The Major raised himself on tiptoe with arms outstretched after the receding boat. On the instant the ship shook under him as with an earthquake, and drowned his voice in the thunders of a royal salute. "The Emperor Jovinian, Mr. Jope--" "Who was 'e?" Mr. Jope interrupted. Two days had passed, and the better part of a third. They seemed as many years to our hero as, seated on the carriage of one of the _Vesuvius's_ starboard guns in company with the boatswain and Bill Adams, he watched through its open port the many-twinkling smiles of the sea, and, scarce two leagues away, the coast of France golden against the sunset. "I am not precisely aware when he flourished," said the Major, "but will make a point of inquiring when I return home. To tell you the truth, I heard the story in church, in a sermon of our worthy Vicar's, little dreaming under what circumstances I should recall it as applicable to my own lot." "If it's out of a sermon," said Mr. Jope, "you may fire ahead. But if, as you say, the man was taken for someone else, I thought it would be clearer to start by knowing who he _was_." "It happened in this way. The Emperor Jovinian one sultry afternoon in summer was hunting--" "What--foxes?" "Keep quiet," put in Mr. Adams. "When he's telling you it happened in a sermon!" "In the ardour of the chase he had left his retinue far behind; and finding himself by the shore of a lake, he alighted and refreshed himself with a swim in its cool waters. While he thus disported himself, a beggar stole his horse and his clothes." Mr. Jope smote his leg. "Now I call that a thundering good yarn! Short, sharp, and to the point." "But you haven't heard the end." "Eh? Is there any more of it?" "Certainly. The Emperor, discovering the theft, was forced to creep naked and ashamed to the nearest castle." "What was he ashamed of?" "Why, of being naked." "I see. Damme, it fits in like a puzzle!" "But at the castle, sad to say, no one recognised the proud Jovinian. 'Avaunt!' said the porter, and threatened to have him whipped for his impudence. This distressing experience caused the Emperor to reflect on the vanity of human pretensions, seeing that he, of whom the world stood in awe, had, with the loss of a few clothes, forfeited the respect of a slave." "I see," repeated Mr. Jope, as the narrator paused. "What became of the beggar?" "I knew a worse case than that, even," said Bill Adams, turning his quid meditatively. "It happened to a Bristol man, once a shipmate of mine; by name Zekiel Philips, and not at all inclined to stoutness when I knew him." "Why _should_ he be?" "You wait. His wife kept a slop-shop at Bristol, near the foot of Christmas Stairs--if you know where that is?" The Major, thus challenged, shook his head.