"Well I am glad of it," said Mr. Eberstein. "That is the right sort of stuff for your busy little brain; will not weigh too heavy. Now I suppose you will be reading all the time you are in the house."
"Aunt Harry has begun to teach me to knit."
"Very good," said Mr. Eberstein. "I believe in knitting too. That's safe."
They went to dinner, and after dinner there was a further knitting lesson, in which Dolly seemed absorbed; nevertheless, before the evening was over she brought up a very different subject again.
"Aunt Harry," she began, in the midst of an arduous effort to get the loops of wool on her needles in the right relative condition,—"does mother know about the Bible?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Eberstein, with a glance at her husband, "she knows about it, something."
"Then why did she never tell me anything about it?"
Mrs. Eberstein hesitated.
"I suppose, Dolly, her thoughts were fuller of other things."
"But howcouldthey be?" said the little one, laying her hands with their knitting work in her lap, and looking up.
Her aunt did not answer.
"How could her thoughts be fuller of other things, if she knows the Bible?" Dolly urged.
"I don't think she really knows much of what is in the Bible," Mrs. Eberstein said. "She has never read it much."
"I don't think she knows about Jesus," Dolly went on gravely; "for she never told me; and she would if she had known, I think. Aunt Harriet, I thinkIought to tellhernow."
"What would you tell her, my darling?"
"Oh, I will tell her that I know Him and love Him; and I will tell her I have got a Bible, and some of the things I have found in it. I will ask her to get one too, and read it. I don't believe she knows."
"The reason why a great many people do not know, Dolly, is, as your Aunt Harry says, that they are so much taken up with other things."
"Then I think one ought to take care not to be too much taken up with other things," said Dolly very seriously.
"But you have got to be taken up with other things," Mr. Eberstein went on. "Here you are going to school in a few days; then your head will be full of English and French, and your hands full of piano keys and harp strings, from morning till night. How are you going to do?"
Dolly looked at the speaker, came and placed herself on his knee again, and laid a hand on his shoulder; eyeing him steadily.
"Ought I not to go to school?"
"Must!—else you cannot be the right sort of a woman, and do the right sort of work."
"How then, Uncle Edward? what shall I do?"
"I'll tell you one thing, Dolly. Don't study and practise to get ahead of somebody else; but to please the King!"
"The King—that is Jesus?"
"Certainly."
Dolly nodded, in full agreement with the rule of action as thus stated; presently brought forward another idea.
"Will He care? Would it please Him to have me play on the piano, or learn French and arithmetic?"
"Dolly, the more you know, and the better you know it, the better servant you can be; you will have the more to use for Jesus."
"Can I use such things for Him? How?"
"Many ways. He will show you how. Do you think an ignorant woman could do as much in the world as an elegant, well-informed, accomplished woman?"
Dolly thought over this question, nodded as one who had come to an understanding of it, and went back to her knitting.
"What ever will become of that child," said Mrs. Eberstein an hour or two later, when she and her husband were alone. "I am full of anxiety about her."
"Then you are taking upon you the part of Providence."
"No, but, Edward, Dolly will have a history."
"So have we all," Mr. Eberstein responded very unresponsively.
"But she will not have a common history. Do you see how open she is to receive impressions, and how fast they stay once they are made?"
"I see the first quality. I never saw a creature quicker to take impressions or to welcome affections. Whether they will prove as lasting as they are sudden,—that we have no means of knowing at present."
"I think they will."
"That's a woman's conclusion, founded on her wishes."
"It is a man's conclusion too; for you think the same thing, Edward."
"Don't prove anything, Harry."
"Yes, it does. When two people come to the same independent view of something, it is fair to suppose there are grounds for it."
"I hope so. Time will show."
"But, Edward, with this extremely sensitive and affectionate nature, how important it is that Dolly should have only the right surroundings, and see only the right sort of people."
"Just so. And so she is going out into the world of a large school; where she will meet all sorts of people and be subjected to all sorts of influences; and you cannot shield her."
"I wish I could keep her at home, and have her taught here! I wish I could!"
"Playing Providence again. We all like to do it."
"No, but, Edward, just look at her," said Mrs. Eberstein with her eyes full of tears.
"I do," said Mr. Eberstein. "I've got eyes. But you will have to trust her, Harry."
"Now she will go, I have no doubt, and write that letter to her mother. I wonder if Sally will get scared, and take her away from us?"
"Why, Hal," said her husband, "your self-will is getting up very strong to-night! What if? Dolly's future does not depend upon us; though we will do what we can for it."
What they did then, was to pray about it again; for these people believed in prayer.
The next day Mrs. Eberstein had invited an acquaintance to come to dinner. This acquaintance had a daughter, also about to enter Mrs. Delancy's school; and Mrs. Eberstein's object was to let the two girls become a little known to each other, so that Dolly in the new world she was about to enter might not feel everything utterly strange. Mrs. Thayer belonged to a good New York family; and it likewise suited her purposes to have her daughter received in so unexceptionable a house as Mrs. Eberstein's, albeit the young lady was not without other Philadelphia friends. So the party fitted together very harmoniously. Mrs. Thayer, in spite of her good connections, was no more than a commonplace personage. Christina, her daughter, on the other hand, showed tokens of becoming a great beauty. A little older than Dolly, of larger build and more flesh and blood development generally, and with one of those peach-blossom complexions which for fairness and delicacy almost rival the flower. Her hair was pretty, her features also pretty, her expression placid. Mrs. Eberstein was much struck.
