“You see, sir,” he said, “while you was talking just now, I sort o’ saw that if they attack us, ’twon’t be for at least two hours after dark.  The boats won’t put off while there’s light enough to see ’em; and won’t hurry anyhow, ’cos if they did the men ’ud have nary much strength left to ’em.  Well, they’ll take our bearings, of course.  Thinks I, owing to what you said, sir, what if we could shift ’em by half a mile or so?  The boats ’ud miss us in the darkness.”

“That’s so,” ejaculated the captain; “and what then?”

“Well, sir, ’tis there my idea of taking soundings comes in.  The Good Intent can’t be towed, not with our handful of men; but why shouldn’t she be kedged?  That’s the notion, sir; and I guess you’ll think it over.”

“By jimmy, Toley, you en’t come out o’ Salem, Massachusetts, for nothing.  ’Tis a notion, a rare one; Ben Barker en’t the man to bear a grudge, and I take back them words o’ mine—­leastways some on ’em.

“Bo’sun, get ready to lower the longboat.”

The longboat was lowered, out of sight of the enemy.  A kedge anchor, fastened to a stout hawser, was put on board, and as soon as it was sufficiently dark to make so comparatively small an object as a boat invisible to the hostile craft, she put off at right angles to the Good Intent’s previous course, the hawser attached to the kedge being paid out as the boat drew away.  When it had gone about a fifth of a mile from the vessel the kedge was dropped, and a signal was given by hauling on the rope.

“Clap on, men!” cried Captain Barker.  “Get a good purchase, and none of your singsong; avast all jabber.”

The crew manned the windlass and began with a will to haul on the cable in dead silence.  The vessel was slowly warped ahead.  Meanwhile the longboat was returning; when she reached the side of the Good Intent, a second kedge was lowered into her, and again she put off, to drop the anchor two cables’ length beyond the first, so that when the ship had tripped that, the second was ready to be hauled on.

When the Good Intent had been thus warped a mile from her position at nightfall, Captain Parker ordered the operation to be stopped.  To avoid noise the boat was not hoisted in.  No lights were shown, and the sky being somewhat overcast, the boat’s crew found that the ship was invisible at the distance of a fourth of a cable’s length.

“I may be wrong,” said Bulger to Desmond, “but I don’t believe kedgin’ was ever done so far from harbor afore.  I allers thought there was something in that long head of Mr. Toley, though, to be sure, there en’t no call for him to pull a long face, too.”

An hour passed after the loading had been stopped.  All on board the Good Intent remained silent, speaking, if they spoke at all, in whispers.  There had been no signs of the expected attack.  Desmond was leaning on the gunwale, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the enemy.  But his ears gave him the first intimation of their approach.  He heard a faint creaking, as of oars in rowlocks, and stepped back to where Bulger was leaning against the mast.