rtain degree of uneasiness, even of fear. If there had been on board
the laden sloop a party of our people whom we were struggling to save,
then there would have been something heroic in thus engaging in an
unequal struggle to the end that better lives than ours might not be
taken. As it was, however, we would be fighting for a lot of sheep and a
certain amount of grain, which seemed to me worthless in comparison
with the life of any one member of the company.

I failed to take heed of the fact that by getting the cargo past the
Britishers, thus preserving it for the use of our people, we might be
sparing those who had devoted themselves to the Cause much of suffering
by way of hunger, and this would be a good and sufficient reason why we
should shed our blood.

All this which I have set down passed through my mind as does a flash of
lightning across a darkened sky, and meantime we were forging toward the
schooner, while the second sloop was being got under way more leisurely,
swinging around in such position that we remained between her and the
Britishers.

By this time it was possible to see clearly those who stood on the
schooner's deck, and, as nearly as I could judge, that mass of red which
showed amid-ships was made up of no less than twenty soldiers, all fully
armed, and with the sunlight glistening upon bayonet and buckle until it
seemed as if each piece of metal was throwing off a tiny jet of flame.

Nearer and nearer did we draw to this danger, while the other sloop was
creeping around to northward, ready to take advantage of the southerly
breeze when we had put ourselves into position to prevent pursuit on the
part of the Britishers, and in the meanwhile Silas, Harvey and Hiram
were bringing ammunition into the cabin, distributing among the Minute
Boys a generous supply of powder and balls.

I believe that no more than two hundred yards separated our sloop from
the schooner when Hiram said in a low tone, but one which thrilled me
to the marrow:

"If we would aid the Cause, lads, now has come the time when each must
stand to his musket without sign of fear, whatever may be in his heart.
There is no chance a fight can be avoided, unless so be you are willing
to show the white feather by turning tail. Remember that not every
British bullet finds its billet, for the king's men are known to be
mighty poor marksmen, however soldierly their appearance. When the
scrimmage opens, set about the work of shooting d