“We will soon know,” he declared after hearing my story, “and let me add, too, Midshipman Dunn, you have handled this whole matter with much discretion and have proved that your love of country is superior to British gold,” and he shook my hand warmly.
He returned with me to the brig. First, he had an interview with Master Rollins, who soon broke down under his sharp questioning, and made a full confession.
He was Major Ralph Walker, and a paymaster in the British army. Entrusted with the five thousand pounds to pay off the soldiers in Boston, he had run away with the money and sailed for the Azores. There he had secured passage on the brig, and made his arrangements with her captain to slip quietly into the colonies, where he hoped under an assumed name to enjoy his ill-gotten wealth.
His confession finished, he willingly opened the door of his stateroom, and delivered all his personal effects to the Continental official. Among his baggage were found papers fully substantiating the story he had told.
The decision of the agent was quickly given. The circumstances under which the man had been apprehended made no difference. He was a British officer, and therefore a legitimate prisoner of war; the money he carried was British property, and therefore a legitimate prize; an opinion sustained by the entire naval committee a few weeks later. So the five thousand pounds sterling, added to the value of the brig and her cargo, made her capture the most valuable prize our frigate had yet taken.
I never saw Master Rollins, or Major Walker, as I should call him, again. But I heard some months later that he had been liberated on parole, and had disappeared. Probably he went to some part of the colonies where he was unknown, and there began life anew, though in poverty instead of in wealth as he had planned.
CHAPTER X
WE CAPTURE A FRIGATE
My orders had been to remain in port with my crew until the Franklin arrived, as Captain Tucker, at the time I left him, expected to bring in his next prize. He did, but it was two weeks before he came. The prize he brought was a good one, however, and well worth his fortnight of waiting. It was a brig from Cork, Ireland, bound to Boston with a cargo of beef, pork, butter and coal. There had been a little rumor connected with her capture, which Lieutenant Fettyplace told me about soon after his arrival.
The vessel was sighted just before she entered Massachusetts Bay, and a chase began. But no sooner did she find our frigate was after her than she turned and came down to meet her. When near enough she signalled that her captain would like to come on board but had no boat, all having been swept from the deck in a recent gale, as was afterwards explained. So Captain Tucker sent a yawl after him.
He soon arrived, a short, fat, jolly Irishman. Bowing low before our commander upon reaching our deck, he began: