Then it was that we tricked the Britishers once more by sneaking up to Frog’s Point in the night, laying there close under a clump of overhanging trees till the following evening, when, with the wind blowing considerably more than half a gale and the rain coming down as if the heavens had suddenly opened, we ran up the Harlem river to King’s bridge. There, by unshipping our mast, we slipped through into the Hudson river, and as far up the stream as Yonkers. At this place we parted company with Luther Stedman, being as glad to get rid of the cur as he was to go. We left the Tory in the keeping of Colonel Clinton, who contrived to keep him in prison a good six months, after which he was set free because his value as an enemy did not warrant further bother with him. We Minute Boys failed to see the scoundrel until more than a year had passed, and then we crippled him for good, as shall be told when I write concerning what we did after our company was sufficiently large to make it of real service in the war. And Seth Hartley? His time of enlistment expired before he had been with us four months, and then both he and Abel were regularly enrolled in our ranks. At this moment the Swiftsure, old and worn as are her builders, lies at anchor within my range of vision, and there was never a time when we called upon her that she did not respond like some thing of flesh and blood. THE END. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Perceived typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.