FERNANDO'S FRIEND GETS HIM INTO A SERIOUS SCRAPE.
In due time Fernando and Sukey were entered in the college. They were transferred to more comfortable quarters than the wretched inn of Mrs. Mahone. Terrence superintended everything and was, in truth, the good angel of the boys. He had a warm heart, was a genuine friend, and would have shed his last drop of blood for them; but Terrence was, after all, a young scamp, whose dearest friend was not free from a practical joke. His jokes often became serious affairs and involved himself as well as friends in trouble, though he never intended anything unpleasant.
Fernando had been in college but a few months, and was already making excellent progress, when one day Terrence came to his room and said:
"Me frind, d'ye want to see a bit of good society?"
Laying down a heavy mathematical work, Fernando smilingly answered:
"I don't know, Terrence; I've hardly time for society."
"What's the need of worryin' yer brains out over Latin, Greek and astronomy, when there's my amount of fun to be had? Come; a little mite of society will brighten up yer ideas. Now listen to me, lad. There's goin' to be a big ball given at the mayor's, and d'ye remimber the darlint little craythur ye met on the street that day?"
Remember her? of course Fernando remembered her. She had scarcely been out of his mind day or night since he had seen her. She had been the angel of his dreams, the princess of countless air castles; but he had never indulged a hope that he might see her again.
"Will she be at the ball, Terrence?"
"To be sure. It's mesilf as heard it, and thin if ye'll look over the Baltimore papers, ye'll see her name Morgianna Lane, the daughter of Captain Felix Lane of Mariana, whose entree into society is to be the ninth, chaperoned by Madame Barnhart."
Terrence Malone evinced a wonderful ability at picking up information on any question that took his fancy. He had a bold way of insinuating himself into people's affections, for no one could dislike the light-hearted, merry Irishman.
"Now there is no need for ye to say ye won't go, because ye will," said Terrence. "It's a grand occasion to be sure. One of his majesty's ships o' war is in port, and some of the officers from her will be there, every alderman in the town, some congressmen and ex-President Jefferson will be there."
Fernando looked at him in amazement and, after a moment, he said:
"Terrence, if the ball is to be such a grand affair, please to inform me how we are to gain admission."
"Now, me boy, lave that to me. Will ye go?"
"Yes."
"And ye don't mind it if it's a thrifle of an adventure, do yez?"
"No."
"That's it. I always said ye was a lad after me own heart; but, Fernando, don't yez say one word to Sukey. He's too slow and careful. He might make trouble with us and upset all our plans."
At first, Fernando, who hated anything like deceit, opposed secresy; but his Irish friend brought so many excellent arguments to bear, that he virtually carried his point.
"Terrence, I fear I will make an awkward figure in a ball room!" declared Fernando. "I am not accustomed to such things."
"A glass or two of champagne will do it for ye."
"But I never danced in my life."
"I'll teach ye mesilf, and, bedad, ye'll be as foine a terpechorian artist be the toime, as will be at the ball."
The last objection swept away, Fernando began secretly to take lessons in the waltz, cotillon and other dances of the day.
Whatever may be said against Terrence, one thing is quite certain, he was no bad dancing master, and Fernando was an apt pupil. Somehow, there was a spice of adventure in the escapade, which seemed to thrill Fernando with pleasure, and he entered into it with a zeal that was remarkable.
The English man-of-war in the harbor was theXenophon, Captain Conkerall commander. The captain had some acquaintances and friends in Baltimore, and this event transpired before the war spirit became so strong that English officers dared not venture on shore. The captain and his officers were of course invited to the ball.
The day of the ball, the captain came ashore and was snugly quartered at the Baltimore House, getting ready for the affair.
The captain was in his room talking with some citizens of Baltimore and a congressman; a decanter and glasses were on a sideboard, and the captain's face was somewhat flushed, when there entered a neat, well-dressed young gentleman, whose language and features were slightly Hibernian.
"I beg pardon, gintlemen, but this is Captain Conkerall? Sure I make no mistake, for the very bearin' tells me he is a son of Neptune."
As the captain was in full uniform, of course there was no trouble about recognizing him. The captain rose and, taking the hand of the young man, tried hard to remember where he had seen him before.
"Sure, ye don't remember me. I am Lord Kildee, the son of the ould baron of Kildee Castle, who was a schoolmate of yer father."
The captain, delighted at having so noted an acquaintance, took great pleasure in introducing a scion of such a noble family as Kildee. One would have thought, from Captain Conkerall's manner, that he had been on intimate terms with the house of Kildee all his life, while in reality he had never until that moment known that there lived such a being as the Lord of Kildee. Wine and vanity work wonders, and the captain felt great pride in being recognized at Baltimore by Lord Kildee, whose father was, as the new acquaintance assured him, a member of the house of lords.
The visiting aldermen of the town and the congressman were introduced to the Lord Kildee, who had the air of a genuine nobleman, with just enough of the rich brogue to entitle him to the name of Irishman.
Would his lordship have a glass of wine with them. To be sure he would.
Captain Conkerall, who was expected to be the lion of the evening, indulged rather freely, and the more he indulged the more he had a desire to.
At last the congressman rose to make a speech. He was rather unsteady on his legs, but exceedingly eloquent on the question of Jefferson's embargo act. He thought it an outrage designed to foster the unfortunate estrangement between the mother country and America. He, as a Federalist, had opposed Jefferson and Jeffersonianism.
