‘It is,’ said the colonel.

‘Is that paper—please to look at it—in your hand?’

‘It is,’ said the colonel.

‘Is it a military sketch?’

‘It is,’ said the colonel.

‘Of an engagement?’

‘Quite so,’ said the colonel.

‘Of the late engagement?’

‘Of the late engagement.’

‘Please to describe it, and then hand it to the president of the court.’

From that triumphant moment my sufferings and my dangers were at an end. The court rose up and jumped, on discovering that I had strictly obeyed orders. My foe, the admiral, who though muzzled was malignant yet, contrived to suggest that I was dishonoured by having quitted the field. But the colonel himself had done as much, and gave his opinion, upon his word and honour as a pirate, that when all was lost the field might be quitted without disgrace. I was going to be found ‘No coward and not guilty,’ and my blooming bride was going to be publicly restored to my arms in a procession, when an unlooked-for event disturbed the general rejoicing. This was no other than the Emperor of France’s aunt catching hold of his hair. The proceedings abruptly terminated, and the court tumultuously dissolved.

It was when the shades of the next evening but one were beginning to fall, ere yet the silver beams of Luna touched the earth, that four forms might have been descried slowly advancing towards the weeping willow on the borders of the pond, the now deserted scene of the day before yesterday’s agonies and triumphs. On a nearer approach, and by a practised eye, these might have been identified as the forms of the pirate-colonel with his bride, and of the day before yesterday’s gallant prisoner with his bride.

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