The position that Captain Conyngham and his crew found themselves in was peculiar. But few of his men had actually been placed under arrest. The Frenchmen who had shipped in the Surprise, though well known to the authorities, had been unmolested, nor could the imprisonment of the few others be considered in the light of a great hardship. The men occupied roomy quarters facing on the main courtyard, were allowed to purchase extra supplies, and in squads of five or six they were permitted to exercise in the open air of the court. Captain Conyngham was in a different wing of the jail, but was treated more as a guest than as a prisoner; still, until almost a week had gone by he had found it impossible to communicate with any friends in the outside world. One day, to his surprise, however, he heard a cheery voice calling to him from the doorway of his large cell, for, being in a prison, every room was supposed to hold prisoners. Looking up, Conyngham saw his friend Allan standing laughing at him cheerfully. He had a long apron hanging from his shoulders and a baker’s basket on his arm.
“Any bread this morning, sir?” he asked in French. “I have some good Yankee bread with raisins and sweetening.”
“Ah, but it’s good to have a sight of you, friend Allan!” exclaimed Conyngham, rushing up and grasping the imitation baker by both hands, that, to carry out the illusion, Allan had daubed with flour. “Aren’t you running great risks?” he asked.
“Risks?” laughed Allan. “Why, if the Frenchmen found out that I was bringing in food to their starving prisoners, I would be hung, drawn, and quartered.”
“So you donned this disguise,” laughed Conyngham in reply, “and they never suspected you of such a thing. But news! news! my friend; that’s what I am starving for--it’s the heart and the soul of me that’s crying and not my stomach, for that the head jailer has looked after well. Are they going to hand us over to the Britishers?--that’s the first question.”
“They are and they aren’t,” replied Allan, “but this news I got this morning from Paris: ‘Tell Conyngham to sit tight and not worry. All is apparently going well.’ But the French are great people--they must do everything like a play or a spectacle. Here I was told that I should be allowed to see you if I applied to the commandant, and he informs me that I certainly can do so, but requests that I shall put on a disguise. I tried on three uniforms, but there were none that would button or allow me to sit down.”