How much longer his harangue might have lasted, no one could have told, but the captain was warned that the hour for the ball was drawing near, and he gently insinuated that the speech be deferred for an after-dinner talk. Just as the captain's guests were on the point of retiring, Lord Kildee, by a gentle hint, suggested that if he had an invitation he would be glad to meet them at the ball. Of course so noted a person as Lord Kildee could not be neglected, and, as one of the invitation committee was present, he issued a ticket at once. Then the captain and his lordship were left alone.
His lordship hinted that he had much to say to the captain in confidence, having just come from the fleet of Vice Admiral Berkeley. Over their wine, he informed the captain that he was on intimate terms with the vice admiral and that the captain of theXenophonwas down for an early promotion. Captain Conkerall was delighted. He drank deep to the health of Vice Admiral Berkeley, Lord Kildee and himself. By this time, the captain was ready to drink to the health of anybody. The Lord Kildee, strange to say, imbibed very little, and soon the captain was insensible on the floor, while his lordship was as sober as a judge.
"Faith, it's a dacint bit of work," he said, eyeing the prostrate captain. "Now to the rest of the plan."
Lord Kildee was none other than the rollicking Irish student Terrence Malone. In a few moments, he had divested the captain of his coat, trousers and vest, which, with his chapeau, he rolled up in a neat bundle and hurried away to his friend Fernando Stevens. The hour was late, and Fernando had almost given up going to the ball, when Terrence bolted into his room, his cheeks aglow with excitement.
"Here, me lad, don the royal robes at once. Begorra, it's noblemen we are goin' to be to-night!"
"What does this mean, Terrence?" Fernando asked, as Malone unrolled the bundle containing the elegant uniform of a British officer.
"Divil a question need ye be askin'; put on the uniform; it will fit ye to an exactness."
In vain Fernando expostulated; his friend forced him into compliance, and, almost before he knew it, he was encased in a British uniform, and a handsome looking officer he made. Terrence then gave him a drink at his bottle to "steady his nerves," and told him that it was one of the "divil's own toimes" they would have.
Fernando, despite all his staid qualities and Puritanic instincts, loved an adventure which promised fun, and finally entered into the scheme with a zest second only to his friend. The very idea of playing a prank on the captain of a man-of-war was enough to induce him to engage in almost any enterprise. They managed to escape the house without being detected by Sukey, who was puzzling his brain over deep questions in philosophy, and hastened down the street to a carriage which Terrence engaged to take them to the mayor's.
There was a ticket of admission in the captain's vest, which Fernando used, and Lord Kildee had one for himself.
As Terrence contemplated his young friend, whom the uniform fitted as neatly as if he had grown in it, he declared that he was perfection.
Arrived at the door, Fernando, whose brain was in a whirl, found himself suddenly hurried up a flight of marble steps to the great vestibule where there was a flood of subdued light. The wine made him bold, reckless, and when he was introduced as Lieutenant Smither, of his majesty's vice admiral's flag-ship, he half believed he was that person and, assuming what he supposed to be the manner and carriage of so high an official, received the bows and smiles of the fair ladies assembled with the grace of a veteran seaman.
There were a few officers from theXenophonpresent, among them a Lieutenant Matson, who was dividing his time between a very pretty girl and asking why Captain Conkerall was so late.
Fernando played his part remarkably well, considering that he was new in the role. Whenever he was in danger of "making a bad break," Lord Kildee, who was the lion of the hour, was at hand to aid him, and with consummate grace and ease helped him through the worst difficulties. A few glasses of champagne made Fernando bolder.
At last he met that beautiful creature whom he had seen alight from the carriage and was introduced to Miss Morgianna Lane. Morgianna, young as she was, detected the deception. Fernando talked without reserve on any and every topic. Those he knew the least about, he discussed with most fluency, until he bid fair to become the centre of attraction.
When they were alone, Morgianna, with one of her sweetest smiles, said:
"I don't believe you are an Englishman."
"I'll be honest with you, Miss Lane," said he. "I am not."
"Who are you?"
"If you will keep my secret, I will tell you all." Morgianna, as fond of mischief as Terrence, agreed to do so, and he told her everything. She laughed until the tears coursed down her pretty cheeks. She said it was a good joke and as soon as she got home, she would tell her papa and he would, she knew, enjoy it.
"But you must not drink any more wine," she added. "It affects your head." Fernando admitted that he was not used to it, and he promised to desist. After waltzing for an hour with her and getting a tender squeeze of the hand, he restored her to an affable old lady who acted as Morgianna's chaperon, and then Fernando retired to new conquests, his head in a whirl and his heart in a flutter.
Lord Kildee soon had him under his care and introduced him to some friends, among them Lieutenant Matson, who had early in the evening made so many unsuccessful attempts to attract Miss Lane's favorable notice that Fernando had come to regard him as a dangerous rival. Despite the injunction of the fair Morgianna, he found himself half unconsciously quaffing three or four glasses to the good health of somebody; he really did not know whether it was King George or President Jefferson.
Fernando, naturally witty, soon ingratiated himself into this well occupied clique, and he dosed them with glory to their heart's content. He resolved at once to enter into their humor, and as the wine mounted up to his brain, he gradually found his acquaintance and politics extending to every country and political creed.
