A minute passed, while hundreds were hastily dressing, and then another gun sounded. One full minute more, for there were those who counted, and the third gun began to make the firing understood.
"Minute-guns! The British are coming!" shouted more than one hasty listener. "Every man to the forts! Our time's come!"
Many were the conjectures and exclamations, but the first men to reach the water front sent back word that not a British sail was in sight. More than that was sent, however, for a hasty messenger ran on to the Avery house and knocked at the door. It was opened instantly by Vine Avery himself.
"What is it?" he asked.
"The Noank!" was half whispered. "A large prize ship is with her. Don't say a word about it to your mother."
"Why not?" said Vine.
"Well!" replied the messenger. "It's this way. There are minute-guns at the fort and both of the flags of those ships are at half mast. There are boats pulling from 'em to the shore now. Come on!"
Vine stood still for a moment, hesitating. Then he turned and shouted back into the house:—
"Mother! The Noank! I'll go on down to the wharf. I'll let you know."
"Lyme! Lyme is home again!" she said. "Vine—"