The troops were shipped--everything was ready; but Daendels and De Winter whistled vainly for a fair wind. The elements, as usual, were on the side of England. Before, there had been too much wind; now, not a breath stirred the air. The sea was a dead calm. The admirals and generals marched up and down the deck--beautiful--in blue, with rainbow sashes, and hats prodigious with great plumes of the three colours. But no breeze moved a feather of the plumes. Exasperated, they descended to the cabin to while away the time with music, while the precious sand was dripping in the glass. De Winter had a pretty talent on the flute, as also had Tone, and so these two warriors obliged the company with duets--artistic trills and variations--what a strange spectacle! But by-and-by their patience oozed out of the flute-holes--they cursed themselves, and flung about the music in a passion; and indeed the clerk of the weather was vexing. June was merging into July--the mutinies were being put down--the golden opportunity was slipping visibly away; Lord Bridport cruised out with a fleet to watch the French at Brest; Duncan's handful became a squadron, swinging idly at the Texel's mouth; the soldiers, unaccustomed to close packing, showed signs of sickness; the provisions were sensibly diminishing; unless fortune should choose to turn her wheel with speed this expedition would be a greater fiasco even than the other. Meanwhile there was a panic amongst the friends of Government in Dublin, who knew not that the elements were fighting for them. The position of England was most critical. Should this new enterprise succeed, what chance of succour could there be from Britain? None. She had quite enough to do to cope with her own difficulties. There were forty thousand soldiers who had been drafted into Ireland by degrees; but could these be relied on? The Hessians were beery brutal wretches, who would probably turn coward at a pinch. The Scotch and English regiments made no secret of their abhorrence of the attitude of the native yeomanry. As for the militia, it was disaffected, and would certainly fling itself into the balance on the side of probable success. The people were fiercely sullen--in a dangerous mood, like rats prepared to spring. If the French should come and be victorious, they would rally like one man round the tricolour, and then woe to the small knot of tyrants! Not one of the ascendency party could hope to escape. Not a Protestant lord or lady in the land but would be hacked in pieces with the inevitably accompanying atrocities of internecine strife. It was an awful prospect. My lords, who had been blindly following the lead of the executive, looked uneasily towards the Castle. They had done as they were bidden, aided by promises and pensions--but of what use is a pension when your throat is cut? Were they to be protected from the growling rabble--these hereditary legislators, who had abused their trust--these amateur colonels who