"Did you know Thomas Matson of his majesty's shipSpit-Fire?"asked the lieutenant.
"Tom Matson!" cried Fernando. "Indeed I did sir, and do still! and there is not a man in the British navy I am prouder of knowing." Of course he had never heard of Thomas Matson until this moment.
"You don't say, sir?" said the lieutenant in astonishment. "Has he any chance of promotion, sir?"
"Promotion!" cried Fernando, in well-feigned astonishment. "Why, have you not heard that he is already in command of a ship? You cannot possibly have heard from him lately, or you would have known that!"
"That's true, sir; I have not heard from him since he quitted theBlack Cloudin the South, I think they said for his health; but how did he get the step?"
"Why, as to the promotion, that was remarkable enough," said Fernando, quaffing off a tumbler of champagne to aid his inventive faculties; but Fernando, despite his native shrewdness and wonderful inventive powers, was liable to get into trouble. He knew as little about a ship as a landlubber might be supposed to know, and his companion saw at once that he would make a mess of the story, so he came to his rescue by informing the assembly that a fine vocalist at the other end of the room was going to sing, and asked that the story be deferred until after the song. They all hurried away save Fernando, who, overcome by too deep potations, sank upon a sofa temporarily unconscious.
He was roused from his stupor by his companion shaking him and saying:
"Fernando, me boy, it's a divil's own mess ye are makin' of this! Wake up and get out!"
He roused himself and looked about. The room they were in was a small apartment off the great saloon, and through the half-open folding-door, he could see that the festivities still continued. The music and gay forms of dancers reminded him where he was.
"Fernando, we've played this game jist as long as we can, successfully; we had better go."
"I am ready," and Fernando got up and started diagonally across the room, stepping with his feet very wide apart. The pretended Lord Kildee took his arm, and they got to the door, where Fernando missed his footing and went tumbling down the steps in a very undignified manner. His lordship, Kildee, having imbibed rather freely himself, kept him company, and for a few seconds they remained at the bottom of the flight, dividing their time between studying astronomy and the laws of gravitation.
Fernando had badly smashed the captain's chapeau and one fine plume was gone. They had not gone far before they ran upon a watchman, who threatened to run them in; but the police of those days were as susceptible to a bribe as they are to-day, and after donating liberally to the cause of justice and protection, they were taken to their rooms instead of the calaboose.
Young Stevens had no definite recollection of how he ever got to bed; but he awoke next morning with a wretched headache and found himself in a red coat, with the epaulets and gold lace of an officer. By degrees, the whole thing came back to him.
Terrence came in a few moments later, a smile on his face, as he remarked they were in "the divil's own scrape."
"Why?" asked Fernando.
"We should have taken the clothes back to the captain."
Fernando, who was in total ignorance of the manner in which the uniform was procured, asked:
"How did you get them?"
Terrence told him the whole story, and Fernando, despite his wretched headache, laughed until the tears coursed down his cheeks.
"That's not all, me foine boy. The whole thing is out. The papers printed this morning are full of it. They say the captain was seen just before daylight goin' down the street to his boat with a sheet wrapped about him."
Again the youngsters roared. It was such a madcap frolic as students, utterly reckless of consequences, might engage in; but, after all, it was a serious affair. The clothes had to be returned; then the perpetrators of the outrage would be known at the college, and they might be expelled from the institution in disgrace.
The clothes were returned. That was a point of honor which Fernando insisted upon, as he would neither agree to steal or wear stolen goods. For a day or two he was indisposed, and good, honest Sukey was afraid his friend was "going to be real sick." On the evening of the second day after their madcap frolic, Fernando told Sukey all about it and asked his advice. After the tall young westerner had heard him through, he said:
"Well, Fernando, I am sorry you were in the game at all; but you are in it, and now the best thing is to go to the college and make a clean breast of it to the president. It's your first, you know, and then a fellow just from the woods like us is liable to stumble into bad scrapes. Make a clean breast of it and keep out of such games in the future."
This was really the best advice that could have been given, and Fernando, after consulting Terrence, decided to follow it. Consequently they all three presented themselves to the president of the faculty and, in the best way they could, laid the story before him. Terrence brought all the pathos and eloquence which he naturally possessed to the aid of his friend and got both of them off pretty well.
The old professor was one of the best-hearted men in the world, and when he came to contemplate the lonely condition of the boys so far from home, he forgave them freely, and Fernando went out of his presence resolved never to be guilty of another unseemly trick again.
"Now, if that divil's own ship theXenophonwould only lave port, I'd fale better," remarked Terrence as they wended their way to their rooms. Fernando could not see any harm theXenophoncould do them. The president of the college had forgiven them, and surely they need not care for the ship.
The students entered ardently into their studies, and Fernando tried to forget everything about the mayor's ball save the beautiful face of Morgianna Lane. She was the only sweet picture in that wild dream, and he would not have forgotten her for the world. Time wore slowly on. A week had passed, and all the papers in the country were nagging the captain about going to his vessel in a winding sheet. A wag wrote some verses which must have been galling to the pride of the haughty Briton.
At last it leaked out that two students had played the trick on Captain Conkerall. A newspaper reporter came to see Fernando, who gave him a truthful history of the affair.
