But now he was back at Plymouth. Lord Edgcumbe looked over the work he
had brought and called into the ear-trumpet that a man who could paint
like that was a fool to remain in a country town: he should go to London
and vanquish all such alleged artists as Hudson.

Keppel had gotten back to England, and he and Edgcumbe had arranged that
Reynolds should pitch his tent in the heart of artistic London. So a
handsome suite of apartments was secured in Saint Martin's Lane.

The first work undertaken seems to have been that full-length portrait of
Commodore Keppel. The picture shows the Commodore standing on a rocky
shore, issuing orders to unseen hosts. There is an energy, dash and
heroism pictured in the work that at once caught the eye of the public.

"Have you seen Keppel's portrait?" asked Edgcumbe of every one he met.

Invitations were sent out to call at Joshua Reynold's studio and see
"Keppel." There were a good many pictures displayed there, but "Keppel"
was placed in a small room, set apart, rightly focused, properly draped,
and lighted only by candles, that stood in silver candle-sticks, and
which were solemnly snuffed by a detailed marine, six foot three, in a
red coat, with a formidable hanger at his side. Only a few persons were
admitted at a time and on entering the room all you saw was the valiant
form of the doughty Commodore, the sea-mist in his face and the wild
winds blowing his locks. The big marine on guard in the shadow added the
last realistic touch, and the gentlemen visitors removed their hats and
the ladies talked in whispers--they all expected Keppel to speak, and
they wished to hear what he would say.