They discussed this suggestion among themselves, and at length agreed to make the attempt.  I then returned to my comrades, and explained to them more fully my design.  It was nothing less than to personate the French captain, and to lead my party across country just as he had been doing.  The three deserters would exchange their peasant rags for the uniforms of three of the French soldiers, and three of my comrades would wear the uniforms of the rest.  I hoped that with courage and address and circumspection we might contrive to keep up the imposture long enough to accomplish our ends.

My comrades, however, looked at the matter in a different light.

“’Tis all very fine,” said the bosun gloomily, “but what about the lingo, sir?  We may dress up as much as you like, but nohow can we twist our tongues to the jabber of these Frenchies, and I could no more march a score of miles without using my clapper than I could steer without a rudder.”

“Then you will have to be wounded in the jaw,” I said, “and Joe will tie it up so that you can’t open your mouth.  We must pretend that we had a desperate fight before we captured the deserters.  We must be very careful; I don’t make light of the difficulties before us, but we shouldn’t be worth the name of English tars if we didn’t make the best use of this opportunity that Providence has offered us.”

“But what about the rest of us?” said Tolliday.  “There bean’t enough uniforms to go round.”

“Why,” I said, with a sudden inspiration, “you shall be just what you are, English seamen who have escaped prison.  I shall give out that as we were escorting our deserters we discovered you skulking in a barn, and brought you along with us.”

My comrades were aghast at this, but I pointed out that my plan would solve the language difficulty, and that if it succeeded in one part it might succeed in all, whereas if it failed they would be none the worse off.  They admitted that this was reasonable, and the humor of the situation suddenly striking them, they began to enjoy it as an excellent joke.

And then Runnles suggested a difficulty which had not occurred to me:  it may seem a mark of self-conceit, but it was really mere thoughtlessness.  He pointed out that though I spoke French well (little Runnles was a man of tact!), yet it would not deceive a native.  He was undoubtedly right, and the suggestion staggered me.  Hoping to be reassured, I asked one of the deserters whether I might pass as a Frenchman, and I own I felt deeply chagrined when, with a shrug, he confessed that I would not.  But one of his comrades here broke in.

“Pardon, monsieur,” he said, “what matters it?  That brute of a captain is only a German Swiss; there are plenty such in the king’s army; and your French is as good as his.”