Now it was simply a question of waiting, and this to me was the most difficult of all, even though I knew full well that every moment increased our chances of escape, for the tide was steadily setting us eastward, and the wind, such as it was, would be forcing the sloop in the direction of Coney Island, although I allowed we would be well out to sea before we came off the land, in case we drifted so far without interruption. The great fear in my mind was that those on board the frigate would discover too soon what had been done, and yet I asked myself how they could, for the sloop had been shut out from view by the fog before Abel Grant let slip the cable. It would only happen if some overly curious one should pull in on the hawser, and there was little chance in such a smother, for the fog was so dense that it was like unto a storm of rain, that any one on board the frigate would be loitering outside, save while absolutely on duty. Take it all in all, I believed that Abel Grant had the same as succeeded in his purpose, and yet so great was my anxiety that I trembled like a leaf, and was forced to sit down on the locker, otherwise my knees would have given way beneath me. Abraham Decker stood like a statue immediately behind Abel, on whom he kept his eyes fixed that not the slightest movement of our leader should escape him, and thus we remained, no one may say how long. As some relief from the mental strain I began to count the seconds, with the idea of getting some little knowledge of the passage of time; but even that was impossible while my mind was in such a turmoil. It may have been two hours for aught I know, and I would dare swear that it was more than half an hour, when I heard the marine say in a startled tone: “Where is that blasted frigate?” Abel Grant bounded out onto the deck like a ball of rubber, Abraham following at his heels, and on the instant came the words in a low tone: “Move ever so little, an’ I’ll put a ball through your head! Hold your peace, an’ no harm shall come to you!” [Illustration: “‘MOVE EVER SO LITTLE, AN’ I’LL PUT A BALL THROUGH YOUR HEAD!’”] By this time I was at the cuddy entrance and saw Abel standing with the muzzle of his musket pressed against the marine’s ear, while Abraham faced him with uplifted club. “I reckon we were out of earshot long before this, lads, an’ now it is only a question of makin’ certain this lobster-back don’t raise his voice, thereby obligin’ me to blow out what few brains he’s got. Give us your cap, Eph. No, I can’t take it ’cause this ’ere musket is goin’ to stay right where it is. Chuck it in his mouth, an’, Abraham, you are to take charge of his gun.”