FOOTNOTE:[A]The author’s grandfather, Samuel Finley, had charge of the artillery (one cannon) at the battle of the Cowpens, was afterward complimented at the head of his regiment and called “the brave little major.”
[A]The author’s grandfather, Samuel Finley, had charge of the artillery (one cannon) at the battle of the Cowpens, was afterward complimented at the head of his regiment and called “the brave little major.”
[A]The author’s grandfather, Samuel Finley, had charge of the artillery (one cannon) at the battle of the Cowpens, was afterward complimented at the head of his regiment and called “the brave little major.”
Itwas now a little past the children’s bedtime, so they bade good-night, and went within doors. Grace and Harold and Mr. Leland withdrew from the porch also, and the captain and Lucilla had it to themselves. They paced back and forth, arm in arm, conversing in rather subdued tones.
“You heard from Chester to-day?” he said inquiringly.
“Yes, sir; such a bright, cheerful letter. He is very well, prospering with his business, and enjoying himself morning and evenings at Ion, where they are most kindly insistent on entertaining him until my return. He has been out to Sunnyside and reports that everything is in fine order there—indoors and out. He says he will be delighted to see his wife when she returns, but hopes shewill stay in the north until the weather is cooler.”
“That is all very satisfactory,” said her father. “I am glad you have so kind and affectionate a husband, and I hope to be able to return you to him in a very few weeks.”
“I am glad of that, since the return will not separate me, to any great extent, from the dear father who does so much to make my life bright and happy,” she said, with a sweet and loving smile up into his face. “Oh, father, how much easier and happier life seems to be to us than it was to those poor fellows who fought the battles of the Revolution through such poverty and suffering. It makes my heart ache to read and to think of the bleeding of their bare feet on the snow as they marched over it, and to know that they were in rags and sometimes had little or nothing to eat.”
“Yes,” said her father, “I feel very much as you do about it. I wish I knew they were all Christians, therefore happy in heaven now.”
“So do I, father,” she sighed, “but it seemsto me one of the very dreadful things about war is its sending so many to death with no time for preparation, and probably in the heat of passion with their foes.”
“That is true,” he said. “War is a dreadful thing; always very wicked on one side, if not on both. The Revolutionary War was right and commendable on the side of our forbears—resisting tyranny as they were—and we, their descendants, are reaping from it the rich fruit of freedom.”
“And it is rich fruit!” exclaimed Lucilla in joyous tones.
“Land where my fathers died,Land of the pilgrim’s pride,From every mountain sideLet Freedom ring.”
“Land where my fathers died,Land of the pilgrim’s pride,From every mountain sideLet Freedom ring.”
“Land where my fathers died,Land of the pilgrim’s pride,From every mountain sideLet Freedom ring.”
“Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountain side
Let Freedom ring.”
“Sounds quite like Fourth of July, sis,” laughed a manly voice behind her, and turning she found Max standing there.
“Will three be as good company as two?” he asked, in the same lively tone in which he had spoken before.
“Better,” replied their father; “at least inthis instance; and the porch is wide enough for three to walk abreast.”
“And it won’t hurt Lu to take one of my arms as well as yours, sir,” said Max, offering it.
“Well, I will; it isn’t every day now that I get the chance,” she responded, slipping her hand into it. “Now I think we will have a fine promenade.”
“What report can you give of wife and daughter at the present moment, Max?” asked the captain.
“Oh, they are doing finely. Eva says she feels quite well enough to be up and about if that tyrannical doctor didn’t forbid it. And our baby is good as gold—and a great deal more valuable,” he added, with a happy laugh.
“She’s prettier than gold this one of her aunts thinks,” laughed Lucilla. “And what a treasure she will be in Sunnyside, our sweet, pretty home.”
“Yes, I hope so. It is very good of you to give her such a royal welcome.”
“Ah, if only her father could be with us all the time!” sighed Lucilla.
“Perhaps in that case his companionship might, at times, grow wearisome,” laughed Max. “‘Blessings brighten as they take their flight,’ and perhaps it may be so with brothers and husbands.”
