With The Flag In The Channel

CHAPTER XI

THE REVENGE

The position that Captain Conyngham and his crew found themselves in was peculiar. But few of his men had actually been placed under arrest. The Frenchmen who had shipped in the Surprise, though well known to the authorities, had been unmolested, nor could the imprisonment of the few others be considered in the light of a great hardship. The men occupied roomy quarters facing on the main courtyard, were allowed to purchase extra supplies, and in squads of five or six they were permitted to exercise in the open air of the court. Captain Conyngham was in a different wing of the jail, but was treated more as a guest than as a prisoner; still, until almost a week had gone by he had found it impossible to communicate with any friends in the outside world. One day, to his surprise, however, he heard a cheery voice calling to him from the doorway of his large cell, for, being in a prison, every room was supposed to hold prisoners. Looking up, Conyngham saw his friend Allan standing laughing at him cheerfully. He had a long apron hanging from his shoulders and a baker’s basket on his arm.

“Any bread this morning, sir?” he asked in French. “I have some good Yankee bread with raisins and sweetening.”

“Ah, but it’s good to have a sight of you, friend Allan!” exclaimed Conyngham, rushing up and grasping the imitation baker by both hands, that, to carry out the illusion, Allan had daubed with flour. “Aren’t you running great risks?” he asked.

“Risks?” laughed Allan. “Why, if the Frenchmen found out that I was bringing in food to their starving prisoners, I would be hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“So you donned this disguise,” laughed Conyngham in reply, “and they never suspected you of such a thing. But news! news! my friend; that’s what I am starving for – it’s the heart and the soul of me that’s crying and not my stomach, for that the head jailer has looked after well. Are they going to hand us over to the Britishers? – that’s the first question.”

“They are and they aren’t,” replied Allan, “but this news I got this morning from Paris: ‘Tell Conyngham to sit tight and not worry. All is apparently going well.’ But the French are great people – they must do everything like a play or a spectacle. Here I was told that I should be allowed to see you if I applied to the commandant, and he informs me that I certainly can do so, but requests that I shall put on a disguise. I tried on three uniforms, but there were none that would button or allow me to sit down.”

“Which by the same token I haven’t asked you to do myself yet,” was Conyngham’s reply.

Allan seated himself in the big rush-bottom chair and placed his basket on the floor.

“The English expect that you are to be handed over for a certainty,” Allan continued. “They have prepared the sloop of war to receive you, and I understand that another is on its way. Instructions, too, have been sent to Portsmouth or Southampton, but we will disappoint them. The French Government is playing its little game of ‘wait a bit longer,’ and never letting their right hand see what their left hand is doing.”

“I knew that Dr. Franklin would take care of that,” returned Conyngham, “but how long is it going to last?”

“Have patience!” replied Allan, “it certainly will not be long. I am expecting Mr. Hodge to-morrow or the day after from Paris.”

“Have the crew been informed?”

“All but four of them escaped last night,” answered Allan. – “How careless these Frenchmen are! – There will be another row when the English hear of it; but I must be going, as they have spies by day watching the entrance to the prison and overlooking the yard, from the tall house next to the church.”

With that he picked up his basket, and after shaking hands went out into the yard, where the sentry, evidently under orders, allowed him to proceed to another part in an endeavor to dispose of his wares.

The next day Conyngham had another unexpected visitor, but it was not Mr. Hodge, and happened thus: He was out in the inclosure amusing himself and at the same time taking exercise by bounding a rubber ball back and forth against the high brick sides of the building, when one of the under jailers called to him from the entrance. At the same time a red-faced man who accompanied the jailer stepped forward, and telling the jailer to go, stood as if waiting for Conyngham to approach, but the latter paid no attention and went on with his game. At last the man drew near and spoke.

“I am Captain Cuthbertson of his Majesty’s sloop-of-war Alert. Your name is Conyngham,” he said.

“Now, somebody must have told you that,” returned Conyngham. “But it is my name, and I am captain of the armed cruiser the Surprise.”

“Which has been turned over to his Majesty’s Government with the other vessels that you piratically took off the coast of Holland,” replied the officer.

“Indeed?” was the reply, “That must be gratifying to his Majesty. But now, captain, won’t you take off your coat and have a game with me? It is a pleasant little occupation that two can play at better than one. I have little with me to wager but my shoe-buckles. I will play mine against yours. Or we’ll put up our wigs,” he continued.

“You’ve played for a larger stake than that and you’ve lost,” replied Captain Cuthbertson. “How can you, knowing that your very life is in jeopardy, indulge in such pastimes?”

