"Ship o' line," now remarked Up-na-tan. "Frigate. Little gun ship."
"Let me take the glass," said the captain, as he came; "it's a good deal more'n we had reason to expect. Makes things look kind o' cloudy."
"Well," said Sam, "it's about what the Boston pilot told that Providence feller. If we'd ha' gone on in too much of a hurry, we'd ha' run right in among 'em."
"They're north o' their best course for New York," remarked the captain. "I wonder if any of 'em are from Halifax. It may mean more army to fight General Washington."
"Mebbe," said Sam. "It's likely some of 'em are the reg'lar coast cruisers. As for the convoy, they're slow and heavy. It's about the course I'd expect them to run."
"We'll take in sail and heave to," said the captain. "Our safest hidin'd be under Martha's Vineyard."
They were not a very long reach from that island now. There were several fishing smacks in sight, and none of them were taking in sail. It looked, rather, as if they were all heading homeward. Perhaps they, too, had been warned of a British fleet, and every man on board of them was in danger of pitiless impressment, if his boat were to come within range of the guns of a king's ship.
In came the sails of the Noank, and then came a time of watching, waiting, and anxiety.
"Nine sail in sight," remarked Captain Avery, at last, "and there's more'n that to come. British flag on every one of 'em. Of course, they've sighted us, long before this."
"One comin' for us, I guess," said Coco.