"They are just about of an age," remarked Mrs. Thayer. "I suppose they will study the same things. Everybody studies the same things. Well, I hope you'll be friends and not rivals, my dears."
"Dolly will not be rivals with anybody," returned Dolly's aunt.
"She don't look very strong. I should think it would not do for her to study too hard," said the other lady. "Oh, rivalry is necessary, you know, to bring out the spirit of boys and girls and make them work. It may be friendly rivalry; but if they were not rivals they would not be anything; might as well not be school girls, or school boys. They would not do any work but what they liked, and we know what that would amount to. I don't know about beating learning into boys; some people say that is the way; but with girls you can't take that way; and all you have to fall back upon is emulation."
"Very few young people will study for the love of it," Mrs. Eberstein so far assented.
"They might, I believe, if the right way was taken," Mr. Eberstein remarked.
"Emulation will do it, if a girl has any spirit," said Mrs. Thayer.
"What sort of spirit?"
"What sort of spirit! Why, the spirit not to let themselves be outdone; to stand as high as anybody, and higher; be No. 1, and carry off the first honours. A spirited girl don't like to be No. 2. Christina will never be No. 2."
"Is it quite certain that such a spirit is the one to be cultivated?"
"It makes them study,"—said Mrs. Thayer, looking at her questioner to see what he meant.
"What do you think the Bible means, when it tells us not to seek for honour?"
"Notto seek for honour?" repeated the lady.
"Not the honour that comes from man."
"I didn't know it forbade it. I never heard that it was forbidden. Why, Mr. Eberstein, it isnaturalto wish for honour. Everybody wishes for it."
"So they do," Mr. Eberstein assented. "I might say, sowedo."
"It is natural," repeated the lady.
"Its being natural does not prove it to be right."
"Why, Mr. Eberstein, if it isnatural, we cannot help it."
"How then does trying to be No. 1 agree with the love that 'seeketh not her own'?"
Dolly was listening earnestly, Mr. Eberstein saw. Mrs. Thayer hesitated, in some inward disgust.
"Do you take that literally?" she said then. "How can you take it literally? You cannot."
"But Christ pleased not Himself."
"Well, but He was not like us."
"We are bidden to be like him, though."
"Oh, as far as we can. But you cannot press those words literally, Mr. Eberstein."
"As far as we can? Imustpress them, for the Bible does. I ask no more, and the Lord demands no more, than that we be like our Masteras far as we can. And He 'pleased not himself,' and 'received not honour from men.'"
"If you were to preach such doctrine in schools, I am afraid you would have very bad recitations."
"Well!" said Mr. Eberstein. "Better bad recitations than bad hearts. Though really there is no necessary connection between my premises and your conclusion. The Bible reckons 'emulations,' Mrs. Thayer, in the list of the worst things human nature knows, and does."
"Then you would have a set of dunces. I should just like to be told, Mr. Eberstein, how on that principle you would get young people to study. In the case of girls you cannot do it by beating; nor in the case of boys, after they have got beyond being little boys. Then emulation comes in, and they work like beavers to get the start of one another. And so we have honours, and prizes, and distinctions. Take all that away, and how would you do, Mr. Eberstein?"
Mr. Eberstein was looking fondly into a pair of young eyes that were fixedly gazing at him. So looking, he spoke,
"There is another sort of 'Well done!' which I would like my Dolly and Miss Christina to try for. If they are in earnest in trying for that, they will study!" said Mr. Eberstein.
Mrs. Thayer thought, apparently, that it was no use talking on the subject with a visionary man; and she turned to something else. The party left the dinner-table, and Dolly took her new acquaintance upstairs to show her the treasure contained in Mrs. Eberstein's old bookcase.
"Mr. Eberstein is rather a strange man, isn't he?" said Miss Christina on the way.
"No," said Dolly. "I don't think he is. What makes you say so?"
"I never heard any one talk like that before."
"Perhaps," said Dolly, stopping short on the landing place and looking at her companion. Then she seemed to change her manner of attack. "Who do you want to please most?" she said.
"With my studies? Why, mamma, of course."
"I would rather please the Lord Jesus," said Dolly.
"But I was talking aboutschool work," retorted the other. "You don't supposeHecares about our lessons?"
"I guess He does," said Dolly. They were still standing on the landing place, looking into each other's eyes.
"But that's impossible. Think!—French lessons, and English lessons, and music and dancing, and all of it. That couldn't be, you know."
"Do you love Jesus?" said Dolly.
"Love him? I do not know," said Christina colouring. "I am a member of the church, if that is what you mean."
Dolly began slowly to go up the remaining stairs. "I think we ought to study to please Him," she said.
"I don't see how it should please him," said the other a little out of humour. "I don't see how He should care about such little things."
"Why not?" said Dolly. "If your mother cares, and my mother cares. Jesus loves us better than they do, and I guess He cares more than they do."
Christina was silenced now, as her mother had been, and followed Dolly thinking there were apairof uncomfortably strange people in the house. The next minute Dolly was not strange at all, but as much a child as any of her fellows. She had unlocked the precious bookcase, and with the zeal of a connoisseur and the glee of a discoverer she was enlarging upon the treasures therein stowed away.
"Here is 'Henry Milner,'" she said, taking down three little red volumes. "Have you read that? Oh, it is delightful! I like it almost best of all. But I have not had time to read much yet. Here is 'Harry and Lucy,' and 'Rosamond,' and 'Frank.' I have just looked at them. And 'Sandford and Merton.' do you know 'Sandford and Merton'? I have just read that."
