“I hope these Englishmen will take one of those fellows,” observed Captain Gregory to Monsieur Saint Julien.
“Why so, my friend?” asked the latter.
“They deserve it, in the first place, and then it would be a question who gets command of this ship. We are pretty strong already, and if your people would prove staunch, we might turn the tables on our captors,” said the American.
“Comment!” exclaimed Captain Saint Julien, starting back. “You forget dat we did pledge our honour to behave peaceably, and not to interfere with the discipline of the ship. French officers are not accustomed to break their parole. You insult me by making the proposal, and I hope dat you are not in earnest.”
“Oh, no, my friend, I was only joking,” answered the American skipper, perceiving that he had gone too far.
Officers of the U.S. Navy, we may here remark, have as high a sense of honour as any English or French officer, but this ship was only a privateer, with a scratch crew, some of them renegade Englishmen, and the Captain was on a level with the lot.
The Frenchman looked at him sternly. “I will be no party to such a proceeding,” he observed.
“Oh, of course not, of course not, my friend,” said Captain Gregory, walking aside.
It being finally decided to allow the other French vessels to escape, the Foxhound’s yards were squared away, and a course shaped for Plymouth, with the two prizes in company.
Soon after noon the wind fell, and the ships made but little progress. The British crew had but a short time to sleep or rest, it being necessary to keep a number of men under arms to watch the prisoners.