These penalties bore too small a proportion to the whole income of the Falmouth commanders to influence their conduct greatly, and matters, therefore, went on very much as before. “The Postmaster General,” says a minute of the latter part of 1793, “cannot help thinking there must be some mistake about Captain D.’s application for leave, for, if they are right, he has been ashore on private business since September 11th, 1792, and yet has asked leave to be ashore this voyage. If that is so, they decidedly refuse him the leave he now asks for.” Captain D. probably thought it wiser to accept this decision without protest, but, whether by passive resistance or active subtlety, he certainly escaped going to sea; and five years later another Postmaster General commented on his proceedings in the following terms: “... We cannot forget that Captain D. has been absent from his duty during many years, assigning no other cause than the death of his mother _in 1792_. We shall be sorry for new occasions to revert to this consideration. Such occasions may lead to a decision that Captain Deake has not that due zeal for the service which we are obliged to expect from those who remain in it.” This incisive minute was penned by Lord Auckland, and its subtly-worded reference to some “two-handed engine” which might yet operate on Captain D. had the useful effect of frightening him back to his ship. Such being the temper prevalent at Falmouth, good results were not to be expected. It will be necessary to return to this subject in a later chapter. It is now time to resume the catalogue of the various disasters which befell the sea service of the Post-Office in the latter years of the last century. When the authorities at Lombard Street reviewed the events of the year 1794, they may have been, on the whole, fairly well satisfied with what had occurred. It was true that since the loss of Captain Yescombe in the “King George,” two other Packets had been captured, and one of these misfortunes was especially regretted since it was no other than the “Antelope,” the vessel fought so bravely in the previous year, which had fallen into the hands of the enemy. The “Antelope” ended her career without dishonour indeed, but yet ingloriously. She was on a voyage to Halifax, under the personal command of her captain, William Kempthorne, and on the 19th September became involved in a dense fog which lasted many hours; when the fog cleared off Captain Kempthorne found himself completely surrounded by a squadron of French frigates, against which it would have been folly to resist. Accordingly he sank his mails, struck his colours, and he with his brave crew became prisoners of war.