“There!” he cried suddenly, “Conyngham is standing up in the stern sheets encouraging the rowers. By all the powers, he’ll make it! Row! row!” he cried, as if his voice could be heard by the men at the oars. The big foresail of the Surprise had been dropped, and she was slowly swinging around as if in an endeavor to make her way out through the crowd of anchored vessels near her to the open waters that lay beyond. This could be discerned without the aid of the glass, and Allan perceiving it struck his fist into the palm of his other hand. “The fool!” he cried. “What is he doing that for? It is the very thing the Englishman would like best--to get him in the open. His chances were much better if he stayed nearer shore.” Ross, whose hand was trembling so that he could hardly hold the glass, now spoke up again. “There!” he cried. “Look! Conyngham has joined his vessel. See, she swings back again and turns in toward shore. She’ll run that little vessel down. Heavens! that was close; she just touched.” He whirled and looked at the others. “Gentlemen, there’s sailing for you,” he said. “Did you see that? He steered in between those two small ones, and I know what his intentions are. He’s going to try to run the lugger into the basin next the long wharf.” “He never can get through,” interposed his brother; “there isn’t room enough.” “He may,” was the elder Ross’s answer, “and at all events he’s going to try it--and see, the packet follows him!” A silence followed as they all watched the Surprise slipping along so close to the shore that her hull was now entirely hid from sight and nothing but her big sail could be seen gliding past the vessels moored to the landing-places. Then all at once the big sail was clewed up, and under the impetus that she had gathered the Surprise forged slowly ahead. Into the basin she slipped without a wharf line being sent to shore, and grinding along the string-piece her speed slowly slackened and then stopped. Ropes were immediately passed out and she was made fast, and at this moment, as if foiled in her design to lay her alongside, the British sloop dropped her anchor. The Prince of Orange came into the basin in the Surprise’s wake. “Neatly done, by Jove!” exclaimed Allan. “He handled her as if she were naught but a shallop. Gentlemen, let us separate, and meet at the long wharf as soon as we can get there.” At once they descended the stairs and went out into the street, where, in order to attract the least suspicion and to carry out the plan that they always adopted of being strangers to one another, they went different ways, but all heading at last in the direction of the shore.