Daniel was at her side in an instant.  “Give thyself no concern about pirates, sister,” he said, patting her comfortingly.  “I have thought how to deal with them!  I shall stand by the rail with my cutlass in my hand, and when they seek to board her I will bring down my cutlass so,”—­here he made a terrific sweep with his arm,—­“and that will be the end of them.”

“Oh,” breathed Nancy, much impressed, “how brave thou art!”

“Well,” said Daniel modestly, “there ’d be the Captain and father to help, of course, and, I suppose, the mate too.  There will be four of us men anyway.”

“Nancy!—­Daniel!”—­it was their father’s voice this time, and the two children jumped guiltily and began to dress as if the house were on fire and they had but two minutes to escape.  In a surprisingly short time they were downstairs and attending to their morning tasks.  Nancy, looking very solemn, fed the chickens, and Dan brought water from the spring, while their father milked the cow; and by six o’clock their breakfast of hasty pudding and milk had been eaten, prayers were over, and the whole family was ready for the real work of the day.  There was a great deal of it to do, for nothing but “works of necessity and mercy” could be performed on the Sabbath, the Sabbath began at sundown Saturday afternoon, and the travellers were to make an early start on Monday morning.  A fire was built in the brick oven beside the fireplace, and while it was heating the Goodwife made four pies and six loaves of brown-bread, and prepared a pot of pork and beans for baking.

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When the coals had been raked out and the oven filled, she washed clothes for Daniel and his father, while Nancy hurried to finish a pair of stockings she was knitting for her brother.  Daniel himself, meanwhile, had gone down to the bay to see if he could find the shovel and the basket.  He came home in triumph about noon with both, and with quite a number of clams beside, which the Goodwife cooked for their dinner.  When they were seated at the table, and the Goodman had asked the blessing, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed the ceiling of the cabin.  From the rafters there hung long festoons of dried pumpkin and golden ears of corn.  There were also sausages, hams, and sides of bacon.

“I doubt not you will fare well while we are gone,” he said.  “There is plenty of well-cured meat, and meal enough ground to last for some time.  The planting is done and the corn well hoed; there is wood cut, and Gran’ther Wattles will call upon you if he knows I am away.  I am leaving the fowling-piece for thee, wife.  The musket I shall take with me.”

“Why must Gran’ther Wattles come?” interrupted Nancy in alarm.  “I am sure Mother and I do not need him.”

“Children should be seen and not heard,” said her father.  “It is Gran’ther Wattles’s duty to oversee the congregation at home as well as in the meeting-house.”