was shown down into Count
Shucksen's cabin, and he conversed so long, that I could not get away
sooner, as it would not have been polite to have left him before he had
finished his questions. I then gave a very civil message, and the
captain said no more: the very name of a great man always silenced him.

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

BAD NEWS FROM HOME, AND WORSE ON BOARD--NOTWITHSTANDING HIS PREVIOUS
TRIALS, PETER FORCED TO PREPARE FOR ANOTHER--MRS. TROTTER AGAIN;
IMPROVES AS SHE GROWS OLD--CAPTAIN HAWKINS AND HIS TWELVE CHARGES.

No other event of consequence occurred until we joined the admiral, who
only detained us three hours with the fleet, and then sent us home with
his despatches. We arrived, after a quiet passage, at Portsmouth, where
I wrote immediately to my sister Ellen, requesting to know the state of
my father's health. I waited impatiently for an answer, and by return
of post received one with a black seal. My father had died the day
before from a brain fever; and Ellen conjured me to obtain leave of
absence, to come to her in her state of distress. The captain came on
board the next morning, and I had a letter ready written on service to
the admiral, stating the circumstances, and requesting leave of absence.
I presented it to him and entreated him to forward it. At any other
time I would not have condescended: but the thoughts of my poor sister,
unprotected and alone, and my father lying dead in the house, made me
humble and submissive. Captain Hawkins read the letter, and very coolly
replied, that "it was very easy to say that my father was dead, but he
required proofs." Even this insult did not affect me; I put my sister's
letter in his hand--he read it, and as he returned it to me, he smiled
maliciously. "It is impossible for me to forward your letter, Mr
Simple, as I have one to deliver to you."

He put a large folio packet into my hand, and went below. I opened it:
it was a copy of a letter demanding a court-martial upon me, with a long
list of the charges preferred by him. I was stupefied, not so much at
his asking for a court-martial, but at the conviction of the
impossibility of my now being able to go to the assistance of my poor
sister. I went down into the gun-room and threw myself on a chair, at
the same time tossing the letter to Thompson, the master. He read it
over carefully, and folded it up.

"Upon my word, Simple, I do not see that you have much to fear. These
charges are