"I have since heard a rumour to that effect," said Captain Salt coldly.
"Cherish that son, for his worth to you is inestimable. He lies, at this moment, on board the Good Intent—I regret to say in irons. His Majesty enlisted him this afternoon, somewhat against his will, and he began very unluckily by kicking his superior officer from one end of the frigate to the other. It was the natural ebullition of youth, and the sergeant was a Dutchman. Therefore in this letter I have pardoned him. Take it—a boat is waiting for you—and convey it to his captain. Thereafter seek the poor lad out and imprint the parental kiss upon both cheeks. Reveal yourself to him!"
"Your lordship is excessively kind, but I stand in no immediate need of filial love."
"My dear sir, I promise you that this son means thousands in your pocket. He means to you a calm old age, surrounded by luxuries which are hardly to be gained by espionage, however zealously practised."
"In what way, may I inquire?"
"I will inform you when you have done the small service I asked just now."
Captain Salt took the letter and moved towards the door.
"By the way," the Earl said, "it may be painful to you to be reminded of your former connection with Harwich; but did you happen to know, in those days, two gentlemen, captains in King Charles's Navy, and natives, I believe, of this town—Barker and Runacles?"
"I did. They were both, at one time, suitors for the hand of my late wife."
"Indeed? I have been trying to enlist them for this business of the mutiny."