Meantime, the captain had to listen, with undisguised vexation, to his steward's dolorous account of the damage done to the delicacies in the storeroom. Far away, northerly, that very evening, a patriotic company of Americans had gathered in a large and pretty well-lighted room. Adjoining this were several other rooms, large and small, which were occupied in very much the same manner. The house was the old Ledyard mansion at New London, and all these women and girls had gathered there, with one accord, for work, and not for fun. The brave owner of the homestead, Colonel William Ledyard, was absent upon an errand to Boston, and there were hardly any grown-up men in the assembly. There were boys, indeed, brimming with patriotism, and these were evidently feeling more than ordinarily warlike as they helped their grandmothers, and mothers, and sisters, and aunts at the peculiar industry which had brought them together. It was neither a sewing society, nor a quilting bee, nor an apple paring. There could not, however, have been more activity or cheerfulness, even at a corn husking, and yet the cause of all this enthusiasm and energy was serious indeed. All the busy fingers in these rooms were putting up ball cartridges with the powder and lead captured by Lyme Avery in the _Windsor_. "What a pity it is that we cannot send them to Washington," said one of the workers. "He will need them all pretty soon." "I hope we'll never need them here," responded another, "but I suppose the forts must be provided. The British may come. They have good reasons for hating New London." "It hath many bad people in it," came sarcastically from beyond the table in the middle of the room. "I fear there is very little love here for our good king. We think too little of all that he is trying to do for us." "Rachel Tarns," exclaimed Mrs. Ten Eyck, near her, "there's more news from New York just in. Your good king is stirring up the Six Nations again. There will be more trouble on that frontier." "Not right away, I think," replied the Quakeress. "I have much faith that the peaceful red men will remain in their wigwams during such weather as this is. Should they not do so, I fear lest some of them might be hurt by the frontiersmen, even if they are not frost-bitten." "That's what I'm afraid of," said one of the larger boys. "Old Put ought to be there. Washington used to be an Indian fighter. Killed lots of 'em. I guess there won't any of 'em trouble us folks in Connecticut." "Thee is only a boy," laughed Rachel. "Thy Old Put could tell thee of troubles with the red men not so very far away from this place. Thy own house is upon land that once belonged to them. What would thee do if they should come to take it away from thee?" "I'd fight!" said the youngster. "My father's with Washington and my brother's with Putnam. Mother and I are ready to shoot if any of 'em come near our house."