"Indeed not," was the sharp and somewhat impatient rejoinder. "Though it belongs to the enemy, that would be the act of a man without heart and conscience. Please hear me out. Not far from my home there lives in the same county of Kirkcudbright a most important personage to British interests. This is the Earl of Selkirk. In lieu of the only partial success of our descent upon Whitehaven I propose to even up matters this very day by calling upon the good earl and taking him hostage." This was a daring conception, and Lieutenant Wallingford gasped. The _Ranger_ was held to her new course, straight north across the Firth of Solway. When the ship came in view of the northern coast, her commander stood watching the high cliffs about Arbigland with a strange mixture of feelings. We shall never know exactly what thoughts stirred him, as he was a man not given to referring to his deeper sensations, but we may well infer that, in the short space of time he stood there studying the familiar landmarks of his care-free and happy boyhood, he lived over again the days of that period, climbed again the crags after sea-birds' eggs, sailed again his toy boats in the quiet coves. St. Mary's Isle, a beautifully wooded promontory in the river Dee, was where the Earl of Selkirk lived in luxurious but quiet style. This was about a mile up the coast from Arbigland, and although Paul Jones had never met the Scotch nobleman or any of his family, he knew the location of the Selkirk broad acres as well as he knew the best fishing grounds in the Firth. He landed on St. Mary's Isle with one boat and twelve men. Pointing out the path to take, and warning his men to commit no violence other than that which might be required in securing the earl himself, the captain awaited their return. In a short time they were back again, bringing a considerable quantity of silver plate, but without the earl, who they declared was not at home. Paul Jones was very angry because his sailors had taken the silver plate. He used every argument except force in trying to get them to return it at once. When he saw that they were bent upon keeping the spoil, he said no more, but departed with them, for he knew well that the rules of war made confiscation perfectly legal. Later on he wrote the Countess of Selkirk a long letter of apology and explanation, stating that he would exert every endeavor to return the plate to her. This he did, and succeeded, although in so doing it was necessary for him to go down into his own pocket for £150 in order to buy it back.