“What’s up? What’s gone wrong? Sheer off, or you’ll run us down!” Abel Grant cried shrilly, but not forgetting to lengthen his words until it was as if he pulled them out from between his teeth, and I had no little difficulty in keeping my face straight, so comical did it all appear. “What are you doing down here?” a stern voice from out the gloom asked, and Abel replied in the most innocent manner possible: “We was tryin’ to bottle up a little sleep; but if you’re goin’ to cruise ’round so reckless-like, I reckon it stands us in hand to keep our eyes open mighty wide.” “When did you leave New York?” the voice asked sternly, and I could hear the sailors giggling as if amused by Abel’s reply. “Bless your heart, we don’t live in New York. We come out’er Gowanus creek this mornin’, countin’ to put to sea after bluefish; but a feller on one of the vessels took all our clams, an’ now we’ve got to wait till the tide turns before there’ll be a show of gettin’ any more.” Then came a few words in a low tone, which I could not catch, and the officer, for such I supposed the man who had done the talking must be, said sharply: “You’ll get under way and follow me.” At the same instant a marine, musket in hand, leaped aboard the sloop, and I understood that we were not to be given an opportunity to disobey; but Abel Grant continued to play his part, by saying in a tone of entreaty: “Look here, Mister, we can’t go foolin’ ’round the bay, else we’ll lose the tide an’ waste a whole day. What do you want us for, any way?” “Do as you’re bidden without making any further talk about it, or I’ll take you with me, and send a couple more men aboard to handle your craft.” “But, look here, Mister----” “Get your anchor, and be lively about it!” the officer cried angrily, and Abel Grant went forward meekly, saying in an undertone to us lads, but yet speaking sufficiently loud to be heard by the Britishers: “Here I’ve been makin’ a bloomin’ fool of myself wishin’ the king’s ships would come, so’s we’d have a chance to sell fish an’ jest when we’ve got the show to make a few shillin’s some fool trick must be played on us!” The marine was standing stiffly near the tiller when we got our anchor, and if ever sail was made clumsily, it was on the Swiftsure that morning. Abel tumbled here and there; pulled at the main sheet as if believing it was the halliards, and otherwise made such a show of himself that the British seamen could not restrain their mirth, while the officer fired off volley after volley of oaths as a means of quickening his movements. And all the while that we thus played the simple my heart was as heavy as lead, for I knew full well we were prisoners, even though allowed to remain on board our own vessel, and there was no question in my mind but that all this had been brought about by Luther Stedman and his friend, although I could not quite figure out how it had been done thus quickly.