The answer settled his mind entirely, and in a few minutes more he had a boat's crew of American sailors on board.
"Captain McGrew," said Captain Avery, glancing around, "I'm glad you've no passengers. I'll find out, first, how many of your fellers I can leave on board with my prize crew, to handle her to New London. Some'd ruther work ship than be crammed under hatches."
The British sailors exchanged nods and glances, and their skipper responded:—
"All right! We're a prize, no doubt. We're insured, so far's that goes. 'Tisn't so bad for the owners. But you'd better tally four chaps that hid in the hold to keep from being 'pressed into the Tigress. They're not deserters, you know, but they'd as lief keep away from havin' to answer questions."
Four stalwart British tars at once stepped forward, and not one of them "peached" to McGrew that their names were already on the rolls of the frigate, so that they were much more than halfway deserters.
"Humph!" said Captain Avery, "I guess I can trust 'em. It saves me four hands. I'll pick out four more. Captain McGrew, you and the rest may come on board the schooner. I'll give you a free passage to France. Treat ye well, too. Hand over your papers. Sam Prentice, this is your trip home."
"All right!" almost roared Sam. "I'll carry her safe in. She and her cargo'll bring us a pile o' shiners. Lyme, she's our first West Injy luck!"
"Hurry up, Sam!" said the captain. "Then I'll try for that feller ahead that led us from Porto Rico. She's along the track, somewhere."