on his advice, and this he had painted with a preparation of oil and beeswax.  He had also managed to procure a considerable amount of twine, which he had turned into a sort of strong cord, or square plait.

At twelve o’clock on a dark November night we left our room and went down into the yard.  By means of pieces of iron, which he drove into the interstices of the stone, we scaled a high wall, and dropped down on the other side by a drawbridge.  Here the sentry was asleep, but O’Brien gagged him, and I threw open the pan of his musket to prevent him from firing.

Then I followed O’Brien into the river.  The umbrella was opened and turned upwards, and I had only to hold on to it at arm’s-length.  O’Brien had a tow line, and taking this in his teeth, he towed me down with the stream to about a hundred yards clear of the fortress, where we landed.  O’Brien was so exhausted that for a few minutes he remained quite motionless.  I also was benumbed with the cold.

“Peter,” said he, “thank God we have succeeded so far.  Now we must push on as far as we can, for we shall have daylight in two hours.”

It was not till some months later that, after many adventures, we reached Flushing, and procured the services of a pilot.  With a strong tide and a fair wind we were soon clear of the Scheldt, and next morning a cutter hove in sight, and in a few minutes we found ourselves once more under the British pennant.

IV.—­In Bedlam

Once, in the West Indies, O’Brien and I had again come across our good friend Colonel O’Brien and his daughter Celeste.  He was now General O’Brien, Governor of Martinique; and Celeste was nineteen, and I one-and-twenty.  And though France and England were still at war, before we parted Celeste and I were lovers, engaged to be married; and the general raised no objection to our attachment.

On our return from that voyage a series of troubles overtook me.  My grandfather, Lord Privilege, had begun to take some interest in me; but before he died my uncle went to live with him, and so poisoned his mind against me that when the old lord’s will was read it was found that L10,000 bequeathed to me had been cancelled by a codicil.  As both my brothers and my other uncle were dead, my uncle was enraged at the possibility of my succeeding to the title.

The loss of L10,000 was too much for my father’s reason, and from lunacy he went quietly to his grave, leaving my only sister, Ellen, to find a home among strangers.

In the meantime, O’Brien had been made a captain, and had sailed for the East Indies.  I was to have accompanied him, but my uncle, who had now succeeded to the title, had sufficient influence at the Admiralty to prevent this, and I was appointed first lieutenant to a ship whose captain, an illegitimate son of Lord Privilege, was determined to ruin me.  Captain Hawkins was a cowardly, mean, tyrannical man, and, although I kept my temper under all his petty persecutions, he managed at last to string together a number of accusations and, on our return, send me to a court-martial.