adre_, but we waste time."

The Commodore paused, open-mouthed, in the middle of a sentence, and
stared.

"Yes, yes," repeated Captain Salt, nodding at him with the coolest
assurance; "we are really wasting time. Be so good as to lend me
your attention while I sketch out a little plan that I have drawn up
for a descent upon Harwich."

The officers round the board were fairly taken aback by this stroke
of impudence. The Commodore was the first to recover his presence of
mind, and said, drawing himself up:

"Monsieur appears not to have observed that I was speaking."

"Pardon, sir, but I observed that you were speaking overmuch.
But let me proceed. Harwich, as you know, is a port at the mouth of
the River Stour, at the extreme north-east corner of Essex. I give
you this information, gentlemen, as I am not sure if any of you have
travelled so far."

The captains looked at one another and the eldest among them,
M. Baudus, of _Le Paon_, stood up.

"Monsieur will forgive the remark," he said, "but it appears to me
that he forgets his place."

"Tut, tut," answered the Englishman, with an air of slight
impatience; "I must trouble you to sit down, sir, and attend.
Really," he continued, looking around, "I must insist upon the
attention of everyone, as I shall need your intelligent co-operation.
My plan is this: I mean to make this a night attack. We should leave
the harbour here in four days' time--that is to say, on the 23rd, if
the weather holds, and not later than six o'clock in the morning.
It may possibly be earlier, but that will depend to some extent on
the wind."

M. de la Pailletine by this time was white with passion. He began to
comprehend that his guest would not dare to speak thus without some
high authority to back him.

"Are we to understand, sir, that in this proposed expedition we sail
under your orders?"

"Certainly."

"May I ask to see your authority?"

"Of course you may."

Captain Salt put a hand into his breast and drew out a folded paper.
Laying this on the table, he let his eyes travel round with a quiet
smile.

It was signed in the handwriting and sealed with the seal of his
Majesty King Lewis.

M. de la Pailletine picked up the paper with a shaking hand and read
it through. There was no room for demur. The King commanded him, as
chief of the squadron of galleys lying in Dunkirk, to place his
ships, officers, and crews at Captain Salt's disposal and to follow
his instruct