"You've played the divil now," said Terrence, when he read the interview in the next issue of theBaltimore Sun.
"Why?"
"Never moind, Fernando, I'll not desert ye, and if my one comes to ye about satisfaction, or inything of the kind, and asks you to mintion your frind, sind thim to Terrence Malone, and he will make the arrangements, that's all."
Fernando had no more idea what he meant than if he had addressed him in Hindoo, and he gave the matter little or no further thought. He was in his room poring over his books the second day after the interview, when there came a rap at his door.
"Come in!" he cried in his broad, western fashion.
The door opened, and, to his surprise, a young English officer entered the apartment.
"Is this Mr. Fernando Stevens?" he asked politely.
"It is."
"I am the bearer of a message from Lieutenant Matson."
"Pray who is Lieutenant Matson?"
"Of his majesty's ship theXenophon."
Fernando thought he must be mistaken, as he had not the least recollection of ever hearing of Lieutenant Matson; but the ensign assured him that he was the person with whom the lieutenant had to deal, and then asked if he could refer him to some friend with whom the business might be arranged. Then the youthful American remembered Terrence Malone's strange instructions and sent the ensign at once to the young Irishman.
Just how Terrence would settle the matter, he did not know; but he who had such remarkable ability for getting one into a scrape could surely devise some means to get him out, and Fernando was perfectly willing to trust him. So, deeming the matter wholly settled, he sat down to his books once more, and had actually forgotten the officer, when Terrence bolted into the room his face expressive of anxiety.
"It's all arranged, me boy. Ye did right in lavin' it to me. The young Britisher and I have made all arrangements."
"Arrangements? what arrangements?" asked Fernando with guileless innocence.
"Arrangements for the meeting, to be sure."
"What meeting?"
"Meeting with Lieutenant Matson."
Throwing down his book, Fernando started up impatiently said:
"I don't want to meet the infernal lieutenant. I thought you had settled it."
"So I did, and right dacintly, too. Now what weapons do ye want?"
"Weapons!" cried Fernando, the truth at last beginning to dawn upon him. "Great Heavens! Terrence, do you mean a duel?"
"Certainly, me frind, nothin' ilse. There's no way to get out of it, honorably."
Fernando reeled as if he had been struck a blow. He had read of duels, but, in the solitude of his western home on the farm, he had never known of any. They were the bloody inventions of more polite civilization. One had been fought between two trappers at a trading post, not over forty miles away, in which rifles at thirty paces were used, and both men were killed. The preacher had said it was murder. Fernando was brave; but he shrank from a duel, and it was not until his pride had been appealed to, that he determined to fight. Then Terrence assured him the lieutenant's friend was waiting; all that was wanting was the weapons.
"I must talk with Sukey."
Sukey was sent for, and when the tall, lanky fellow entered the apartment, Fernando told him all.
"Don't you be in the game, Fernando. Let me tell you, don't you be in it," Sukey answered.
But he was informed that he must, or be forever disgraced. Besides, his enemy was a hated Briton, whom their country was almost on the verge of war with, and it would not be a bad thing to kill him in advance.
"Well, if you must be in the game, Fernando, fight with hatchets. You know you used to throw a hatchet twenty steps and split a pumpkin every time. Fight with hatchets."
It was a novel mode of dueling; but Terrence took the proposition to the lieutenant's friend. The Briton said his friend was a gentlemen, willing to fight with any of the weapons which civilized gentlemen used, and if Mr. Stevens would not consent to the same, the lieutenant would publish him as a barbarian and a coward. Pistols were settled on as a compromise, and Terrence went away to settle the final arrangements. He returned with a smile on his face and, rubbing his hands, said:
"Cheer up, me boy, it's all settled."
"What? won't we fight?"
"Yes, it's settled that you will fight."
For a long time, Fernando was silent, and then he said:
"When will it take place, Terrence?"
"To-morrow morning at sunrise."
Fernando did not go to school that day. Sukey was enjoined to keep the matter a secret, and he went to his classroom as if nothing unusual were about to happen. Fernando spent the day in writing letters to be sent home in case he should not survive the affair which, after all, he believed to be disgraceful. Dueling he thought little better than murder; but he was in for it and determined not to show the white feather. Don't blame Fernando, for he lived in a barbarous age, when the "code of honor" was thought to be honorable. His chief remorse was for his madcap, drunken freak, which had been the provocation for the event, and yet, when he came to think of the ludicrousness of his adventures, he smiled.
More than once on that gloomy day he thought of Morgianna, whom in reality he loved at first sight. Would he ever see her again, or was she only the evening star, which had risen on the last hours of his existence? When Sukey returned, he held a long interview with him and gave him a bundle of letters and papers to send home if--he could not finish the sentence.
"Ain't there no way to get out of it, Fernando?" asked Sukey, his droll face comical even in distress.
"Not honorably."
"Well, now that you're in the game, just shoot that infernal Englishman's head right off his shoulders, that's my advice. I've read lots about duels, and it all depends on who is quickest at the trigger. Take good aim and don't let him get a second the advantage of you."
They went to bed early, and Fernando slept soundly. It was Terrence who awoke them and said it would not do to be late. He had engaged a sailor called Luff Williams to take them in his boat to the spot, a long sandy beach behind a high promontory some five or six miles from the city. The spot was quite secluded, and Terrence declared it a love of a place for such little affairs.
