That may have referred to the fact that they had served as lookouts, that morning, until they were weary of it, and Up-na-tan had lost his temper. They grinned discontentedly as they saw their young friend go aloft. He had now become well accustomed to high perches, and was beginning to regard himself as an experienced sailor for that kind of small cruiser. He felt very much at home in the maintop, and even Captain Avery glanced up at him approvingly. "He must learn how," he remarked, as he saw Guert square himself in his narrow coop and adjust the telescope. "Ugh!" suddenly exclaimed the Indian. "Boy see! Wish ole chief up there heself." The others had not noticed so closely, and Guert was not apparently excited. He was gazing steadily in one direction, however, instead of hunting here and there, as he had done at first. "Isn't a telescope wonderful?" he was thinking. "It brings that flag close up. I can see that her foremast is gone. That looks like another sail, away off beyond her. More than one of 'em. Maybe it's a fleet." A lurch of the _Noank_ compelled him to lower his glass and grasp a rope, while he leaned over to shout down his wonderful discoveries. "Hurrah!" yelled Vine. "Good for Guert!" "Hard a-lee, then!" roared Captain Avery to the man at the helm. "Ready about! Strange sail to looard! Up-na-tan, that long gun! Clear for action!" It was all very well for him to shout rapid orders and for the crew to bring up powder and shot so eagerly, and get the schooner ready for a fight. It was also well for the captain to go aloft and take the glass himself. He could see more than Guert could. But what was the good of it all when the wind was dying? There was hardly air enough to keep the sails from flapping. A schooner could do better than a square-rigged vessel under such circumstances, but that wind was an aggravating trial to a ship-load of excited privateersmen. Captain McGrew had been permitted to come on deck, and Guert, as he reached the deck from aloft, was half sure that he had heard the Englishman chuckling maliciously, then heard him mutter:-- "The Bermuda ships never sail home without a strong convoy. These chaps'll catch it." When Captain Avery himself came down and the opinion of the _Spencer's_ captain was reported to him, he said:-- "From Bermuda, eh? That's likely. We're not far out o' their course, I'd say. Who cares for convoy? I don't. This feller nighest us is crippled and left behind. If it wasn't for this calm, my boy--" There he became silent and stood still, staring hungrily to leeward. Perhaps his manifest vexation was enjoyed by his English prisoner, but Captain McGrew very soon put on a graver face, for the sharp-nosed _Noank_ was all the while slipping along, and the ship she was steering toward was almost as good as standing still. So must have been any heavier craft, warlike or otherwise.