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HE following is the strange tale concerning a remarkable bit of lost evidence, around which hangs a chapter of recorded and unrecorded American history-a drama rather, smacking of romance, filled with mysterious plotting and secret international diplomacy. By what might be called a "lucky strike" it is revived from an almost forgotten past.

Only a short time ago there appeared in a catalogue of Charavay, an autograph and print seller in Paris, among scores of other notices, the following:

143 Hancock (John), célèbre homme d'Etat Américain, gouverneur du Massachusetts, signataire de la Déclaration d l'Indépendance Pièce sig. comme président du congrès; Baltimore, 1 mars 1777, I p. in-fol. Obl. Rare.

The connection of names and dates of course would, at the outset, attract the attention of any collector of Americana, for, more than likely, they should have something to do with Franklin's sojourn in France. The price asked was much less than the principal signature alone generally brought in the autograph market, and so it was included by the present owner in a list of small purchases ordered from the catalogue.

When the paper numbered 143 was opened, it was found to be a commission, giving the rank of captain in the navy of the United Colonies to one Gustavus Conyngham, appointing him to the command of the armed vessel Surprise. That was all-it was a simple bit of old-fashioned printing. But-Gustavus Conyngham! The Surprise! It seemed almost incredible that it should be true!

Before the mind's eye there came the slight, wiry figure of a young man in a long blue coat with his black hair done in a queue down his back, walking the quarterdeck of a tidy little vessel, at whose peak fluttered and whipped the cross-barred rattlesnake flag, while the Channel spray dashed and glittered at the plunging bows; there came the billowing white smoke of the old broadsides, the roar of the carronades, and the whir of the death-dealing splinters; and then there came the picture of a prisoner loaded with chains in the gloom of an underground dungeon, and there followed the recollection of a worn, crumbling tombstone (any one can see it to-day in St. Peter's churchyard in Philadelphia) beneath which lies the body of an old man who died in a measure from the wear and tear that follows a broken heart.

Yes; there lay the long-missing paper that is mentioned by every writer who has dealt with the history of our Revolutionary navy! There was no doubt of the authenticity of the document; the well-known signatures of Hancock and Charles Thompson were substantiated by the fact that, upon comparison, the filling in of the names was found to be in the handwriting of no one less than Benjamin Franklin himself!

Here was the excuse for the sailing of the little vessel that flew the cross-barred flag! Here was the instrument that is supposed to have saved a score of lives held forfeit to the British Crown! Here was the missing evidence, for lack of which a great case at law was lost and a brave man's heart broken; for the name on the old tombstone, woven into a curious acrostic, is the same that appears on the face of the commission.

Up surges the whole of the strange story, the adventures, the excitement, the tragedy of it all!

How many have ever heard of this oldtime sailorman? Few, perhaps; but the student of American naval history, he knows of him, and knows how throughout his story runs the trail of the lost commission, which for a century and a quarter has been the Lord knows where. But without further prologue let the play come

on.

Late in the fall of the year 1775 Captain Gustavus Conyngham sailed from Philadelphia in the brig Charming Peggy, bound for Holland. He was an Irishman by birth, having been born during the uneasy days of '47, in Letter Kenney in the County of Donegal. It was his intention to bring out from Holland a cargo of saltpeter and clothing, and, if possible, arms and munitions of war to aid the colonies that had already begun the struggle against the mother country. Numerous were his adventures. Once he was captured just after entering the Channel by a watchful English cruiser, but he rose against the prize crew, recaptured his little craft, and brought her safely into The Hague. However, the character of her cargo being ascertained, the British representatives made complaint to the Dutch authorities and her sailing was prevented. One of her owners, a Mr. Nesbit, of Philadelphia, was in Holland at the time,

and at last it was decided to abandon the return voyage altogether, although more than once Captain Conyngham had been tempted to take advantage of the thick weather and slip out into the Channel. But the Peggy was a slow sailer and would have had little chance with the swift English cutters that were on guard outside. So Captain Conyngham, like many a Yankee shipmaster, found himself stranded in Europe, on the lookout for anything to fill up his spare moments and burning to do something for his country. He called it his country, although he had been born an alien, for his father had emigrated to America long before, and he himself had married in '73 Anne Hockley, the daughter of a Philadelphia merchant. But we must digress a little and suddenly.