“If my life was in jeopardy, I am sure it would be in a good cause. I ask for no favors except a little more elbow room, for you’re standing just where I wish to begin playing.”

“Listen to me first,” spoke the officer, not noticing that a dangerous flash had come into Conyngham’s eyes. “His Majesty might be disposed to be lenient – aye, more than that – if you will listen to reason. Perhaps it might be possible to arrange a pardon for you – and more. You have once been a British subject. Return to your allegiance and loyalty. I doubt not that it might be so arranged that a good place could be found for you in the naval establishment, and that with your talents a sure advancement would follow.”

Conyngham threw the ball into the air and caught it. “You may tell those who sent you,” he replied, “that his Majesty might offer me the position of an admiral of the blue, and I would tell him that I would rather spend my days in the hold of a prison-hulk than accept it. As you will not play with me, I shall have to ask you to stand aside again. Some day we may meet where the game will be played for larger stakes and there will be harder missiles flying. Good morning, sir.”

The officer stamped his foot and started to reply, then he changed his mind quickly and left the jail-yard without a word.

Conyngham stopped playing and went to his cell. Before an hour had passed another visitor was announced. It was Mr. Hodge. He was not disguised, but dressed in his usual habit, that of a merchant in prosperous circumstances.

“I expected to see you as a cat’s-meat man or a turbaned Turk, my dear sir,” was Conyngham’s greeting, “and yet here you come as if you were dropping into the tavern of our friend on the hill.”

Hodge smiled. “There is very little more trouble. I bore some instructions from Paris that have made the commandant of the prison a very subservient individual.”

“Then you have brought me my release!”

“No, not that, but it will follow in due time. In some way the commissioners have got the French ministry between the grindstones, or – a better simile perhaps – Dr. Franklin is about to checkmate de Vergennes and the latter is apparently glad to call the game a draw. Good news also has come from America, though no great victory has yet been won. Grand, our banker in Paris, has now another hundred thousand livres at the disposal of the commissioners. What we must do is to spend it in such a manner as will best benefit the cause.”

“Then force the hand of the French Government,” replied Conyngham. “Everything that you do to make them sever relations formed on any friendly basis with England, will lend more assistance than the capture of a dozen packets.”

“And how is it best to do that?” asked Mr. Hodge.

“I will answer that with a question first,” replied Conyngham. “How much longer shall I be detained in this ‘durance vile’? By the Powers, I’m tired of it.”

“Four or five days, perhaps a week.”

“That is right and will do well. You’re supposed by many to be an English merchant here, Mr. Hodge. I am, and will be for a little time, a prisoner. You did not figure in the purchase of the Surprise, but there is a fine two-masted craft of something over a hundred tons lying moored at the end of the long wharf. She is for sale. Buy her at once.”

“And then what?”

“Fit her out with stores for a two months’ cruise. I will secure her armament and crew upon my release.”

“We shall surely be in trouble again.”

“Not much this time. To my thinking, the French Government will be glad to be rid of us. To the south of us lies Spain with its open market, to the west of England lies Ireland with many a well-provisioned port and friendly hand, and there is always our own country. Had my last vessel been big enough to have crossed safely and had we not taken those unlucky mails, it was for home that I would have headed the Surprise.”

“She lived up to the definition of her name; what would you call this one?”

“I would be after calling her,” replied Conyngham slyly and in the softest of brogues, “I’d be after calling her the Revenge.”

CHAPTER XII

SAILING ORDERS

Made fast to the end of the long wharf was a rakish-looking vessel, and all about her was a scene of continuous activity. From small boats and slings men were painting her topsides, and at the same time, running to and fro from the wharf, others busy as ants were carrying bales and boxes on board; windlasses were lifting and swinging the heavier goods over the bulwarks. On the string-piece stood an active, wiry figure, recognizable at a glance, and near by was the portly form of our friend Hodge. Conyngham was a free man again. Mysterious orders had come from Paris, and to the surprise of everybody he had appeared one day walking the streets of Dunkirk smilingly greeting the inhabitants, who remembered well his giving the stores of the other vessels to the populace on the day of his arrest.

It was the beginning of the second week of July, 1777, and for over a fortnight the outfitting, loading, and changing had been going on and the nameless vessel that was going on the nameless mission was almost ready to set sail. To tell the truth, although at first there was some mystery made about her ownership, her destination, and her probable calling, there was very little of the mystery left at the time at which this chapter opens. The English spies and sympathizers in Dunkirk were almost at their wits’ end. They had informed their Government of their opinions, and now began to write to the English press in order to stir the Government to action.

