They made fast the jolly-boat to the chains, then thrust the loaded pistols into their belts. Ethan, with a naked cutlass between his teeth, went up the side like a cat; and in a moment the tall Irishman stood beside him on the schooner’s deck. “Ahoy,” suddenly called a startled voice from the after deck. “Who’s that for’ard?” “Don’t answer,” breathed Ethan. They maintained silence; then came the voice once more. “Is that you, Mr. Blake?” No answer. “I don’t see anything,” said a second voice, after a pause. “Well, I do. Some one came over the side just now; it looked like two, but I can see only one, now.” “Better go below, and sing out to the skipper.” “Not till I’m sure about what or who it is.” Footsteps advanced; from behind the cabin top two forms came into view. “Now,” breathed Ethan Carlyle. “I’m right here, wid ye,” answered Longsword in the same low tone. The sailors of the schooner had advanced no more than a dozen steps when the two desperate boarders bounded upon them, and the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against the forehead of each. “Not a word,” said Longsword, harshly. “Who are you?” asked one of the startled men. “Never mind that,” said Ethan. “Shamus, tie them up.” The grim dragoon stuck his pistol in his belt: with the keen edge of his cutlass he cut some ropes, and in a few moments both men were securely lashed to the mainmast, back to back. “A piece of sail cloth would do for a gag,” said Ethan. “And here is just the thing,” said Longsword as he picked up a topsail, apparently used as a tarpaulin. He cut some broad strips from this; and despite the protests of the seamen, these were bound tightly over their mouths. “Keep a watch over them,” said Ethan to his companion, after all was finished. “Where are you going?” asked the other. “Below. I think I’ll treat the commander of the schooner to a small surprise.” Longsword made no comment, though his face, had Ethan been able to see it, took on an anxious expression. The youthful American advanced, pistol and hanger in hand, to the companionway. A glimmer attracted his attention, and looking down through a small open skylight he saw two men at the cabin table, engaged in an earnest conversation. The capture of the watch had been accomplished with almost no noise, so the two below were unconscious of what had taken place. Softly Ethan descended the companion ladder and reached the cabin door. He paused a moment listening, and heard one of the men say, “I tell you, Blake, it is growing desperate. British shipping is in the greatest danger. That rascal Paul Jones is a menace to the entire coast. The Drake is out after him, and I hope she comes up with him soon.” “You may be correct,” said the second voice, “but my opinion, Captain Spencer, is that there is not a Yankee nearer to us this minute than the coast of France.”