“A remark I should advise you not to make in Eva’s hearing,” she returned in mirthful tones.
“Ah, she would know just how to appreciate it,” said Max. Then, turning to their father, “I was much interested in your account of Morgan, sir,” he said. “He was a grand man and did a great deal to win the independence of these United States, now the greatest, grandest country the sun shines upon.”
“He did, indeed,” the captain said emphatically, “and deserves to be remembered with love and gratitude. He was a very successful leader in those times of our country’s sore distress; and he could not have been had not God given him wisdom and skill in answerto prayer. My son, I hope you will follow his example in that.”
“Such is my purpose, my dear father, and has been my practice thus far,” Max returned with emotion. “Trusting in God it seems to me is the only thing that can enable one to go calmly and composedly to the post of duty when that lies where the messengers of wounds and death are flying thick and fast.”
“Yes, I think so,” assented the captain. “Washington, our great and successful commander-in-chief, was a man of prayer—raised up, I have no doubt, by a kind Providence, for the work that he did. And there were other praying men among our leaders. It was a fearful struggle, but God helped us and enabled us to become the free, strong nation that we are.”
“Oh, how thankful we ought to be!” exclaimed Lucilla. “It seems to me it was a very ridiculous idea that this great, big country should be governed by that little one away across the ocean; especially as she wanted tobe so tyrannical; for it is certainly true that ‘taxation without representation is tyranny.’”
“Yes,” said Max. “An Englishman, arguing with me the other day about it, said it was so small a tax that the colonists were decidedly foolish to make such a fuss and go to war to avoid it. I told him it was principle which made them so determined; because if they allowed the English Parliament to impose a small tax without the consent of the colonies, they might—and would be very likely to—go on and levy other and much heavier ones. The colonists were a free-born people, and meant to remain free; preferring even death to slavery.”
“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed Lucilla; “and that last word of yours, Max, reminds me that George III. highly approved of the slave trade and wanted it carried on; and it seems as if he was by no means averse to enslaving the whites of this country.”
“Quite desirous to do so; even to the setting of the savages to the butchering of womenand children,” added Max. “But all that being so long in the past, he in his grave, and our liberties secure, it is hardly worth while now to rake up the faults and failings of the poor, crazy old king.”
“His granddaughter has proved a much better and wiser sovereign,” said Lucilla. “Women do sometimes do better than men.”
“At some things-things not requiring much physical strength, for example,” the captain said, with an amused glance down into his daughter’s face.
“Yes, father, it is certainly true that men excel us in physical strength; but is that any reason why women should be paid less for their work and taxed quite as heavily on their property—if they happen to have any?” she concluded with a laugh.
“No, I think not,” was his smiling rejoinder. “Ah, what is wrong, I wonder!” as at that instant the man in charge of the Dolphin was seen coming with swift strides up from the wharf toward the house. They stood still, watching him in silence till hedrew near enough for speech; then the captain asked, “What is it, Mr. Bailey?”
“Oh, Captain Raymond, I have a dreadful piece of news for you,” was the reply, in a tone that spoke of disturbed feeling; “news from Buffalo that President McKinley has been shot.”
“Shot intentionally? murdered?” asked the captain, in tones that spoke astonishment and horror.
“Yes, sir; the work of an anarchist of unpronounceable name. If I had my way anarchists should be promptly expelled from this land and forever excluded from it.”
“Is McKinley dead?” asked Max.
“No; but the wound is supposed to be mortal; noted surgeons are attending him but have hardly a hope of being able to save his life.”
“And what have they done with his murderer?” asked Max. “Torn him limb from limb?”
“That’s what would have been done by the crowd in building and street, if the policehadn’t been able to keep them off till they could get him into prison.”
“It was what he deserved,” said Max hotly and with emotion; “but the police did their duty; every criminal has a right to trial by judge and jury.”
