"You had the wheel while Uncle was taking his nap," said she.
"I turned it over to Tomkins a half hour before I called you, Miss Archer. I have never been here before, give you my word," said I.
"I think they're leaving the Yankee now," said the Skipper. "When they take what they want and clear out, we can right her and get her on her course, and I'll take care how I get in these waters again."
Cynthia took the glass from her Uncle without permission.
"Yes, they are," said she. "Don't you see those black figures climbing over the bulwarks? There, to the right of the mainmast."
"Guess I must be looking through the other end," said the Skipper.
Cynthia restored the magnifying medium with some reluctance.
"My eyes are so much better than yours, Uncle Tony," she urged.
"Use 'em, then!" said the Skipper shortly, as he screwed the glass to a focus. "Yes, they certainly have gone. Yes, by cracky! there goes another shot from the American." He ran a little higher up the hill to a better vantage point. We followed. "I can see 'em now over the bulwarks of the old Yankee. They're pulling like Satan for the Britisher. Hope the Americans 'll knock Ned Chudleigh's head off!"
He changed his focus, and fixed his gaze on the newcomer.