"What are ye thinkin' of, Fernando?" asked Terrence, when the boat with the three young men was under way.
"I'm thinking, sir, if I were to kill him, what I must do after."
"Right, my boy; nothing like it; but 1811 will settle all for ye. I don't believe, now that America is on the verge of war with the British, that my one will make much of a row for killin' the murdherin' baste. Are ye a good shot?"
"I am with a rifle; but I never could do anything to speak of with a pistol."
"I don't moind that. Ye've a good eye; never take it off him after you're on the ground; follow him everywhere. I knew a fellow in Ireland who always shot his man that way. Look without winkin'; it's fatal at a short distance--a very good thing to learn, when ye've a little spare time."
As they came in sight of the beach where the duel was to be fought, they perceived, a few hundred yards off, a group of persons standing on the sands, whom they recognized as their opponents.
"Fernando," said Terrence, grasping his arm firmly, as if to instill into him some of his own hope and confidence, "Fernando, although you're only a boy, I've no fear of your courage; but this Lieutenant Matson is a famous duelist, and he will try to shake your nerve. Now remember that ye take everything that happens quite with an air of indifference; don't let him think he has iny advantage over ye, and you'll see how the tables will be turned in your favor."
"Trust me, Terrence, I'll not disgrace you," Stevens answered.
"You are twelve minutes late, Mr. Malone," said the ensign, who acted as the lieutenant's second; "but we shall all be able to get back to breakfast--those that will care to eat."
Not to be outdone, Terrence said:
"All will be at supper; but your friend will be where he is eaten, rather than eats."
"Don't be too sure; the lieutenant has killed his sixth man in affairs like this."
The remark was of course intended for Fernando's ears. Sukey heard it and said:
"Fernando, that's a lie; don't you believe it. Aim at his plaguy head, and you can hit it. You used to snuff a candle that distance."
Fernando smiled while he kept his eye on the lieutenant. That smile and that eternal stare disconcerted the English officer, and he turned a little pale. There was something about the imperturbable youth which made him dread the meeting. Fernando was strangely, unnaturally calm. Ten minutes more, and he might be in eternity.
THE BELLE OF THE BEACH.
No experienced duelist ever entered into the business with more earnestness or zeal than Terrence Malone. He and the lieutenant's second were some distance away settling points of position, he saw three or four men in the uniform of British officers coming around the bluff, among them the ship's surgeon with a case of instruments and medicines in his hand. Captain Conkerall, though the real injured party, was not on the scene. His lieutenant readily took up his quarrel, on account of his jealousy of Fernando who had completely usurped his place as the favorite of Miss Morgianna Lane.
Arrangements were made at last, and Terrence came to his friend, took his arm and walked him forward.
"Fernando, me boy, we've loaded the pistols. He loaded this and I the one for the lieutenant, I put in a thumpin' heavy charge, so he'll overshoot, I am to give the word; but don't look at me at all. I'll manage to catch the lieutenant's eye, and do ye watch him steadily, aim at his middle and fire when he does, and all will be right."
They were all the while moving to the place selected for the duel.
"I think the ground we are leaving behind us is rather better," said someone. "So it is," answered the lieutenant with a sneer; "but it might be troublesome to carry the young gentleman down that way; here all is fair and easy."
In a few moments they were at the spot; the ground was measured off, and each man was placed, and Fernando thought there was no chance for either escaping.
"Now thin," said Terrence. "I'll walk twelve paces, count 'one, two, three, fire!' and you are both to fire at the word 'fire.' The man who reserves his shot or shoots a second before falls by my hand!"
This stern injunction seemed actually to awe the Britons, and Fernando fancied that he saw the lieutenant trembling. It was only fancy however. The lieutenant was really calm. Notwithstanding the advice of Terrence, Fernando could not help turning his eyes from the lieutenant to watch the figure of his retiring friend. At last he stopped--a second or two elapsed--he wheeled rapidly around. Fernando now turned his eyes toward his antagonist.
Lieutenant Matson was a slender man, and when he turned his right side toward Fernando, he was not much thicker than a rail.
"One--two--three--fire!"
Fernando watched his opponent, and, at the word, raised his pistol and fired. His hat flew from his head, the crown torn completely out, while his antagonist leaped into the air, clapped his hand to the seat of his trousers and fell howling upon the ground. The people around Fernando all rushed forward, save Sukey, who came to his friend and, seeing that he was unhurt, began a mild reproof:
"Why didn't you aim higher, Fernando?"
Terrence came back a moment later and, bursting into laughter, said:
"Begorra! this will interfere with his sedentary habits for a month. Arrah, me boy, it's proud o' ye I am."
Fernando caught two or three glances thrown at him with expression of revengeful passion. Half a score of marines were seen coming around the rocks, and Terrence left off laughing. The three were alone against five times their number.
Fernando felt some one grasp him around the waist and hurry him from the spot, and ten minutes later they were in the boat skimming over the water back toward Baltimore.
"Put on ivery divilish stitch o' canvas yer tub 'll carry," said Terrence to Luff Williams. "The Johnny Bulls won't like this a bit, and bad luck to us if they git their hands on us."
