"Ugh!" said Up-na-tan. "'Tack to Montauk. No go out yet. Captain head good. Want fog. Want night."
There was a laugh behind them, and Guert swung around to ask of Sam Prentice:—
"Can you tell me how it is, sir?"
"I guess I can," said the mate. "We know a good deal more'n we did. While you were all below, we spoke a Providence man. Cod-fisher. My boy, there's a whole fleet of Britishers out there, somewhere, spread all along. Merchantmen, troop-ships, cruisers. Some of 'em heavy fellers. We must keep well in, for a while."
"Ugh!" said the red man. "Mate let ole chief take glass. Want look."
Prentice had with him his marine telescope, an unusually good one, and he at once handed it to the Manhattan.
"Your eyes are 'most as good as glasses," he said. "Let's see what you can make out with that. I saw a sail, myself. Pretty well down, easterly."
There is a great deal of difference in eyes, even in good ones, and the American red men possess peculiar faculties for sign reading.
"Ugh!" said the Indian, after slowly and carefully sweeping the sea and the horizon with the glass. "Bad! Noank 'tay in. One war-ship. One, two, three, four other ship."
"Men-of-war and the convoy!" exclaimed Prentice. "Lyme Avery! Here they are! Come this way! If the redskin hasn't sighted 'em!"