Without waiting to consult my comrade, I walked across the deck, coughing loudly, and passing within a few feet of where the lieutenant was standing. He looked up, smiled oddly, and then, after a show of hesitation called:-- "Ezra McKnight! Philip Robbins!" "You're a beauty!" Phil whispered, as he ran past me on his way below to get the musket and ammunition, and my only regret at that moment was because I could not thank my cousin for the favor he had done us. We two lads tumbled into the gig alongside Master Hackett, who asked gruffly:-- "What is the lieutenant thinkin' of to send a couple of infants out on a job like this?" "Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to ask him; I don't care to take the chances of so doing, even though your curiosity is not satisfied," I said pertly. "If shooting is to be done, which seems reasonable after we've been ordered to arm ourselves, I reckon the 'infants' can do as much as some others who are older." Master Hackett did not reply; but by the movements of his mouth I knew he was not so displeased but that he was trying to hide a smile. Just then Stephen McKnight stepped aboard the gig, and as he did so Captain Porter cried over the rail:-- "Remember, McKnight, that you are not to make any effort at boarding, however tempting may be the opportunity. Get ahead of the chase and drive in her boats, after which you will return as soon as possible." "I understand, sir," Stephen replied, and then came the order to "give way with a will." Phil and I were not counted among the oarsmen, as I saw when the work was begun; but we did a trifle toward helping the good work along by pushing on Master Hackett's oar, and he made no effort to prevent us, even though we were "infants." It would not have been good seamanship to go any nearer the enemy than was necessary, in the effort to get ahead of her, therefore we made a wide sweep around to port; and when we were opposite, not more than three hundred yards distant, her gunners let fly a couple of pieces which had been loaded with grape. The whistling of the shot, which struck everywhere around us, sent the cold shivers up and down my back; but I pushed on Master Hackett's oar all the harder, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead lest the old man should read in them more than I cared to have him know. Phil started ever so slightly; but managed to hold himself firm after that, and each of us knew that the other was sorely afraid, although it is certain neither would have gone back had the opportunity presented itself. We were treated to more grape, the biggest portion of which passed over our heads, and after that second volley I somehow forgot that I was frightened; but loaded my musket carefully, hoping the time would soon come when I could do a little to help balance the account.