end, in
whose mind I think it will not be difficult, however, to revive the
recollection of Admiral Bluewater, and even of yourself, Sir Wycherly.
Let _me_ make the effort, Galleygo."

"Yes, Lord Geoffrey," for so the steward always called the quondam
reefer, "you does handle him more like a quick-working boat, than any on
us; and so I'll take an hopportunity of just overhauling our old
lieutenant's young 'uns, and of seeing what sort of craft he has set
afloat for the next generation."

"Sir Gervaise," said the Duke, leaning over the chair, "here is Sir
Wycherly Wychecombe, who once served a short time with us as a
lieutenant; it was when you were in the Plantagenet. You remember the
Plantagenet, I trust, my dear sir?"

"The Plantagenets? Certainly, duke; I read all about them when a boy.
Edwards, and Henrys, and _Richards_--" at the last name he stopped; the
muscles of his face twitched; memory had touched a sensitive chord. But
it was too faintly, to produce more than a pause.

"There, now," growled Galleygo, in Agnes' face, he being just then
employed in surveying her through a pair of silver spectacles that were
a present from his master, "you see, he has forgotten the old Planter;
and the next thing, he'll forget to eat his dinner. It's _wicked_, Sir
Jarvy, to forget _such_ a ship."

"I trust, at least, you have not forgotten Richard Bluewater?" continued
the Duke, "he who fell in our last action with the Comte de Vervillin?"

A gleam of intelligence shot into the rigid and wrinkled face; the eye
lighted, and a painful smile struggled around the lips.

"What, _Dick_!" he exclaimed, in a voice stronger than that in which he
had previously spoken. "_Dick!_ hey! duke? _good, excellent Dick?_ We
were midshipmen together, my lord duke; and I loved him like a brother!"

"I _knew_ you did! and I dare say now you can recollect the melancholy
occasion of his death?"

"Is Dick _dead_?" asked the admiral, with a vacant gaze.

"Lord--Lord, Sir Jarvy, you knows he is, and that 'ere marvel
constructure is his monerment--now you _must_ remember the old Planter,
and the County of Fairvillian, and the threshing we guv'd him?"

"Pardon me, Galleygo; there is no occasion for warmth. When I was a
midshipman, warmth of expression was disapproved of by all the elder
officers."

"You cause me to lose ground," said the Duke, looking at the steward by
way of bidding him be silent: "is it not extraordinary, Sir Wycherly,
how