The voices of those on the porch had been somewhat raised by excitement, attracting the attention of those of the family who were within doors, and bringing them out to learn what was going on. There were questions and answers, expressions of grief and horror and queries as to what had and would be done with the assassin, what hope might be entertained of the President’s recovery, and should he die, would Roosevelt make a good and competent successor?—that last query coming from the ladies. The gentlemen at once expressed the opinion that he would, but also the hope that McKinley would be spared and restored to health and strength.
Thenext eight days were with the older people at Crag Cottage, as with the rest of the nation, days of anxiety and alternating hope and fear with regard to the dastardly attack upon the President of the United States. After that came the sad news of his death, and there was mourning all over the land, but mourning mingled with gladness that so good and capable a successor had been provided that the country seemed in no danger.
Eva was able to sit up now a part of each day, and her baby growing fairer, beginning to smile and to coo very prettily, thought her young mother and aunts—to say nothing of her proud and happy father. Max wanted to see wife and baby safe in their Sunnyside home, and all began to talk gaily of soonstarting on their often-made southward trip in the Dolphin.
Grandma Elsie, doing all in her power for every one’s welfare and enjoyment, seemed content to go or to stay, as did her son Harold and his Grace; it mattered little to them where they were if only they might be together. The two couples—Captain Raymond and Violet, and Mr. and Mrs. Leland—seemed to enjoy themselves and to feel indifferent in regard to the exact time of leaving.
The days passed very pleasantly; there were walks and drives, trips up and down the river in the Dolphin, hours passed upon the porch, if the weather were fine, or the parlor, if it happened to be stormy, in cheerful chat, amusing games, or listening to interesting stories from Grandma Elsie or the captain.
And so the days and weeks rolled on until September was gone and October had come in. Then they felt that they must go—the calls from the loved southern homes were so many and so loud and re-echoed by their ownhearts. They wanted to go, yet it seemed a trifle saddening to think of leaving this sweet place on the grand old Hudson River.
The last evening of their stay was lovely and warm for the season, and until the children’s bedtime they passed it on the front porch, where they had a view of the river.
A pause in the conversation was broken by a request from Elsie Raymond.
“Papa, won’t you tell us about another of the Revolutionary officers?”
“I am very willing to do so, daughter, but which shall it be?” the captain asked.
“I should like to hear about General Greene, if the rest of the folks here would,” she answered, glancing from one to another.
“I think we would all be pleased to hear about him,” said Grandma Elsie, “for surely he was next to Washington in bravery, talent for the work in hand, and success in using it.”
So the captain began.
“I think he had no other superior than Washington in the art and practice of war.He was a native of Rhode Island, the son of Quaker parents, brought up to be industrious and painstaking, and managed to get a good education largely by his own determined efforts in private study of ancient and English history, law, geometry and moral and political science; he was also fond of reading books upon war.
“Some few years before the Revolutionary War he was chosen a member of the Rhode Island Assembly, and was one of those who engaged in military exercises as a preparation for the coming struggle with England for the freedom which belonged of right to the people of this land.
“In 1774 he enlisted as private, and in 1775 was appointed to the command of the Rhode Island contingent of the army at Boston, with the rank of brigadier-general. He was with Montgomery and Arnold in their invasion of Canada. He was made a major-general in 1775, and distinguished himself in the battles of Trenton and Princeton.
“He commanded a division at the battle ofBrandywine and did great service there. It is said that by his skilful movements then and there he saved the American army from utter destruction. He had part in the battle of Germantown also, commanding the left wing.
“Soon after the taking of Andre Washington sent orders to General Greene to put the left wing of the army near Tappan in motion as soon as possible, and march toward King’s Ferry. It was midnight when the express reached Greene’s quarters; before dawn the whole division was upon the march. But I think you are all pretty well acquainted with the story of Andre, his doings and consequent end; so I shall not repeat it here and now.”
“But, papa, won’t you go a little more into the details of the battle of Brandywine?” asked Grace.
