"Well, I did," said Sam. "I was out more scoutin' than fishin', and I had a good glass. She's a bark, heavy laden. It's a light wind for anything o' her rig. She can't git away from our nippers. I didn't lose time gettin' any nigher. I came right in."
"On board with you," said the captain. "It's 'bout time the Noank took somethin'. We've been cooped up in New London harbor long enough."
"That's so!" said Sam Prentice, as he scrambled over the bulwark. "I'm hungry for a fight myself."
He was a wiry, sailorlike man, of middle age, with merry, black eyes which yet had a steely flash in them. Up came the anchor. Out swung the booms. The light wind was just the thing for the Noank's rig, and every sail she could spread went swiftly to its place. She was a beauty when all her canvas was showing. A numerous and growing crowd was gathered at the piers and wharves, for Sam Prentice's news had reached the shore also. Cheer after cheer went up as the sails began to fill.
"Anneke Ten Eyck!" exclaimed Mrs. Avery. "I'm so glad Lyme was all ready. He didn't have to wait a minute after Sam got there."
"I'm glad Guert's with him," said Mrs. Ten Eyck. "If he wants to be a sea-captain, I won't hinder him."
"God be with them all!" was the loud and earnest response of Rachel Tarns. "I trust that they may do their whole duty by the ships of the man George, who calleth himself our king."
"Lyme Avery's jest the man to 'tend to that," called out a deep, hoarse voice, farther along the pier. "He was 'pressed, once, by George's men, and he means to make 'em pay for his lost time."
"So was my son, Vine," said Mrs. Avery. "He has something more'n lost time to make 'em account for."
"Nearly forty New London boys were 'pressed, first and last," said a sad-faced old woman. "One of mine fell at Brooklyn and one's in the Jersey prison-ship. It's the king's work."