"There are the 'Arabian Nights,'" said Christina.
"Is that good? I haven't read much yet. I don't know almost any of them."
"'The Looking-Glass'"—Christina went on—"'Pity's Gift'—'Father's Tales.'"
"Those are beautiful," Dolly put in. "I read one, about 'Grandfather's old arm-chair.' Oh, it'sveryinteresting."
"'Elements of Morality'"—Christina read further on the back of a brown book.
"That don't sound good, but I guess itisgood," said Dolly. "I just peeped in, and 'Evenings at Home' looks pretty. Here is 'Robinson Crusoe,' and 'Northern Regions;' I want to read that very much. I guess it's delightful."
"Have you ever been to school before?" said Christina. The books had a faint interest for her.
"No," said Dolly.
"Nor have I; but I know somebody who has been at Mrs. Delancy's, and she says there is one lovely thing at that school. Every month they go somewhere."
"They—go—somewhere," Dolly echoed the words. "Who go?"
"Everybody; teachers and scholars and all. There is a holiday; and Mrs. Delancy takes them all to see something. One time it was a rope walk, I think; and another time it was a paper-mill; and sometimes it's a picture-gallery. It's something very interesting."
"I suppose we are notobligedto go, are we, if we don't want to?"
"Oh, but wedowant to. I do."
"I would just as lief be at home with my Aunt Harry," said Dolly, looking lovingly at the book-case. But Christina turned away from it.
"They dress a great deal at this school," she said. "Does your mother dress you a great deal?"
"I don't know," said Dolly. "I don't know what you mean."
"Well, what's your school dress? what is it made of?"
"My school dress for every day! It is grey poplin. It is not new."
"Poplin will do, I suppose," said Christina. "But some of the girls wear silk; old silk dresses, you know, but really handsome still, and very stylish."
"What do you mean by 'stylish'?" said Dolly.
"Why don't you know what 'stylish' means?"
"No."
Christina looked doubtfully at her new little companion. Where could Dolly have come from, and what sort of people could she belong to, who did not knowthat?The truth was, that Dolly being an only child and living at home with her father and mother, had led a very childish life up to this time; and her mother, owing to some invalidism, had lately been withdrawn from the gay world and its doings. So, though the thing was greatly upon her mother's heart, the word had never made itself familiar to Dolly's ear. Christina was reassured, however, by observing that the little girl's dress was quite what it ought to be, and certainly bespoke her as belonging to people who "knew what was what." So the practice was all right, and Dolly needed only instruction in the theory.
"'Stylish,'"—she repeated. "It means—It is very hard to tell you what it means. Don't you know? 'Stylish' means that things have an air that belongs to the right kind of thing, and only what you see in a certain sort of people. It is the way things look when people know how."
"Know how, what?" inquired Dolly.
"Know how things ought to be; how they ought to be worn, and how they ought to be done."
"Then everybody ought to be stylish," said Dolly.
"Yes, but you cannot, my dear, unless you happen to know how."
"But I should think one could always know how things ought to be," Dolly went on. "The Bible tells."
"The Bible!" echoed Christina.
"Yes."
"The Bible tell one how to be stylish!"
"The Bible tells how things ought to be."
"Why, no, it don't, child! the Bible don't tell you what sort of a hat to put on."
"Yes, it does, Christina. The Bible says, 'Whether you eat or drink, or whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God.' I can show you the words."
"Oh, that is something quite different. That has nothing to do with being stylish. How shall I make you understand? If your cravat wasn't tied in a nice bow there, it wouldn't be stylish."
"Well," returned Dolly, "it wouldn't be to the glory of God either."
"What has that to do with it?"
"I think it would be wrong for a Christian to be anything but nice."
"Oh, it isn't beingnice!" said Christina. "Your dress wouldn't be stylish if it hadn't those flounces."
"And is it now?"
"Yes—I think it is. I should say, your mother knows what is what. It isn't very easy to be stylish if you are poor; but I've seen people do it, though."
"I don't think I understand, quite," said Dolly. "But when I am old enough to dress myself,—to choose my own dresses, I mean, I shall dress to please Jesus, Christina."
"You can't," said Christina. "I never heard of such a thing. It's making religion little, I think, to talk so."
"I think, if religion isn't little, it'lldoso," answered Dolly. Whereby each kept her own opinion; notwithstanding which, at the end of the afternoon they separated, mutually pleased each with her new acquaintance.
As the weeks of the first school term went on, the two girls drew nearer to each other. Everybody inclined towards Dolly indeed; the sweet, fresh, honest little face, with the kindly affections beaming forth from it, and the sensitive nature quick to feel pleasure or pain, and alive to fun in the midst of its seriousness, made such a quaint mingling and such a curious variety and such a lovely creature, that all sorts of characters were drawn towards her. From the head of the school down, teachers and pupils, there was hardly one whose eye did not soften and whose lips did not smile at Dolly's approach. With Christina, on the other hand, it was not just so. She was not particularly clever, not particularly emotional, not specially sociable; calm and somewhat impassive, with all her fair beauty she was overlooked in the practical "selection" which takes place in school life; so that little Dolly after all came to be Christina's best friend. Dolly never passed her over; was never unsympathetic; never seemed to know her own popularity; and Christina's slow liking grew into a real and warm affection as the passing days gave her more and more occasion. In the matter of "style," it appears, Dolly had enough to satisfy her; thanks to her mother; for Dolly herself was as unconventional in spirit and manner as a child should be. In school work proper, on the other hand, she was a pattern of diligence and faithfulness; gave her teachers no trouble; of course had the good word and good will of every one of them. Was it the working of Mr. Eberstein's rule?