“Certainly, if you wish it,” he replied. “Greene’s work was very important there. The British army was very much stronger than ours—they having eighteen thousand men, while ours were only eleven thousand.Washington had a very strong position at Chadd’s and Brinton’s Fords. The British hoped to drive him from it in turning his right flank by a circuitous march of eighteen miles up the Lancaster road and across the forks of the Brandywine toward Birmingham meeting-house. The British were safe in trying to do this, because their force was large enough to enable them to separate the wings of their army with little risk. Cornwallis conducted the movement in an admirable manner, but did not succeed in striking the American flank, because Washington made a new front with his right wing under Sullivan, near Birmingham meeting-house, so that Sullivan received the attack on his front.
“A desperate fight ensued, in which the British army, being so superior in numbers to ours, at length succeeded in pushing Sullivan obliquely toward the village of Dilworth. Had they succeeded in completing that movement it would have cut the American army in two and utterly routed it. But Washington sent a prompt order to General Greene, whocommanded the centre behind Chadd’s Ford. Washington’s order was to stop the dangerous gap, and on receiving it Greene immediately obeyed, marching his troops five miles in forty-five minutes, and connecting with Sullivan near Dilworth, he averted the impending destruction of the army. Wayne had time to withdraw the centre and Armstrong the right wing, all in good order, and the whole army was united at Chester in excellent condition.”
“It strikes me,” remarked Doctor Harold, “that was hardly a defeat of our troops—the same careless writers have vaguely described the American army as routed at the battle of Brandywine. Surely an army cannot properly be said to be routed when it is ready to begin to fight again the next day.”
“No,” replied the captain, “and the fact that Washington’s manœuvring prevented Howe’s return to Philadelphia for fifteen days shows that the Americans were not routed; and what saved from that was Greene’s memorable double-quick march toDilworth and his admirable manner of sustaining the fight at that critical point.
“On the 26th of September, Howe, having eluded Washington on the Schuylkill, entered Philadelphia, stationing the bulk of his army in Germantown, and on the 4th of October the battle of Germantown was fought. Greene, intending to attack the front of the British right wing, was delayed by the difficulties of his route and the mistake of the guide, so did not get to the field as early as was planned, and the ground assigned to him was accidentally occupied by Wayne.
“When victory seemed almost won an unfortunate mishap turned the tide, and General Greene again with wonderful skill covered the retreat.
“In 1778 he was made quartermaster-general, accepting the office at Washington’s earnest solicitation, but reserving his right to command on the field of battle.
“On the 18th of June the British evacuated Philadelphia, and took up their line of march through the Jerseys. Hamilton andGreene urged giving them battle, and on the 28th of June a general attack was made on Clinton’s forces at Monmouth Court House.
“After the battle Washington marched northward, crossed the Hudson, and encamped in Westchester County, while Clinton continued his retreat to New York.
“And Greene, taking no rest, immediately attended to the numerous orders and dispositions required of him as quartermaster-general.
“On the coming of the French fleet it was decided to make a combined attack upon Newport. Greene wished to take part in it, and in August he took up his quarters with one division of the army at Tiverton.
“But the French had a variety of mishaps, chief among them the disablement of their fleet by a tremendous gale.
“Soon afterward Greene went to Philadelphia, at Washington’s request, to tell Congress of the late expedition and the causes of its failure, and there he was received with distinguished consideration.
“The winter of 1780 was one of great suffering to the American troops, for the lack of food and proper shelter. Congress seems to have been shamefully neglectful of them.
“Greene did so much for his country during the Revolutionary War that to tell of it all would make my story too long for to-night; but I shall try to give you some of the most interesting items.
“Greene was president of the board convened for Andre’s trial as a spy in connection with Arnold’s treason. With tears Greene signed the decree of the court condemning Andre to death.
“It has been asserted, but not confirmed, that Greene cast a deciding vote in the council against granting Andre’s prayer to be shot instead of hanged. The reason given was that if punished at all, Andre should receive the punishment meted to spies, according to the laws of war.
“Greene was given the post at West Point after it was left vacant by Arnold’s treason. Greene assumed the command early in October,1780, but the failure of Gates in the southern field caused his recall in August, and by common consent Greene was considered the best man fit to retrieve the fortunes of the southern army.
