A few minutes later he had changed that opinion, for an unexpected torrent of men poured over his bulwarks from the Noank.
"'Pon my soul!" he exclaimed. "What a crew she has! They outnumber us two to one. It's no disgrace at all!"
All the British tars felt relieved in their minds after a good look at their victors. The result of the fight was not to be a discredit to them, they said, and the American sailors hailed them merrily. There had been no killing on either side, and there was no cause for bad temper. The best shots had decided the fight, and all true seamen could accept the consequences.
"Lieutenant Tracy," said Captain Avery, "we don't want your brig. We'll take out of her all that suits us, and then you can drift around till help gets to you. Or you can patch up and work your way into some port or other."
"I can manage it," said the Englishman, ruefully. "We captured a French smuggler yesterday, and now a deal o' that luck is yours instead of ours. You rebels are holding out wonderfully."
"So is England," laughed Captain Avery. "You won't give up, and we won't. I guess you'll have to, though, one o' these days."
"Never!" said Tracy, sturdily. "All the colonies'll have to come back under the king, sooner or later."
"You wait and see," said the captain.
The loyal-hearted lieutenant, however, had expressed no more than the almost undoubting faith of the great body of his countrymen. They were simply unable to believe that the Americans could succeed.
Down into the hold of the Arran had dashed the men of the Noank. Tackle had been quickly rigged at the hatches.