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.
[Illustration: At the end of the wharf was a rakish-looking vessel.]
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.
“JAMES CLEMENTS.”
There was also a letter that Conyngham read in even a louder tone:
“PARIS, _July 28, 1777_.
“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.
The next day Carmichael arrived. He was a tall, spare man, with a
hawked nose; a broad, good-natured grin was usually on his lips, but he
was keen as a whip-lash.
It was the morning of the 15th of July, and in the cabin of the Revenge
Mr. Carmichael sat opposite Captain Conyngham, who watched him with a
smile of dry amusement as he wrote. Carmichael was smiling also. He
had a trick of apparently spelling the letters he was writing with his
tongue wriggling at the corner of his mouth. As soon as he had finished
he turned, and waving the paper in the air to dry it, chuckled.
“There, Captain Conyngham, are your sailing orders. Of course, to a
man of your intelligence, there is no use of being more than explicit.
Somehow I am reminded of a story of one of your fellow countrymen who
was accused of killing a sheep, and in explanation made the plea that
he would kill any sheep that attacked and bit him on the open highway.
So all you’ve got to do is to be sure that the sheep bites first.”
“There is another little adage about a wolf in sheep’s clothing,”
replied Conyngham laughing, “and sure, there are plenty of them in both
channels, and in that case----”
“Be sure to kill the wolf before he bites you at all. But
seriously--once away from the French coast, you ought to have a free
foot. Do not send any prizes into French ports. Here is a list of the
agents of Lazzonere and Company, Spanish merchants, and here is a draft
of a thousand livre upon them at Corunna. Should you desire more,
accounting will be kept with Hortalez and Company that will be audited
by the commissioners and by Grand, the banker, of Paris. You will
receive the usual percentage accruing to the captain of a vessel making
such captures, and will keep a separate account of your expenditures
and moneys received and the value of prizes.”
He handed Captain Conyngham the remarkable instructions, which now for
the first time are shown to the public in their original form.
[Illustration]
Conyngham read the paper through. “But there is something else,” he
said. “Did not Dr. Franklin send some other paper to me?”
“Yes, there is a packet here which I received from the secretary of the
Cabinet Minister, M. Maurepas, who told me that he had been instructed
to give them to me by the Count de Vergennes. They contain some matter
in relation to our project.”
He opened his portfolio, and breaking the seal displayed some pages of
closely written matter that was undated and unsigned. It merely stated
that Mr. Hodge, merchant, had given his guarantee and bond, together
with Messrs. Ross and Allan, that the American vessel about to depart
from Dunkirk should respect all English commerce and should make the
best of her way to the United States. Conyngham’s name was not even
mentioned. As soon as he had read it, the captain exclaimed aloud:
“We are trapped again! By the Powers, there’s a large rat somewhere.
Where is my commission? I can not sail without one, and I refuse to put
myself and my crew in such jeopardy.”
“Dr. Franklin spoke to me of the paper that he had given you, and that
he had sent to the Count de Vergennes. He understood from the latter
that it had been returned to either Mr. Arthur Lee or Mr. Silas Deane,
who had sent it to you at this place.”
“I have never received it.”
“Well,” said Mr. Carmichael, “this must be attended to before sailing.
We will meet ashore this afternoon with Hodge, Allan, and the rest, and
hold a council of war. Perhaps I had better see them first, and I will
ask you to send me off in one of your boats immediately.”
The secretary and the captain repaired on deck. Conyngham felt no
little pride in his vessel, and indeed she was one to make the heart
of any captain glad. Everything about her was as neat as a pin. Her
crew of nearly one hundred men, forty-four of whom were Americans,
had picked up wonderfully in their work. On her decks were fourteen
six-pounders and twenty small two-pounder swivels capable of making
great havoc at short range when loaded with grape or ball. He pointed
out the good points of his vessel to Mr. Carmichael, who appeared in a
great hurry to get away, and was soon sent off in the captain’s gig,
intending to look up Mr. Hodge as soon as possible.
After drilling the crew all one afternoon, Conyngham early in the
evening went ashore, and repaired at once to the usual rendezvous.
There he found the others awaiting him. All seemed to be in good humor.
“Ho, Captain Glumface,” cried Hodge, “sit down with us. I have some
news that will give thee comfort.”
“Has it arrived?” asked Conyngham eagerly.
“Hear the man!” replied Hodge. “Look!”
He handed Conyngham a paper.
“It is one that just by luck I found in my possession. A blank
commission, and I have dated it to cover your last cruise.”
“But this is a privateersman’s commission,” Conyngham said, looking up
from his perusal of the paper. “I do not consider myself in that light.”
“I went on your bond,” replied Hodge.
“Yes, but it was not your money that paid for the outfitting; it was
money belonging to the United Colonies of America, or borrowed on their
account, and I am an officer in the regular navy, and that vessel sails
under the flag.”
It looked dangerously like a quarrel. Hodge relapsed into silence and
the elder Ross looked furtively from Mr. Carmichael to the captain, as
if expecting the former to come to the rescue.
“What you have there,” said the secretary at last, “is authority
enough, and is the same under which many of our cruisers are now
sailing. It is a letter of marque respected by the British Admiralty.”
“Mayhap so,” replied Conyngham, “but the date is made out wrong. I
sailed in the Surprise on the 1st of May, and this is made out on the
2d.”
“Tut, tut! that is too bad,” muttered Mr. Hodge, “and the last one I’ve
got, and in fact the only one I had. What now are we to do?”
“My brother comes down from Paris to-morrow,” put in Ross, “and he may
bring news proving that we have time to wait, or perhaps he may have
seen Dr. Franklin and have the very paper the captain desires.”
Hardly had he spoken than a sound of hurrying feet came down the
hallway outside. The door burst open, and in rushed the younger Ross.
Evidently the position of the candles on the table prevented him from
seeing that Conyngham was present, for in his first words he asked for
him, and upon the latter rising, he came quickly to his side.
“We must think and act quickly,” he cried. “But two hours behind me in
the road is a messenger from de Vergennes instructing the authorities
to seize the vessel and not to allow her to depart. I have this on
the very best authority. I saw Dr. Franklin but an hour or so before
I received the news. He expected me to wait until to-morrow, when he
should have been granted an audience with the Foreign Minister, but
upon ascertaining the importance of immediate action (I was told by the
very messenger to whom I had once been presented by Dr. Bancroft) I
sought out the doctor. Search high or low, I could not find him, but by
good fortune I met Silas Deane in company with our misanthropic friend,
Mr. Lee. They ordered me to post it here at once and tell you to get
under way at the earliest possible moment.”
“Where was Dr. Franklin, do you suppose?” asked Allan.
“Dining with some fair countess or duchess at Versailles,” replied
Hodge, who leaned perhaps a little toward the Lee faction.
The secretary shrugged his shoulders and said nothing, but Conyngham
spoke quickly.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “there is but one thing to do. Commission or no
commission, I sail from Dunkirk on the early morning tide. We have but
a few hours before us. May the Powers grant the messenger does not
arrive before then. Stormont must have played his trump card and won.”
Quickly the party broke up and accompanied Conyngham to the water’s
edge. Early in the morning, while still the mist hung over the harbor
and shrouded the houses and shipping, a ghostlike vessel appeared in
mid-channel, fanned by the damp shore breeze. It was the Revenge. On
the fast ebb tide she slid swiftly out to sea.