The first monthly holiday after school began was spent in Fairmount Park. A few weeks later, Dolly and Christina were sitting together one day, busy with some fancy work, when one of their schoolmates came up to them.
"Guess where we are going next week!" she cried.
"Next week?" said the others, looking up.
"Next holiday—next week—next Saturday. Yes. Where do you think we are going? Just guess. Oh, you can't guess."
"I can't guess," said Dolly; "I don't know what there is to go to. The Mint? Mrs. Delancy did speak of the Mint."
"Not a bit of it! Something else has come up. Guess again."
"Something hascome up. Then it must be something new."
"It isn't new, either. Can't a thing come to you that isn't new?"
"But you're talking riddles, Eudora," the other two said, laughing.
"Well, I'll tell you. There's a man-of-war come up the river."
"A man-of-war"—Dolly repeated.
"You know what that means, I hope, Dolly Copley?"
"I don't know. It means a soldier. The Bible says, Goliath was a man-of-war from his youth."
Dolly as she spoke looked mystified, and her words were met by a shout of laughter so loud and ringing that it almost abashed the child. Some other girls had joined the group and were standing around, and there were many to laugh. However, Dolly was never given to false shame. She waited for more light.
"It's aship, Dolly," they cried. "You dear little innocent, don't you know as much as that?"
"It's a ship; and this is a big one. It is lying out in the Delaware."
"Then why is it called a man-of-war?" said Dolly.
"Because it is a war ship. Won't it be fun! just think!—the guns, and the officers, and the midshipmen!"
"What are midshipmen?"
"I don't know!" cried another. "They are somebodies that are always on a man-of-war; and they are young too. Baby officers, I suppose."
"Theyareofficers," said the first speaker.
"No, they're not. They are learning to be officers. They're at school, and their school is a man-of-war; and their teachers are the captain, and the lieutenants, and so on."
"And what are their lessons about?" said Dolly.
"Idon't know. Oh, they are learning to be officers, you know. Really they are boys at school."
"Some of them are old enough," remarked another.
"Learningwhat, Eudora?" said Dolly.
"How do I know, chicken? I've never been a midshipman myself. You can ask them if you like, when we go on board. For we are going on board, girls! Hurrah! We shall drive over to the Navy Yard, and there we shall get into boats, and then we shall row—I mean be rowed—out into the stream to the ship. It's a big frigate, the 'Achilles;' and Mrs. Delancy knows the captain; and she says it's a good chance, and she will not have us lose it. Hurrah, girls! this is prime."
"What's afrigate?" was Dolly's next question.
"Dolly Copley, you are ridiculous! you want to understand everything."
"Don't you?"
"No! I guess I don't. I am tired enough with trying to understand a little. I'll let alone what I can. You'll know what a frigate is when you have been on board of her."
"But I think I should enjoy it a great deal more if I knew beforehand," said Dolly.
"You had best study a ship's dictionary.Iam going to study what I shall wear."
"That you cannot tell yet," Christina remarked. "You do not know what sort of a day next Saturday, I mean, Saturday week, will be. It may be cold or"——
"It mayn't be hot," said the other. "It will be cold, cold enough. It's November. You can wear your prettiest winter things, young ladies."
A little while after, the group had broken up, and Dolly sought out one of the teachers and begged to know where she could find a "ship's dictionary."
"A ship dictionary? My dear, there is no such thing. What do you want to find out?"
"One of the girls said I could find out about ships in a ship's dictionary. We are going to see a man-of-war next week."
"Oh, and you want to study up the subject? It is a Marine Dictionary you are in quest of. Come to the library."
The library was always open to the girls for study purposes. The teacher was good-natured, and got out a big, brown square volume, and put it in Dolly's hand. Dolly had been followed by Christina; and now the two sat down together in a window recess on the floor, with the book before them. Dolly began at the beginning, and aloud.
"'Aback.'"
"That is nothing we want," remarked Christina.
"Oh yes, I think it is. It is 'the situation of the sails when their surfaces are flatted against the masts by the force of the wind.' I do not understand, though. The sails are said to be 'taken aback.'— Oh, I have heard mother say that. What could she mean? I have heard her say she was taken aback."
"I have heard people say that too," said Christina; "often. I never knew what they meant. Something disagreeable, I think."
"Well, you see," said Dolly, reading further, "it 'pushes the shipastern'—what's that? 'SeeBacking.' I suppose it means pushing it back. But I don't understand!" the little girl added with a sigh.
"Oh, well! we don't care about all that," said Dolly's companion. "Go on to something else. Find out about the midshipmen."
"What about the midshipmen?"
"Nothing,—only I would like to know what they are. Madeleine said they were young officers; very young; not older than some of us."
"Then why do you want to know about them?" said Dolly. "We have nothing to do with young officers. We don't know any of them."
"But we might," suggested Christina. "We shall see them, if we go on board the ship."
"I don't care about seeing them," said Dolly. "Young officers are young men, I suppose. I understandthem;what I don't know about, is the ship. Let us go on in this book, and see what we come to. 'Abaft—the hinder part of a ship'"——
"O Dolly!" cried Christina, "we have not time to go through everything in this way. You have not turned over one leaf yet Do get on a little."
"It is good it's a holiday," said Dolly, turning the leaf. "We have plenty of time. I like this book. 'Aboard,—the inside of a ship.' So when we go into the ship, we go aboard. That's it."
