“I am going on an adventure with Colonel Barton; and when I return perhaps I will bring a stranger with me. Mum is the word, your Honor.”
“Barton, who is he?” asked the Governor.
“A man with a stout heart, who can see in the dark.”
“Go, Dennis, I have confidence in you.”
Then Dennis went to Peter. He did not tell him the plot, not all of it, but he said:
“I am going to attempt something that will tip over the world. I want you to watch for my coming back. I will signal to you from the Plainfield Hills, and when you see the signal, run to the Governor and say: ‘They’ve got him!’ Oh, Peter, it is a foine lad that you are now.” Dennis slapped both hands on his knees, and laughed in a strange way.
When the evening of the 10th of July came and Warwick Point, with its green sea meadows and great trees, faded in the long cloudy twilight, off the new wharfage lay three whale-boats, strong ribbed, and ample enough to hold immense storage of blubber.
In the shadows of the waving trees were Colonel Barton and some forty men. The old ballad says:
’Twas on that dark and stormy night,
The winds and waves did roar,