"What I am suffering in promotion, peace of mind, fortune, fame, and everything that man holds dear, it is not my intention to detail, or have I room; but when added to shipwreck and its subsequent risks, they make no very common portion of suffering. How much I deserve all this may be left to your friendly judgement to decide. It is impossible for me to guess how long I am to be kept here, since the French despatches, as well as the letters I have been permitted to write, will probably be thrown overboard on the ship meeting with our cruisers. However, I think my foe begins to be touched with some remorse of conscience. We have accounts by Admiral Linois of the China fleet having lately passed, and in it my officers and people, who, I hope, are before this time in England. Having a private opportunity of sending a letter to India, I commit this to the care of Mr. Campbell for you; and may you, my kind friend, and yours never feel to know the unlimited power of a man before whom innocence and hardship are of no avail to save from his severity." In Flinders' book we are told that the explorer, when ordered by petty officials to remain in Baye du Cap with the _Cumberland_ until General de Caen's pleasure was known, said: "I will do nothing of the kind; I am going to Port Louis overland, and I shall take my commission, passport, and papers to General de Caen myself." The officers were a little crestfallen, but the Englishman's short, precise, active manner left nothing to be said, so he went on shore in his simple, severe, threadbare, brine-stained coat, as though Matthew Flinders, of the _Cumberland_, 29 tons, His Majesty's exploring vessel, was fully the equal of any hectoring French governor-general. While waiting in an ante-room to see the governor, some French military officers came in, and began to talk to the Englishman, asking him, among other things, if he had ever come across "M. Flinedare, who was not unknown to fame." It took him some time to find out that it was himself. At last an interpreter took him into the governor's reception room, where, without preface, de Caen brusquely said: "Where is your passport and your commission; and why did you come without the _Investigator_?" "She was so rotten fore and aft that she crumbled at a touch," was the reply. "Have you an order to come to this isle? Why did you come?" "Necessity made me," answered Flinders calmly. "You are imposing, sir," angrily replied de Caen; "you know it is not possible that the governor of New South Wales would send you out in so small a boat. Take him away, and treat him well," he added, turning to the guard, and this was Flinders' last hour of freedom for years to come.