"Go on," urged Christina. "Here's 'Admiral.'"
"'An officer of first rank and command in the fleet.' There is a great deal here about the Admiral. I don't believe we shall see him. We'll look a little further."
Dolly presently was caught by the word "Anchor," and lost herself in the study of the paragraphs following, and the plate accompanying; after which she declared that she understood how a ship could be held by its anchor. Urged to go on again, she turned over more leaves, but got lost in the study of "boats;" then of "cannon;" then of the "captain's" office and duties; finally paused at the plate and description of a ship's deck.
"It's just the deck of a ship!" said Christina impatiently. "You will see it when we go on board the 'Achilles.'"
"I want to understand it."
"You can't."
"Are those guns?" said Dolly, pointing to a row of pieces delineated along the side of the deck.
"Must be guns."
"Well, I should like to go on board of a ship very much," said Dolly. "There are twelve guns on that side. If there are the same on this side, that would make twenty-four. What do they want so many for, Christina, on one ship?"
"Why, to fight with, of course. To fire at other ships."
"But what do they want ofso many?They would not want to fire twelve at once. I should think one would be enough."
"Perhaps it wouldn't. Go on, Dolly, do! let us get to something else."
It was difficult to get Dolly on. She was held fast again by the description of a naval engagement; then fell to studying the directions for the "exercise" of the guns; then was interested in some plates giving various orders of the line of battle. At last in due course they came to the word "Midshipman," which was read, or the article under it, by both girls.
"'A naval cadet'"—repeated Christina.
"And a cadet must be four years at sea before he can become a lieutenant; and two years midshipman besides. I should think they would be tired of it."
"But if they are going to be sailors all their lives, it's no use for them to get tired of it," said Christina.
"They come on shore sometimes, don't they?"
"I suppose so. Oh yes, they have houses, I know, and wives and children. I shouldn't like to be the wife of a sailor!"
"Somebody must, I suppose," said Dolly. "But I shouldn't like to have my home—my principal home, I mean—on the sea; if I was a man.Theymust like it, I suppose."
Dolly went on reading.
"The midshipmen have plenty to do, Christina. They have to learn how to do everything a common sailor does; all the work of the ship; and then they must learn astronomy, and geometry, and navigation and mechanics. Hydrostatics, too; oh dear, I don't know what that is. I can look it out, I suppose. The midshipmen must be very busy, Christina, and at hard work too."
Christina's interest in the Marine Dictionary was exhausted. She went off; but Dolly pored over its pages still, endeavouring to take in details about vessels, and ropes, and sails, and winds, until her head was in a fog. She recurred to the book, however, on the next opportunity; and from time to time, as her lessons permitted, gave her time and attention to this seemingly very unnecessary subject. How much she really learned, is doubtful; yet as little things do touch and link themselves with great things, it may be that the old Marine Dictionary in Mrs. Delancy's library played a not insignificant part in the fortunes of Dolly Copley. As we shall see. She studied, till a ship became a romance to her; till rigging and spars and decks and guns were like the furniture of a new and strange life, which hardly belonged to the earth, being upon the sea; and the men who lived that life, and especially the men who ruled in it, grew to be invested with characteristics of power and skill and energy which gave them fabulous interest in Dolly's eyes.
At home there had been a little scruple about letting Dolly join the party. She had had a cold, and was rather delicate at all times. The scruples, however, gave way before the child's earnest wish; and as Saturday of the particular week turned out mild and quiet, no hindrance was put in the way of the expedition.
It was a very special delectation which the school were to enjoy to-day. The girls thought it always "fun," of course, to quit lessons and go to see anything; "even factories," as one of the girls expressed it, to Dolly's untold astonishment; for it seemed to her that to be allowed to look into the mystery of manufactures must be the next thing to taking part personally in a fairy tale. However, to-day it was not a question of manufactures, but of a finished and furnished big ship, and not only finished and furnished, but manned. "Thisis something lively," Eudora opined. And she was quite right.
The day was a quiet day in November, with just a spice of frost in it; the air itself was lively, quick and quickening. The party were driven to the Navy Yard in carriages, and there received very politely by the officers, some of whom knew Mrs. Delancy and lent themselves with much kindness to the undertaking. The girls were more or less excited with pleasure and anticipation; but to Dolly the Navy Yard seemed to be already touching the borders of that mysterious and fascinating sea life in which her fancy had lately been roaming. So when the girls were all carefully bestowed in stout little row boats to go out to the ship, Dolly's foot it was which stepped upon enchanted boards, and her eye that saw an enchanted world around her. What a field was this rippling water, crisped with the light breeze, and gurgling under the boat's smooth sweep ahead! How the oars rose and fell, all together, as if moved by only one hand. Was this a part of the order and discipline of which she had read lately, as belonging to this strange world? Probably; for now and then a command was issued to the oarsmen, curt and sharp; and obeyed, Dolly saw, although she did not know what the command meant. Yes, she was in an enchanted sphere; and she looked at the "Achilles" as they drew nearer, with profoundest admiration. Its great hulk grew large upon her view, with an absolute haze of romance and mystery hanging about its decks and rigging. It was a large ship, finely equipped, according to the fashion of naval armament which was prevalent in those days; she was a three-decker; and the port holes of her guns looked in threatening ranks along the sides of the vessel. Still and majestic she lay upon the quiet river; a very wonderful floating home indeed, and unlike all else she had ever known, to Dolly's apprehension. How she and the rest were ever to get on board was an insoluble problem to her, as to most of them; and the chair that was presently lowered along the ship's side to receive them, seemed a very precarious sort of means of transport. However, the getting aboard was safely accomplished; one by one they were hoisted up; and Dolly's feet stood upon the great main deck. And the first view was perfectly satisfactory, and even went far beyond her imaginings. She found herself standing under a mixed confusion of masts and spars and sails, marvellous to behold, which yet she also saw was no confusion at all, but complicated and systematic order. How much those midshipmen must have to learn, though, if they were to know the names and uses and handling of every spar and every rope and each sail among them! as Dolly knew they must. Her eye came back to the deck. What order there too; what neatness; why it was beautiful; and the uniforms here and there, and the sailors' hats and jackets, filled up the picture to her heart's desire. Dolly breathed a full breath of satisfaction.
