“If it was me,” spoke up another, “I believe I'd rather have my head cut off and be done with it, than to be imprisoned in that old hulk.”
“I guess you're about right,” agreed the first speaker. “I certainly would hate to have to change places with you, my boy.”
Tom decided that the prison-ship must be a terrible place, and he was destined to soon find that such was really the case.
They passed the main encampment of the British, as they went to the beach, and the patriot youth thought that the British would be hard to defeat, with such a strong army.
“There must be fifteen or twenty thousand soldiers there” was his estimate.
Soon the little party was at the beach, and getting into the old row-boat, the soldiers rowed out to the hulk furthest north, and assisted Tom to the deck. Here they found a British soldier on guard.
“What have you got there, comrades?” this soldier asked, looking at Tom in surprise.
“Another prisoner, Hawkins. He is only a boy, but the general is of the opinion that he is a rebel spy, so down he goes into the hold with the rest of the rebels.”
“All right; down with him. But I wouldn't think the rebels would send out such a young one to do spy-work.”
“Well, the general thinks he's a spy, and that settles it.”