The two prisoners, protesting loudly and mocked at by their companions, were again sent below, their irons still on their wrists. Conyngham and the lieutenant stood side by side on the quarter-deck. The Britisher was a very young man, and perhaps inexperienced. At all events, he seemed uncertain now what course of action to take. Conyngham’s next words, however, seemed to reassure him, for they evidently spoke his wishes. “We’ll run close to the frigate, Mr. Holden, and you can tell your captain what you’ve done,” said Conyngham quietly. “I’ll be glad to look into Portsmouth myself, for I have some friends there, and a cargo of sand won’t spoil for a few days’ longer voyage.” In a few minutes the fog-blurred form of the frigate could be made out now on the port hand. She was hove to, her foresail rippling and fluttering in the freshening breeze, her mainsail against the mast, and her crew standing by the tacks and sheets. “Pray the Lord that the fog holds four hours longer,” muttered Captain Conyngham to himself. Mr. Holden hailed the frigate through the trumpet. “On board the Minerva,” he shouted. “We’re going into Portsmouth, sir.” “Very good,” was the reply, “wait there for us.” “And now, Mr. Holden,” spoke Conyngham quietly, “will you take command of the brig, or shall I continue?” The lieutenant hesitated. Before he could answer Captain Conyngham continued: “It’s a straight run, sir, and with this wind she’d make it with her helm lashed; and now if you’ll allow me, I should propose that we’d go below and have some breakfast. There’s one thing this little craft can boast, and that’s a famous Virginia cook. Mr. Jarvis,” he added, “see that the men are fed and send Socrates to me in a few minutes. You’ll hold the same course, sir, until we return on deck.” The mate saluted, and Captain Conyngham and his guest went down to the cabin. Five minutes later the negro cook knocked at the cabin door and was bidden to enter. There at the table sat Captain Conyngham, and in the big chair beside him sat the lieutenant. The negro’s eyes opened in astonishment, for the Englishman was tied fast to the seat, and a gag made of the captain’s handkerchief was strapped across his mouth! Captain Conyngham was breathing as if from some hard exertion. The lieutenant’s face and eyes were suffused with angry red. “Now, Socrates,” said Conyngham slowly, “you will cook us the very best breakfast that you can, and serve it here in the cabin in half an hour. But, in the meantime, take a message to Mr. Jarvis on deck, and hand him this quietly. There are ten Britishers with us and we still number thirteen. Tell the boatswain, without any one seeing you, what you have seen here in the cabin. Attract no suspicion, and try whether you can live up to your name. Now go forward quietly.” He handed a pistol to the negro, who slipped it under his apron and went up on deck.