“She is already out,” said Ethan eagerly. “We met her and slipped away from her less than an hour ago.”
“Hah!” said the commander of the Ranger, “then the struggle may be nearer at hand than I fancied.”
He took Ethan down into the cabin, and listened to the news which the lad had of the dispatch.
“The villain,” cried the captain, with flushed face, when he heard of Danvers’ charge against Ethan and himself regarding the paper. “It will go hard with him if I ever come within reach of him.”
They talked for some time; the Ranger was once more under way and her nose was headed for Carrickfergus as before. Ethan and Longsword slept well that morning after they turned in, and awoke just as the Ranger ran into the outer harbor of the Irish port.
The Drake was there, having arrived some hours earlier, and just as Ethan came on deck her captain was sending off a boat to the Ranger to find out what she was. The boat was in charge of a hectoring British lieutenant, and as it came alongside the American vessel he cried sharply,
“Now you, sir, what ship is this?”
There came no answer from the Ranger; the lieutenant saw a long line of grinning faces looking down at him over her rail and he grew purple with rage.
“You unmannerly rascals,” he roared, “I’ll teach you respect to a king’s officer.”
He gave a command to his men; they dropped their oars, seized their arms and followed him up the Ranger’s side. The vessel’s ports were closed and the lieutenant had mistaken her for a saucy merchantman. But imagine his consternation when he found himself upon the deck of a fully armed ship and face to face with a smiling young officer who politely demanded his sword.