The maire arranged to billet us all.  Having seen my double set of prisoners securely locked up, and the deserters with Joe and the bosun accommodated in a room hard by, I offered to convey Monsieur Duguay-Trouin’s message myself to his lieutenant, saying that I should be charmed to make the acquaintance of the deputy of so renowned a seaman.  The maire took this as a great mark of condescension.  Accordingly I went down to the jetty, not far below the maire’s house, and accosting the officer in charge, a rough-spun seaman, I gave him the message, and then bantered him in a tone of good humor.

“So the English have been too much for you this time, lieutenant,” I said.  “It is Benbow, they say; a terrible fire eater, is he not?”

“Bah!” exclaimed the Frenchman.  “Let him beware.  He is no match for Duguay-Trouin, and we’ll beat him again as we have done before, never fear.”

“But they say he is bottling up St. Malo,” I said.

“So he is,” he replied with a laugh:  “and while he is bottling up St. Malo we shall slip by to Havre; trust Duguay for that.”

I asked him how the prizes had been captured, and he launched forth into a long and vainglorious account (why must the French always boast of their successes?).  I affected to be greatly impressed by his tale of daring, and invited him to sup with me, so that I might hear more of his adventures at length.  As I had guessed, he replied, regretfully, that he could not leave the vessel.

“I am not to be balked,” I said.  “I have set my heart upon it:  one does not get every day the opportunity of hearing of these glorious exploits at first hand.  If you cannot come to supper, then supper shall come to you.  Monsieur Duguay-Trouin would not object, I presume, to my bringing a little entertainment on board.”

“My faith, no,” replied the officer, taking this as a high compliment.  “I shall be charmed.  I only regret that I cannot invite you, monsieur, but our cook, together with all the crew but four, is on shore for a spell, and I have no means of providing a repast worthy of a gallant captain.”

I returned in haste to the maire, and informed the maire that I should share my supper with the lieutenant, who had not enjoyed a meal fit for a Frenchman for three weeks.  The maire could raise no reasonable objection, though I doubt not, being economical, he grudged this extra demand upon his hospitality.  As for me, I had no scruples at getting, at the King’s expense, the best meal possible at such short notice.

While it was preparing, I explained my design to Joe and the bosun.  They assented to it with enthusiasm; it was one that mightily pleased them as sailormen; and appealed as much to their sense of humor as to their love of daring.

When the supper was ready, I told off two of the three deserters, with Joe and the bosun, to carry it down to the brig on tables made of boards, each laid on two muskets.  The lieutenant received me with open arms, and led me immediately to the captain’s cabin.  Having placed the viands on the table, the two deserters returned to the deck, to fraternize with the French crew.  The other two I kept, ostensibly to wait at table; and I remarked to the lieutenant on their willingness to do their duty in spite of their wounds, of which I gave him a brief explanation.