while the dutch and sir joseph are debating as to whether commodore paul jones is a rebel, a pirate or a disagreeable guest, that gentleman discovers landais, with the alliance, tucked away in a corner of the texel. headwinds, and an overplus of english on the high seas, have forced the miscreant into the helder, and he finds himself as much cooped up as does commodore paul jones. indeed the miserable landais is in a far more serious predicament; for, aside from the english outside, waiting at the helder’s mouth like terriers at a rat-hole, the formidable paul jones is inside with him, and landais fears the latter as no frenchman ever feared the english.

the alarms of landais are well grounded; commodore paul jones opens negotiations at once. he sends word to landais to give command of the alliance to lieutenant degge, and at once leave the ship. the word is supplemented by the assurance that at the end of twenty-four hours he, commodore paul jones, shall come aboard the alliance. should he then find landais, he will be put in irons.

“why not arrest the scoundrel at once?” pleads lieutenant dale.

“he is a frenchman, dick,” returns commodore paul jones, “and i fear to worry doctor franklin.” then, assuming a look of cunning, vast and deep: “wait until my diplomacy unfolds itself. you will find that i have the wisdom of the serpent.”

lieutenant dale grunts disgustedly. he cares nothing for the wisdom of the serpent, less for any spun-glass diplomacy. what he wants is the landais blood directly; and says as much.

“remember,” he goes on, “this murderer landais killed caswell with that last felon broadside!”

“i shall forget nothing,” returns commodore paul jones.

at the end of twenty-four hours, commodore paul jones boards the alliance. he finds lieutenant degge in command; the craven landais has slipped ashore with all his belongings. commodore paul jones is the last man he cares to face. the latter tells lieutenant degge to clap the irons on landais, should he return, and signal the serapis.

“you must understand, sir,” responds lieutenant degge, “that my crew is honeycombed with mutiny. captain landais brought about a conspiracy; two-thirds of the ship’s company are in it.”

“make me out a list of the leaders, and muster them aft.”

lieutenant degge gives commodore paul jones the names of twenty. these are called aft—lowering and sullen. commodore paul jones orders them transferred to the serapis.

“i’ll send you an even number to take their places,” he says to lieutenant degge. “meanwhile, my old sea-wolves will lick them into patriotic shape. should they fail, you may find some half dozen of the ringleaders at least, dangling from my yardarms.”

the caitiff landais, driven from his ship, fumes and blusters. he tries to see the french ambassador, and is refused. then he sends a challenge to commodore paul jones.

lieutenant dale finds the latter mariner in his cabin, blandly triumphant.

“there,” he cries, tossing the landais challenge over to lieutenant dale—“there, dick, read that! you will then see what i meant by telling you to wait until my diplomacy had had time to unfold.”

“but you don’t mean to fight the creature?” and lieutenant dale glances up from his reading, horrified.

“fight him; and kill him, sir! why not? do you suppose for a moment that poor caswell is to go unavenged?”

“but think what you do! you can’t fight this fellow! the man is to be court-martialed.”

“ah, yes, dick! but observe; i’ve as yet refrained from making formal charges against him. so far as the books go, he rates as well as you or i.”

commodore paul jones gets this off with inexpressible slyness, as one who discloses the very heart of his cunning.

“but my dear commodore,” returns lieutenant dale, desperately, “the thing is impossible! this landais is not a gentleman! he is the commonest of blacklegs.”

“dick! dick!” remonstrates commodore paul jones; “you do him an injustice! technically at least you wrong him. you should summon up more fairness. now, here is how i look at it:” commodore paul jones grows highly judgmatical. “i follow the law, which says that a man is supposed to be innocent until he’s shown to be guilty. influenced by this, which to my mind breathes the very spirit of justice, i make it an unbreakable rule, in matters of the duello, to regard every man as a gentleman unless the contrary has been explicitly demonstrated. no, dick”—this solemnly—“landais, whatever you or i may privately think, has still his rights. i shall fight him, dick.”

commodore paul jones sends lieutenant may-rant ashore, as his representative, to accept the landais challenge.

“i should have sent you, dick,” he explains to lieutenant dale, who inclines to the cloudy because he had been slighted; “but, to tell the truth, i couldn’t trust you. yes; you’d have cut in between us, and fought him in my stead. and the fact is, if you must have it, i’ve set my heart on killing the rogue myself.”

lieutenant mayrant finds landais, vaporing and blustering.

“pistols; ten paces,” says lieutenant may-rant. “time and place you may settle for yourself.”

