CHAPTER IX
THE ARREST
There was a large crowd lining the shores as the little boat rowed up, and as Captain Conyngham, on whom all eyes were centered, climbed up the ladder to the wharf a large man bent over and extended a helping hand. There was a greeting in the grasp also, and a ring of welcome in his voice.
“Back so soon, eh?” exclaimed the elder Ross, for it was he. “We hardly expected you for a week or more to come. And you have got her! The news is about the town; don’t stop to parley here. My brother and Hodge and Allan are waiting. There is much to do. What have you there?”
The boatmen were handing up three large canvas bags. The chattering crowd looked at them and pointed excitedly.
“The mails for Europe,” returned Conyngham softly. “Let us get together and consider what is best to do. Bad cess to them, I wish they were off my hands!”
As he spoke he started suddenly.
“What is it?” demanded Ross in a low tone.
“That blackguard English spy!” returned Conyngham. “Didn’t you see him? There he goes on a run up the street.”
By this time three sailors had also climbed to the wharf and picked up the canvas bags. The crowd made way as the little party started forward, Ross and the young captain leading. The people, on the whole, were in smiling good nature. There was even a trace of exultation in their expression, a few clapped their hands, there were some murmured “Bravos.” Had they been English or American they might have fallen to cheering.
“Heaven grant we have not been rash,” muttered Ross, “but there will be a tempest as soon as the news reaches Paris.”
“What will there be when it reaches London?” returned Conyngham laughing. “Perhaps this time our friend Lord Stormont will demand his recall or Parliament will send for him. Egad! then the fat will be in the fire!”
Although they had passed close to the spot where Ross and Allan and Hodge were standing, no sign of recognition passed between them. The crowd had the politeness not to follow, and soon Conyngham and Ross turned down the corner toward the little inn at which the first meeting had been held; the sailors carrying the canvas bags were close at their heels, and, the landlord of the tavern appearing at the doorway, the party entered. In a few minutes the rest of the plotters appeared, having come in by another entrance, and the sailors returned to the ship’s boat.
As soon as they were all seated about the table in the little front room and had ascertained that there was no chance of their conversation being overheard, Conyngham related his experience.
The company laughed heartily as he told of the English captain’s discomfiture, but Hodge a moment later looked very grave. So much so, in fact, that Allan, noticing it, clapped him on the shoulder.
“What is it, friend William? You look suddenly stricken with grief or disappointment.”
“I am just thinking,” was the return, “that a great deal will have to be done before the sun goes down this day. One of us will have to post at once to Paris. We must not delay turning over the mails to the proper authorities, and – another thing – we must get this news to the ears of the Count de Vergennes before it is brought to him by Lord Stormont. I like not altogether de Vergennes’s attitude. He would see us all at the bottom of the sea rather than sacrifice a chosen project of his own, and, as I have said many a time, back of all his half-expressed desires to lend us assistance is but the hope of aiding France’s interest.”
“Well, if any one is to go,” returned the elder Ross, “it should be you, Mr. Hodge, unless you consider it necessary that the captain here should go up in person.”
Conyngham shook his head. “I’m afraid that would be impossible,” he put in. “It would never do at all, at all. I will have to stand by my ship for a few days at least, until we dispose of the prizes in such a manner as to enable me to pay off my crew. Is there much money in the treasury, Mr. Ross?” he asked.
The latter laughed. “I don’t suppose that we have fifty pounds among us at present,” he said. “The treasury has been on the ebb for the past fortnight, but M. Grand, our banker in Paris, is hopeful.”
“There is a good four thousand pounds of ready money in the prizes,” said Conyngham, “and much that could be disposed of on the nail, could we but put it immediately in the market. But it is my belief what must be done must be done quickly. Mr. Hodge should start with the mails for Paris – no one will recognize what those canvas bags contain, and we should scent out some purchaser and sail out of the harbor this very afternoon and hold a little auction off the coast.”
“How about the prisoners?” interrupted Mr. Hodge. “What are we to do with them?”
“I, for one, will say ‘good riddance,’” returned Conyngham, “when once they are on shore. We could never keep them while we are here in port, and I propose giving them a run this very day.”
