“The next effort at resistance,” said Ethan, “will meet with a shot from this,” and he presented the pistol once more.
“What do you want, boy?” demanded Blake, as he stood hesitating, his hand upon his sword.
“I want you to take your belt and tie the captain’s hands behind him.”
“I’ll not do it,” cried Blake.
“I’ll give you just one minute to make up your mind,” said Ethan.
The mate of the British schooner looked into the boy’s set, determined face: nothing but resolve were in the quiet eyes; and so the man reluctantly did as he was commanded. Then Ethan called to the dragoon and Longsword came down into the cabin with a couple of lengths of rope; in a short time the two officers were safely bound, and the cabin ransacked for arms; all the muskets, pistols and other things of the sort were taken upon deck; then the cabin was locked with the glowering officers within it.
“Now then, look alive,” cried Ethan as they reached the deck once more.
Across the waters of the cove stole a faint thread of light; the wind had continued to blow steadily, and the clouds had almost drifted off the face of the moon.
“Hark!” said Longsword, lifting a silencing hand.
From the direction of the shore came the steady “creak, creak” of oars; across the trail of moonlight a large boat was seen to dart, coming toward the schooner.