“What is your name and under whose authority are you acting?” demanded the young under-secretary, who had now found his tongue.
“My name is Conyngham,” was the reply, “and I am acting under authority of the president of the American Congress.”
“You will hang for it,” interposed one of the merchants. “I shall complain to the Government—such an outrage, and in the English Channel, too!”
Conyngham smiled.
“You can write a letter to the Times if you see fit, my good sir,” he replied, “but at present there is no use of being bad-natured. Don’t allow me to disturb you in your meal, as I see you’ve just begun.”
At this moment a slight scuffle and some loud words came from the deck above. The captain again started to his feet.
“They’re securing the crew,” Conyngham said in explanation. “There is no use in making a fuss over the matter; we’re in complete possession. Be easy now.”
Just as he spoke the lank figure of the Yankee second mate appeared at the foot of the ladder. He saluted Conyngham, and grinned at the others as if enjoying their discomfiture.
“I have to report, sir, that all’s well, and await your orders. There is one man we had to put into irons; the rest submitted quietly.”
“You see how matters stand, gentlemen,” Conyngham went on, “and before we cast off our lashings I shall have to ask you to accompany me to my vessel.”