“He would challenge you instantly!” breaks in Mr. Morris.
“Precisely!” says Captain Paul Jones, with just the preliminary glimmer of battle in his hard brown eyes. “As you say, sir, he would challenge me. And having challenged me, I should take pleasure in doing my best to kill him. I got a pair of Galway duelling pistols out of the Bideford; they were coming to Lord Howe. If I can lure Captain Saltonstall to the field, it shall go hard, but with one of those Irish sawhandles I rid the American navy of him. Once I have him at ten paces, it will take something more than the influence of Mr. Adams to bring him safely off.”
Mr. Morris’ brow colors; General Washington takes the situation more at ease. He even gives way briefly to a shadowy smile; for the great patriot, while not so inflammable, is quite as combative as any Captain Paul Jones of them all.
“You have taken advice on this?” asks General Washington, following a pause, during which everybody has had time to more or less digest Captain Paul Jones’ unique plan for improving the American navy. “I do not suppose you have gone to this decision without counsel?”
“Sir; I am, as you know, both prudent and conservative—no one more so. Certainly, I’ve taken counsel. I went to General Cadwalader; he expresses himself as in hearty accord with me. Indeed, it is understood between us that he shall act for me in any affair I may have with Captain Saltonstall.”
At the mention of General Cadwalader, General Washington smiles openly, while Mr. Morris groans and throws up his hands.
“Bless me! Cadwalader!” exclaims Mr. Morris, when he can command his tongue. “The worst firebrand in the country! Cadwalader, forsooth! who has ever had but one word of advice for every man—‘Fight!’” Then, abruptly descending upon Captain Paul Jones with all the authority of a father addressing a favorite but rebellious son: “Paul; listen! You believe me your friend?”
“Indubitably! I have no better friend.”
“Then let me tell you, Paul: In the name of that friendship this thing must end—absolutely end. If you’ve drawn up any accusation of cowardice against Captain Saltonstall, you must burn it and forget the whole affair. You must dismiss this subject from your mind. In Cadwalader you have invited the wrong kind of advice. I now give you the right kind. The General will tell you so; your friend, the Marquis, will tell you so. And forasmuch as you value my friendship you must obey me.”
Mr. Morris in his earnestness lays a paternal hand on the shoulder of Captain Paul Jones, his manner a composite of coax and command. Before the latter, who is visibly shaken by the friendly determination of Mr. Morris, can frame reply, Lafayette—who has been scrupulous to maintain a polite silence from first to last—interferes.