"Luff! luff!" sang out the captain. "'Tisn't worth while to chase that boat any farther in. Let's see if we can't draw out the schooner. I'd like to get her away from those land batteries. They're too heavy metal for us."
"She has the wind of us," remarked his sailing master, doubtfully. "She can do as she pleases 'bout coming any too near."
"She's a clipper, anyhow," growled the captain. "Nothing can beat these New Englanders in handling canvas. The king needs every man of 'em."
His own sailors were just then more than a little busied with pig and poultry gathering, and one badly scared bird rashly flew overboard.
Captain Avery was to disappoint Up-na-tan and Coco. They were to have no more long-range practice with the eighteen-pounder.
One more shot that they sent was an unsatisfactory miss, and then the distance began to increase instead of diminishing, as the schooner went about.
"Our fellows are safe now," said Sam Prentice. "Here they come. Look at 'em! More Indians than white men."
None the less were they excellent oarsmen and daring freebooters, and before the end of the war the "whaleboat fleet," as it came to be called, was to earn a not altogether pleasant reputation.
Not many more minutes passed before the boat was near enough for a hail. In it, forward, stood up a tall white man, balancing himself and swinging his hat while he enthusiastically sent to the Noank:—
"Schooner ahoy! Hurrah! News from the Continental army! Gineral Washington smashed the redcoats! Beat 'em on Christmas day at Trenton! Then he follered 'em up and knocked Cornwallis all to flinders at Princeton! We're a-beginnin' to flail 'em! Hurrah!"