There was a little talk of the engagement, in which the general company joined. It was notable that Sir George, who was a carpet knight, treated the resistance as a sorry trifle, and always called the men who had instituted it, “rebels.” But Captain Fane, who had seen service, and fought stoutly against the very men, merely named them “provincials,” and stated plainly that they were right, when they declared that they had not lost the battle, since, though they were driven out of the entrenchments, they had succeeded in no less an achievement than that of blockading the English army. Lady Bell inquired with interest after Captain Fane’s own adventures, of which he was specially unwilling to speak in such a company. But he told what some of his messmates had done under fire: how they had been lying waiting their turn from the surgeons, when red-hot shot had passed once and again through the cockpit; notwithstanding, it had spared the _Thunderbomb’s_ lads, though it was only for them to be lodged, by his Majesty’s and the country’s kindness, in the other hospital, Greenwich. “I suppose the dear timber-toes prefer their beef salt and their tobacco stale for the sake of old associations,” suggested Sir George mincingly. “Then, I’m sure it is no kindness to deny them their sweet tastes,” followed up Mrs. Lascelles. “There need not be these rows about the Lords of the Admiralty helping themselves to the funds. The Lords of the Admiralty are always helping themselves to something, worse than the Lords of the Treasury,—but both lords must live. Oh, forgive me, Captain Fane, and don’t look so fierce. I dare say it is the shore that demoralises your friends.” “I dare say it is, madam, if they are demoralised, which I, their servant, have no business to take for granted,” replied Captain Fane angrily. CHAPTER XI. DISCORD.