"Captain Watts," said the commander of the _Noank_, "do you demand these men? They are Americans."
"I do demand them," replied Watts. "You have no right to keep them, and they'll all be hung as deserters."
"They can't help themselves," said Captain Avery, furiously. "Sam Prentice, iron every one o' those 'pressed men and put 'em all down in the hold. If they try to git away, shoot 'em. I'll put 'em ashore or kill 'em. You can't have 'em, Watts."
"That saves 'em," whispered Watts to himself. "He's another razor. I can report jist how they were took."
At all events, not one of the nine Americans made any resistance which called for shooting him.
"Now, Luke Watts," said the angry American privateer captain, "it's your turn. You are taken in arms against your country. Sam Prentice, Levi Hotchkiss, Vine Avery, speak out! Shall we hang Luke Watts? Or shall we shoot him? Or shall we let him go?"
"We can't safely let him go," began Sam. "He's a dangerous traitor."
"I protest!" interrupted Mate Brackett, courageously. "He has only done his duty to his king. He wasn't even serving on a ship of war. You haven't any right to hang him."
"You're an Englishman," said Avery. "I didn't ask you. Shut your mouth!"
"I won't!" said Brackett; "not if you shoot me. If you hang Captain Watts, we'll hang a dozen Yankees. We've plenty of 'em, too. It'll be blood for blood!"
"Father," said Vine, "let him go. All the men'd say so."
Behind him at that moment stood Up-na-tan, grinning ferociously, with his glittering long knife out.
"So! So! Up-na-tan!" he snarled. "Take 'calp! No let him go. Knife good! Kill!"
None of the others were doing anything theatrical except the two captains, and all the while the longboat was hurriedly made ready for the short and entirely safe, but probably cold, uncomfortable voyage before them.
"Captain Luke Watts," said his captor, sternly, "I suppose I must let you go. Don't let me ever ketch ye again, though. It's time for us to hang Tories. Brackett, you and your men lower that boat and git into her, short order. Luke Watts can pilot you in. Start along, now. Every man may take his own kit."
"Come on, Captain Watts," said the hearty British sailor. "Your shave's been a narrer one. I thought you was bound for the yardarm, this time."