Just at dusk he got up his anchor and came farther up into the harbor. As he passed by the Roebuck his heart was beating with excitement, for she looked to be the very vessel for his purpose. He was within hailing distance when a figure came on deck. He could scarce refrain from shouting from sheer joy, for he recognized the stocky figure of his friend Allan. Another minute and he had called his name.
Working the yawl alongside he soon stepped on deck. It was considered too risky to transfer the men while there was yet light enough for them to be perceived, and, uncomfortable as it may have been for them, they remained in their cramped position in the smaller boat until almost midnight. In the early morning hours the Roebuck slipped her cable and slid out like a ghost through the channel fog. The yawl was being towed behind, but as it impeded the lugger’s sailing the small boat was stove in, laden with some of the spare ballast from the Roebuck, and sunk.
Without adventure or molestation they reached Dunkirk under the British flag. As they dropped anchor well up the harbor, Mr. Allan turned to the young captain with a smile.
“Well, sir,” he said, “this part of the proceeding is over and we are ready to go on with the rest of it. By the way, shall we keep the name?” He pointed to the stern of the jolly-boat where the word Roebuck stood out in red letters.
“No,” returned Conyngham, “that will all be changed. She has been renamed what we hope she’ll be.”
“And that is?” queried Mr. Allan.
“The Surprise,” was Conyngham’s answer.