Hardly was this order obeyed when from the Fort came Trevor's sonorous hail,—
"Sail ho!" and presently young Cooke came pelting down the hill reporting with a military salute to the captain.
"Trevor saith, sir, that a ship of not over sixty ton is drawing around Manomet, and that she flieth no colors as yet."
"Ha! Let us see then, let us see!" cried the captain, and two minutes later was at the top of the hill, glass in hand.
"Hm! Square rigged, slender built—what say you, Trevor, is she a Frenchman?"
"More like a Dutchman to my mind, sir."
"Ah, then were we all right, and with a goodly new store of schnapps to comfort our souls, but my mind misdoubts me. Now let us see if we can train this saker to command the offing. Boy, run down the hill and fetch Billington and Master Hopkins. 'T will do no harm, and may—ay, this minion will sweep the Rock like a new broom. Here, Billington, come on man and lend me thy bull's neck and shoulders. I would shift the carriage of this saker. Ho, Hopkins, give us a little help here. There yeo-ho, men! Again, now then—yeo-ho! Now we have it, now! There, settle her in place, that's it, there! Now then, Trevor, how about the Frenchman?"
"She is laying her course for this harbor, Captain. You may see her without the glass well enow, for she's going about to fetch Beach Point."
"Is tide high enow to carry her over Brown's Islands, as Champlain calleth the outer flats?" asked Hopkins, who by fits liked to appear erudite.
"Ay, 't is full water at noon to-day," replied Trevor, his eye glued to the glass.