So good fortune had attended his first cruise, and with a hopeful and cheerful heart he sailed into the harbor. With his prizes close on either hand, he dropped anchor near to shore. Little did he know what a storm was to arise or what was to happen during the next few days. Perhaps if he had known, he would not have thought so much about the European mails.
There was a large crowd lining the shores as the little boat rowed up, and as Captain Conyngham, on whom all eyes were centered, climbed up the ladder to the wharf a large man bent over and extended a helping hand. There was a greeting in the grasp also, and a ring of welcome in his voice.
“Back so soon, eh?” exclaimed the elder Ross, for it was he. “We hardly expected you for a week or more to come. And you have got her! The news is about the town; don’t stop to parley here. My brother and Hodge and Allan are waiting. There is much to do. What have you there?”
The boatmen were handing up three large canvas bags. The chattering crowd looked at them and pointed excitedly.
“The mails for Europe,” returned Conyngham softly. “Let us get together and consider what is best to do. Bad cess to them, I wish they were off my hands!”
“What is it?” demanded Ross in a low tone.
“That blackguard English spy!” returned Conyngham. “Didn’t you see him? There he goes on a run up the street.”
By this time three sailors had also climbed to the wharf and picked up the canvas bags. The crowd made way as the little party started forward, Ross and the young captain leading. The people, on the whole, were in smiling good nature. There was even a trace of exultation in their expression, a few clapped their hands, there were some murmured “Bravos.” Had they been English or American they might have fallen to cheering.
“Heaven grant we have not been rash,” muttered Ross, “but there will be a tempest as soon as the news reaches Paris.”
“What will there be when it reaches London?” returned Conyngham laughing. “Perhaps this time our friend Lord Stormont will demand his recall or Parliament will send for him. Egad! then the fat will be in the fire!”
Although they had passed close to the spot where Ross and Allan and Hodge were standing, no sign of recognition passed between them. The crowd had the politeness not to follow, and soon Conyngham and Ross turned down the corner toward the little inn at which the first meeting had been held; the sailors carrying the canvas bags were close at their heels, and, the landlord of the tavern appearing at the doorway, the party entered. In a few minutes the rest of the plotters appeared, having come in by another entrance, and the sailors returned to the ship’s boat.