The situation grew more complicated. Against a crew so numerous, what ought we to do? The least imprudence might cost us dear! Now that the two men had returned, would they re-embark with their faggots? Then would the boat leave the creek, or would it remain anchored until day? If it withdrew, would it not be lost to us? It could leave the waters of Lake Erie, and cross any of the neighboring states by land; or it could retrace its road by the Detroit River which would lead it to Lake Huron and the Great Lakes above. Would such an opportunity as this, in the narrow waters of Black Rock Creek, ever occur again!
“At least,” said I to Wells, “we are four. They do not expect attack; they will be surprised. The result is in the hands of Providence.”
I was about to call our two men, when Wells again seized my arm. “Listen!” said he.
One of the men hailed the boat, and it drew close up to the rocks. We heard the Captain say to the two men ashore, “Everything is all right, up there?”
“Everything, Captain.”
“There are still two bundles of wood left there?”
“Two.”
“Then one more trip will bring them all on board the ‘Terror.’”
The “Terror!” It WAS she!
“Yes; just one more trip,” answered one of the men.