The next morning was Sunday, and as beautifully clear and bright as the day before. In order to avoid the appearance of fear, Captain Moore determined, with his officers, to go to church as usual. As the Captain's gig landed the officers, Jerry O'Brien and Jack Leverett, with the six men who composed the Priscilla's crew, were all on deck, keeping a sharp eye on the Margaretta and her boat.
"What say you, men," suddenly asked Jerry, "to bagging those officers in church?"
"We say yes," answered every man at once. In a few minutes, with Jerry and Jack in the lead, and all well armed, they took the road toward the church. As they neared it they heard the faint sweet echo of a hymn that floated out on the spring air—the only sound that broke the heavenly stillness.
Jerry silently posted his men at the entrance, and then opening the door softly, raised his horse-pistol and levelled it straight at Captain Moore, who sat in the last pew.
The British Captain happened to turn his head at that instant. The congregation was too absorbed in the singing to notice what was going on. Jerry nodded at the Captain, as much as to say, "You are my prisoner." The Captain coolly shook his head, as if to answer, "Not quite, my fine fellow," and the next moment he made a sudden dash for the open window, followed by all of his officers, and before Jerry could realize that the birds had flown, they had run half-way to the shore. In vain Jerry and Jack and their followers pursued. The officers had too long a lead, and by the time the Americans reached the shore the Captain's gig was being pulled rapidly to the ship. As soon as the boat reached it the anchors were picked up, every sail that would draw was shaken out, and the cruiser made for the offing. As soon as she was well under way she sent a shot of defiance screaming over the town, and was answered by three thundering American cheers from the Priscilla. As if by magic the sloop's deck was alive with armed men, and with a quickness equal to the cruiser's, her mainsail was up, and she was winging her way in pursuit of her enemy.
Well had the Priscilla been called the fastest sloop in all that region. The wind was dead ahead, and both vessels had to get out of the river on "a long leg and a short one." The Margaretta was handled in a seamanlike manner, but on every tack the Priscilla gained, and showed that she was a better sailer both on and off the wind. In an hour they were within hailing distance, and the men on the Margaretta were called to quarters by the tap of the drum. Her guns were run out, their tompions withdrawn, and the cruiser showed herself to be an ugly customer to tackle. But this did not intimidate the Americans, who were closing on her fast.
A hail came from the Margaretta, "What are you following us for?"
"To learn how to tack ship!" responded Jerry O'Brien, who had taken the wheel himself. This reply caused a roar of laughter from the Americans, as the Priscilla could come about in half the time of the Margaretta.
"Keep off or I'll fire!" was the next hail.
"Fire away, gentlemen," bawled Jerry, "and light your matches with your orders not to fire first!"