The Captain of the "Achilles" made his appearance, Captain Barbour. He was a thick-set, grizzly haired man, rather short, not handsome at all; and yet with an air of authority unmistakably clothing him like a garment of power and dignity. Plainly this man's word was law, and the girls stood in awe of him. He was known to Mrs. Delancy; and now she went on to present formally all her young people to him. The captain returned the courtesy by calling up and introducing to her and them some of his officers; and then they went to a review of the ship.
It took a long while. Between Mrs. Delancy and Captain Barbour a lively conversation was carried on; Dolly thought he was explaining things to the lady that she did not understand; but though it might be the case now and then, I think the talk moved mainly upon less technical matters. Dolly could not get near enough to hear what it was, at any rate. The young lieutenants, too, were taken up with playing the host to the older young ladies of the party. Iftheyreceived instruction also by the way, Dolly could not tell; the laughing hardly looked like it. She and the other young ones at any rate followed humbly at the tail of everything, and just came up to a clear view of some detail when the others were moving away. There was nobody to help Dolly understand anything; nevertheless, she wandered in a fairy vision of wonderland. Into the cabins, down to the forecastle, down to the gun deck. What could equal the black strangeness ofthatview! and what could it all mean? Dolly wished for her Uncle Edward, or some one, to answer a thousand questions. She had been reading about the guns, she looked curiously now at the realities, of which she had studied the pictures; recognised here a detail and there a detail, but remaining hugely ignorant of the whole and of the bearing of the several parts upon each other. Yet she did not know how time flew; she did not know that she was getting tired; from one strange thing to another she followed her leaders about; very much alone indeed, for even the other girls of her own age were staring at a different class of objects, and could hardly be said to see what she saw, much less were ready to ask what she wanted to ask. Dolly went round in a confused dream.
At last the party had gone everywhere that such a party could go; Captain Barbour had spared them the lower gun deck. They came back to the captain's cabin, where a very pleasant lunch was served to the ladies. It was served, that is, to those who could get it, to those who were near enough and old enough to put in a claim by right of appearance. Dolly and one or two more who were undeniably little girls stood a bad chance, hanging about on the outskirts of the crowd, for the cabin would not take them all in; and hearing a distant sound of clinking glass and silver and words of refreshment. It was all they seemed likely to get; and when a kindly elderly officer had taken pity on the child and given Dolly a biscuit, she concluded to resign the rest of the unattainable luncheon and make the most of her other opportunities while she had them. Eating the biscuit, which she was very glad of, she wandered off by herself, along the deck; looking again carefully at all she saw; for her eyes were greedy of seeing. Sails,—what strange shapes; and how close rolled up some of them were! Ropes,—what a multitude; and cables. Coils of them on deck; and if she looked up, an endless tracery of lines seen against the blue sky. There was a sailor going up something like a rope ladder; going up and up; how could he? and how far could he go? Dolly almost grew dizzy gazing at him.
"What are you looking after, little one?" a voice near her asked. An unceremonious address, certainly; frankly put; but the voice was not unkindly or uncivil, and Dolly was not sensitive on the point of personal dignity. She brought her eyes down for a moment far enough to see the shimmer of gold lace on a midshipman's cap, and answered,
"I am looking at that man. He's going up and up, to the top of everything. I should think his head would turn."
"Yours will, if you look after him with your head in that position."
Dolly let her eyes come now to the speaker's face. One of the young midshipmen it was, standing near her, with his arms folded and leaning upon something which served as a support to them, and looking down at Dolly. For standing so and leaning over, he was still a good deal taller than she. Further, Dolly observed a pair of level brows, beneath them a pair of wise-looking, cognisance-taking blue eyes, an expression of steady calm, betokening either an even temperament or an habitual power of self-control; and just now in the eyes and the mouth there was the play almost of a smile somewhat merry, wholly kindly. It took Dolly's confidence entirely and at once.
"You don't think you would like to be a sailor?" he went on.
"Is it pleasant?" said Dolly, retorting the question earnestly and doubtfully.
The smile broke a little more on the other's face. "How do you like the ship?" he asked.
"I do not know," said Dolly, glancing along the deck. "I think it is a strange place to live."
"Why?"
"And I don't understand the use of it," Dolly went on with a really puzzled face.
"The use of what?"
"The use of the whole thing. I know what ships are good for, of course; other ships; but what is the use of such a ship as this?"
"To take care of the other ships."
"How?"
"Have you been below? Did you see the gun decks?"
"I was in a place where there were a great many guns—but I could not understand, and there was nobody to tell me things."
"Would you like to go down there again?"
"Oh yes!" said Dolly. "They will be a good while at lunch yet. Oh, thank you! I should like so much to go."
