I was grieved and hurt, and brooded over my trouble as I took my solitary meal. I felt, too, for Collier, who was a zealous and good officer. I had many friends to condole with me--among others, a man named Lane, whom I had known at Portsmouth; but I think he took his tea a little too strong, and left our service. He was now mate of a fine West Indiaman lying in the roads. After a chat about old times, he supposed he could do nothing for me. In reply, I thought he was the only person who _could_ do anything. There were four men-of-war in the roads--_Mersey_, 26; _Ranger_, 28; _Shannon_, 46--which ensured a dignity ball I meant to attend. I proposed that at 10 P.M. my friend should have a small boat under the starboard bow of the _Galatea_, with one hand only to land me, as well as to take me off when I wanted. Lane knew remonstrance was useless. After the Master-at-Arms had looked into my cabin at 10 P.M., and reported “Prisoner safe” to the officer of the watch, I changed into white frock and trousers, put clothes bag between the sheets, my shoes outside to be cleaned, passed the gunroom door sentry as an officer’s servant, bumped under the hammocks on starboard side of the lower deck, up the fore ladder, through the bow-port, dropped into my boat, was up the wooden steps of the landing-place; then there was “such a getting upstairs and a playing of the fiddle.” I was in the giddy throng doing the double shuffle opposite a dark beauty, when the name of Old Charlie was called out. He was not difficult to spot. He threw his coat and epaulettes into a corner, and was at once performing the Scotch shuffle in my set; in crossing over for the change, I was collared by my shipmates and pushed out. [Illustration: _The Dignity Ball._] I thought to retrace my steps, when on the landing, which was well lighted, who should I run against but Captain George Courtney, of the _Mersey_, with whom Napier had dined! He recognised me in spite of my disguise. I had known him as the friend of my late kind Captain, Lord John Churchill. He accosted me with: “Your name’s Keppel. You are under arrest.” I touched my hat and said, “Yes; but you won’t say anything.” He answered, “Get on board as soon as you can, or you will lose your commission.” I followed his advice and retraced my steps. [Sidenote: Jan. 8.] The next morning I ascertained the prisoner had been reported “Safe” throughout the night. [Sidenote: Jan. 9.] We sailed for St. Vincent the following day. Before landing our Governor, Sir John Hill, under a salute, with yards manned, he visited my cabin in full dress. [Sidenote: Jan. 11.] We had been on very friendly terms. I see his cocked hat now, with its fringe of white feathers. He said how sorry he had been on hearing from the Captain that he had been obliged to place me under arrest, and had interceded for me.