Fernando, now that the nervous strain was over, sank back in the boat, almost completely exhausted.
"Fernando, ye did it illegintly," said the young Irishman.
"Will he die?"
"Not unless the doctors kill him trying to dig it out."
"I hope they won't."
"What the divil's the difference? Before this toime next year, we'll be shootin' redcoats for sport."
"Say, what's that, shipmate?" drawled out Luff Williams.
"Where?"
"Look ahead."
"A long boat full o' British marines!" cried Terrence. "Boys, I don't like that. Mr. Luff Williams, if ye want a whole skin over yer body pull about and sail down the coast like the divil was after ye!"
In less than two minutes' time their craft was put about and went flying before the wind, under a full stretch of canvas. The boat impelled by eight stout oarsmen pressed hard in their wake.
"Heave to! heave to!" cried an officer in the pursuing boat. "Heave to, or we will fire on you!"
"Niver mind him, me frind," said Terrence to the man at the rudder. "I'll tell ye when to lay low."
They were in long musket shot distance, and Williams assured them that if they could round a headland, they would get a stiffer breeze and outsail their pursuer.
"Are they gaining on us?" Fernando asked.
"Not much, if any," was the response.
Again the officer in the bow, making a speaking trumpet of his hands, shouted:
"Heave to, or I swear I'll fire on you!"
"To the divil with you," roared Terrence. "We've downed one redcoat in fair light; what more do ye want, bad luck to ye?"
The officer spoke to some one behind him, and a musket was handed him.
Terrence sprang to the stern saying:
"Now look out! lay low, ye lubbers! the blackguard's goin' to shoot!"
The officer raised his musket, and a moment later a puff of smoke issued from the muzzle.
"Down!" cried Terrence. All laid low, and the next second the report of a musket came on the air, and a bullet dropped in the water, a little to the larboard.
"They are coming agin," cried Terrence.
"Haven't you sweeps which we could work?" asked Fernando.
There was a pair of sweeps in the craft, and Terrence and Fernando manned them. Though Fernando was a little awkward at first, he soon came to use the sweep quite effectively and helped the little craft along.
"Do we gain on them?" asked Fernando.
"Not much, if any;" the helmsman answered.
At this moment, three or four muskets were fired from the boat, and the balls whistled among the sails or spattered in the water. Should they meet with one of those sudden calms which frequently overtook vessels off the bay, they knew they would be lost. The British marines were laying to their oars right lustily, and the boat flew over the waves.
"Have you no arms in the boat?" asked Fernando.
"Nothin' but a fowlin' piece and some goose shot."
"Just the thing for me!" declared Sukey. "I was always good at killin' geese on the wing."
Sukey hunted up the gun and loaded both barrels heavily with shot and slugs. Then he took up his post in the stern, ready to rake the long boat fore and aft, should it come within range of his formidable gun. The officer and three or four marines continued to load and fire, until the boat was out of the harbor, when a strong breeze struck her sails and sent her spinning over the water.
"Huzzah! huzzah! we are gainin' on' em now!" cried Sukey, flourishing his gun in the air.
The British fired half a dozen more shots at the fleeing boat; but the bullets began dropping behind. They were out of reach of their longest range muskets.
"There ain't no danger now," declared Sukey. "They are not in the game."
The breeze continued strong, and the little craft boldly cleft the waters, as it sped forward over the bounding waves.
"It's no use to be wearing ourselves out, Fernando," said Terrence. "The good breeze is doin' more for us than a hundred oars could do."
They put in their sweeps and, mounting the rail aft, clung to rigging, and shouted derision and defiance at their pursuers.
Although the Britons had little hope or expectation of overtaking them, yet, with that bull-dog tenacity characteristic of Englishmen, they continued the chase.
"That danger is over," said Terrence, as they once more resumed their seats in the boat.
"What would they have done with us, Terrence, had they captured us?"
"Faith, it's hard telling; but I think we'd found it unpleasant."
"Wasn't the fight fair?"
"As fair as iver one saw; but, begorra, it didn't turn out the way they expected."
"Why, la sakes, they didn't think Fernando was goin' to miss, did they?" said Sukey. "He ain't been shootin' squirrels out o' the tallest trees in Ohio for nothin'."
"This lieutenant thought he was going to have some sport with a greenhorn."
"Can you see them yet?" asked Fernando of Williams, who sat well up in the stern holding the helm.
"Yes."
"How far are they away?"
"Two or three miles."
"And still a-coming?"
"Yes."
"Plague take 'em!" growled Sukey, "why do they follow us so persistently?"
"May be they think to get us when we go ashore; but, bad luck to thim, they'll find it tough if they come afther us."
"Fernando, I wish we had our rifles," growled Sukey. "Wouldn't we make it unprofitable for the redcoats!"
Fernando was rather non-communicative, and sat in the bow of the boat lost in painful meditation. He had shed blood. It was the first, and, although in that age it was thought highly honorable, he felt an inward consciousness that dueling was both cowardly and brutal. Fear of being branded a coward had nerved him to face the pistol of his antagonist. It is not true courage that makes the duelist. There is no more honor, gentility, or courage in dueling than in robbing a safe. The greatest coward living may be a burglar, so he may, from fear of public scorn, fight a duel. Fernando had much to regret. He felt that his social standing had been lowered; yet he was happy in the thought that the duel had had no fatal results. Could he ever return to the school? Could he ever return to his home and face his Christian mother? He was roused from his painful reverie by a loud laugh on the part of Terrence. He turned his eyes toward the jolly fellow and found him convulsed with mirth.
