I went aft again and stood there, waiting, until the colonel looked around. “Colonel,” I said, “if there were two or three more men put on every sweep, we could make Skenesboro around mid-morning.”

“We’re doing all right,” he said cheerfully.

“Colonel,” I persisted, “the British move fast when they start. They built and equipped the Inflexible—their full-rigged ship—in twenty-eight days.”

The colonel’s reply was benevolent. “My boy, we’re almost as anxious to get away from the British as you are. Not quite as anxious, but almost!”

“Well, sir,” I said, “I’m only anxious to make as good a showing as possible.”

The colonel’s manner was amusedly superior. “Young man, I don’t believe you’ve been keeping your eyes open! The British fleet can’t pass Ticonderoga till they cut through the chain and boom, and force a way between the piling. They’ll be a long time doing that.”

I knew I was a fool to say another word; but something drove me on—the thought of Nathaniel, maybe, or of Ellen, or of Arnold, or of Marie de Sabrevois: possibly my own pride. “Sir,” I said, “those piles weren’t much. I could have laid a vessel like this alongside ’em and blown them and the chain and the boom apart within ten minutes.”

Captain Kidder muttered something beneath his breath. He and the colonel smiled knowingly at each other.

There was nothing I could do or say to help matters. They were my superior officers, and any soldier who wrangles with a superior officer, no matter what the provocation, loses not only his time but his chance to be of use. I went back to Doc and sat close beside him, a little comforted by his sympathetic silence.

We were three hours reaching the spot where, six miles from Ticonderoga, the lake narrows between high and wooded shores. This snail’s progress filled me with apprehension. Another fourteen miles lay between us and Skenesboro; and if we did no better than this, we not only might not get there in ten hours: we might not get there at all.

The other vessels had done no better than we. The Revenge idled along abreast of us, her sweeps slapping the water raggedly. One of the crew was fishing from the bow; and so lax were the officers that when the fisher hooked a salmon, all the oarsmen ceased rowing and watched the fish trying to shake out the hook. Soon there were a dozen fishing from the Revenge, and as many from the Trumbull. The Liberty and the Enterprise were half a mile ahead; and the bateaux, like lethargic water-bugs, crawled on the glassy lake far in advance.

“Doc,” I said, “I don’t like it.”