“Congress empowered Washington to ask Greene to take Gates’ late command. Greene accepted the offered post and found a formidable task awaiting him. He took the command at Charlotte, 2d of December, 1780. In front of him was an army of three thousand two hundred and twenty-four men abundantly clothed and fed, well disciplined, elated with victory and led by an able general.
“To oppose this force he had an army of two thousand three hundred and seven, of whom one thousand four hundred and eighty-two were present and fit for duty, five hundred and forty-seven were absent on command, and one hundred and twenty-eight were detached on extra service; all these were half fed, scantily clothed, cast down by defeat, and many of them defiant of all discipline.Also the country was infested with Tories.
“To Greene’s bright mind it was evident that he could not face Cornwallis with such inferior numbers, and he resolved to divide his forces, by which means he might secure an abundance of food, keep the enemy within narrow bounds, cut them off from supplies from the upper country, revive the drooping spirits of the inhabitants, threaten the posts and communications of the enemy, and compel him to delay his threatened invasion of North Carolina.
“With the purpose of threatening the British left flank, Morgan was detached with his famous Maryland brigade, and Colonel Washington’s light dragoons, to take up a position near the confluence of Pacolet and Broad Rivers.
“With the other division, Greene, after a laborious march through a barren country, took post at Hick’s Creek on the Pedee, near the South Carolina line.
“Tarleton was hastening forward with histroops, expecting to strike a decisive blow at Morgan, whom it seems he despised, probably deeming him very inferior to himself in military knowledge and skill.
“He found Morgan, Colonel Washington and their troops prepared to receive him and his. Then followed the battle of the Cowpens, of which I told you the other day.
“Cornwallis was furious over that defeat, and set out at once in pursuit of Morgan, leaving behind whatever might hinder his movements.”
“But he didn’t catch him,” cried Ned, clapping his hands with a gleeful laugh.
“No,” said the captain, “Morgan managed to keep out of his reach, crossed the river first and kept on into North Carolina.
“But to tell in detail of all Greene’s doings down there in the Carolinas and Georgia would make too long a story for to-night.
“On the 9th of February, 1781, Greene, by a most brilliant march, succeeded in bringing together the two divisions of his army atGuilford Court House. He had expected reinforcements from Virginia, but as they had not yet arrived, he decided to retreat toward them and put the broad river Dan between the enemy and himself. In that he succeeded without loss of men, baggage or stores.
“Cornwallis had been pursuing him for two hundred miles, but his troops were now weary and discouraged by their fruitless march, and he therefore prudently retired to Hillsborough.
“However, Greene soon received his reinforcements, and, crossing the Dan, came to battle with Cornwallis at Guilford Court House. That battle was a tactical success for the British, yet the Americans gained a decided strategic advantage, for the enemy—too much shattered to go on with the contest—retired to Wilmington, and from there moved into Virginia to effect a junction with General Phillips.
“Then Greene at once turned southward with his army. His reasons were given in a letter to Washington: ‘I am determined tocarry the war immediately into South Carolina,’ he wrote. ‘The enemy will be obliged to follow us, or give up the posts in that state.’ If the enemy did follow, it would take the war out of North Carolina, where the inhabitants had suffered great loss from them, and if the enemy left the posts in South Carolina to fall, he would lose far more than he could gain in Virginia.
“In the latter part of April of that year, the American army established itself in a strong position on Hobkirk’s Hill, near Camden, and on the 25th the British, under Lord Rawdon, attacked it there. It was exactly what Greene had been preparing for.
“The assault ought to have resulted in the total ruin of the British army; but through an accidental misunderstanding of orders, Greene’s very best men in the Maryland brigade behaved badly and he was forced to abandon his position. Yet, as usual, he reaped the fruits of victory.
“He had sent Marion and Lee to take Fort Watson, and their effort had been a brilliantsuccess, and now obliged Rawdon to abandon Camden and fall back toward Charleston.
“Greene now had everything in his own hands, and went on taking fort after fort from the enemy, and also all the back country of South Carolina and Georgia.
