"That last fellow's an American, sure! The other has turned his attention to him."
As the Skipper looked through the glass and reported what he saw, there were several shots interchanged between the two vessels.
"Hope they'll knock seven bells out of 'em!"
"Cook, send up a smoke. They will see us, perhaps, and take us off. Are those our colours, Mr. Jones? Perhaps you can make——"
I almost snatched the glass from his hand. I raised it hurriedly to my eyes.
"It's—yes—no—yes—it is—the——"
"What a lucid description!" remarked Cynthia.
"Don't devil the man, girl! Can't you speak, Jones? It's the——"
"Stars and Stripes," said I.
The Skipper at this juncture snatched the glass from me. He fixed it upon a nearer point.