Upon this point all of the party were agreed, and also upon the necessity of Hodge’s immediate departure for the capital. The latter, accompanied by Allan, left the room in order to see the proprietor of the tavern, to which establishment was attached a stable containing a number of excellent horses and equipages suited for the highroad. They had been gone but a few minutes when suddenly Allan returned, evidently in a state of some perturbation.
“Something has happened,” he said earnestly, “that requires our immediate attention, gentlemen. A moment since I left Mr. Hodge. I was standing at the entrance to the stable-yard, from which a good view could be had of the harbor down the street. Suddenly there appeared a vessel sailing into the field of vision, and from her looks I knew her to be an English sloop of war. She was taking in sail and preparing to drop anchor in the outer harbor, when suddenly a small boat rowed out to her; an instant later she broke out her sails again, and is now coming in close to where the Surprise and the other two are anchored. I don’t like the looks of things.”
“We can obtain a good view of what is happening from one of the windows of an upper room,” said Conyngham.
“Let us adjourn there,” suggested the elder Ross. “I know the way – come, follow me.”
Without more ado he led the rest of the party into the hall, and they hurriedly ascended to the second floor. Entering one of the rooms, they rushed to the window.
As the inn stood upon rising ground, they had a free and uninterrupted view of the harbor over the roofs of the houses. Sure enough, there was the British sloop of war working her way in close to shore, where Conyngham’s little squadron lay. A single glance and the captain spoke quickly.
“I must get on board at once,” he said. “That fellow’s intentions are evident. Here, I have a small pocket glass. There is something doing on board the Surprise.”
As he spoke he pulled a small spy-glass from his pocket and hastily adjusting it lifted it to his eye.
“The Surprise is getting under way,” he said. “That Yankee first mate of mine has his wits about him, but, gentlemen, this is no place for me; I must get on board, if possible.”
With that he left the others, and soon they could see him on the street running at a dog-trot down toward the wharves. Just at this moment also there was the rattle of wheels and the clatter of hoofs, and out of the gateway of the stable-yard rolled a post-chaise, on the high seat of which sat Mr. Hodge. He had gone back to the dining-room, but not finding his companions had decided to delay no longer, but to push on at once.
The commissioners in Paris must be informed of what had happened, and steps must be taken to prepare the way, for the English ambassador was sure to raise trouble.
Conyngham had made good time of it and reached the water’s edge before the English sloop of war was half-way across the harbor. The watchers at the window saw him disappear around a corner; a minute later a row-boat shot out from the wharf, and through the glass that the captain had left behind, Mr. Ross descried the rowers bending all their strength at the oars in an endeavor to reach the lugger before the Englishman could get much nearer. The wind was against the latter, and he had been forced to tack, but Mr. Ross could see that they were preparing to lower away a boat and that the bulwarks were lined with men.
“There!” he cried suddenly, “Conyngham is standing up in the stern sheets encouraging the rowers. By all the powers, he’ll make it! Row! row!” he cried, as if his voice could be heard by the men at the oars.
The big foresail of the Surprise had been dropped, and she was slowly swinging around as if in an endeavor to make her way out through the crowd of anchored vessels near her to the open waters that lay beyond. This could be discerned without the aid of the glass, and Allan perceiving it struck his fist into the palm of his other hand.
“The fool!” he cried. “What is he doing that for? It is the very thing the Englishman would like best – to get him in the open. His chances were much better if he stayed nearer shore.”
Ross, whose hand was trembling so that he could hardly hold the glass, now spoke up again.
“There!” he cried. “Look! Conyngham has joined his vessel. See, she swings back again and turns in toward shore. She’ll run that little vessel down. Heavens! that was close; she just touched.” He whirled and looked at the others. “Gentlemen, there’s sailing for you,” he said. “Did you see that? He steered in between those two small ones, and I know what his intentions are. He’s going to try to run the lugger into the basin next the long wharf.”
“He never can get through,” interposed his brother; “there isn’t room enough.”
“He may,” was the elder Ross’s answer, “and at all events he’s going to try it – and see, the packet follows him!”
