“Peter,” said Harding, “if Hoppy and Win do not arrive during the night we must conclude something serious has happened. I sincerely trust they have not been captured.” “I’m afraid that’s just what has happened, Harding,” replied Peter. “That runner from Provincetown told me last week that the British seemed to be up to something new. He said Raggett hadn’t been ashore for a week, and that seemed strange, as Raggett was fond of stretching his legs over the dunes.” “I fear there is bad work ahead for us, Peter. Hoppy is hotheaded, you know, and he’ll be apt to give offence to those fellows at whose mercy we are. ’Tis said they are going to levy tribute on the Bay towns, and God only knows how we are to meet it. The Committee of Safety has been considering the matter. Some are for fighting it out; others consider that course unwise as we have no armed force to signify.” “I plainly see we are in a bad fix, Harding, but we can only wait and hope for the best. Raggett’s been pretty good about it up to this and if he’s changed, it must be due to orders from London.” “That’s so, Peter. The National government little realizes the hardship of our position, and even if it did, we have no naval force for the protection of the Cape. The scattered units of our navy are doing great work but the British are in overwhelming numbers. The loss of the Chesapeake last year was disheartening.” “Well,” replied Peter, and there was fire in his eye, “you know, Harding, what Lawrence said on that occasion: ‘Don’t give up the ship!’ Keep that in mind, Harding, and we may yet bring the bully of the Bay to terms.” “Let’s hope for the best, Peter. Good night.” “Good night, Harding.” CHAPTER III. Prisoners of War. After a night of fitful slumber, the captives were awakened early by Dunton, the master’s mate left in charge of the schooner when Lieutenant Fotheringay went aboard the frigate. Dunton was a surly fellow, over middle age, and heartily hating all Americans who, in his opinion, were an inferior breed of English inhabiting a semi-civilized land. To him they were “damned Yanks,” deserving of neither courtesy nor favor. “Lively, you fellows; get ready to go aboard the frigate.” Hoppy coolly looked him over. “I guess there ain’t much getting ready about it, my friend. You see, we kind o’ forgot to bring our Sunday clothes, not expecting this honor.” “I don’t want any back talk from prisoners,” replied Dunton, sneeringly. “Is that so?” asked Hoppy in an even voice, though inwardly he felt like kicking the officer. “Well, now, I should think you’d like a little chat, seeing you’re so friendly about it.” “Nice pair of scarecrows you are to go aboard a king’s ship and meet a post-captain!” This was intended to silence Hoppy. Hoppy flushed, and Captain Knowles, seeing trouble ahead, nudged his compatriot warningly but without effect.