“SIR: You have no doubt been informed by your ministry that Lord Stormont had been successful, and that the Court of Versailles had declared their ports shut against American privateers. Let your blind politicians sleep, the guns of the American privateers will waken them to their sorrows. The General Mifflin privateer arrived, and Monsieur de Chauffault, the admiral, returned the salute in form, as to a vessel from a sovereign and independent state. “Your papers tell us that Conyngham is in chains in Dunkirk, and is expected shortly in London, to be tried and hung. I tell you that Conyngham is on the ocean, like a lion searching for prey. Woe be to those vessels who come within his grasp. No force intimidates him. God and America is his motto. Our country is duped by French artifice.” As he finished it was noticeable to both men that the drunken sailor was paying strict attention. “What’s your opinion of that?” asked Conyngham. The man looked up slowly and found the captain’s eyes fastened upon his own. “I say, what is your opinion of that?” he reiterated, this time leaning forward and grasping the man by the collar of his open jacket. So surprised was the latter that the pipe fell from his lips, and before he could control himself an oath followed the pipe--an oath in good round English. Conyngham affected to laugh. “Why, he has understood everything we’ve been saying,” he said, turning to Mr. Hodge again. The sailor, who had wrenched himself free, started to walk away. His efforts in that direction were accelerated by a well-placed kick, administered by the toe of Conyngham’s boot. But he apparently did not resent it, and still affecting to be under the influence of liquor stumbled up the wharf. “That will puzzle our friend with the high-heeled boots,” said the captain, “but to tell the truth I think there is very little use in any more secrecy. They seem to know as much of the situation as we do.” This was nothing more than the truth, and before two days had passed Conyngham had openly acknowledged it by superintending the placing of the cannon on board of the Revenge, and the French Government had agreed to allow her to depart from the port of Dunkirk, upon Mr. Hodge, who had all through the transaction appeared as her owner, signing a bond that she would do no cruising off the coast of France. The time of sailing drew on quickly. The vessel was laden, the ammunition was all on board--there was no secrecy about that now--the crew had been picked and divided into watches; some attempt had even been made to drill them at the guns. The citizens of Dunkirk knew almost to a man that the tidy little cruiser would soon be on the sea. Once more the four “conspirators” were grouped about the table at the tavern. “Three days from now, captain, and you will be off the headlands,” observed Mr. Hodge, “and we shall be here waiting to see which way the cat will jump.”