Before we were done speculating as to the meaning of such a settling down, we heard that the whole British fleet had moved up off Governor’s Island, within cannon-shot of the town, and this seemed to be an end of the movement. “They’re waitin’ till everythin’ is good an’ ready, after which we’ll see ’em come inter town lookin’ for stray rebels,” Abel Grant said with a grin, as if believing himself very witty. “’Cordin’ to the way I figger things out, matters will hang as they are for quite a spell, an’ now’s the time when I can ’tend to a little business of my own.” “What do you mean?” Sam asked, when Abel ceased speaking as if his story was told. “Jest what I say. It strikes me that we ought’er know what’s happenin’ over on the island, an’ I’m goin’ to run across there this mornin’.” “It’s a good idea!” I cried excitedly, for, if the truth must be confessed, I had almost forgotten that the folks at home would be anxious regarding us, and Sam began loosening the mainsail, when Abel cried sharply: “Now what’er you about?” “Gettin’ under way. The wind will die out before noon, an’ it stands us in hand to take advantage of this early breeze.” “Did you think I was crazy enough to allow we could go there in the sloop?” “How else can you go?” I asked in surprise. “With the Britishers in possession of the island, don’t it strike you that the Tories will be mighty perky? How long after we came to anchor in Wallabout before every bloomin’ one of that scurvy gang would be puttin’ out to scoop us in as prisoners?” I wasn’t so thick-headed but it was possible to understand that of all dangerous places for us, our island was the worst, and I sat down in the stern-sheets feeling mighty desolate, for it seemed just then as if I had indeed lost my home. “There’s no good reason why I shouldn’t be able to sneak ashore an’ find out what’s been done,” Abel said as he gathered up half a dozen ship’s biscuit. “I’ll put across in the punt, an’ be back sometime in the night, if nothin’ happens.” He evidently believed we would try to prevent him from making the venture, or, perhaps, insist on going with him, for even while speaking he went over the rail into the small boat, and was a dozen yards or more away before I gathered my wits sufficiently to cry out: “Come back! I want to go with you!” Abel shook his head, and Sam said in a decided tone: “You can’t do anythin’ of the kind, Ephraim Lyttle. The venture is risky enough for one, without makin’ it worse by doublin’ the chances. I don’t believe he can go ashore without bein’ picked up by some Tory who is burnin’ to do harm to a Whig without much danger to himself; but how could we have stopped him?” “Mother will think I am heedless of her, not to have come with him,” I persisted, and Abraham replied: “There isn’t one chance in a thousand that he’ll see any of our people. Don’t you suppose they had sense enough to leave when it was known that the American army had retreated?”