“Are you Captain John Paul Jones?” asked the lad.
“I am.”
Ethan stared in surprise. The fame of this new and brilliant sea chief was so great that he had, somehow, expected to see a huge and formidable man with fierce, weather-beaten features and the bearing of a buccaneer. But instead he found before him a rather small, slightly-built young man with a brisk air, a pair of the keenest dark eyes in the world, and a pleasant, resolute face.
“I beg your pardon,” stammered the lad, after he had recovered from his surprise and realized that he had been staring. He drew out a paper which the president of Congress had given him, and handed it to the young commander of the Ranger. The latter broke the seal, and as he unfolded the sheet of stiff paper Ethan had a glimpse of the beautifully regular handwriting of Mr. Hancock. A glance was sufficient to show John Paul Jones the purport of the missive. He glanced at Ethan in some surprise and then said:
“Will you kindly come down to my cabin?”
Ethan descended after him, and when once they were within the cabin and the door closed, the commander of the Ranger continued:
“I was expecting the packet which you bring, but hardly expected so youthful a messenger.”
Ethan smiled. John Paul Jones was a gentleman who possessed the knack of manner that causes strangers to feel at their ease; and the boy replied:
“And I hardly expected to find the captain of this ship so young a man.”
“Age on the sea,” said John Paul Jones, humorously, “comes with experience and not with years.” He regarded Ethan closely for a moment, and proceeded shrewdly, “And for all your youth, you are not a stranger to blue water, I take it.”