rry's plan was to put the ship's head off-shore, and to make all sail.
This satisfied the King, who was then easily persuaded to go below to
luncheon, dinner, or tea, or to indulge in his favourite game. Sail was
soon again quietly shortened, and the ship headed in for the shore.
Sometimes the King seemed rather surprised that we should have made the
land again so soon; but whether or not he suspected a trick, I cannot
say. His only remark was, "All right, Sir Harry; you are always right."

It was impossible for a monarch to be more condescending and affable
than was the good old King to all on board. He used to go among the
men, and talk to them in the most familiar way, inquiring about their
adventures and family histories, and evidently showing a sympathy with
their feelings and ideas. Did they love the old King? Ay, there was
not a man of them who would not gladly have died for him. It was the
same with the midshipmen and officers. He used to delight in calling up
us youngsters, and would chat with us as familiarly as would any private
gentleman. He showed his real disposition, when able thus to cast aside
the cares of state, and to give way to the kindly feelings of his heart.
I say again, in that respect the King and his captain were worthy of
each other. The following anecdote will prove it:--

We had gone to Portsmouth, leaving the King at Weymouth, and were
returning through the Needles, when, as we got off Poole harbour, a
small boat, with three people in her, was seen a little on the starboard
bow. One man was rowing, the other two persons were beckoning,
evidently towards the ship. As we drew near, we saw, through our
glasses, that the two people were an old man and woman, and, as we
appeared to be passing them, their gestures became more and more
vehement. Many captains would have laughed, or taken no notice of the
old people. Not so Sir Harry--he had a feeling for everyone. Ordering
the ship to be hove-to, he allowed the boat to come alongside.

"Oh, captain, is our ain bairn Davie on board?" shouted the old people,
in chorus.

Sir Harry, with the benignant smile his countenance so often wore,
directed that they might be assisted up the side.

"Who is it you want, good people?" he asked, as soon as their feet were
safely planted on the deck, where they stood, gazing round with
astonished countenances.

"Our ain son, Davie--David Campbell, sir," was again the reply.

"Is there any man o