A silence followed as they all watched the Surprise slipping along so close to the shore that her hull was now entirely hid from sight and nothing but her big sail could be seen gliding past the vessels moored to the landing-places. Then all at once the big sail was clewed up, and under the impetus that she had gathered the Surprise forged slowly ahead. Into the basin she slipped without a wharf line being sent to shore, and grinding along the string-piece her speed slowly slackened and then stopped. Ropes were immediately passed out and she was made fast, and at this moment, as if foiled in her design to lay her alongside, the British sloop dropped her anchor. The Prince of Orange came into the basin in the Surprise’s wake.
“Neatly done, by Jove!” exclaimed Allan. “He handled her as if she were naught but a shallop. Gentlemen, let us separate, and meet at the long wharf as soon as we can get there.”
At once they descended the stairs and went out into the street, where, in order to attract the least suspicion and to carry out the plan that they always adopted of being strangers to one another, they went different ways, but all heading at last in the direction of the shore.
A surging mob was gathered on the long wharf and on the decks of the vessels moored near it. At one place there was a group of a half score or more men talking excitedly in English among themselves. The Frenchmen surrounding them were listening with evident amusement, although they could not understand what was being said. The men who formed the group were the prisoners whom Conyngham had released as soon as his vessel touched the wharf; in fact, he had driven them overboard ashore almost at the point of the pistol.
Hastily his crew were carrying out some bales and boxes from the forward hold of the prize, and the captain standing upon the bulwarks directing them.
The crowd was watching all this as if it were part of a play arranged for their special benefit.
Mr. Ross elbowed his way quietly through the crowd and soon was close to the vessel’s side. Conyngham looked down and saw him.
“The jig is up,” he said, speaking so that Ross could hear him. “They’re going to hand us over. I thought as much from the looks of things. They expected me to come back here – it was all prepared, but I was a little ahead of time.”
“Well, what are you up to now?” asked Mr. Ross. “Why all this unloading?”
“Merely for the establishment of international good feeling,” Conyngham returned. “You’ll see in a minute.”
From his post of vantage in the bulwarks of the vessel he turned, and, taking off his hat, addressed the crowd that up to this minute, as we have said, had been nothing but amused spectators.
“Citizens of Dunkirk, people of France,” he said, “help yourselves. Here are bales of fine English cloth and English cutlery. Sure, they’re things ornamental and things beautiful. Help yourselves; they’re yours for the taking, and the gift of the United Colonies of America and Gustavus Conyngham, captain in the navy.”
It was enough. With something that sounded like a cheer mixed with laughter, the crowd rushed upon the bales and boxes. Many climbed unhindered over the vessel’s sides and dived down the hatchway. Conyngham leaped to the wharf.
“Now,” said he, “let the Englishmen try to land and take us. The authorities were going to let them board us while we lay at anchor unprotected. I know that, for it was a French officer who went out to the English sloop. Who can believe a Frenchman anyhow? I have told my crew to scatter, and each man for himself. This is a pretty ending to our project, by the piper! isn’t it?” he added bitterly.
Ross did not reply, for just then he caught a glimpse of something up the wharf that had called his attention. There was a gleam of steel and a flash of blue and red, and straight toward them came marching a company of French soldiers. At the head walked an officer holding a paper in his hand, and by his side was the very English spy that Conyngham had seen run up the wharf. He perceived all in a glance. Turning to Ross, the young captain spoke quickly.
“Here,” he said, slipping a long sealed packet into his friend’s hand. “This is of the utmost importance. See that it reaches Dr. Franklin’s hands in Paris at once; it must not be lost, for it may save my life. De Vergennes has forsaken us.”
“Come,” replied Ross, hiding the paper in his pocket. “Endeavor to hide – you may escape in the crowd.”
“And be hunted like a rat with a ferret or taken like a criminal. Never that in the world. Appear not to know me.”
With that Conyngham stepped forward into the open space that the crowd had formed in giving way for the soldiers’ coming. Stepping boldly out to meet the company, the captain drew a short sword from under his long blue coat, and advancing toward the officer he extended him the hilt across the hollow of his left arm.
