"All right," replied the captain. "Not to-night, though. We'll just foller him along till mornin'. Then we'll put a prize crew into him and send him to New London. We're much obliged to him for callin' on us."
"I guess we're sure of him," said Sam, "but we'd better look out for our sticks and canvas, first."
That was what every vessel in that neighborhood was compelled to do during the gale which began to blow.
"She stands it first-rate," said Guert to Up-na-tan, an hour or so later. "Tell you what, though, I feel a good deal better than I did on shore."
"Boy talk Spanish," replied the Manhattan. "Talk him all while. Learn how. Boy not know much, anyhow."
The red man had all along deemed it his duty to impress upon the mind of his young friend the idea that he was only a beginner, an ignorant kind of sea apprentice with all his troubles before him. After that there followed a watch below, another on deck, and then the morning sun began to do what he could with the flying rack of clouds and spray and mist that was driving along before the gale.
"Vine," asked Guert, "has anything more been seen of that trader!"
"Can't you see?" said Vine. "There she is. We're to wind'ard of her, now. She's answering father's signals, first-rate. We owe all that luck to Luke Watts and his private signal-book."
Nevertheless, the skipper of the bark was even then expressing much perplexity of mind as to what the Noank might be and where from. He did not exactly like her style. It was peculiar, he said, as the morning went on and the gale began to subside, that the seemingly friendly schooner, answering signals so well, should keep the same course with himself, all the while drawing nearer.
"She outsails us," he remarked. "We can't get away from her. I wish the corvette or the frigate were in sight."