“We have no time to lose,” said Hapgood, with energy, as he pushed off the boat, which lay upon the beach.  “Tumble in lively, and be sure your guns are in good order.”

“Mine is all right,” added Tom, as he examined the cap on his musket, and then jumped into the boat.

“So is mine,” said Fred; “but I don’t much like this business.  Do you know how many men there are in the schooner?”

“Don’t know, and don’t care,” replied Tom.

“Of course they are armed.  They have revolvers, I’ll bet my month’s pay.”

“If you don’t want to go, stay on shore,” answered Hapgood, petulantly.  “But don’t make a noise about it.”

“Of course I’ll go, but I think we are getting into a bad scrape.”

Tom and Hapgood held a hurried consultation, which ended in the former’s taking a position in the bow of the boat, while the other two took their places at the oars.  The muskets were laid across the thwarts, and the rowers pulled out to the middle of the creek, just in season to intercept the schooner.  Of course they were seen by the men on board of her, who attempted to avoid them.

“Hallo!” said Tom, in a kind of confidential tone.  “On board the schooner there!  Are you going over?”

“Yes.  What do you want?” answered one of the men on board the vessel.

“We want to get over, and are afraid to go in this boat.  Won’t you take us over?”

“Who are you?”

“Friends.  We’ve got a mail bag.”

“Where did you get it?”

“In Washington.”

By this time, the schooner had luffed up into the wind, and Tom directed his companions to pull again.  In a moment the boat was alongside the schooner, and the soldier boy was about to jump upon her half-deck, when the rebel crew, very naturally, ordered him to wait till they had satisfied themselves in regard to his secession proclivities.

There were five men in the schooner, all of whom were seated near the stern.  Tom did not heed the protest of the traitors, but sprang on board the schooner, followed by his companions.

“Now, tell us who you are before you come any farther,” said one of the men.

“Massachusetts soldiers!  Surrender, or you are a dead man,” replied Tom, pointing his gun.

CHAPTER XXV.

In the hospital.

The night was very dark, so that the rebels in the boat could not distinguish the uniform of those who had applied for a passage on the schooner.  Perhaps Tom Somers’s experience in the Blue Ridge and on the Shenandoah had improved his strategic ability, so that his words and his manner seemed plausible.  But as strategy and cunning always owe their success to the comparative stupidity of the victims, Tom and his companions gained the half-deck of the schooner more by the palpable blundering of her crew than through the brilliancy of their own scheme.