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.
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 almost95 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.
96 “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.
97 “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 provisions98 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’s99 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 knew100 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 a............