A copy of the London Times almost a week old had come to the hands of Conyngham. As he glanced through the pages, all at once his own name attracted his attention. This had happened as he was walking down to the wharf, and he had smiled broadly as he perused the remarkable effusion. He had slipped the paper into his pocket, where, in the interest of watching the vessel’s loading, although he took no active part in its direction, he had forgotten it.

“Everything seems to be going finely, Captain Gustavus,” said Mr. Hodge. “No one apparently suspects the ownership of the vessel, and I do not think the French authorities will interfere with her sailing.”

Conyngham smiled. That no one seemed to object struck him as having a humorous meaning. Perhaps he had not observed the twinkle in Mr. Hodge’s eye, as he advanced this statement. He was about to refer to the article in the Times when something attracted his attention.

Two men, one dressed as a sailor and the other as something of a court dandy, came walking together down the wharf. The sailorman to all appearances had been drinking and was asking the gentleman with the long satin waistcoat for something more with which to quench his thirst. At last the latter, as if he could no longer resist the man’s importuning, reached into his pocket and, producing a purse, took out a small silver piece. At the same time he addressed some words to the sailor, as if bidding him begone.

“I know this fop in satin and lace,” said Hodge. “I have seen him in Paris, but I can not recollect where. He’s not a Frenchman, but a German or a Pole.”

“Methinks I know him too,” returned Conyngham. “He’s talking English to that beggar. Well, well – by the great gun! – it comes to me.”

Conyngham lowered his voice almost to a whisper and spoke without turning his head or scarcely moving his lips.

“I know both of them now,” he said. “The fop is our friend the English spy, and the other is one of the stool-pigeons. What do you suppose he said just then? Hush! here he comes in our direction. It is his intention to get near to us and listen to our conversation.”

“Let us move then,” suggested Mr. Hodge, “for there is a good deal about me that I would not wish to have known; besides,” he added, “I think you are mistaken, for I now remember where I have seen this coxcomb, and at the house of no one less than good Dr. Bancroft, the geographer and scientist, the friend of Franklin, and one who had kept us well informed of the British plans.”

“Then keep an eye on Dr. Bancroft, is my advice,” rejoined Conyngham. “Hush! let me speak to this fellow.”

The drunken sailor lurched up and leant with both elbows against a big pine-wood box, but apparently he paid no attention to the proximity of the others, for he began emptying his pockets of their contents, which included the silver piece which had just been given him, and searching for some bits of tobacco he jammed them into the bowl of his black heavy pipe.

“What you say about the moon may be true,” observed the captain as if carrying on some deep subject, “but still the influence of the orb upon the tides has been acknowledged for centuries.”

The sailor by this time had found a bit of flint and steel and was trying to ignite a bit of pocket tinder.

All at once Conyngham turned toward him, and at the same time taking the copy of the Times out of his pocket, he spread it out on the top of the box and began to read aloud.

“Listen to this nonsense,” he said in beginning. “The English must be in a ferment of terror to believe such stuff as this,” and forthwith he read:

“I saw Conyngham yesterday. He had engaged a crew of desperate characters to man a vessel of one hundred and thirty tons. She has now Frenchmen on board to deceive our minister here. A fine fast-sailing vessel, handsomely painted blue and yellow, is now at Dunkirk, having powder, small arms, and ammunition for her. Conyngham proved the cannon himself, and told the bystanders he would play the d – l with the British trade at Havre. It is supposed when the vessel is ready the Frenchmen will yield command to Conyngham and his crew. The vessel is to mount twenty carriage-guns and to have a complement of sixty men. She is the fastest sailer now known – no vessel can catch her once out on the ocean.

“I send you timely notice that you may be enabled to take active measures to stay this daring character, who fears not man or government, but sets all at defiance.

“He had the impudence to say if he wanted provisions or repairs, he would put into an Irish harbor and obtain them.

“It is vain here to say Conyngham is a pirate. They will tell you he is one brave American; he is ‘a bold Boston.’

“You can not be too soon on the alert to stop the cruise of this daring pirate.

There was also a letter that Conyngham read in even a louder tone:

“Sir: You have no doubt been informed by your ministry that Lord Stormont had been successful, and that the Court of Versailles had declared their ports shut against American privateers. Let your blind politicians sleep, the guns of the American privateers will waken them to their sorrows. The General Mifflin privateer arrived, and Monsieur de Chauffault, the admiral, returned the salute in form, as to a vessel from a sovereign and independent state.

“Your papers tell us that Conyngham is in chains in Dunkirk, and is expected shortly in London, to be tried and hung. I tell you that Conyngham is on the ocean, like a lion searching for prey. Woe be to those vessels who come within his grasp. No force intimidates him. God and America is his motto. Our country is duped by French artifice.”

