"Gentlemen," he said, to a number of glum-looking officers, "we have passed that American pirate right along through this fleet. I think we've a right to go ashore, somewhere, and sit down. It was cleverly done, though, 'pon my soul! Captain Coverley, select our three best chasers to follow her. She mustn't be allowed to get away again!" Each of the three vessels named was three or four times over a match for the _Noank_, and her chances did appear to be unpleasantly small. "There's jest one thing they won't count on our doin'," had been the decision of Captain Avery. "We must put right out into the Atlantic, aimed at nowhere. If it would only blow a gale, now!" He was not to be gratified in that particular during the pleasant autumn day that followed. Lighter became the wind, brighter the sky, and stiller the sea. "It's a schooner wind, Lyme," said his old friend Taber, now the second mate of the _Noank_. "It gives us our best paces. We've run past every keel that was on the same tack, thus far. It isn't really bad luck." "I hope it isn't," the captain gloomily responded. "But this 'ere sea is a boat sea. They might come for us with a rigiment of their boats, you know. It's a good thing for us that there isn't a man-o'-war in sight, yet. I a'most feel as if there was blood on every mile we're makin'!" He was even low spirited. It seemed to him impossible that so long a run of what seamen call good luck could be stretched out much further. The sailors, on the other hand, were taking a different view of the matter, very much more sensibly. Every man of them may have had a superstitious belief in "luck," but they had also seen, in each successive emergency, that they had a captain with a long head, and that he knew exactly what to do with that schooner. They were in good spirits, therefore, that sunny day. Perhaps they did not know all the reasons he had for now and then shaking his head. "There's no port for us, hereaway," he thought. "I don't know of one that it would be safe for us to look into. It's a long v'yage home. We're a good deal overcrowded. There's worse'n that to think of, though. That feller Tracy told me our folks at home are gettin' ready to give it up. He said we are beaten badly, all around. I may find a British garrison in New London, when I get there. One in Boston, too. Then my chance for a rope 'round my neck is a sure one. Things look black, and no mistake!"