“By no means. We are not prisoners of war. If an English officer sails our craft into port, he will do it with our flag floating over him.”
“Perhaps he will haul it down himself.”
“Perhaps he will, and then again perhaps he won’t touch it. Did you never hear about those young English middies who pulled down the flag that was floating over the American consulate in Honolulu? They put it back again in short order, and with an apology, too.”
The steamer’s boat came in sight while this conversation was going on, and Archie, who levelled his glass at it, informed his cousin that there were two officers sitting in the stern sheets, and that it was crowded with men, who were all armed. It came alongside in a few minutes, and the old gray-headed lieutenant who was in charge looked a little surprised when Frank handed the man-ropes to him. He had doubtless expected a very different reception. He clambered aboard, followed by his men, who handled their weapons nervously, and looked all about as if expecting an attack from some quarter. The expression of astonishment their faces wore was reflected in the countenances of their officers, who acted as if they thought they had got a little out of their reckoning.
“Are you the captain, sir?” asked the gray-headed lieutenant, returning Frank’s salute.
“At present, yes, sir.”
“There must be some mistake,” continued the officer. “We are in search of the American yacht Stranger, who is reported to have been seized by escaped convicts and taken to sea.”
“This is the vessel, sir, but I am glad to say that the convicts no longer have control of her. They are safe under guard in the cabin. Step this way, if you please.”
The officer, lost in wonder, followed Frank into the cabin, and his astonishment increased when he saw the convicts seated in a row before him, and all securely ironed. “How did you ever manage to do this, captain?” he asked.
“It was done before they knew what was going on,” replied Frank.