The young midshipman took her hand; perhaps he had a little sister at home and the action was pleasant and familiar; it seemed to be both; and led her down the way that took them to the upper gun deck.
"How comes it you are not taking lunch too?" he asked by the way.
"Oh, there are too many of them," said Dolly contentedly. "I don't care. I had a biscuit."
"You don't care for your lunch?"
"Yes, I do, when I'm hungry; but now I would rather see things. I never saw a ship before."
They arrived in the great, gloomy, black gun deck. The midshipman let go Dolly's hand, and she stood and looked along the avenue between the bristling black cannon.
"Now, what is it that you don't understand?" he asked, watching her.
"What are these guns here for?"
"Don't you knowthat?Guns are to fight with."
"Yes, I know," said Dolly; "but how can you fight with them here in a row? and what would you fight with? I mean, who would you fight against?"
"Some other ship, if Fate willed it so. Look here; this is the way of it."
He took a letter from the breast of his coat, tore off a blank leaf; then resting it on the side of a gun carriage, he proceeded to make a sketch. Dolly's eyes followed his pencil point, spell-bound with interest. Under his quick and ready fingers grew, she could not tell how, the figure of a ship,—hull, masts, sails and rigging, deftly sketched in; till it seemed to Dolly she could almost see how the wind blew that was filling out the sails and floating off the streamer.
"There," said the artist,—"that is our enemy."
"Our enemy?" repeated Dolly.
"Our supposed enemy. We will suppose she is an enemy."
"But how could she be?"
"We might be at war with England suppose, or with France. This might be an English ship of war coming to catch up every merchantman she could overhaul that carried American colours, and make a prize of her; don't you see?"
"Do they do that?" said Dolly.
"What? catch up merchantmen? of course they do; and the more of value is on board, the better they are pleased. We lose so much, and they gain so much. Now we want to stop this fellow's power of doing mischief; you understand."
"What are those little black spots you are making along her sides."
"The port holes of her guns."
"Port holes?"
"The openings where the mouths of her guns look out. See," said he, pointing to the one near which they were standing,—"that is a port hole."
"That little window?"
"It isn't a window; it is a port hole."
"It is not a black spot."
"Because you are inside, and looking out towards the light. Look at them when you are leaving the ship; they will look like black spots then, you will find."
"Well, that's the enemy," said Dolly, drawing a short breath of excitement. "What is that ship you are making now?"
"That's the 'Achilles'; brought to; with her main topsails laid aback, and her fore topsails full; ready for action."
"I do not know what are topsails or fore topsails," said Dolly.
The midshipman explained; to illustrate his explanation sketched lightly another figure of a vessel, showing more distinctly the principal sails.
"And this is the 'Achilles,'" said Dolly, recurring to the principal design. "You have put her a great way off from the enemy, it seems to me."
"No. Point blank range. Quite near enough."
"Oh, what is 'point blank range'?" cried Dolly in despair. Her new friend smiled, but answered with good-humoured patience. Dolly listened and comprehended.
"Then, if this were an enemy, and that the 'Achilles,' and within point blank range, you would load one of these guns and fire at her?"
The midshipman shook his head. "We should load up all of them—all on that side."
"And five them one after another?"
"As fast as we could. We should give her a broadside. But we should probably give her one broadside after another."
"Suppose the balls all hit her?"
"Yes, you may suppose that. I should like to suppose it, if I were the officer in command."
"What would they do to her?—to that enemy ship?"
"If they all hit? Hinder her from doing any more mischief."
"How?"
"Break her masts, tear up her rigging, make a wreck of her generally. Perhaps sink her."
"But suppose while you are fighting that she fights too?"
"Extremely probable."
"If a shot came in here—could it come in here?"
"Certainly. Cannon balls will go almost anywhere."
"If it came in here, what would it do?"
"Kill three or four of the men at a gun, perhaps; tear away a bit of the ship's side; or perhaps disable the gun."
"While you were firing at the enemy on this side, the guns of the other side, I suppose, would have nothing to do?"
"They might be fighting another enemy on that side," said the midshipman, smiling.
"I should think," said Dolly, looking down the long line of the gun deck, and trying to imagine the state of things described,—"I should think it would be most dreadful!"
"I have no doubt you would think so."
"Don'tyouthink so?"
"I have never been in action yet."
"Don't you hope you never will?"
The young man laughed a little. "What would be the use of ships of war, if there were never any fighting? I should have nothing to do in the world."
"You might do something else," said Dolly, gazing at the lines of black guns stretching along both sides of the deck, so near to each other, so black, so grim. "How many men does it take to manage each gun? You saidthree or fourmight be killed."
"According to the size of the gun. Twelve men for these guns; larger would take fifteen."
Again Dolly meditated; in imagination peopled the solitary place with the active crowd of men which would be there if each gun had twelve gunners, filled the silence with the roar of combined discharges, thought of the dead and wounded; at last turned her eyes to the blue ones that were watching her.
"I wonder if God likes it?" she said.
"Likes what?" said the midshipman in wonder.
"Such work. I don't see how Hecan."
"How can you help such work? People cannot get along without fighting."
He did not speak carelessly or mockingly or banteringly; rather with a gentle, somewhat deliberate utterance. Yet Dolly was persuaded there was no unmanly softness in him; she never doubted but that he would be ready to do his part in that dreadful work, if it must be done. Moreover, he was paying to this odd little girl a delicate sort of respect and treating her with great consideration. Her confidence, as I said, had been entirely given to him before; and now some gratitude began to mingle with it, along with great freedom to speak her mind.
