Carne was not concerned to look at him; all he cared about was
to divide the joint of a wing-rib of cold roast beef, where some good
pickings lurked in the hollow. Then the French man, whose chance would
have been very small in a personal encounter with his chief, arose and
took a naval sword, short but rather heavy, from a hook which in better
days had held a big dish-cover, and making a salute rather graceful than
gracious, presented the fringed handle to the carver.
"This behaviour is sensible, my friend, and worthy of your distinguished
abilities." Carne's resolute face seldom yielded to a smile, but the
smile when it came was a sweet one. "Pardon me for speaking strongly,
but my instructions must be the law to you. If you were my commander
(as, but for local knowledge, and questions of position here, you would
be), do you think then that you would allow me to rebel, to grumble,
to wander, to demand my own pleasure, when you knew that it would ruin
things?"
"Bravo! It is well spoken. My captain, I embrace you. In you lives the
spirit of the Grand Army, which we of the sea and of the ships admire
always, and always desire to emulate. Ah, if England possessed many
Englishmen like you, she would be hard to conquer."
The owner of this old English castle shot a glance at the Frenchman
for any sign of irony in his words. Seeing none, he continued, in the
friendly vein:
"Our business here demands the greatest caution, skill, reserve, and
self-denial.
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