“What, pray, would you have?”
“Some pillage, to be sure—plate.”
“Shame. I thought we were three gentlemen.”
“So are the English officers in America; but they help themselves to plate whenever they can get it from the private houses of the enemy.”
“Come, now, don’t be slanderous,” said Paul; “these officers you speak of are but one or two out of twenty, mere burglars and light-fingered gentry, using the king’s livery but as a disguise to their nefarious trade. The rest are men of honor.”
“Captain Paul Jones,” responded the two, “we have not come on this expedition in much expectation of regular pay; but we did rely upon honorable plunder.”
“Honorable plunder! That’s something new.”
But the officers were not to be turned aside. They were the most efficient in the ship. Seeing them resolute, Paul, for fear of incensing them, was at last, as a matter of policy, obliged to comply. For himself, however, he resolved to have nothing to do with the affair. Charging the officers not to allow the men to enter the house on any pretence, and that no search must be made, and nothing must be taken away, except what the lady should offer them upon making known their demand, he beckoned to Israel and retired indignantly towards the beach. Upon second thoughts, he dispatched Israel back, to enter the house with the officers, as joint receiver of the plate, he being, of course, the most reliable of the seamen.
The lady was not a little disconcerted on receiving the officers. With cool determination they made known their purpose. There was no escape. The lady retired. The butler came; and soon, several silver salvers, and other articles of value, were silently deposited in the parlor in the presence of the officers and Israel.
“Mister Butler,” said Israel, “let me go into the dairy and help to carry the milk-pans.”