Unless my comrades read what I have here set down, they will never know how near I was on that day at Benedict, to proving myself a false-hearted American lad.
The afternoon was considerably more than half spent when we left home for the eighteen-mile sail up the river, and I saw little chance of our coming upon the fleet before morning, unless we kept the pungy under sail far into the night, for the breeze, what little we had of it, came from the westward, and we could not make more than two miles an hour against the current.
Therefore it was that I said to Darius when we were half an hour or more from port, after Jim Freeman and his friends had wearied themselves by cutting monkey-shines on the deck in order to prove their joy at thus having an opportunity to do whatsoever they might in defense of their country:
"With so light a wind we are like to be forced aground when it is so dark that we cannot give the shoals a wide berth, because of not seeing them," and the old man replied, saying that which was in my own mind:
"It'll be a case of comin' to anchor, lad, after the sun has set, for we had best make haste slowly rather than jam the pungy up where a day may be spent in tryin' to float her."
"But suppose the British are close at hand?" I asked, for now I was hot with the desire to make certain of keeping so far ahead of the enemy that I could take part in whatsoever might be done by way of fighting.
"They will be more helpless than we, after night has come, for we know the river fairly well, while they are strangers to it."
If it had not been that we lads were about to take part in the war I might have refused to accept Darius' advice so readily, for, it must be confessed, I am overly headstrong and apt to go contrary when one makes the least show of driving me; but in the business we were about to embark upon, I knew it was safe to follow the old man, since he had had long experience in such matters, the telling of which would be more entertaining than will be the account of our adventures.
It was destined, however, that the Avenger should come to anchor even before the river was shrouded in darkness, for we were not more than four miles above our own town of Benedict, when the wind, died away completely, thus forcing us to make fast somewhere, unless we were minded to drift back to our starting point.
In my ignorance, I would have anchored the pungy in the stream, hoisting a riding light, and turned in feeling that everything was safe and snug; but to this Darius made decided objection.