“Now, Greene’s army had been moving and fighting for seven months. Of course, they must have been tired; so he gave them a rest of about six weeks in a secure position on the high hills of Santee.
“After that he met the British army, now under the command of Stuart, in a decisive action at Eutaw Springs.
“In the morning the British were driven off the field by a superb charge on their left flank; but after retreating some distance in disorder, they rallied in a strong position, protected by a brick house and palisaded garden, and succeeded in remaining there during the afternoon, but only because Greene desisted from further attack until the cool of the evening. For thus holding their position merely on sufferance the British army absurdlyclaimed a victory, and some careless American writers—who ought to know better—have repeated the error. Greene foresaw that the British must retreat at night; they did so, and he then renewed his attack. They were chased nearly thirty miles by Marion and Lee, and very many of them taken prisoners. Of the two thousand and three hundred men with whom Stuart had gone into battle, scarcely more than one thousand reached Charleston. There they remained for the next fourteen months, shut up under the shelter of their fleet.”
“The battle of Eutaw Springs was a great victory for the Americans, wasn’t it, father?” asked Grace.
“It was, indeed, a decisive and final one,” he replied; “at least, so far as the Americans in South Carolina were concerned. Congress testified its appreciation of it by a vote of thanks and a gold medal.”
“What was the date of that battle, father?” asked Lucilla.
“Battle of Eutaw Springs? Eighth ofSeptember, 1781. On the 14th of December, 1782, Greene marched into Charleston at the head of his army, and the next summer, when the army was disbanded, he went home. On his way there he stopped in Philadelphia and was greeted there by enthusiastic crowds and treated with great consideration by Congress—the men who had come so near depriving the country of his services.”
“Was the war over then, papa?” asked Elsie.
“England had not yet acknowledged our independence,” replied her father, “but did so on November 30, 1782, when preliminaries of peace were signed; those were changed into a definite peace on September 3, 1783.”
“But is that all the story about General Greene, papa?” asked Ned.
“Not quite,” replied his father. “Some two years after the war was over he removed to a plantation which the State of Georgia had presented to him, doubtless in acknowledgmentof his great services there in ridding them of British tyranny. He is said to have lived there very happily, with a good wife and many congenial friends, in spite of having, through the dishonesty of an army contractor for whom he had become security, to bear a heavy pecuniary responsibility. He did not live to be old, dying at the age of forty-four from sunstroke.”
“What a pity!” exclaimed Elsie. “Had he any children, papa?”
“Yes; two sons and three daughters.”
“I think they must have been very proud of their father,” she said, after a moment’s thoughtful silence. “Thank you, papa, for telling us about him. I’d like to know about all my countrymen who have been great and good and useful.”
“As we all would,” added Lucilla; “and we may be thankful that we have a father who is able and kind enough to tell us so much.”
“Yes, indeed!” responded Elsie earnestly, and with a loving look up into her father’s eyes. “I thank him very much, and hopeI shall never forget the good history lessons he has given us.”
“And now it is time for my birdlings to go to their nests,” said Violet, rising and taking Ned’s hand. “Bid good-night to papa and the rest and we will go.”
“Wouldyou enjoy a little stroll about the grounds before seeking your nest for the night, dearest?” asked Harold of Grace, speaking so softly that the words reached no ear but hers.
“I think I should—with pleasant company,” she added, a twinkle of fun in her eyes as she lifted them to his, so full of love and admiration.
“He who gives the invitation will do his best to be that,” he returned, offering his arm as they both rose to their feet.
A few minutes later they were seated in the arbor on the edge of the cliff overlooking the river—the very place where he had first told the story of his love and she had acknowledged its return. Both remembered that now, and the pleasant story was told again.
A little silence followed, broken presently by Grace.
“What a lovely scene this is! What a grand old river! I am always sorry to leave it, though glad, too, to go home to our own place in the sunny south.”
“Yes; a winter here would be too cold for my frail patient,” said Harold, pressing affectionately the small white hand he held in his. “For which reason, as well as others, I am glad we have homes in the sunny south. I only wish that you and I might at once make another for ourselves.”
