According to the red man's judgment, therefore, the Yankee skipper's enthusiasm might lead him to overload his swift vessel or make her topheavy in a sea. It was likely that things were just as well as they were. At all events, her brilliant armament and her disciplined ordering gave her an exceedingly efficient and warlike air as she rode there waiting her sailing orders. "Sam Prentice's boat!" suddenly called out a voice, aft. "Father, he's headed for us. Here he comes, rowing hard!" "_Noank_ ahoy!" came across the water, from as far away as a pair of strong lungs could send it. "I say! Is Lyme Avery aboard?" "Every man's aboard! All ready! What news?" went back through the speaking trumpet in the hands of Vine Avery, at the stern. "Tell him to h'ist anchor! British ship sighted away east'ard! Not a man-o'-war. 'Rouse him!" "All hands up anchor!" roared Captain Avery. "Run in the guns! Close the ports! Gear that pivot-gun fast! Up-na-tan, that's your work." "Ugh!" said the Indian. "Shoot pretty soon." Vine and Sam Prentice were exchanging messages rapidly as the rowboat came nearer. All on board could hear, and now the trumpeter turned to note the eager, fierce activity of the old Manhattan. "It does you good, doesn't it," he said. "You're dyin' for a chance to try your Frenchers." "Ugh!" grunted the chief, patting the pivot-gun affectionately. "Sink ship for ole King George. Kill plenty lobster! Kill all captain! Whoo-oo-oop!" His hand was at his mouth, and the screech he sent forth was the warwhoop of his vanished tribe,--if any ears of white men can distinguish between one warwhoop and another. That he had been a sailor, however, was not at all remarkable. All of the New England coast Indians and the many small clans of Long Island had been from time immemorial termed "fish Indians" by their inland red cousins. The island clans were also known as "little bush" Indians. All that now remained of them took to the sea as their natural inheritance, and their best men were in good demand for their exceptional skill as harpooners. The anchor of the _Noank_ was beginning to come up when the boat of Sam Prentice reached the side. "Did you sight her yourself, Sam?" asked Captain Avery. "Well, I did," said Sam. "I was out more scoutin' than fishin', and I had a good glass. She's a bark, heavy laden. It's a light wind for anything o' her rig. She can't git away from our nippers. I didn't lose time gettin' any nigher. I came right in." "On board with you," said the captain. "It's 'bout time the _Noank_ took somethin'. We've been cooped up in New London harbor long enough." "That's so!" said Sam Prentice, as he scrambled over the bulwark. "I'm hungry for a fight myself."