“I suppose,” said he, in a cold, even voice, “that we are your prisoners.”
“If this were the United States, or the deck of my ship, you would be, assuredly,” answered Captain Jones. “As it is, the worst that I could do would be to bring a charge of assault against you before a French magistrate. So, rather than that, I shall let you go free. I give you and your people five minutes in which to take yourselves off.”
Neither Blake nor Siki was badly hurt, and young Wheelock was uninjured. The latter helped the others out, and their horses were saddled; well within the time allowed, they were on their way down the snowy road, while John Paul Jones, Ethan and the Irish dragoon stood in the door of the Burgundian King and watched the darkness swallow them up.
CHAPTER VIII
SHOWS HOW BENJAMIN FRANKLIN OPENED THE SECRET DISPATCH
Upon reaching Paris the three immediately sought out lodgings and removed the grime of the road. Then the commander and Ethan went to call upon Dr. Franklin and present their dispatches.
The rooms of the famous philosopher, sage and statesman were modestly furnished, but were crowded by a most brilliantly attired company. No representative of a foreign government at the Court of France had ever created such a marked impression as this American commissioner. The imaginative French saw in him one of the sages of ancient Greece reincarnated. His advanced age, his natural dignity, his virtues, his undoubted wisdom made him a man of mark. The courtiers of King Louis admired and respected him, and it was seldom, indeed, that a group of influential persons and young soldiers were not to be found in his rooms.
He received Captain Jones and Ethan with great heartiness, for he was ever eager for news.
“My dear sir,” said he, holding the officer’s hand tight clasped within his own, “I am most happy to meet you. Your exploits upon the sea have long been known to us here in France, and if every American ship had a commander like you, we’d have the enemy suing for peace within a twelve-month.”
John Paul Jones flushed with pleasure. It is noted of him that he ever loved to be praised, and praise from such a man as Franklin was praise, indeed.
The sage had not at the beginning of the war with England, given much thought to the sea as a place to meet the foe in the struggle for liberty; being a landsman this was, perhaps, natural. But upon his voyage to France in the Reprisal, Captain Lambert Wickes, his eyes had been opened to the possibilities of what might be done upon deep water. This was the first American war vessel to cross the Atlantic, and two rich prizes were captured under the philosopher’s eyes. When these were sold at a French port and the proceeds added to his slender means his admiration knew no bounds. He saw at once how the enemy might be so weakened by a few swift cruisers in the German ocean as to cripple them permanently; and the dispatching of the Lexington and the other brave little vessels which carried the war under the very shadow of the English cliffs was made according to his suggestion.