“Ay, strake and keelson,—­as good a one as though I had got my sap in the Maine forests.  A plague of monarchs, say I. They are a blotch upon modern civilization.  And I have here,” he continued, tapping his pocket, “some letters writ to the Virginia printers, signed Demosthenes, which Mr. Randolph and Mr. Henry have commended.  To speak truth, Richard, I am off to Congress with a portmanteau full of recommendations.  And I was resolved to stop here even till I secured your company.  We shall sweep the seas together, and so let George beware!”

I smiled.  But my blood ran faster at the thought of sailing under such a captain.  However, I made the remark that Congress had as yet no army, let alone a navy.

“And think you that gentlemen of such spirit and resources will lack either for long?” he demanded, his eye flashing.

“Then I know nothing of a ship save the little I learned on the John,” I said.

“You were born for the sea, Richard,” he exclaimed, raising his glass high.  “And I would rather have one of your brains and strength and handiness than any merchant’s mate I ever sailed with.  The more gentlemen get commissions, the better will be our new service.”

At that instant came a knock at the door, and one of the inn negroes to say that Captain Clapsaddle was below, and desired to see me.  I persuaded John Paul to descend with me.  We found Captain Daniel seated with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Chase.

“Captain,” I said to my old friend, “I have a rare joy this day in making known to you Mr. John Paul Jones, of whom I have spoken to you a score of times.  He it is whose bravery sank the Black Moll, whose charity took me to London, and who got no other reward for his faith than three weeks in a debtors’ prison.  For his honour, as I have told you, would allow him to accept none, nor his principles to take the commission in the Royal Navy which Mr. Fox offered him.”

Captain Daniel rose, his honest face flushing with pleasure.  “Faith, Mr. Jones,” he cried, when John Paul had finished one of his elaborate bows, “this is well met, indeed.  I have been longing these many years for a chance to press your hand, and in the names of those who are dead and gone to express my gratitude.”

“I have my reward now, captain,” replied John Paul; “a sight of you is to have Richard’s whole life revealed.  And what says Mr. Congreve?

       “’For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
        And tho’ a late, a sure reward succeeds.’

“Tho’ I would not have you believe that my deed was virtuous.  And you, who know Richard, may form some notion of the pleasure I had out of his companionship.”

I hastened to present my friend to the other gentlemen, who welcomed him with warmth, though they could not keep their amusement wholly out of their faces.

“Mr. Jones is now the possessor of an estate in Virginia, sirs,” I explained.