“And you have suggested it, Captain Conyngham,” returned Franklin, chuckling. “We will call her the Surprise.”
Quickly, as he spoke, he filled in the blank spaces and handed the paper across the table.
“Captain Conyngham,” he said, “I greet you. You will receive such orders as may come through our agents, but one thing I admonish you--be cautious. You are not to venture to attack a seventy-four nor even a sloop of war. There are plenty of small fry about worth the saving. Now,” he went on, “another thing of great importance. Except in case of dire necessity show this commission to no one, not even to Mr. Hodge or our most intimate friends. It is a secret for the nonce between you and myself. You will readily understand the reason that I ask it. It would not only embarrass me just at present, but might embarrass the French Government; and they’re a little bashful just now, so we must consider their feelings. Ah, here come Mr. Hodge and Mr. Deane,” he added, looking out of the window. “Come, we will go out into the garden and sit under the trees, where we can discuss the weather, the fashions, and the ladies, in the open air.”
After the introductions had been gone through, and Captain Conyngham had been presented to Mr. Silas Deane, a short, thick-set, easy-going-looking man of commercial aspect, not a word was said about plans or plot, and Franklin wandered from anecdote to anecdote, heading off any attempt to touch upon the subject that was uppermost in all their minds. But just as they were leaving he spoke a few words which disclosed the situation.
“Captain Conyngham,” he said, “has undertaken to execute a commission of great importance and danger, and so, while it may come under discussion at some length in the future, he will need now nothing but our good wishes, and we will drink his health.”
The toast was drunk and the gentlemen arose to take their departure.
“The captain will accompany you to Dunkirk on your return, Mr. Hodge,” said Dr. Franklin, as he bade farewell, “and Mr. Deane will instruct you as to your further procedure.”
Conyngham never forgot the parting pressure of the doctor’s hand.
There lay moored in the basin in the harbor of Dover two fast-sailing luggers that, despite the fact that they had been in the water but two years, had already earned great reputations for speed and seaworthiness, and to their merchant owners they had proved sources of pride and profit.