There was a Mr. Foot aboard God's Wounds, one of those pleasant and harmless-seeming fellows to whom anyone will say anything, and who consequently knows everyone and everything. While I was waiting for Jack to recover his senses I passed a few hours with him and collected the latest gossip – or, as we say in the military, intelligence – from Amsterdam. Mr. Foot told me that Monmouth's invasion-force was massing at Texel and that it was certainly bound for the port of Lyme Regis.