“pistols!” exclaims landais, his face a muddy gray. pistols and paul jones mean death. with a gesture, as though dismissing an unpleasant thought, he cries: “i shall not fight with pistols! they are not recognized in prance as the weapons of a gentleman!”

“they are in america,” retorts lieutenant mayrant. “neither shall you palter or split hairs! pistols it shall be; or i tell you frankly that the officers of the serapis, ay! the very foc’sel hands, will beat you and drub you for a cowardly swab, wherever they come across you.”

landais does not respond directly to this. he walks up and down, stomaching the hard words in silence. for he perceives, as through an open window, that the hidden purpose of lieutenant mayrant is to pick a quarrel with him. at last landais makes it clear that under no compulsion will he fight with pistols. neither will he give the hopeful mayrant an opening to edge in a challenge for himself. after a fruitless hour the latter, sad and depressed, returns aboard the serapis.

“nothing could have been handled more delicately,” he reports to commodore paul jones; “but, do my best, sir, i couldn’t coax the rascal to the field.”

the next day lieutenant dale, making a flimsy excuse about wishing to see the french secretary, goes ashore. he is using a crutch; for, like lieutenant mayrant, he was wounded in the battle. he finds the crutch inexpressibly convenient. having hunted down landais, whom he finds in a change house, he uses it to belabor that personage, giving him the while such descriptives as “dog!” “spy!” “liar!” “coward!” the heavy dutchmen, quaffing their beer, interfere to save landais from the warlike lieutenant dale. that night landais starts post for paris, to the mighty disappointment of commodore paul jones.

“you told me you wanted to see the french secretary. it wasn’t fair of you, dick!” is all commodore paul jones says, when he learns of the doings of lieutenant dale and his crutch in the change house.

“well!” grumbles lieutenant dale defensively, “so i did want to see the french secretary; although i’ve now forgotten what it was all about. the sight of that dastard drove it from my head.”

the french ambassador again boards the serapis. he bears orders from de sartine, the french minister of marine, and a letter from doctor franklin, full of suggestions which have the force of orders. the pallas is a french ship, and the scarboro captured by it, is a french prize. the serapis, prize to the richard, also a french ship, is by the same token a french prize. the french flag must be hoisted on these ships, and the trio made over to the french ambassador. the alliance, an american built ship, the king of france doesn’t claim. he recommends, however, that it run up french colors, as a diplomatic method of quieting dutch excitement, which is slowly but surely rising. doctor franklin’s letter sustains the french claim to the pallas, the scarboro and the serapis. he leaves commodore paul jones to settle flags for the alliance as he may deem best. the ambassador makes, in this connection, a second tender of a captain’s commission in the french navy.

“no,” responds commodore paul jones bitterly, “i shall not accept it. king louis shall have the serapis, the pallas and the scarboro since doctor franklin so orders. the alliance and i, however, shall remain american.”

commodore paul jones gives the french ambassador possession of the serapis. also, he waxes sarcastic, and intimates that it is the only way by which the french could have gotten the serapis into their hands. this piece of wit does him no good, when later he asks it back from de sartine. sullen and dogged, he prepares to go aboard the alliance, and orders the crew of the serapis to follow.

again the french ambassador interferes. what french subjects are on the musters of the alliance and serapis must be left in his charge. commodore paul jones is to have none but americans.

at this some sixty danes speak up. they may not be americans, but at least they are not french. making this announcement, the gallant scands refuse the orders of the french ambassador, and pack their kits for the alliance. these danes are of the true viking litter, with yellow hair and steel-gray eyes. their action comes like balm to the sore heart of commodore paul jones. later when he musters his reorganized crew aboard the alliance, and makes them a brief talk, he speaks of the desertion of the french. he is interrupted by a youth—small and light and delicate. the youth steps out from among the sailors, and with him come four others. the youth bows half-way to the deck.

“no,” he says—“no, monsieur le commodore, not all the french have desert. i, pierre gerard, am still with you—i, and my four bold comrades, who are brave men.”

“they wants to stay, sir,” vouchsafes boatswain jack robinson, coming forward to the aid of little pierre and his companions. “an’ so, d’ye see, since i always likes to encourage zeal, i stows ‘em away in the long boat till that frog-eatin’ ambassador is over the side. an’ so, here they be, game as pebbles, an’ a credit to the sta’board watch.”

all his prisoners and wounded have been put ashore, under arrangements with the dutch and the gouty sir joseph. aboard the alliance, commodore paul jones finds himself at the head of four hundred and twelve war-hardened wolves of the sea, american blood to a man, all save the sixty vikings, and little pierre with his four.