“What you say is very true,” said the commander gravely. “But I have still another reason for making this landing.” “Indeed.” “From time to time the people of the United States have heard of the dreadful treatment meted out to American prisoners of war in the British hulks and jails; but in spite of the protests of Congress, nothing has been done by the English king to alter this state of affairs.” “It is believed to be growing constantly worse.” “The only hope of relief to our imprisoned countrymen,” said Paul Jones, “lies in our ability to effect a system of exchange.” “But this has been tried many times before,” said Ethan. “I copied the papers for Mr. Jefferson upon one occasion. But nothing ever came of it.” “The reason of that is very clear. We have had no prominent captives. Let us once get a man of great name into our power and we can compel the beginning of such a system.” “That seems very likely,” said the lad. “Here is the Earl of Selkirk, one of England’s most exalted personages. If we had him in our power it would not be many months before the treatment of American prisoners would change. And when we land upon St. Mary’s Isle, the Lascar, Siki, will not be the only person sought; if it is possible to do so, I shall leave there with the earl in this cabin a prisoner and hostage.” Upon the beautiful headland at the mouth of the River Dee, the noble Earl of Selkirk had a magnificent seat. It was not long before the Ranger came in sight of this; the news of what the commander had resolved to do had leaked out and the entire ship hummed with it. The sloop-of-war ran in close and the boatswain’s call rang through her. Two boats’ crews, armed with cutlass and pistol, were called away, under the command of Captain Jones and Lieutenants Simpson and Hall. An old, white-haired man met them as the bows of the boats ran up upon the sand; and he bowed low, hat in hand. “Welcome, sir,” said he, the tremble of age in his voice. “The king’s officers are always welcome. It has been many months since we have been favored by a visit from a ship of his Majesty’s navy.” The old man had the appearance of a steward or an upper servant of some sort; the Ranger flew no flag and he mistook her for a king’s ship. Captain Jones smiled kindly upon the old fellow. “Thank you for your kind words,” said he. “I only hope that the earl will be equally glad to see us.” “The earl, sir, would be pleased, I know. But, ah,” and the ancient shook his white head sorrowfully, “he has been called away.” “Called away!” The captain exchanged glances with Ethan and his officers, while the boats’ crews muttered their disappointment. “Yes, sir,” said the old servant. “He has been a-gone for some time now. Do you know, sir,” and he came nearer to John Paul Jones and lowered his voice, “I can’t abide these blackamoors.” Ethan Carlyle started; and the commander said quickly: “What do you mean by that?”