On the other side of the wall the Admiral lay for some time and bellowed for help, until his frightened family bore him in, and attempted to put him to bed.
But mark the heroism of the truly great.

In spite of his late treatment at the hands of his fellow-citizens--treatment which still rankled--here was no Coriolanus to depart in a huff to Antium.
The Admiral had a duty to perform, a service due to this ungrateful Town, and on the subject of going to bed he was adamant.
"Cease, Emily.

Your tears, your protestations are in vain.
Stop, I tell you! Get me my uniform." Surely some desperate, some decisive step was contemplated when the Admiral ordered out that gold-laced coat and cocked hat that once had shone in the Blue Squadron of Her Majesty's Navy.

What could this stern magnificence portend?
The Admiral had made up his mind.

He was going to interview Mrs.
Snell, the charwoman.
It was a pretty fancy, and one not without parallel in the history of famous men, that inspired him at his crisis to assume his bravest attire.