The boat was now near at hand, and the voice of Danvers came booming across the water. “Schooner, ahoy.” “Ahoy, the boat,” was Ethan’s answer as he leaned his weight upon the wheel and watched the press of wind in the sheets with satisfaction. “Heave to,” shouted Danvers. “What do you mean by this, Spencer?” Another sail went up on the schooner and filled; the handy little craft responded to this increased speed instantly and went flowing ahead, with a wake of spume behind her. The moon had just slipped from behind a cloud and lit up the cove with the brilliancy of day. Danvers was standing up in the stern of the boat. With a cry of rage he saw his vessel filling rapidly away; he saw Ethan at the wheel waving a mocking hand to him; he saw the Irish dragoon, with a brace of pistols, hovering over the two English seamen in the waist. Then the moon hid her face once more; the creaking of blocks came to his ears, and the wash of the waters as the flying vessel dashed it from her bow. Danvers shook his fist in the direction of the sound and his voice reached the ears of Ethan through the darkness. “You have the best of it this time. But he laughs best who laughs last, my lad!” CHAPTER XV HOW THE SCHOONER CAME UPON THE DRAKE IN THE DARKNESS Within a few hours the schooner was well out in the channel and bowling along at a spanking pace; the two seamen, now that there was no immediate hope of rescue, as the boat had promised, were quiet and willing enough to work the vessel under her new masters. But Longsword kept his eye upon them for all that; he had no confidence in the faith of captured men; long experience in warfare had taught him that they were only to be depended upon when they could not help themselves. “Is it for Ireland you’ll be making?” asked the trooper of Ethan, who still held the wheel. “I don’t see the need of that, now,” said the lad, thoughtfully. “It was a good idea enough when we had only an open boat; but now that we have a vessel like this what is the matter with taking her up through the channel and running her into some French port?” “Nothing in the world,” answered Longsword with great promptness. He seemed vastly taken by the notion, but for all that, added: “But there will be many British ships of war in these waters now, Master Ethan, looking for the Ranger.” “This little craft is a clean, free sailor,” said the boy. “If we come upon an enemy we can run for it.” “And we can make a bit of a fight, too,” said the Irishman. “There are two six-pounders in the bow, and the four carronades, beyant there, look as though they would give good service, faith.” Ethan laughed. “But we have no gun crews, Longsword,” protested he. The Celt scratched his head. “That’s so, sure,” he admitted. “I never once thought of that.”