“But father won’t allow that for several years to come; and as he lets us be together as much as we will, don’t you think we ought to try to be content to do as he says about—about the time for marrying?”
“Yes, dearest; and I really do try to be content.”
“Yonder lies our yacht. She looks lovely in the moonlight. I am so glad that we can go home in her instead of by the public conveyances. It is such a restful mode oftravel, and we can all feel so much at our ease.”
“Yes, I highly approve of it, especially for any patient of mine. I hope we are going to have a speedy and pleasant little voyage. But now, dearest, your doctor thinks it would be well for you to go and begin your night’s rest, as a suitable preparation for it.”
“Yes,” she said, rising and taking his arm again, “and it is not hard to say good-night, since we are to be together again in the morning.”
They found the porch deserted except by the captain and Lucilla, who were taking their usual evening promenade.
“Good-night, father,” said Grace in a lively tone as she approached him. “My doctor orders me off to bed, that I may gain strength for to-morrow’s arduous journey.”
“Ah!” he returned, drawing her to him and giving her a fatherly embrace. “I highly approve of that prescription, and hope youmay awake in the morning stronger and better in health than ever before.”
“Thank you, father dear; and I hope it won’t be very long before you send Lu to join me,” said Grace, turning a smiling face toward her sister.
“Oh, I dare say I’ll be up there before you get your eyes shut for the night,” laughed Lucilla. “As we don’t any more sleep in adjoining rooms when at home, I value the privilege of being near you at night while here.”
“And it is well for you to be together, so that if one is sick the other can call the doctor,” remarked Harold, regarding the two with a pleased and amused smile.
The next morning found all ready and anxious to start upon their short voyage. The yacht was in excellent condition, their trunks were all packed, the cottage in condition to be left in charge of the usual caretaker; so at a reasonably early hour they were all aboard.
It was a lovely day, warm enough for most of them to be very comfortable on deck while the sun was shining. The older people sat together chatting in a lively way while the children roamed the deck.
At length Elsie Raymond came and sat down beside her father.
“Tired, daughter?” he asked kindly.
“Not so very much, papa, but I think I’d like to hear a naval story—it seems as if it would be suitable while we are here on a vessel, and I feel sure you must know a good many of them.”
He laughed a little at that. “Perhaps I do,” he said, “and I suppose it is natural for a naval officer’s daughter to crave naval stories. Shall I tell you of the fight between the Wasp and Frolic—a fight that took place during our last war with England?
“Oh, yes, papa,” she answered eagerly, at the same time beckoning to the other children to come. They understood, hastened to gather about the captain, and he began at once.
“Near the middle of October, 1812—you know we were then at war with England—the American gun sloop Wasp, with Jacob Jones for captain, and a crew of one hundred and thirty-seven men, left the Delaware and sailed southeast to get into the tracks of the West India traders. On the next day she met a heavy gale, in which she lost her jib-boom and two men who were on it. By the seventeenth the weather had moderated somewhat and she discovered several sail, which were part of a fleet of armed merchantmen from Honduras, bound for England, under convoy of the British eighteen-gun brig-sloop of war Frolic, of nineteen guns and one hundred and ten men, and commanded by Captain Whinyates.
“Those vessels had been dispersed by the gale the Wasp had passed through. The Frolic had spent the day in repairing damages, and by dark six of her convoy had rejoined her. Four of them mounted from sixteen to eighteen guns each.
“As Jones drew near he perceived that theBritish vessel was disposed to fight, and was preparing to allow the merchantmen to escape during the engagement. He at once put the Wasp under short fighting canvas, and bore down toward the Frolic, which had lost her main-yard in the gale; she now lashed her damaged yard on deck, carried very little sail, and hoisted Spanish colors to decoy the stranger and permit her convoy to escape.
“By half-past eleven the ships were not more than sixty yards apart and began firing—the Wasp her port, and the Frolic her starboard battery. The sea was rolling heavily under a stiff breeze. The Frolic fired very rapidly, delivering three broadsides to the Wasp’s two, both crews cheering loudly; as the ships wallowed through the water abreast of each other the Americans fired as the engaged side of their ship was going down, aiming at the Frolic’s hull, while the English fired while on the crest of the sea, their shot going high. The water flew in clouds of spray over both vessels, they rolling so that the muzzles of the guns went under.”