The officer was so surprised that he halted, as if not knowing what to do, then in some hesitation he took the proffered weapon. At the same time Conyngham spoke in a loud voice:
“Captain Conyngham of the American navy gives himself and his sword into the keeping of the Government of France.”
Then he glanced about to the English spy, but the latter had disappeared.
Leaving a guard of soldiers about the vessel, the officer and part of his company walked back up the wharf. Before he had gone many steps he returned the short sword to Conyngham, who took it with a smile and walked off by the officer’s side, chatting pleasantly in French with a strong touch of Irish brogue.
At the same corner where he had passed them but a few hours previously stood his friends. Again they gave no sign of recognition.
CHAPTER X
IN PARIS AGAIN
Dr. Franklin had just returned from court. He had been saying many pretty things to fair ladies, and had made his usual wise and witty remarks to ministers and to courtiers, and now he seated himself in his large arm-chair near the table, placed his big horn spectacles upon his nose, and drew toward him a pile of correspondence and some paper. Dipping his big quill into the inkstand, he paused a moment before he began to write. On his face suddenly came an expression of great pain. He pushed back his chair, and lifting his leg carefully kicked off the heavy buckled shoe and rested his foot on a cushion that lay on the floor. The good doctor was suffering a twinge from his old enemy, the gout. At last, when he was more comfortable, a smile of amusement lit up his features and he began scratching away quickly with the squeaky quill pen. It was not a letter of state importance or secret instructions that he was working on, for every now and then his smile widened or changed to one of quizzical amusement. He had abandoned himself to the whim of the moment, and when he had gone on for an hour or so he paused and began to read what he had inscribed aloud. It was an imaginary conversation between himself and his present bodily visitor and tormentor, whom he referred to politely as “Madam Gout.” He was defending himself against the accusations of the lady in question as he read.
“I take – eh! – oh! – as much exercise – eh!” (here a twinge of pain seizes him) “as I can, Madam Gout. You know my sedentary state, and on that account it would seem, Madam Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing it is not altogether my own fault.”
“Gout: Not a jot! Your rhetoric and your politeness are thrown away; your apology avails nothing. If your situation in life is a sedentary one, your amusements, your recreation, at least, should be active. You ought to walk or ride; or, if the weather prevents that, play at billiards. But – ”
He had got as far as this in his reading when a servant knocked on the door and softly entered.
“A gentleman named Mr. Hodge to see you, sir,” he said. “He says it is of great importance.”
Dr. Franklin’s smile faded and he pushed the paper from him.
“Bid him enter at once,” he said, and an instant later Mr. Hodge followed the servant into the room.
“Ah, good friend!” exclaimed Franklin. “You will pardon my rising, for my position explains itself; but I see by your face that you have something of import. Out with it and no beating about the bush. But I pray you to tell me no bad news unless that can’t be helped. Come now, what is it?”
In a few words Mr. Hodge related the story of Conyngham’s adventures and the return with the packet. When he had finished, Franklin arose and, despite the fact that one foot was shoeless, limped heavily two or three times around the room. Then he at last replied:
“Your news, Mr. Hodge, is both good and bad. I might have known that Conyngham would have done something of this sort, but just at present affairs at court are somewhat puzzling. I can trust Turgot and Maurepas, but the Count de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign Affairs, is at times too deep for me. Just now he seems to be listening too much to Lord Stormont. I would that we could get some good news from America about the doings of the army. But what you say about the foreign mails demands attention. They must go to de Vergennes this very moment. Do you think that you are the first to bring the news of all this to Paris?”
“That I can not say, sir,” returned Hodge. “There was a chaise and four an hour or so ahead of me on the road. I obtained word of its having preceded me at several stopping-places.”
“I am afraid that it is one of Stormont’s people,” said Franklin slowly; “they have kept him well informed; but if so, I shall soon hear of it.”
There came a ring at the garden bell just at this instant, for it was near candle-time and the porter had closed the gate for the evening.
