As Silas Deane wrote to Robert Morris and to the home Government, “His name has become more dreaded than that of the great Thurot, and merchants are constrained to ship their cargoes in French or Dutch vessels.”
Not a guard-ship on the coast but had received specific orders to be on the lookout for him, and yet he had cruised in the English and Irish Channels for month after month. Another fact that he regarded with satisfaction was that he had accomplished all this not merely as a privateersman, but as a regularly commissioned officer in the navy of his country. The prize-money due him as such, now amounting to a large sum, he regarded as safe in the hands of the commissioners.
After reaching the West Indies, where he spent some time, he learned from the American consul of the condition of affairs at home, and after waiting for the arrival of the latest prize he set sail for Philadelphia. The one thing that he regretted was the fact that he did not have in his possession the commission signed by John Hancock, then president of Congress, and given to him by Franklin in Paris, but he did not doubt that the good doctor had it in his possession and would produce it at the proper time. Without mishap, the Revenge sailed up the coast, slipped by the British guard-ships off the capes of Delaware, and early in February, 1779, Conyngham was home at last!
CHAPTER XV
THE CAPTURE
Of all the surprised people in Philadelphia, James Nesbit was the most astonished when into his office walked the young seaman who almost four years before had left in command of the Charming Peggy. The fame of his doings of course had reached America, and Mr. Nesbit’s brother had written at some length of Conyngham’s career in the Surprise, his subsequent arrest, and mysterious release; but it was not until he had spent a long afternoon in the coffee-room of the little inn around the corner, and had listened to the captain’s modest and half-humorous account of his doings, that he understood what had happened in France; and he followed with breathless interest the career of the two little vessels that had flown the flag in the Channel.
When Conyngham had finished at last, Mr. Nesbit, who had not allowed himself to interrupt the recital by even so much as a question, propounded his first interrogation.
“And what do you intend to do now, Brother Conyngham?” he said. “Of course you do not mean to rest idle upon either your oars or your laurels.”
“I suppose I shall have to wait orders from the Naval Committee,” was the reply. “As an officer in the regular service, I have already reported my arrival and asked for an audience on the morrow. I hope,” he added, “they will see fit to make use of my services.”