It was late in the midsummer of '76 when good Dr. Franklin, Minister Plenipotentiary to the Government of France, sailed for Europe in the Reprisal, the first American ship-of-war to ride the waves of the English Channel. The news of the Declaration of Independence had preceded her, however, brought by one or two private armed vessels from Delaware and New England, those risk-all daredevils, half pirates, half patriots, whose day is past. Not only did the Reprisal bring the great hope of the struggling colonies, for foreign aid was absolutely necessary to a continuance of war, but she carried into port three English merchantmen picked up on the way, the first Yankee prizes to be brought into the harbors of a foreign country.

A hard time did the good Doctor have of it at first, for the English Ambassador to France, Lord Stormont, was up in arms. If the prizes remained in French ports, he would quit the country; if "the Arch Traitor and Conspirator" reached Paris, he would likewise! But marvelous are the methods of French statecraft, and subtle the manners of intrigue!

The prizes did leave French portsordered out instanter in no doubtful terms

but they were sold with their contents "just outside" to French merchants. The messenger sent to stop the younghearted old philosopher, with his papers in his capacious pockets, missed his way

what a dolt of a messenger!—and of course French politeness, sense of hospi tality, and love of justice prevented a

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harmless old gentleman, who could but amuse and instruct people, being asked to leave when once he had passed the city gates. Thus, in substance, wrote M. Le Comte de Vergennes, the king's Prime Minister. So Franklin stopped in Paris, and Lord Stormont swallowed his anger and wrote warning letters to his Government.

It was just at this time that Conyngham arrived at Dunkirk from The Hague, and almost immediately upon landing there he met a friend of his named Ross, from whom he learned a great deal of the state of affairs in America and of the doings at the French capital. Through Ross he also met a Mr. Hodge and his friend Allan, both of whom were well acquainted with the American Commissioners, Dr. Franklin, Arthur Lee, and Silas Deane. Not long after this Conyngham was sent for by Mr. Hodge,, who requested him to repair at once to Paris, where he might learn of something much to his advantage.

Although the Captain kept a diary, in which were entered most minutely his subsequent adventures, he says very little of this journey; it was probably undertaken in strict secrecy. At all events, he must have been informed of the mysterious arrangements then existing between the French Ministry and the American Commissioners, and there is no doubt that he was admitted to the inner circle of the intriguers.

It was a remarkable condition of affairs indeed that Conyngham found. The French Government, under the direction of that wonderful leader of old-fashioned diplomacy, M. le Comte de Vergennes, was playing fast and loose with the representative of the English Court. King Louis was not ready for war, but in the success of the revolted colonies France saw the means to strike a heavy blow at her natural enemy across the Channel, and at the same time to safeguard her possessions beyond the seas. She had not forgotten the loss of Canada-she feared for Louisiana. The old gentleman who played chess at his little house in Passy played deep in another game. Weighty sentences were spoken over extended snuff-boxes. Messages and decisions meaning almost life or death to the new-born nation were bandied lightly

over wine-glass rims, and of these days and dealings Franklin wrote afterward. "Of course no minutes could be kept."

So the play went on. France could not openly aid the enemy of a friendly power, but there was nothing to prevent a commercial house from giving credit to private individuals who assumed the risk of sending out cargoes liable to capture on the high seas. So there was formed the sagacious house of Roderigo, Hortalez & Co.: General Manager, Beaumarchais; sleeping partner, M. le Comte de Vergennes; principal stockholders, the Court, King Louis and Queen Marie Antoinette, et al.; there followed the historic loan of 200,000 livres, the shipment of thirty-five thousand stand of arms and eighty can

non.

over.

There was a little money yet left

It was decided that it should not remain idle. Conyngham was asked to come to Dr. Franklin's house, and there, as he states in his sworn testimony, Dr. Franklin gave him, with his own hands, a commission as a captain in the navy of the United Colonies, and immediately he returned to Dunkirk.

Now let us see what the Father of American Naval History says in this connection.

"In the spring of 1777," writes Cooper, "an agent was sent to Dover by the American Commission, where he purchased a fine fast-sailing English cutter and had her carried across to Dunkirk. Here she was privately equipped as a cruiser and named the Surprise. To the command of this vessel Captain Gustavus Conyngham was appointed by filling up a blank commission from John Hancock, the President of Congress. This commission bore the date of March 1, 1777, and it would seem as fully entitled Mr. Conyngham to the rank of captain in the navy as any that was ever issued by the same authority."

Armed with this necessary document, it did not take Captain Conyngham long to recruit his crew. In the main they were American seamen held in French ports by the embargo, and, like their leader, they were only too eager to cruise against the commerce of England. But think of it! One little vessel starting out alone into King George's private sailing-ground! Just about this time the vessel that had brought Franklin to Europe, under com

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