“There!” exclaimed the doctor. “That may be news now.” And almost immediately the servant brought in the name of Mr. Silas Deane, Dr. Franklin’s fellow commissioner to the court.
Following close upon the announcement Deane entered. He looked surprised at seeing Hodge, and after greeting him spoke quickly.
“So you are already in possession of what I was going to tell you!” he exclaimed. “Lord Stormont has been told of our Captain Conyngham’s arrival at Dunkirk and has called on the Count de Vergennes. Dubourge informed me so but a half hour since. Conyngham must be communicated with and warned. Dubourge says that his lordship was in no pleasant humor, and let drop some direful threats.”
Franklin seated himself in the big chair and placed his foot again on the cushion.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “we must do some leaping; I mean you must – for my leaping days are over; but ‘look before you leap’ is a good old maxim, and let us do some looking. The position is just this: Had this thing happened three weeks later, or had it followed upon receipt of good news from America, it would cause me but little concern; but coming now the situation is most grave. Captain Conyngham with his prizes must leave Dunkirk and make his way to Spain. Through our friend Hortalez & Co. I have made arrangements for the disposal of our property there. It is not safe for him to remain in France. Are you too tired, Mr. Hodge,” he concluded, “to post back to Dunkirk at once? Our American friends there must be informed.”
Mr. Hodge sighed. He had had but little rest on the journey, and the prospect of another long one was not alluring; but there was nothing for it, and he acquiesced with good grace.
The doctor was beginning to give him some verbal instructions when the bell at the gate rang again, and following close upon the servant’s heels the younger Ross entered the room. He was travel-stained and his clothes looked dusty and rumpled. Apparently he was surprised to find the other gentlemen present, and stood somewhat embarrassed at the door, but upon being presented to Mr. Deane, whom he had not met, his embarrassment changed to excitement quickly, and he began to speak hurriedly.
“Conyngham has been taken,” he said. “His vessel and the prizes have been seized!”
“By the English?” exclaimed Franklin, almost jumping this time to his feet, despite the remark about his leaping days.
“No, sir; he surrendered himself and his sword to the keeping of the French Government. He and some of his men are in the French military prison.”
“Did the English obtain possession of his papers?” anxiously inquired Franklin.
“Not all of them, sir, for he sent you this, and bade me get it to your hands with all possible despatch.” He handed to Dr. Franklin as he spoke the big white packet that Conyngham had slipped into his brother’s hand.
Franklin opened it nervously and glanced at the contents. Immediately he appeared greatly relieved.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “you must both retire, and I suggest that you get much-needed rest and repair here to-morrow morning. In the meantime Mr. Deane and I will talk matters over. Will you breakfast with me here in the garden?”
Ross and Hodge left in a few minutes, and Silas Deane and the good doctor were alone.
“I wonder would it be possible for either of us to see de Vergennes to-morrow?” asked Franklin, as he placed in a large portfolio the papers that he had taken from the package.
“He apparently wishes to avoid an interview with me,” replied Silas Deane, “for I have been unable to get at him for some time. But this is bad news about Conyngham. If he has been thrown into a French prison, it must still be at the instigation of the British authorities, and they will demand that he be handed over to them. They will call his doings by ugly names, I warrant you. There will be a flood of abuse and invective.”
“And I have a good stop-gap for some of it,” was Franklin’s return. “I do not think that they will proceed to extremes. To-morrow I will see Maurepas, possibly Beaumarchais, and if needs be, the Queen.”
Deane was forced to smile despite himself, for he well knew the rumors of the good doctor’s success with the fair sex; even the Queen had succumbed to his magnetic wit and personality, so it was but a bald statement of facts, and no boasting.
For some reason Franklin did not then show to Mr. Deane the paper which proved that Conyngham held a commission in the new navy of the United Colonies. Had he done so a great deal that subsequently happened might have been averted. For half an hour longer the two commissioners spoke of other matters. Affairs looked very glum indeed for the struggling little nation across the water, and no news had been received for some time. The failure of this last project boded ill for future attempts, yet the mere fact that it had at first succeeded and that the rattlesnake flag had been flown in the Channel proved to Europe that the new nation was alive.