The man of wisdom slowly shook his head.  “Everything is lost through this shillyshallying timidity, called prudence,” cried Paul Jones, starting to his feet; “to be effectual, war should be carried on like a monsoon, one changeless determination of every particle towards the one unalterable aim.  But in vacillating councils, statesmen idle about like the cats’-paws in calms.  My God, why was I not born a Czar!”

“A Nor’wester, rather.  Come, come, Captain,” added the sage, “sit down, we have a third person present, you see,” pointing towards Israel, who sat rapt at the volcanic spirit of the stranger.

Paul slightly started, and turned inquiringly upon Israel, who, equally owing to Paul’s own earnestness of discourse and Israel’s motionless bearing, had thus far remained undiscovered.

“Never fear, Captain,” said the sage, “this man is true blue, a secret courier, and an American born.  He is an escaped prisoner of war.”

“Ah, captured in a ship?” asked Paul eagerly; “what ship?  None of mine!  Paul Jones never was captured.”

“No, sir, in the brigantine Washington, out of Boston,” replied Israel; “we were cruising to cut off supplies to the English.”

“Did your shipmates talk much of me?” demanded Paul, with a look as of a parading Sioux demanding homage to his gewgaws; “what did they say of Paul Jones?”

“I never heard the name before this evening,” said Israel.

“What?  Ah—­brigantine Washington—­let me see; that was before I had outwitted the Soleby frigate, fought the Milford, and captured the Mellish and the rest off Louisbergh.  You were long before the news, my lad,” he added, with a sort of compassionate air.

“Our friend here gave you a rather blunt answer,” said the wise man, sagely mischievous, and addressing Paul.

“Yes.  And I like him for it.  My man, will you go a cruise with Paul Jones?  You fellows so blunt with the tongue, are apt to be sharp with the steel.  Come, my lad, return with me to Brest.  I go in a few days.”

Fired by the contagious spirit of Paul, Israel, forgetting all about his previous desire to reach home, sparkled with response to the summons.  But Doctor Franklin interrupted him.

“Our friend here,” said he to the Captain, “is at present engaged for very different duty.”

Much other conversation followed, during which Paul Jones again and again expressed his impatience at being unemployed, and his resolution to accept of no employ unless it gave him supreme authority; while in answer to all this Dr. Franklin, not uninfluenced by the uncompromising spirit of his guest, and well knowing that however unpleasant a trait in conversation, or in the transaction of civil affairs, yet in war this very quality was invaluable, as projectiles and combustibles, finally assured Paul, after many complimentary remarks, that he would immediately exert himself to the utmost to procure for him some enterprise which should come up to his merits.