On board the Arrow were several native-born American seamen, who had been pressed into the English service, and compelled to serve even against their own country. Three of these sailors were among the middle watch on board the frigate. They had watched the whole conduct of the Raker with a patriotic pride, and were in no slight degree vexed and disappointed when they saw that the frigate must in all probability overtake the little brig.
These three sailors were together in the bow of the frigate, the rest of the watch being on the look-out, or pacing up and down between decks.
"I say, Bill," says one, "isn't it too d—d bad that the little craft has got to be overhauled after all. She's given this cursed frigate a good run for it, anyhow."
"Yes she has; the old man has looked black all day, and sworn a little I guess; here he's kept all ready for a fight for the last two days—arm-chests on deck—cutlas-racks at the capstan and for'ard—decks sanded down—and haint got within a long shot yet. God bless the little brig, and the flag she sails under—the stars and stripes forever!"
"Yes, the stars and stripes—'tis just the handsomest flag that floats."
"By Heaven, and that's the truth! but avast now, Bill, can't we do any thing for the little craft ahead?"
"D—d if I see how, Hal; we can't shorten sail, for we should be seen; and we can't fire bow-chasers, for we should be heard—and those are all the ways I know on to deaden a vessel's speed."
"Bill, I've got my grapples hold on an idear. I recollect once, when I was a fishing in Lake Winnepisoge, in the old Granite State, where we used to anchor with a heavy stone, made fast to a rope, and sometimes we used to row with the stone hanging over the side, not hauled up."
"Well, Hal, what's all this long yarn about? If you call it an idear, it strikes me it's a d—d simple one."
"Why the yarn aint much, I think myself; and I shouldn't tell it on the forecastle in a quiet night, no how; but it's the principle of the thing, Bill—that's what's the idear."