In a trice, hands were on pistols and swords out, but Radisson besought the outraged Frenchmen to restrain their anger. What was their strength against an armed crew of ruffians only too glad of a scuffle to put them all to the sword? It was a sullen, sad home-coming for the adventurer. Uncle and nephew were scarcely on speaking terms, and the trick of Governor Phipps must have opened Radisson’s eyes to the treatment he might expect now that he was completely in the power of the English. The boat reached Portsmouth on October 23. Not waiting for coach, Radisson took horse and rode fast and furious to London. He was at once taken before the Company. He was publicly thanked for his services, presented with a set of silver and given a present of a hundred guineas. He became the lion of the hour. Nor did he forget his French confrères. The committee at once voted each of the Frenchmen twenty shillings a week for pocket money and ordered their board paid. Later, Mr. Radisson is authorized to offer them salaries ranging from £100 a year to £50 if they will join the Company. But they are in no haste to join the Company, and strangely, when they evince intentions of going across to France—a thousand obstructions arise as out of the ground. They are watched—even threatened; politely, of course, but threatened with arrest. Some suave-tongued gentleman points out an advantageous marriage that young Chouart might make with some well-dowered English belle, like his Uncle Radisson, who had married Mary Kirke. Monsieur Chouart shrugs his shoulders. He hasn’t a very high opinion of the way Radisson has managed his marriage affairs.