as
near enough to the ship to be seen. A few strokes of the paddle and he
was beyond their aim. Suddenly he discovered the canoe was filling
with water through the hole made by the bullet. Several minutes passed
before he could find it, in the darkness; the canoe gradually sinking
the while. When found, at last, he thrust in his finger and reflected
what next to do. It was plain that the leak must be stopped, but how?
He could not sit with his finger in the hole and drift wherever the
tide might take him. Removing his finger, he would soon be sinking.

"Ah! I have it," he said to himself. It was but the work of a moment
to cut a bit of rope from the coil at his feet and thrust it into the
opening, stopping the leak.

But the canoe was water-logged; how should he get rid of it? To scoop
out with the paddle would attract attention and bring the whole patrol
to the spot; there was a better way.

"I'll use my hat for a bucket," he said to himself.

He bailed the canoe and reloaded the musket, drifting the while. Where
he was he could not determine. Suddenly a musket flashed, high up in
the air, and a bullet fell into the water by his side. He could see
the faint outline of topmasts and yard-arms, and the figure of a man
upon the shrouds. He aimed as best he could and pulled the trigger.

"I'm shot!" were the words that came to him through the mist.

"Give 'em the six-pounder with grape," said a voice, followed by a
blinding flash, a swish in the water, the roar of a cannon. It had
been fired at random, and he was unharmed. Once more he used the
paddle, wondering what next would happen.

What the meaning of that flash in the distance? What that plunge in
the water not far away? What that deep, heavy roar reverberating along
the shore? Surely it must be a shot from General Washington's cannon.
And now all around he heard voices, and boatswains' whistles. Soon the
great guns of the warships were flashing; shot were plunging into the
water, and shells bursting in the air.

"I have kicked up a big racket," said Robert to himself as he listened
to the uproar.

What should he do? The tide was beginning to ebb. Why not go with it
down the harbor, reach one of the islands, wait till daylight, and
then shape his course, instead of attempting to pass the pickets
patrolling the river with everybody on the alert. While the cannon
were flashing he drifted with the ebbing tide. Another dark object
suddenly loomed before him, bu