ut full-blooded face crowned with a chestnut
wig. . . . Who could it be if not his Royal Highness the Prince
Regent?

Yes, it was he. Had not our Major scanned those features often
enough--in his own mirror?

The Port Admiral was inviting Captain Crang to step into the gig.
The Prince nodded a careless, haughty assent, shrinking a little,
however, as Mr. Wapshott passed down the clockwork of the catamaran
for his royal inspection. Recovering himself, he glanced at it
perfunctorily and nodded to the sailors to give way and pull towards
the hull of the infernal machine.

The curiosity which had brought him down to Portsmouth to inspect it
seemed, however, to have evaporated. The gig fell alongside the
coffin-like log, and the Port Admiral, having taken the clockwork out
of Captain Crang's hand, had launched into an explanation of its
working when the Prince signified hurriedly that he had seen as much
as he desired. Back to the ship the gig drifted on the tide, and
Captain Crang, dismissed with a curt nod, stepped on to the ladder
again, turned, and saluted profoundly.

As he did so, the Major, erect above the bulwarks, found speech.

"Your Royal Highness!" he cried. "Nay, but pardon me, your Royal
Highness! If I may crave the favour--explanation--a prisoner,
unjustly detained--"

The Prince Regent lifted his eyes lazily as the bowman thrust off.

"What a dam funny-looking little man!" commented he aloud, nudging
the Port Admiral, who had risen and was calling out the order to give
way for shore.

"But, your Royal Highness!--"

The Major raised himself on tiptoe with arms outstretched after the
receding boat. On the instant the ship shook under him as with an
earthquake, and drowned his voice in the thunders of a royal salute.

"The Emperor Jovinian, Mr. Jope--"

"Who was 'e?" Mr. Jope interrupted.

Two days had passed, and the better part of a third. They seemed as
many years to our hero as, seated on the carriage of one of the
_Vesuvius's_ starboard guns in company with the boatswain and Bill
Adams, he watched through its open port the many-twinkling smiles of
the sea, and, scarce two leagues away, the coast of France golden
against the sunset.

"I am not precisely aware when he flourished," said the Major, "but
will make a point of inquiring when I return home. To tell you the
truth, I heard the story in church, in a sermon of our worthy
Vicar's, little dreaming under what circumstances I sho