He and Dale gained the door in the rear; but the highwayman’s nasty temper played its part here, and he paused to deal a shower of blows upon the boatswain, whom he had seized by the throat just as the light was extinguished.
Ethan and Dale plunged into the little court at the back of the place and found a single seaman guarding it with drawn cutlass. A quick rush together disposed of him, and in a moment they were upon the street, lurking in the shadows, and hearkening to the fierce conflict that raged within the room which they had just left.
This lasted but a few moments, however; then the press-gang appeared, dragging in the midst of them the grim figure of the highwayman.
“Caught!” breathed Ethan, despairingly.
“Master Hatfield,” said Dale in a low voice, “has stopped his last traveler for many a long day, and is now in a fair way toward serving his king upon the sea.”
CHAPTER XXIII
HOW THE BON HOMME RICHARD MET THE SERAPIS
Ethan Carlyle and his friend Richard Dale, after their experience with the press-gang, made it a point to keep themselves as much in the background as possible during the remainder of their stay in London. This latter was very much longer than they had expected; days grew into weeks and weeks into months, but still they found no means of crossing the narrow seas to France.
Dale had little or no money, and Ethan’s supply had all but given out when, at length, they found a Scotch skipper who agreed to give them passage in his vessel. On the way across the two young men talked much about the future and of what they still hoped to do in the cause of liberty.
“If it is my good fortune to fall in with Captain Paul Jones once more,” said Ethan, “I shall bless my lucky stars.”
“That is a gallant sailor and an excellent commander,” spoke Richard Dale, admiringly. “I should like to serve under him.”