"I don't think God can like it," she repeated.
"What would you do, then?" he also repeated, smiling. "Let wicked people have their own way?"
"No."
"If they are not to have their own way, you must stop them."
"I think this is a dreadful way of stopping them."
"It's a bad job for the side that goes under," the young officer admitted.
"I don't believe God likes it," Dolly concluded for the third time, with great conviction.
"Is that your rule for everything?"
"Yes. Isn't it your rule?"
"I have to obey orders," he answered, watching her.
"Don't you obeyHisorders?" said Dolly wistfully.
"I do not know what they are."
"Oh, but they are in the Bible. You can find them in the Bible."
"Does it say anything about fighting?"
Dolly tried to think, and got confused. Certainly it did say a good deal about fighting, but in various ways, it seemed to her. She did not know how to answer. She changed the subject.
"How do you get the shot, the balls, I mean, into these guns? I don't see how you get at them. The mouths are out of the windows. Port holes, I mean."
For the upper gun deck had been put to a certain extent in order of action, and the guns were run out.
"You are of an inquiring disposition," said the midshipman gravely.
"Am I?"
"I think you are."
"But I should like to know"—pursued Dolly, looking at the muzzle of the gun by which they were standing.
"The guns would be run in to be loaded."
Dolly looked at the heavy piece of metal, and at him, but did not repeat her question.
"Now you want to know how," he said, smiling. "If I were captain, I would have the men here and show you. The gun is run in by means of this tackle, see!—and when it is charged, it is bowsed out again."
Seeing Dolly's wise grave eyes bent upon the subject, he went on to amuse her with a full detail of the exercise of the gun; from "casting loose," to the finishing "secure your guns;" explaining the manner of handling and loading, and the use of the principal tackle concerned. Dolly listened, intent, fascinated, enchained; and I think the young man was a little fascinated too, though his attentions were given to so very young a lady. Dolly's brown eyes were so utterly pure and grave and unconscious; the brain at work behind them was so evidently clear and busy and competent; the pleasure she showed was so unschoolgirl-like, and he thought so unchildlike, and at the same time so very far from being young lady-like. What she was like, he did not know; she was an odd little apparition there in the gun-deck of the "Achilles," leaning with her elbows upon a gun carriage, and surveyeing with her soft eyes the various paraphernalia of conflict and carnage around her. Contrast could hardly be stronger.
"Suppose," said Dolly at last, "a shot should make a hole in the side of the ship, and let in the water?"
"Well? Suppose it," he answered.
"Does that ever happen?"
"Quite often. Why not?"
"What would you do then?"
"Pump out the water as fast as it came in,—if we could."
"Suppose you couldn't?"
"Then we should go down."
"And all in the ship?"
"All who could not get out of it."
"How could any get out of it?"
"In the boats."
"Oh!—I forgot the boats. Would they hold everybody?"
"Probably not. The other ships' boats would come to help."
"The officers would go first, I suppose?"
"Last. The highest officer of all would be the last man on board."
"Why?"
"He must do his duty. If he cannot save his ship, at least he must save his men;—all he can. He is there to do his duty."
"I think it would be better not to be there at all," said Dolly very gravely.
"Who would take care of you then, if an enemy's fleet were coming to attack Philadelphia?" said the young officer.
"I would go home," said Dolly. "I don't know what would become of Philadelphia. But I do not think God can like it."
"Shall we go above where it is more cheerful? or have you seen it all?"
Dolly gave him her hand again and let him help her till they got on deck. There they went roaming towards the fore part of the vessel, looking at everything by the way; Dolly asking the names and the meaning of things, and receiving explanations, especially regarding the sails and rigging and steering of the ship. She was even shown where the sailors made their home in the forecastle. As they were returning aft, Dolly stopped by a coil of rope on deck and began pulling at an end of it. Her companion inquired what she wanted?
"I would like a little piece," said Dolly; "if I could get it."
"A piece of rope?"
"Yes;—just a little bit; but it is very strong; it won't break."
She was tugging at a loose strand.
"How large a bit do you want?"
"Oh, just a little piece," said Dolly. "I wanted just a little piece to keep—but it's no matter. I wanted to keep it."
"A keepsake?" said the young man. "To remember us by? They are breaking up,"—he added immediately, casting his glance aft, where a stir and a gathering and a movement on deck in front of the captain's cabin could now be seen, and the sound of voices came fresh along the breeze. "They are going—there is no time now. I will send you a piece, if you will tell me where I can send it. Where do you live?"
"Oh, will you? Oh, thank you!" said Dolly, and her face lifted confidingly to the young officer grew sunny with pleasure. "I live at Mrs. Delancy's school;—but no, I don't! I don't live there. My home is at Uncle Edward's—Mr. Edward Eberstein—in Walnut Street."
"What number?" said the midshipman, using his pencil again on the much scribbled piece of paper; and Dolly told him.
"And whom shall I send the—the piece of rope, to?"
"Oh, yes!—Dolly Copley. That is my name. Good bye, I must go."
"Dolly Copley. You shall have it," said he, giving the little hand she held out to him a right sailorly grasp. And Dolly ran away. In the bustle and anxiety of getting lowered into the little boat again she forgot him and everything else; however, so soon as she was safely seated and just as the men were ordered to "give way," she looked up at the great ship they were leaving; and there, just above her, leaning on the guards and looking over and down at her, she saw her midshipman friend. Dolly saw nothing else till his face was too small in the distance to be any longer recognised.