"What ails you, Terrence?" he asked.
"Did you aim at the spot you hit?"
"No; I aimed at a more vital part; but, thank God, I missed, and now I am happy."
"It's more than the lieutenant is, I'm thinkin'."
"But, Terrence, the most serious question is, what are we going to do?"
"Now that's sensible. Let me see, Misther Williams, what's the nearest port? Isn't there a town above on this coast?"
"Yes, not more than ten miles away around that point o' land we'll find a willage."
"Why not put in there?"
"Yes, we kin; but, hang it, how am I a-goin' to git back to Baltimore?"
"Oh, that's aisy enough. Run in after night."
"Yes, an' be sunk by the blasted Britishers!"
"He won't know ye after dark."
"But, Terrence, what are we to do?" asked Fernando.
"It's do, is it?--faith, do nothin'!"
"But the academy?"
"It will get along without us."
"But can we get along without it?"
"Aisy, me frind; don't be alarmed. We'll be back in a week or a fortnight at most. It will all blow over, and no one will ask us any questions. Lave it all to me."
Fernando had almost come to the conclusion that he had left too much to his friend. Terrence had only got him out of one scrape into another, until he had come to mistrust the good judgment and sound discretion of his friend. Not that he doubted the good intentions of Terrence. He had as kind a heart as ever beat in the breast of a young Irishman of twenty-three; but his propensity to mischievous pranks was continually getting him and his friends into trouble.
Fernando went to the fore part of the boat and sat by Sukey.
For a few moments both were silent. Fernando was first to speak.
"Sukey, how is all this to end?" he asked with a sigh.
"I don't know," Sukey answered, in his peculiar, drawling way. "We needn't complain, though; because we came out best so far."
"But it was terrible, shooting at him. I might have killed him."
"He might have killed you, and that would have been worse."
"I never thought of that."
"No doubt he did."
"I wish we were back in the college; but I greatly fear we will be expelled in disgrace. It would kill our mothers."
"No; I think they would get over it; but I tell you, Fernando, my opinion is, it don't make much difference."
"Why?"
"The United States and England are going to fight. I got a paper last night, and it was chock full of fight, and as for your shootin' the lieutenant, I am sure everybody, even your mother and the faculty, will be glad of it. I only blame you for one thing."
"What is that, Sukey?"
"When you had such a good chance, why didn't you aim higher?"
The expression on Sukey's face was too ludicrous for even the young duelist, and he laughed in spite of himself.
"Helloa, there's the town," cried Sukey, as they rounded a headland and entered the mouth of a broad bay, standing in toward a beautiful village. This village has wholly disappeared. Railroads shunned it, and the water traffic being too small to support it, it degenerated into a village of fishermen, which, in 1837, was totally destroyed by fire, and has never been rebuilt. Before the war of 1812, it was a neat, flourishing little town.
"Is this the town you were spakin' about?" asked Terrence of the boatman.
"Yes, zur."
"What place is it?"
"Mariana."
"Mariana," repeated Fernando, "I have heard that name before. Where was it? Mariana,--Mariana."
Terrence came forward to his companions and said:
"Now, lads, like as not the frinds of Matson may be afther following us. Lave it all to me. We'll change our names and go up to the tavern, where we'll hire rooms and be gintlemen traveling for pleasure."
"Would they dare follow us on shore?"
"No; I think not; but if they should, my plan will answer."
When they ran into shore, Terrence paid the boatman and discharged him. Terrence was the son of a rich Irish merchant in Philadelphia, who kept his son liberally supplied with money, who, with corresponding liberality, spent it.
Terrence felt that this was his scrape, and he resolved to bear the expenses.
With his friends, he went to the tavern, where they engaged rooms. Fernando and Sukey retired to their rooms, while Terrence remained in the tap-room, where there was a crowd of Marylanders. He began telling them a most horrible story of the impressment of himself and his friends by a British vessel and of their recent escape. He stated that they had been closely pursued, and he would not be surprised if the Britishers sent a boat on shore to take them away.
He could not have chosen a better theme to inflame those Marylanders. One tall, raw-boned man, who carried a rifle and bullet pouch with him, said:
"Boys, that reminds us mightily o' Dick Long."
Every Marylander assembled in the tap-room knew the sad story of poor Dick Long. He was a fisherman with a wife and four children and was loved by all who knew him. Dick was honest and peaceable, kind-hearted and brave. One day his fishing smack was driven by a gale some distance out at sea, when a British cruiser captured him, and he was impressed into his majesty's service. Dick managed after many weary months to get a letter to his wife. At Halifax, he tried to desert, was caught, brought back and lashed to the "long tom" and received a flogging with the cat-o'-nine-tails. He struck the cruel boatsman, and was lashed to the mast and flogged until he died. A deserter from the ship brought home his dying words, which were these: "Tell my American brothers to avenge me."
"Remember Dick Long, boys, and ef they come to Mariana, let us make 'em wish they had stayed away."
