General Washington makes a sign of assent, and the grizzled old servitor smirks and smiles and bows himself backward into the hall.
There are two pairs of feet heard climbing the stair; the elastic step belongs to Captain Paul Jones, the more stolid is that of Mr. Morris, who, using the familiarity of a closest friendship, walks in on General Washington unannounced.
“The Marquis was just saying,” observes General Washington to Captain Paul Jones, when greetings are over and conversation, to employ a nautical phrase, has settled to its lines, “that he met you in Virginia as he came up.”
“Yes, General; I had been having a look at my plantation, which Lord Dunmore did me the honor to lay waste.”
“Was the destruction great?”
“The torch had been everywhere. The work could not have been more complete had his Lordship been a professional incendiary.” Captain Paul Jones shrugs his wide shoulders, as though dismissing a disagreeable subject, one not to be helped by talk: “You received my letter, General? I was so rash as to think you might aid me in getting the new frigate Trumbull.”
“Captain,” returns General Washington, “you will understand that my connection with the army makes any interference on my part in naval affairs a most delicate business. I must give my counsel in that quarter cautiously. As for the Trumbull; it is, I fear, already claimed by Mr. Adams for Captain Saltonstall.”
“Captain Saltonstall!” cries Captain Paul Jones in a fervor of bitterness. “General, hear me! I sailed lieutenant in the Alfred with Captain Saltonstall. I know him, and do not scruple to say that he is an incompetent coward. Since he went ashore in New London after that disgraceful cruise, he hasn’t shown his face aboard ship. He was ashamed to do so. Only Mr. Adams could have protected him from the court-martial he had earned. On my side—if I must plead my own cause—I’ve made two cruises since then, one in the Providence, one in the Alfred. I’ve taken twenty-four prizes; some of them by no means unimportant to the American cause.”
“Ah, yes!” interrupts General Washington, his steady face lighting up a trifle; “you mean the Mellish and the Bideford. I heard how you captured the winter equipment meant for Howe’s army—ten thousand uniforms, eleven hundred fur overcoats, eleven thousand blankets, besides a battery or two of field guns and six hundred cavalry equipments. You did us a timely service, Captain Jones. Many an American soldier was the warmer last winter, because of the Mellish and the Bideford.”
“I am glad,” says Captain Paul Jones, not without confusion, “to learn that I so much pleased you. It gives me courage to hope that you will come to my shoulder against Mr. Adams and his pet incompetent, Saltonstall.”