volution,
through waiting at table and hearing talk about 'em. One of our
forecas'le six-pounders was called Danton and t'other Marat. I used to
play the fiddle between 'em, sitting on the capstan. Day in and day out
Bompard and Monsieur Genet talked o' what France had done, and how the
United States was going to join her to finish off the English in this
war. Monsieur Genet said he'd justabout make the United States fight for
France. He was a rude common man. But I liked listening. I always helped
drink any healths that was proposed--specially Citizen Danton's who'd
cut off King Louis' head. An all-Englishman might have been shocked--but
that's where my French blood saved me.

'It didn't save me from getting a dose of ship's fever though, the week
before we put Monsieur Genet ashore at Charleston; and what was left
of me after bleeding and pills took the dumb horrors from living 'tween
decks. The surgeon, Karaguen his name was, kept me down there to help
him with his plasters--I was too weak to wait on Bompard. I don't
remember much of any account for the next few weeks, till I smelled
lilacs, and I looked out of the port, and we was moored to a wharf-edge
and there was a town o' fine gardens and red-brick houses and all the
green leaves o' God's world waiting for me outside.

'"What's this?" I said to the sick-bay man--Old Pierre Tiphaigne he was.
"Philadelphia," says Pierre. "You've missed it all. We're sailing next
week."

'I just turned round and cried for longing to be amongst the laylocks.

'"If that's your trouble," says old Pierre, "you go straight ashore.
None'll hinder you. They're all gone mad on these coasts--French and
American together. 'Tisn't my notion o' war." Pierre was an old King
Louis man.

'My legs was pretty tottly, but I made shift to go on deck, which it
was like a fair. The frigate was crowded with fine gentlemen and ladies
pouring in and out. They sung and they waved French flags, while Captain
Bompard and his officers--yes, and some of the men--speechified to
all and sundry about war with England. They shouted, "Down with
England!"--"Down with Washington!"--"Hurrah for France and the
Republic!" I couldn't make sense of it. I wanted to get out from that
crunch of swords and petticoats and sit in a field. One of the gentlemen
said to me, "Is that a genuine cap o' Liberty you're wearing?" 'Twas
Aunt Cecile's red one, and pretty near wore out. "Oh yes!" I says,
"straight from France." "I'l