"Now, Luke Watts," said the angry American privateer captain, "it's your turn. You are taken in arms against your country. Sam Prentice, Levi Hotchkiss, Vine Avery, speak out! Shall we hang Luke Watts? Or shall we shoot him? Or shall we let him go?" "We can't safely let him go," began Sam. "He's a dangerous traitor." "I protest!" interrupted Mate Brackett, courageously. "He has only done his duty to his king. He wasn't even serving on a ship of war. You haven't any right to hang him." "You're an Englishman," said Avery. "I didn't ask you. Shut your mouth!" "I won't!" said Brackett; "not if you shoot me. If you hang Captain Watts, we'll hang a dozen Yankees. We've plenty of 'em, too. It'll be blood for blood!" "Father," said Vine, "let him go. All the men'd say so." Behind him at that moment stood Up-na-tan, grinning ferociously, with his glittering long knife out. "So! So! Up-na-tan!" he snarled. "Take 'calp! No let him go. Knife good! Kill!" None of the others were doing anything theatrical except the two captains, and all the while the longboat was hurriedly made ready for the short and entirely safe, but probably cold, uncomfortable voyage before them. "Captain Luke Watts," said his captor, sternly, "I suppose I must let you go. Don't let me ever ketch ye again, though. It's time for us to hang Tories. Brackett, you and your men lower that boat and git into her, short order. Luke Watts can pilot you in. Start along, now. Every man may take his own kit." "Come on, Captain Watts," said the hearty British sailor. "Your shave's been a narrer one. I thought you was bound for the yardarm, this time." "I owe you something," replied Watts. "I'll stand by ye, any day." The queer piece of very good unprofessional acting was played to its ending. The longboat was lowered, the men got into her, with provisions for two days, and away she went, her own sail careening her as if it were in haste to get from under the brazen muzzles of the _Noank's_ French guns. "It's awful to be a traitor," remarked Sam Prentice, gravely. "Who'd ha' thought it of a Marblehead man!" "Sam!" said Lyme Avery, and the rest of his remark consisted of his right eye tightly shut and his left eye very wide open. "Ugh! Good!" chuckled Up-na-tan, and Guert Ten Eyck laughed aloud. Not for one moment had the subtle, keen-eyed red man been deceived, and Guert had caught the truth of it all from him. "Not a word, Guert," said Captain Avery. "He may be able to do it again." "Didn't fool ole brack man," said Coco. "S'pose he 'tone bline? Wen King George 'ply ship tack right for New London, then it's 'cause he was 'tendin' to go right there." "No talk," said Up-na-tan. "Ole chief like Watt. He bring plenty powder for _Noank_ gun. Fort gun, too. Now schooner go to sea. Good!"