One of the 18-pound carronades was loaded, and a shot fired across the little vessel's bow. Down came the brown sail, and she lay there swinging and dipping like a wild fowl too frightened to escape. I have seen some clumsy craft in my day, but I think these vessels are the strangest-looking. She was a French lugger, only half decked over, with a great leeboard swung alongside, and had a comformation somewhat like the shape of the boat which boys whittle out with their jack-knives. There were five men in her, who appeared scared out of their wits, but their relief was great when Captain Gorham hailed them in French.
They had no compass, but agreed to set our pilot on shore, and he left us, grinning and delighted. Now we cleared away again, and left the Strait of Dover behind us, steering a course somewhat to the eastward of the middle of the English Channel.
I noticed that the armament of the Yankee was very similar to that of the Young Eagle, except she carried one less gun on a side.
In the evening, as I was talking to some of the crew below, a cabin-boy came into the forecastle in search of me, with an order for me to repair aft at once—the Captain wished me. I was thinking of exchanging my citizen's clothes for some that Plummer had offered me, but I had not done so when the message was given me, so I hastened up. Captain Gorham was pacing up and down the little quarter-deck; he halted as he saw me approaching.
"You will dine with me this evening, Mr. Hurdiss," he said. "And if my nose does not deceive me, dinner is on the table."
I bowed and thanked him, and we went down into the little cabin. Mr. Carter was on deck, and the Captain and I sat down vis-à-vis. No sooner had he seated himself than he began to hum, or chant better, only without using words, beneath his breath. This he kept up even while he was feeding himself. As I was very hungry, I did not interrupt the music, and so for full five minutes not a word was said. At last Gorham pushed back a little ways from the table, and sang a few words to the same air he had been humming.
"And-now,-Mr.-Hurdiss, spin-us-your-yarn," he chanted.
So I began at once with the cruise of the Young Eagle and the fight with the frigate, for I did not consider it necessary to tell of my earlier life. It was the second time that I had told the story this day, and I probably hastened it. When I came to the more exciting parts, dealing with my prison life and escape, Captain Gorham hummed a little bit louder, and this continuous accompaniment urged me to speak faster, so I covered ground in great fashion. He played an obligato to my solo, as it were piano, fortissimo, and all of it. When I had finished he arose and hushed his noise, as if he had been forced to bite the end off the tune against his will.
"Mr. Hurdiss," he said, "we need some one here aft with us, and there's a berth for you. Take it. I shall tell the men to obey your orders, as you will obey mine. You will act as third Lieutenant, sir."
Then, as if this settled matters, he began to hum again, and went up the ladder to the deck, leaving me sitting there in amazement. Here was another false position! How fate had forced such situations upon me! It seemed a long time ago that I was supposed to be a French nobleman (mark you, I was one), and I could scarce bring myself to believe that my rescue had happened only the very morning of this day. "Now," said I to myself, "if I refuse to accept this honor thrust upon me, I may do the very worst thing for myself that may happen." It behooved me to balance matters carefully, to weigh and measure possible results.