He could not read. He had never tried to write except in his own peculiar manner, which no one else could understand. His moral faculties were not overbright, but he believed in some power; he had been taught that unless he told the truth and acted honestly, God would take him to some dungeon where the light of day never entered. He was as faithful as any dog, and had an intense love for Scarron, and secondarily for the starry banner, which he fancied had some magic power for good. Bob was not handsome; in fact, it would be very difficult to find a plainer, or, to use very expressive language, uglier, boy in a week's search. Tempest looked at him, and asked again: "Can you swim a mile?" Had the officer said a knot, or so many fathoms, he would have understood, but a mile was very vague. "Is it a mile from York to Staten Island?" asked Bob. "Yes, over five miles." "Then I can do it, for I've swum to the island and back without stopping." "Bob, listen to me. I want to send a message to the _Lively Bee_; I dare not send a boat, for the English gunners would sink it. Could you carry it to Captain Vernon?" "Is it heavy?" "What?" "The thing you want me to carry." Tempest laughed. "It is a letter." "Yah, I can do it." "I wish you would." "Are we going to fight in the morning?" "Perhaps so. I'd like to know how many guns that vessel has." Tempest spoke to himself, and had no idea that Bob heard him. The letter to Vernon was written and placed in a well-corked bottle to prevent its destruction. This was tied around Bob's waist, and the boy lowered himself noiselessly into the water. The _Lively Bee_ was about half a mile from the _Caroline_, and Bob was not many minutes in covering the distance, for he was an expert swimmer. The letter was read, and an answer prepared and placed in the bottle. Once more Bob was in the water, but not swimming. He lay on his back and floated, for he wanted to think. Thinking, with him, was a difficult operation and required considerable scratching of his head. To do this in the water was not the easiest thing, and Bob took longer than usual to think. "He'd like to know how many guns that skunk has, would he? Well, I guess I can find out." Bob arrived at this conclusion after five minutes' thought. The Britisher was distant a mile, the three vessels forming a triangle. Bob swam to the war ship, and waited to make sure he was not discovered. He caught hold of the chains and climbed up until he could see the deck. So silently did he move that not one of the men on deck heard him. He crawled along in the shadows, waited in hiding until the watch passed, and then moved on again. Bob knew more about a man-of-war than many a commodore, and his steps were guided by his instinctive knowledge. He stood examining a gun which was longer than any he had ever seen, and his curiosity betrayed him. One of the officers of the watch saw him. Bob knew it, but was not afraid.