The artful Terrence kindled the flame, and a short time after sunset, Fernando and Sukey were awakened from a doze by hearing a wild uproar on the streets. They sprang to their feet and ran to the window.
Fifteen or twenty officers and seamen had just landed and were making their way toward the public house, when they were assailed by a hundred infuriated Marylanders with sticks, clubs, stones, dirt, old tin buckets and almost every conceivable weapon. The officer in command was trying to explain that their intentions were pacific, that, after rowing for ten hours against the wind and tide, they were tired and hungry; but the inexorable Marylanders continued to shout:
"Dick Long, Dick Long! Don't forget Dick Long!"
Now there was not one of those Britons who had ever heard of Dick Long before, and they could not conceive what that had to do with their landing; nor was this the boat crew which chased our friends; yet Terrence continued to agitate the matter. The truth is Terrence had personally declared war against Great Britain in advance of the United States and had commenced hostilities.
"Down with the bloody backs!" he cried. "Drive thim into the bay."
The officers were forced to return to their boats and, tired as they were, pull down the coast to Baltimore.
Next morning, Fernando rose early and, after breakfast, went out alone to look about the village. It was located in a picturesque and beautiful spot. On the East was the broad bay and sea. On the West were undulating hills covered with umbrageous forests. To the South were some promontories and romantic headlands, against which the restless waters lashed themselves into foam. On a hill about a fourth of a mile from the village, was a large, elegant mansion built of granite, looking like a fairy castle in the distance. A broad carriage-drive, leading through an avenue of chestnuts, led up to the great front gate. The mansion was almost strong enough for a fort and was surrounded by a stone wall five feet high, with an iron picket fence on top of this.
"Who lives in the great house on the hill?" Fernando asked a man.
"Old Captain Lane."
"Captain Lane. I have heard of him. Has he a daughter?"
"Yes, Morgianna."
"It's the same," he thought, as he wandered away to the beach. "What strange providence has brought me here?" Fernando's regrets were in a moment changed to rejoicing. He was glad he had quarrelled with the lieutenant and had been driven away to Mariana.
He went to the tavern and informed Sukey of his discovery and said:
"I am going to contrive in some way to speak with her again."
"Well, don't take that plaguey Irishman in the game, Fernando," said Sukey. "If you do, he'll make a precious mess o' the whole thing."
Terrence was enjoying himself. Before he had been in the town two days, he knew every person in it. All were his friends, and he was quite a lion. Terrence only hoped that a man-of-war would come to Mariana. He vowed he would lead the citizens against her, capture the ship and keep her for coast defence of Maryland.
It was the fourth day after their arrival, that, as Fernando was strolling alone according to his habit on the beach, his eyes fixed on the sands meditating on the recent stirring events, he suddenly became conscious of some one a short distance down the beach. He looked, up and saw a young lady with a parasol in one hand tripping along the sands, now and then picking up a shell. In an instant he knew her. His heart gave a wild bound and then seemed for a instant to stand still. Then it commenced a rapid vibration which increased as she approached. She was coming toward him, all unconscious of his presence and only intent on securing the most beautiful shells.
Suddenly, raising her eyes, she saw a handsome young man close to her. He tipped his hat, smiled and said: "Good morning, Miss Lane."
"Oh, it's you, is it?" she answered with a little laugh. "Why, I declare, how you frightened me!"
"I am sorry for it."
"Never mind; I will survive the shock; but I know why you came to Mariana," and there was a roguish twinkle in her blue eyes.
"Do you?"
"Yes, you fought the lieutenant and had to run away."
"Miss Lane, how did you learn this?"
"Learn it! Don't you know the papers are full of it? Papa read it this morning at breakfast, and he laughed until he cried. Where is that Irishman who gets you into so many funny scrapes?"
"He is at the tavern."
"Well, papa says he must see you. He has fought duels in his day, and he thinks you a splendid shot; but it was naughty of you to fight without consulting me. He might have killed you."
Fernando was now the happiest man on earth.
"Miss Lane, don't think because I did not consult you, I did not think of you. You were in my mind as much as any other person at that trying ordeal, unless it was my mother."
"Oh, don't grow sentimental. Now that it is all over and not much harm done, let us laugh at it;--but I want to scold you."
"Why?"
"You did not obey me on that night. I told you to drink no more wine, and after I left, you drank too much, which provoked the quarrel."
Fernando, who really had no clear idea of the subject-matter of the quarrel, answered:
"I plead guilty, Miss Lane, to being disobedient. Forgive me, and I promise to make amends in the future. Do you know him, Lieutenant Matson?"
"Know Lieutenant Matson? Certainly I do; I have known him for four years. Father has known him longer."
[Illustration: "YOU SURRENDER EASILY."]
"Does he ever come here?"
"Frequently."
"If he comes while I am here, we will have the fight out."
"No you won't."
"Why?"
"I forbid it."
"Then I yield."
"You surrender easily," and the saucy blue eyes glanced slyly at his face. Fernando was at a loss for some answer. Suddenly she broke in with:
"I must go now. There, I see father on the hill. Won't you come to tea this evening? Father would like so much to see you."
Of course he would. He stammered out his thanks, while the fairy-like creature tripped away across the sands, leaving him in a maze of bewilderment. At the crest of the hill, she paused to wave her handkerchief, smiled with ravishing sweetness, and disappeared over the hill with her father.