“We are not in a part of the world where our ensigns and gauds ought to be spread abroad to the wind, Mabel Dunham!” he said, with an ominous shake of the head.
“I thought as much myself, Mr. Muir, and brought away the little flag lest it might be the means of betraying our presence here to the enemy, even though nothing is intended by its display. Ought not my uncle to be made acquainted with the circumstance?”
“I no' see the necessity for that, pretty Mabel; for, as you justly say, it is a circumstance, and circumstances sometimes worry the worthy mariner. But this flag, if flag it can be called, belongs to a seaman's craft. You may perceive that it is made of what is called bunting, and that is a description of cloth used only by vessels for such purposes, our colors being of silk, as you may understand, or painted canvas. It's surprisingly like the fly of the Scud's ensign. And now I recollect me to have observed that a piece had been cut from that very flag.”
Mabel felt her heart sink, but she had sufficient self-command not to attempt an answer.
“It must be looked to,” Muir continued, “and, after all, I think it may be well to hold a short consultation with Master Cap, than whom a more loyal subject does not exist in the British empire.”
“I have thought the warning so serious,” Mabel rejoined, “that I am about to remove to the blockhouse, and to take the woman with me.”
“I do not see the prudence of that, Mabel. The blockhouse will be the first spot assailed should there really be an attack; and it's no' well provided for a siege, that must be allowed. If I might advise in so delicate a contingency, I would recommend your taking refuge in the boat, which, as you may now perceive, is most favorably placed to retreat by that channel opposite, where all in it would be hid by the islands in one or two minutes. Water leaves no trail, as Pathfinder well expresses it; and there appears to be so many different passages in that quarter that escape would be more than probable. I've always been of opinion that Lundie hazarded too much in occupying a post so far advanced and so much exposed as this.”
“It's too late to regret it now, Mr. Muir, and we have only to consult our own security.”
“And the king's honor, pretty Mabel. Yes, his Majesty's arms and his glorious name are not to be overlooked on any occasion.”
“Then I think it might be better if we all turned our eyes towards the place that has been built to maintain them instead of the boat,” said Mabel, smiling; “and so, Mr. Muir, I am for the blockhouse, intending to await there the return of my father and his party. He would be sadly grieved at finding we had fled when he got back successful himself, and filled with the confidence of our having been as faithful to our duties as he has been to his own.”