“No; but it stands to reason they’re on the New York side somewhere. Tell me, can our army hold the town?” Before I could answer the question Seth Hartley said sharply, as if something had suddenly angered him: “This is no place for you, lads. If you count on goin’ to Gravesend, you should make the best speed now while it rains so hard that your enemies will likely keep under cover.” “Count on goin’ to Gravesend?” I repeated. “What could we do there?” “Make a try at freein’ Abel Grant! Surely you don’t reckon on holdin’ back now when you know how sorely he’s needin’ you!” CHAPTER XIV. THE PRISON SHIP. Even at the time when my mind was in such a whirl, I realized what a reproach it was to us so-called Minute Boys that it should have been our prisoner--a Britisher, who reminded us of duty, for until Seth Hartley spoke neither of us three had even dreamed of making so daring, and as it then seemed, useless a venture. If Seth had dealt us a series of blows we could not have been more astonished than we were during sixty seconds after he spoke, and then Abraham said quickly, as if like myself he was ashamed because of not having been the first to realize what was our duty: “Of course we’ll make a try at freein’ Abel Grant, even though there don’t seem to be any chance we can succeed. If he has been taken on board one of the ships, I fail to see how we may lend him any aid, therefore, Seth Hartley, if you can cook up a plan, let us know what it is!” “That’s a good bit beyond me,” the Britisher replied with a smile. “The only idea in my mind was that, havin’ come out to lend Abel a hand, an’ havin’ got so far on the road, we’re bound to make some kind of a try. What that may be can only be told when we’re on the ground, where it will be possible to see how he’s fixed. This much is certain, however, that if we should pull him through it wouldn’t be the only prisoner the English have lost since comin’ to this port,” and he looked at us wisely, whereat I cried, enthused by his words: “You are right, Seth. No matter where he may be, his position can’t be any more desperate than was ours when we were made fast to the frigate with you standin’ guard over us! Then a way was opened, an’ I’m beginnin’ to have faith that somethin’ of the same kind will turn up in this case.” Peter Snyder appeared to be absolutely frightened at hearing such a proposition. To him the fact that Abel Grant was shut up in a prison ship, was much the same as if the poor fellow had already died and was buried. “You lads are worse than crazy to think of any such hair-brained venture as pitting yourselves against the Britishers!” he cried. “How will it be possible for you to get on board the ship unless you go as prisoners? Even if you could do that, how might there be a show to lend him a hand, guarded as we know he must be?”