“Then they couldn’t fire, could they, uncle?” asked Eric.
“Yes,” replied Captain Raymond; “in spite of that the firing was spirited and well directed. In five minutes the Wasp’s main-top mast was shot away. It fell with the main-top-sail, and lodged so as to make the head-yards unmanageable during the rest of the battle. A very few minutes later her gaff and main-topgallant-mast were shot away, and very soon her condition seemed helpless.
“But the Frolic had been still more seriously injured in her hull and lower masts. She had fired from the crest of the wave, the Wasp from the trough of the sea, sending her shot through the hull of the Frolic with destructive effect. There was a great slaughter among her crew, but the survivors kept on with dogged courage.
“At first the two vessels ran side by side, but the Wasp gradually forged ahead, throwing in her fire from a position in which she herself received little injury.
“At length the bowsprit of the Frolic passed in over the quarter-deck of the Wasp, forcing her bows up in the wind. This enabled the Wasp to throw in a close, raking broadside with most destructive effect.
“They were so close together that the Americans struck the Frolic’s side with their rammers in loading, and they began to rake the British vessel with dreadful effect.
“When the vessels ran foul of each other the crew of the Wasp were greatly excited and could no longer be restrained. With wild shouts they leaped into the tangled rigging and made their way to the deck of the Frolic, carrying dismay to the hearts of its surviving crew. All of those who were able had rushed below to escape the raking fire of the Wasp, excepting an old sailor who had kept his place at the wheel during the terrible fight. A few surviving officers were standing on the quarter-deck of the Frolic, most of them wounded. They threw down their swords in token of surrender, when Lieutenant Biddle, who led the boarding party,pulled down the British flag with his own hands.
“A great part of the Frolic’s men were killed or wounded; not twenty persons on board had escaped unharmed. It was at a quarter past twelve that Lieutenant Biddle hauled down the Frolic’s flag—just forty-three minutes after the fight began. Her total loss of men was over ninety, about thirty of whom were killed outright or died of wounds.”
“Were there as many killed and wounded on our vessel, the Wasp?” asked Edward Leland.
“No,” replied the captain; “five of her men were killed, two in her mizzen-top and one in her main-top-mast rigging, and five were wounded, chiefly aloft. She, the Frolic, had been desperately defended; no men could have fought more bravely than Captain Whinyates and his crew. On the other hand, the Americans had done their work with coolness; the accuracy with which they fired was remarkable, and, as the contesthad been mainly one of gunnery, they won the victory. When the two vessels separated both masts of the Frolic fell, and tattered sails and broken rigging covered the dead, with which her decks were strewn.
“Lieutenant Biddle was given charge of the prize, and the vessels were about parting company when the British ship of war Poictiers, seventy-four guns, Captain Beresford, appeared on the scene. Two hours after Jones had won his victory his crippled vessel and more crippled prize were recaptured by the Poictiers.”
“And all these brave men were made prisoners, weren’t they, papa?” sighed Elsie.
“Yes; but they were soon exchanged, and Congress voted them prize money for their capture, and promoted Captain Jones and Lieutenant Biddle. The press lauded Jones. Delaware, his native State, voted him thanks, a sword and a piece of silver plate. The Corporation of New York City voted him a sword and the freedom of the city. Congressgave him the thanks of the nation and a gold medal, and appropriated twenty-five thousand dollars to Jones and his companions as a compensation for the loss of their prize by recapture.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Elsie, with a sigh of satisfaction, “for I’m sure they deserved it.”
“There were some stirring songs made to commemorate the Wasp’s battle with the Frolic, were there not?” asked Grandma Elsie, sitting near.
“Yes, mother,” replied the captain; “they were sung everywhere, and by boys in the street. I think I can recall a stanza of one given by Lossing in his ‘Story of the United States Navy’: