"'A dozen fellors well armed, might take the d----d
British craft,' observed Desborough. 'How many men may
there be aboard the Commissary.'

"'About forty, I reckon, under some d----d old rig'lar
Major. I've got a letter for him here to desire him to
come on, if so be as we gets the craft out of the way.'

"'Drot me if I know a better way than to jump slick aboard
her,' returned Desborough musingly; 'forty genuine
Kaintucks ought to swallow her up, crew and all.'

"'I guess they would,' returned his companion, 'but they
are not Kaintucks, but only rig'lars; and then agin if
they are discovered one spry cannon shot might sink her;
and if the eagles go to the bottom, we shall lose our
fiftieth. You don't reckon that."

"'What the hell's to be done then,' exclaimed Desborough,
resorting to his favorite oath when in doubt.

"'My plan's already cut and dried by a wiser head nor
yours nor mine, as you shall larn; but first let a fellor
wet his whistle.' Here they both drained off another
portion of the poison that stood before them.

"Not to tire you," pursued Grantham, "with a repetition
of the oaths and vulgar and interjectional chucklings
that passed between the well assorted pair, during the
disclosure of the younger, I will briefly state that it