“Very well, then appoint Mr. Gilmore to be second lieutenant of her. You need not thank me, sir; you owe your commission to your own gallantry and good conduct. I don’t know that I have at any time seen such strong testimonials and so good a record for any officer of your age and standing. I am quite sure that you will do full justice to the appointment that I have made. As the _Jason_ will not be ready for two months I can grant you six weeks leave.” No sooner was this matter settled than Will took the coach to Fairham. Thence he drove to the village of Porchester, where Marie’s fiancé was confined. Here he put up at a little inn. He had, before starting from London, bought and put on the disguise of a countryman, as he could hardly have stayed in the village as a gentleman without exciting remark or suspicion. He had, however, brought other clothes with him, so that if necessary he could resume them, and appear either as a naval officer or as a civilian. His first step was to make a tour of the great wall which enclosed the castle and the huts in which the prisoners were confined. He saw at once that any attempt to scale the wall would be useless. At the inn he gave out that by the death of a relative he had just come into a few pounds and meant to enjoy himself. The inn he had selected was scarcely more than a tavern, and he had chosen it because he thought it probable that it would be frequented by the soldiers whose camp stood near the walls, and who supplied the guards in the castle. This expectation was fulfilled a short time after his arrival by four or five soldiers coming in. “Will you drink a glass with me?” he said. “I have been telling the landlord that I have come into a little brass, and mean to spend it.” The soldiers, not unwillingly, accepted the invitation, and sat down at a table with him. “It must be slow work,” he said, “keeping guard here, and I expect you would sooner be out at the war.” “That we should,” one of them replied; “there is nothing to do here but to drill all day, and stare across the water when we are off duty, and wish we were at Portsmouth, where there is something to do and something to amuse one. This is the dullest hole I ever was quartered in. Cosham on one side and Fairham on the other are the only places that one can walk to. We expect, however, to be relieved before long, and I never want to see the place again.” “I suppose you take recruits here?” Will said. “Oh yes, we take recruits when we can get them.” “How long is a recruit before he begins to be a soldier, and takes his regular turn as guard and so on?” “Two or three months,” the man said; “that is long enough to get them into something like shape.” “I should like to go in and have a look at the prisoners,” Will said after a little chat. “Well, there is no chance of your doing that,” the soldier replied. “Orders are very strict, and only three or four hucksters are allowed to go in, to sell things to them.”