“Pull, pull with a will,” he cried. “We’ll catch them yet, huzza! The double-dyed traitor. Yes!” he added, between his teeth, “he has intended it all along. I see it now, dupe that I am. Curses on my mad folly in trusting him! Why do you stop?”
This last sentence was spoken aloud and angrily, for the men suddenly ceased rowing.
But the reason was apparent as soon as he looked ashore. The sentinel at the settlement had presented his musket, and now followed it up by crying,
“Boat ahoy!”
The men looked at each other and then at Aylesford.
“Never mind him. Pull away,” cried the latter.
The report of the musket was heard, and the ball whistled close past; while at the same time some of the patriots ran to the field-piece. Instantly, as if by one impulse, Aylesford’s crew pulled their boat around and began to urge her down the stream.
At this, Aylesford, his whole countenance distorted with rage, reached forward and laid his hand on the stroke oar.
“How dare you?” he cried, his face white with rage.
The man, who pulled the oar, was far more powerful than his employer, and he wrenched the blade from Aylesford almost immediately, saying sternly,