loyalty to his king and loyalty to his
conscience he had to choose, and it is likely enough that he erred. But
I believe that he fought it out, and found on his country's side a limit
of shame to which he could not stoop. A man so placed, perhaps, may even
betray his country to her honour. In this hope at least the flag which
he had hauled down covered his body still as we committed it to the sea,
its service or disservice done.

Two days later we anchored in the great harbour at Boston, where Captain
Seccombe went with his story and his prisoners to Commodore Bainbridge,
who kept them pending news of Commodore Rodgers. They were sent, a few
weeks later, to Newport, Rhode Island, to be interrogated by that
commander; and, to the honour of the Republic, were released on a
liberal _parole_; but whether, when the war ended, they returned to
England or took oath as American citizens, I have not learned. I was
luckier. The Commodore allowed Captain Seccombe to detain me while the
French consul made inquiry into my story; and during the two months
which the consul thought fit to take over it, I was a guest in the
captain's house. And here I made my bow to Miss Amelia Seccombe, an
accomplished young lady, "who," said her doating father, "has acquired a
considerable proficiency in French, and will be glad to swap ideas with
you in that language." Miss Seccombe and I did not hold our
communications in French; and, observing her disposition to substitute
the warmer language of the glances, I took the bull by the horns, told
her my secret, and rhapsodised on Flora. Consequently no Nausicaa
figures in this Odyssey of mine. Nay, the excellent girl flung herself
into my cause, and bombarded her father and the consular office with
such effect that on 2nd February 1814, I waved farewell to her from the
deck of the barque _Shawmut_, bound from Boston to Bordeaux.

CHAPTER XXXV

IN PARIS.--ALAIN PLAYS HIS LAST CARD

On the 10th of March at sunset the _Shawmut_ passed the Pointe de Grave
fort and entered the mouth of the Gironde, and at eleven o'clock next
morning dropped anchor a little below Blaye, under the guns of the
_Regulus_, 74. We were just in time, a British fleet being daily
expected there to co-operate with the Duc d'Angouleme and Count Lynch,
who was then preparing to pull the tricolour from his shoulder and
betray Bordeaux to Beresford, or, if you prefer it, to the Bourbon. News
of his purpose had already trave