“We were a bit too late to catch enough water for crossing. We must now wait for the next tide to enable us to get off.”
“But what’s going to happen meanwhile?”
“The schooner will be all right where she is,” replied the pilot. “However, I should advise you to send your men below, Mr. Dunton, so that the people on shore may not get suspicious at seeing such a large crew.”
As the vessel was stuck fast in the sand there seemed no alternative but to follow Hoppy’s advice; so, reluctantly, Dunton ordered the men below. Hoppy caught Jackson’s eye and that worthy winked significantly. The convivial tar waved his hand in salute as he followed his mates below. Dunton and his two subordinate officers remained on deck with the pilot.
The storm was almost over and the British commander cursed his bad luck in not having been able to hold on to his anchor. Here, he was in a bad predicament, held fast on the treacherous flats and obliged to wait for hours until the flood tide floated the schooner. The hated Yankees ashore would soon discover his plight and, perhaps, muster sufficient force to seize his vessel, making prisoners of all on board. The gloomy prospect affected Dunton’s nerves and he longed to vent his spleen on the pilot, but he had no evidence whatever that the latter had not acted in good faith.
As the daylight got stronger a few men were observed on the beach. Hoppy knew that they were the forerunners of the crowd which would soon be on the scene.
The tide was ebbing fast and the schooner would soon be high and dry on the flats. Then the pilot must strike the final blow on which he depended for victory. He was not afraid of the result. There had been no setback to his plans up to the present and he felt confident that within the hour Dunton and his men would be prisoners of war.
The schooner, feeling the want of the supporting tide, heeled over. Dunton on the quarterdeck was dividing his attention between the increasing crowd on the beach and the movements of the pilot. The latter seemed to be examining the brass four pounder with great curiosity. To Dunton it looked as if Hoppy had it in his mind to train the piece on the beach, but that idea vanished quickly when he saw the bold Cape Codder deliberately spike the gun!
“Treason, by G——!” he shouted as he made a rush forward. Hoppy gave the spike a clinching blow and turned on the officer.
“Stand back there, Dunton!” he cried fiercely. “Stand back there! and keep a civil tongue in your mouth, you d—d swab!”