The same papers contained news of a more agreeable nature.  Considering the high terms in which Mr. Benbow had spoken of Captains Fogg and Vincent, and the recommendation he made on their behalf, the prince was pleased to command that the sentence of suspension should be remitted, and that they should be again employed in the Queen’s service.  I was sorry that I could not be present when this good news was conveyed to them; they had remained in Jamaica, and did not learn of the prince’s clemency for several months.  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).

“But hasn’t Lucy enough for you both and a large family to boot?—­though to be sure she made a precious bad bargain over that estate of hers.  D’you want her to be snapped up under your very nose?  Why, young Cludde will have her yet, if he has turned out such a paragon as you would make it appear.”

But I corrected him on this point, for on our journey to the Hall Mistress Lucy told me (what had been a secret hitherto) that Dick Cludde and Lucetta Gurney would one day make a match of it.  In the end the old gentleman pished and pshawed and called me a young fool, but I learned from Mistress Allardyce afterwards that in the bosom of his family he laid this also to my credit.

I stayed at the Hall one night, as did Joe Punchard (who, between Susan and the cook, spent a merry evening, and made Giles turn black with jealousy), and then set off with him to see my older friends in Shrewsbury.  Mr. Vetch and his good lady welcomed me right royally.  They were in excellent health, Mistress Vetch fine in a new magenta-colored cap, and I was right glad to learn that the lawyer’s practice had grown quite to its former prosperity, and that he was spoken of as mayor for the next year. (This honor, however, he did not attain to, the election falling on Mr. William Bowlder the tanner.)