“And so I would have been had it not been for that broth of a gossoon Rory McHale. I never saw such seamanship as he put out of him. When the mast went he had it cleared away in a few minutes; then he sailed so close in shore that me heart was in me mouth for fear of the rocks. But he slipped the Englishman, and by daylight we were far away. But, lad,” and his voice sank lower and a note of feeling crept into it that sounded strange in so grim a veteran, “I thought ye gone, indeed, when ye went over the stern. I thought to follow ye, but McHale held me back.” Ethan gripped the warm hearted fellow’s hand, with the tears standing in his eyes. “Good old Longsword!” he said, quietly. “There was never a time in my life that you were not willing and anxious to stand by me.” While they were speaking the middy had accosted Dale. “Looking for a ship?” asked he. “I am,” said Dale. “I’m shipping men for the Bon Homme Richard.” “Is she a privateer?” The middy laughed. “I should say not,” he replied. “Her commander is John Paul Jones.” Ethan heard these words, and both he and Dale uttered cries of surprise. “Captain Jones,” said the former. “Why, we heard that he had just put to sea.” “Right,” said the middy. “And he returned when one of his frigates ran into the flagship and stove a hole in her. We are laid up for repairs.” “Hurrah!” shouted Ethan, exultantly. Then turning to Dale he said: “You’ll ship with him after all, you see.” The trim young midshipman was all attention in a moment; good seamen were very scarce, and he liked Dale’s looks. “The captain will be here in a few moments,” he said, “and you can sign if you like. We need able seamen and warrant officers of a likely sort.” As he spoke the door opened and the slight, smartly uniformed figure of John Paul Jones entered the shipping office. His eyes lighted up at sight of Ethan, and in a moment they had clasped hands. When Ethan had sketched his experiences briefly, the captain said: “I am delighted that you have come through it all safely. After Longsword returned and told me how you were carried over the stern of the lugger by the falling mast, I gave you up for lost. And this is Mr. Dale, is it?” “Yes,” said Ethan; “and he wants to sail with you.” The American commander’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as they took in all the fine qualities of the young sailor. “You are a seaman, then?” he said to Dale. “Yes, sir. My last berth was master’s mate aboard the Lexington.” Dale stood stiffly erect and saluted as he spoke. “I’ll ship you at the same rating,” said Jones. “I wish I could get more Americans to man my vessel.” “That should be very easy now, captain, dear,” said Longsword, eagerly. “That is if what I’ve just heard is true.” “And what is that?” “A lot of more than a hundred exchanged prisoners have just arrived at Nantes.” “Mr. Lunt,” and the captain turned to an officer who had accompanied him, “we want those men for the Richard, and must have them.”