It was about an hour later when Peters and Swithins perfected their plans as to their captives. They strapped Phil and Andy on to old Dobbin. They left a letter under the map for some confederate who was expected to arrive at the lonely hut later. Then, Swithins leading the horse, Peters walking behind, a pistol handle sticking out of either side of his belt, the party proceeded on their journey through the snow drifts. CHAPTER XIV ON BOARD THE VIXEN "Give it up, Phil. You couldn't make it in a hundred years." "Never say die, Andy. I shall keep right on trying." "Wasting time. We'll never get out of this hole except through the door that let us in." "Then it's the door I'll try next," declared Phil dauntlessly. "I've managed to dig out all the lead that these window bars are sunk in. Give me a two-foot bar of iron or a stout oak cudgel, and I'd open the way to liberty in ten minutes." "And what then, Phil? A drop into nobody knows how many fathoms of water, a shot from the ship if we're seen, a two mile swim. No," and Andy shook his head decidedly. "We're in a bad box, and we've got to make the best of it." While Phil Warrington talked, he was working with the blade of a big jackknife at the wooden casing of a barred window at the rear of the hold of the British man-o'-war, _Vixen_. Andy lay stretched on a mattress on the floor, watching his companion. It was over two weeks since the young captives had found themselves afloat. It had taken old Dobbin and Peters and Swithins all of one day to reach the coast. The two British spies had signaled a ship in the distance. A yawl put ashore, the old horse was turned loose, and after a brief row over the fast-darkening waters, Phil and Andy were hoisted aboard the _Vixen_. They were immediately conveyed to their present prison place and locked in. The little strong room in the rear hold was an apartment having a heavy door set in a strong partition and two barred windows about eight feet above the water mark. Here the boys had remained close captives. An old mattress comprised their bed. Twice a day a gruff old fellow in a semi-naval uniform brought them their meals, which consisted of the ordinary ship fare. The man never addressed them, and they asked him no questions. The lads had seen nothing of either Peters or Swithins until that morning. The former had been let into the prison room by their jailer and the door locked behind him. He looked surly and ill at ease, and Phil decided that he acted like a man who had met with some hitch in his plans. "See here, Warrington," observed Peters, "I don't fancy you care about taking a trip to England." "I don't exactly ask to go," responded the Boston boy. "It wouldn't be on request," growled Peters. "There will be a good many traitors sent over the water before long." "Why, what for?" queried Andy, with an innocent expression of face.