He turned and saw me. “Here he is!” Over his shoulder to Waterbury, he added, “This is Captain Peter Merrill of Arundel. He sailed his own brig to Spain, and I figure on having him handle one of ours for us.” To me he said: “Where’s those drawings?”

I handed him what I had—drawings made on cartridge paper. He unrolled them and spread them on the table in front of Waterbury, weighting the corners with rocks; then shot a quick glance at me.

“As I understand it,” he said, “you haven’t laid down any row-galleys yet.”

“No sir,” I said. “We started to do so, but there wasn’t sufficient material to let us get forward with them.”

There was nothing to be gained by telling tales on Wynkoop. Arnold was a smart man, and a smart man knows what’s going on without being told much.

Arnold nodded. He went to stand beside Waterbury and study the plans.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s more like it! This vessel’s keel ought to be laid tomorrow—tomorrow!” To Waterbury he said, “This is a Spanish galley, General. The Spaniards use ’em, and the Algerines too. Just fitted for our purpose, they are: short masts: lateen sails: a minimum of canvas and cordage to bother the landsmen that’ll have to sail ’em We can’t do any better so long as we’re forced to build small.”

Wynkoop reached for the plans and drew them over where he could examine them.

“I’ve given her extra heavy scantling and a square stern, General,” I said, “so she looks like a watering-trough; but she’ll carry two great guns in the cabin and as heavy a piece as you want to put in the bow. I’ve given her twelve ports amidships. You can traverse your midship guns, and use ’em where you see fit. What’s more, she’ll handle easy, for all her clumsy looks.”

“How much of a crew did you figure on?” Arnold asked.

“About ninety. I’ve allowed for mounting eighteen swivels, so she’ll need eighty to ninety.”

“Ve ken buildt four gundelos in der time it dakes for vun uf dese gellies,” Wynkoop objected. “Alretty ve got tree big wessels!”

Arnold balanced on his toes, pushing his lower lip out and in, as if feeling a roughness on his upper lip. “Big?” he asked politely. Then he laughed. “We’ve got two schooners and a sloop, all mounting sparrow guns! Sparrow guns! That’s how big they are! Four-pounders and two-pounders: that’s their armament! What do you expect to sink with two-pounders, Colonel? You couldn’t sink a washtub with two-pounders, not unless you boarded it and scuttled it to boot!

“As for our gundelos, what good would they be against a vessel like this?” He thumped his fist on the plans. “They’d have no more chance than a privateer brig would have against a frigate! You know, Colonel, that a frigate can fight and sink half a dozen war brigs! It’s weight of metal that tells, every time, allowing that the ship with the guns is able to shoot—and the British have German artillerymen, damn ’em!”