James Barnes - With The Flag In The Channel

The young captain had seated himself by this time, and after the last speech he turned and looked about the room. His glance fell for a moment upon the two men, Lester and Flackman, who had been referred to by Mr. Nesbit in his conversation a few minutes previously. He half nodded toward them, and the action called his cousin’s attention.

“So, Captain Gustavus, you know our friend Lester,” said David quickly.

“Just well enough to keep an eye on him,” was the rejoinder. “I saw him talking with the mate of that old Dutch Indiaman that lies astern of the Charming Peggy. I judged from the way he was talking that she was the subject of conversation, so I hove to and asked them a few silent questions.”

“What did you do that for?” asked David Conyngham. “Silent questions!”

“Sure, to find out how little they know,” answered the captain roguishly. “It is as good to know how little a man knows as how much, sometimes.”

“And what was that little?” asked Mr. Nesbit.

“That he knows who bought her in Baltimore,” was the reply.

“Did he say so?”

“Not in words spoken to me. For he would have denied that he had any interest in the matter. But by means of a little trick that I learned when a schoolboy, and that I have cultivated since for my amusement. It served me a good turn more than once. I got it from an Irish schoolmaster in Letterkenny. It was the one thing he taught me without knowing how he did it. Whisht,” went on the captain, “listen, and I’ll prove it to ye. There’s a man sitting with his back to you, but facing me. Can you hear what he says?”

“He’s at the other end of the room,” responded Mr. Nesbit. “No man could hear what he says at that distance.”

“But I can see what he says,” answered Conyngham, “and he has just uttered a speech that would make King George shudder. Being a believer in soft language I will not repeat it. It’s all in watching a man’s lips. Sure this old schoolmaster was deaf as a post, but he could hear what you were thinking of if you only whispered it. Many a good lickin’ I got before I was sure of it. But now to business,” he added, “if you’re going to talk of it this day. For I must confess to you, gentlemen, that I have a wife waiting for me, and while it’s pleasant here, I’d like to get under way for home.”

“Well, Mr. Conyngham,” returned Mr. Nesbit, who was a trifle upset by the young officer’s loquaciousness and yet his directness, “we want you to take command of the Charming Peggy. That much your cousin has informed you. You are to pick a crew as quick as possible and to sail for Holland.”

“With what cargo?” asked the captain.

“In ballast,” was the reply. “It’s of no importance what you bring over; it’s what you shall bring back.”

“And that would be easy guessing, sir. I could write it out blindfolded.”

“Perhaps so; but of that more to-morrow, when we will meet in my counting-house. We won’t detain you longer.”

As Captain Conyngham was slipping on his still wet greatcoat, he leaned forward and spoke softly to the others, who had risen, but were standing by their chairs:

“Our fine gentlemen yonder have put two and two together,” he said, “as why shouldn’t they? And the man with the fat jowls, whom you call ‘Lester,’ has just made a remark that it is a good thing to remember, for he has just said that he would keep an eye on the Charming Peggy, and mark the time of her sailing. By the same token there are two English men-o’-war just off the capes of the Delaware. I sailed by them in the fog.”

“Forewarned is forearmed, Captain Conyngham,” returned Mr. Nesbit, “and we’ll keep an eye on Mr. Lester.”

“If he comes down by my ship let’s pray he’s a good swimmer,” responded the captain, jamming his heavy hat down over his black hair and drawing his queue from under his coat collar. With that he pulled his sea boots well up his legs and went out into the storm.

For a minute Mr. David Conyngham and the senior partner remained silent, and then the latter spoke.

“An odd character,” he said suggestively, “this kinsman of yours. Might I say without any offense, that he has a certain amount of assurance.”

“Call it self-reliance better,” responded David, “it was always so with him as a boy. But mark you this, sir, behind it all he has the courage that is daunted at nothing, and ask any seaman with whom he has sailed if he knows of a better or more resourceful man in emergencies.”

“He comes of good stock,” rejoined Mr. Nesbit, “eh, David?”

The younger man caught the elder’s twinkling eye and bowed.

“We’ve all been kings in Ireland,” he returned, “and to quote Gustavus, ‘surely one king is as good as another.’ But the news that you had for me has not been told. What is it?”

“A secret of state, my friend, and one that must be kept as quiet as the grave.” He leaned toward Conyngham as he spoke. “Our good Dr. Franklin is going to France to represent the cause of the colonies at the court of the French king, and by the time he does so,” he added, “we shall no longer be in the category of ‘rebels,’ for there are great doings afoot.”

“I know, I understand,” answered the younger man, his face lighting. “God prosper the new nation!”

“God prosper the new nation,” repeated Mr. Nesbit, “and confusion to the enemies of liberty!”

The storm had abated suddenly, and in a few minutes a ray of warm spring sunlight pierced the cloud. Mr. Nesbit and the junior partner rose, and arm in arm went out into the street.

The glances of the tory and Flackman the lawyer followed their exit, and as they disappeared the two men fell to whispering earnestly.

It was lucky that the water was smooth and that the Charming Peggy was on her best tack, otherwise the frigate that was now dropping fast astern would have overhauled her ere she had been well clear of the capes. The gun that the Englishman had fired had had a ring of disappointment in it, an admonition more of warning than of threat. Captain Conyngham, looking back over the low taffrail, waved his hand as he saw her haul her wind.

“Good-by to you, my petty tyrant,” he cried half aloud. “I hope I’ve seen the last of the likes of you.”

The crew, whose expressions had changed during the short chase from anxiety to hope, and from hope to satisfaction, looked up at the little quarter-deck where the captain was pacing to and fro with firm, springing steps. They were a motley lot, this crew, mostly American sailormen from Baltimore, a half-Spaniard from the West Indies, and two strong fellows who had about them the unmistakable marks of man-of-war’s-men. In all there were but fifteen, including the cook, a big, curly-haired Virginia negro with a rolling eye and a soft, high-pitched voice.

The young captain had been more than satisfied with the way they had jumped at his orders during the few exciting moments when it was a moot question whether he would be able to cross the frigate’s bows at a range beyond gunshot. He had just managed to do it and no more, but it had proved to his satisfaction that, given a smooth sea and a light wind, the Charming Peggy could outfoot any of her ponderous pursuers. He well knew that the dangerous time would soon come when in English home waters, and that there stratagem, as well as speed, would have to be resorted to if occasion demanded. He could scarcely hope to reach a Dutch or French port without some further adventure, and to tell the truth he was in a measure prepared for a certain form of it. On the forecastle rail were mounted two swivel guns, and amidships a short six-pounder. Not a formidable armament, to be sure, but sufficient, if at close range, with the element of surprise added, to account for any small merchant vessel that the Peggy might fall in with.