Captain Deering spat carefully over the wharf log into the water; and then looked up and down the river. “There is going to be something happen on this river to-night,” said he, “that in the days to come they’ll write in their history books. See all them boats pulled up on the sand, above there?” There was a long line of galleys and barges and other heavy boats lying half out of the water, under guard of some half dozen men. “Behind them trees, further up,” continued Captain Deering, “is the whole of Colonel Moultrie’s command--or, at least, all of them as can be got together at short notice.” “Then it is coming at last,” breathed Tom, his eyes aglow. “South Carolina is to strike for her liberty as those in the north struck, months ago.” “She is,” cried Captain Deering, catching some of his nephew’s enthusiasm. “Blow my tarry tops, lad, we can’t let those Lexington fellows beat us in the cause. The first shot out of the locker is to be the capture of Fort Johnson; I know, for I collected the boats up there; the attacking party is going to cross the river in them. Those chaps keeping watch are from the crew of the Defence.” “When is the affair to begin?” asked Tom, hardly able to keep still, so excited was he. “As soon as it is dark enough to conceal the approach of the boats. There don’t seem to be any unusual goings-on in the fort, so I don’t think they suspect anything; but them two war craft, down in the roads, look bad; they must have had news from somewhere.” Scarcely had the old sailor ceased speaking when there came a sudden rattle of hoofs; turning they saw a party of scarlet-coated dragoons wheel around a corner and, at a sharp gallop, proceed up the river road. A tall, burly man rode in the midst of them; his red face was angry and fierce looking, and he carried one hand upon his sword in a manner that told his thoughts as plainly as words. “It’s Lord William Campbell, the new governor!” exclaimed Tom, with a gasp, “and they are on their way to the place where Moultrie’s men are assembled.” The captain of the Defence arose to his feet. “There is likely to be trouble,” remarked he. “You climb back into your boat, nevvy, and make sail for the plantation.” “Not I!” Tom Deering drew himself up proudly. “If there is anything to be done, I am going to help.” Uncle Dick looked at him sharply for a moment; then he uttered a short laugh, that had a satisfied ring in it. “Good lad!” cried he. “Blow my tarry old hulk, but there never was a Deering yet that wasn’t always on hand when wanted.” He clapped the boy proudly on the back as he spoke. “Well, come along; we’ve got no time to lose; the breeze is fresh and straight up the river. What kind of a sailer is that craft of yours?” “There is not a better in these waters for the sort of wind that’s blowing now.”