"Yes, sir; to Walrus. She lies upstream a bit, sir. Three years I have been with her."
"How is it you came to leave your people, Wannashego?" asked Paul Jones curiously.
"My father, Tassa-menna-tayka, a chief who loves the white people, he sent me from near Martha's Vineyard to learn your ways and be like you," declared the young Indian. There was a short pause; he turned his head for a moment to take his bearings, and then continued: "Sir, I ask if yonder ships are to fight the great country across the sea?"
"They are, Wannashego."
"You goin' to fight on 'em?"
"I expect to."
"I like to fight on 'em, too," was the sententious rejoinder of the young redskin.
"Do you mean that?" asked Paul Jones sharply. "If you do, Wannashego, I think I can get Captain Saltonstall, of my ship, the Alfred, to ship you, as we are short-handed."
"Mean it a heap," said the Indian. "I shoot good. Make two bangs—get two Red-coats."
Paul Jones laughed. "I hope so. Well, Wannashego, I'll see what I can do for you."