As he finished it was noticeable to both men that the drunken sailor was paying strict attention.

“What’s your opinion of that?” asked Conyngham.

The man looked up slowly and found the captain’s eyes fastened upon his own. “I say, what is your opinion of that?” he reiterated, this time leaning forward and grasping the man by the collar of his open jacket.

So surprised was the latter that the pipe fell from his lips, and before he could control himself an oath followed the pipe – an oath in good round English.

Conyngham affected to laugh.

“Why, he has understood everything we’ve been saying,” he said, turning to Mr. Hodge again.

The sailor, who had wrenched himself free, started to walk away. His efforts in that direction were accelerated by a well-placed kick, administered by the toe of Conyngham’s boot. But he apparently did not resent it, and still affecting to be under the influence of liquor stumbled up the wharf.

“That will puzzle our friend with the high-heeled boots,” said the captain, “but to tell the truth I think there is very little use in any more secrecy. They seem to know as much of the situation as we do.”

This was nothing more than the truth, and before two days had passed Conyngham had openly acknowledged it by superintending the placing of the cannon on board of the Revenge, and the French Government had agreed to allow her to depart from the port of Dunkirk, upon Mr. Hodge, who had all through the transaction appeared as her owner, signing a bond that she would do no cruising off the coast of France.

The time of sailing drew on quickly. The vessel was laden, the ammunition was all on board – there was no secrecy about that now – the crew had been picked and divided into watches; some attempt had even been made to drill them at the guns. The citizens of Dunkirk knew almost to a man that the tidy little cruiser would soon be on the sea.

Once more the four “conspirators” were grouped about the table at the tavern.

“Three days from now, captain, and you will be off the headlands,” observed Mr. Hodge, “and we shall be here waiting to see which way the cat will jump.”

“If you mean Lord Stormont by ‘the cat,’” answered Conyngham, “I think he is all ready for jumping now.”

“I wish,” rejoined the elder Ross, “that we were certain of the French minister’s temper. Dr. Franklin must have had a strong cudgel in his hands to bring him to terms at all. I wonder what it was? You could tell us, Captain Conyngham, if you wished, of that I’m sure.”

Conyngham looked at the others intently. He waited for Hodge to speak, thinking that of course the good doctor had told him of the commission that undoubtedly had been the cudgel that had brought the Count de Vergennes to terms. But seeing that Hodge apparently did not wish to refer to it, he also held his peace and changed the subject.

“You say that Dr. Franklin’s secretary will be down from Paris to-morrow?” he asked Mr. Hodge. “I suppose with final instructions.”

The younger Ross laughed. “I don’t think there will be many instructions that we could not guess,” he said. “It seems to me that the case is clear enough – to capture as many of the enemy’s vessels as possible and not to get caught at it, is an easy thing to remember.”

“There will be more than that, my son,” returned Hodge, “much more than that, I hope, for you must remember that I am responsible to the French Government for the proper behavior of the gallant captain so long as he remains on the coast of France.”

“And you have no longing for the Bastile, eh?”

“Not much, my son. But Mr. Carmichael will tell us to what length we can go in interpreting the cautions of the ministry.”

After some more desultory talk the meeting broke up, another parting toast being drunk to the success of the Revenge.

Mr. Hodge and Conyngham walked down the street toward the pier where the captain’s gig was waiting, for he was now living openly on board the Revenge and making no secret of his connection with her.

“Tell me, my good friend,” asked the captain, “did Dr. Franklin say nothing to you about the contents of that packet that you brought to Paris with you? It would seem rather unusual if he did not.”

“Nothing beyond the fact that he was glad to receive it,” was the reply. “What did it contain? You were asked that question before. If you do not care to tell – why, consider it unasked.”

“It contained enough to save my life,” was the reply: “my commission – that was all.”

“You have not received it back?”

“I have not seen or heard of it from that day to this.”

Hodge gave vent to a prolonged whistle.

“This is a serious matter,” he said. “But perhaps Carmichael will fetch it down with him.”

“I hope and trust so,” was the reply. “Sure, I don’t care any more for the yard-arm than you do for the Bastile.”

Conyngham was worried and slept little that night, still he reasoned that it was more than probable that the commission would be forthcoming in the morning, and also that he would be relieved, from all secrecy as to its possession. He saw that it had worked wonders, and that slowly but surely France and England were verging toward war; that before many months should pass America would have a powerful ally. Of course, in view of these circumstances, France could not have given the mortal offense of surrendering a regularly commissioned officer into the hands of what soon was to be a common enemy.