Elsie's Young Folks in Peace and War

It was a lovely summer day, bright and clear, but the heat so tempered—there on the coast of Maine—by the delicious sea breeze that it was delightful and exhilarating. The owner and passengers of the Dolphin had forsaken her more than a fortnight ago, and since spent their days and nights at a lovely villa on shore there in Bar Harbor; but now no longer able to resist the attractions of the beautiful sea, the most of them had come aboard, and were sitting, standing, or roaming about the deck.

"Oh, I'm so glad to be in our own dear sea home again!" cried Elsie Raymond. "Aren't you, Ned?"

"Yes; though we have been having a splendid time on shore in Bar Harbor."

"Yes, so we have; but as we expect to be back again in a few days, we needn't fret at all about leaving it."

"No, nor we needn't if we were just going back to Woodburn, our own beautiful home—certainly a better place than this in fall and winter, anyhow."

"But I'm glad to have a sail again," said Elsie.

"Brother Max says we'll soon see some places where they had sea fights in our two wars with England," remarked Ned, with satisfaction.

"Oh, does he? I mean to ask papa or grandma to tell us about them," exclaimed Elsie, in tones of excitement.

"Oh, yes, let's!" cried Ned. "But the men are taking up the anchor," he added hastily, "and I must see that first. Come," catching his sister's hand and hurrying her along to a good position from which to view the operation.

That duly attended to, they sought out their grandma, who happened to be at the moment sitting a little apart from the others, and made their request. She smilingly consented to tell them all she could recall on the subject that would be interesting to them, and bidding them seat themselves close beside her she began.

"Your father has told me that we are now going out to the extreme eastern point of the State—and of our country—the United States. West Quoddy Head is its name now, but in very early times it was called Nurumbega. In 1580 John Walken, in the service of Sir Humphrey Gilbert, conducted an expedition to its shores, and reached the Penobscot River. In 1603 two vessels, the Speedwell and the Discoverer, entered the Penobscot Bay and the mouth of a river—probably the Saco. About three years after that two French Jesuits, with several families, settled on Mount Desert Island. A few years later some twenty-five French colonists landed on Mount Desert and founded a settlement called St. Saviour. But not long afterward they were driven away by some English under command of Captain Argal, who considered them trespassers upon English soil. That, I think, is enough of the very early history of Maine, for to-day, at least."

"Oh, yes, grandma! but won't you please tell about Revolutionary times and the war of 1812-14?" pleaded Elsie. "Maine was one of the thirteen colonies, wasn't she?"

"No, dear; she was considered a part of Massachusetts at that time, and did not become a separate State until 1820."

"Oh, didn't the people there care about the Revolution and help in it?" asked Elsie in a tone of disappointment.

"Yes, dear, they did. In a county convention in 1774 Sheriff William Tyng declared his intention to obey province law and not that of parliament. He advised a firm and persevering opposition to every design, dark or open, framed to abridge our English liberties."

"English!" exclaimed Ned, in a half scornful tone, at which his grandma smiled, and stroking his curls caressingly, said, "Yes, Neddie, at that time—before the Revolutionary War—our people liked to call themselves English."

"But we don't now, grandma; we're Americans."

"Yes; that is the name we have given ourselves in these days; but we consider the English our relations—a sort of cousins."

"Well, then I hope we and they will never fight any more," said Elsie. "But, please, grandma, tell us something more of what has happened along this coast."

"In 1775," continued her grandma, "the British kept the coast of New England from Falmouth (now called Portland) to New London in continual alarm; they were out in every direction plundering the people to supply their camp with provisions."

"In this State, grandma?" asked Ned.

"Yes; and in Connecticut and Massachusetts. They bombarded Stonington, in Connecticut, shattered houses and killed two men. That was in August or September. In October Mowatt was sent to Falmouth in Maine to get a supply of provisions from the people there, and to demand a surrender of their arms. They refused and defied him; then—after giving time for the women and children to leave the town—he bombarded and set it on fire. More than four hundred houses were destroyed—nearly all the town of about five hundred buildings."

"What a cruel thing!" exclaimed Elsie; "I suppose they had to give up then?"

"No," said Mrs. Travilla; "so brave and determined were they that they repulsed the marauders and would not let them land."

"Grandma," asked Elsie, "didn't Arnold go through Maine with an army to attack Canada about that time?"

"Yes; about the middle of August a committee of Congress visited Washington in his camp, and together they formed a plan to send a force into Canada by way of the Kennebec River to co-operate with General Schuyler, who was preparing to invade that province by way of the Northern lakes. Arnold was well known to be brave. He had been complaining of being ill-used upon Lake Champlain. Washington desired to silence his complaints, and knowing that this expedition was suited to his talents he appointed him to command, and gave him the commission of colonel in the Continental army.

"The force under his command consisted of eleven hundred hardy men—ten companies of musketeers from New England, and three companies of riflemen from Virginia and Pennsylvania. Those riflemen were commanded by Captain Daniel Morgan, who afterward did such good work for our country in her hard struggle for liberty. Arnold and his troops marched from Cambridge to Newburyport, where they embarked on transports which carried them to the mouth of the Kennebec. They went up that river in bateaux and rendezvoused at Fort Western, opposite the present town of Augusta. Now they had come to the edge of a vast and almost uninhabited wilderness."

"And had to go through it, grandma?" asked Ned.

"Yes; they were very brave men, ready to encounter difficulties and dangers for the sake of securing their country's freedom. Two small parties were sent on in advance to reconnoitre, and the rest moved forward in four divisions, Morgan with his riflemen in the van. Arnold, who was the last, passed up the river in a canoe."

"Hadn't they a very hard time going through that wilderness, grandma?" asked Elsie.

"Yes, very hard indeed; over craggy knolls, deep ravines, through creeks and ponds and deep morasses; sometimes paddling along a stream in their canoes—sometimes carrying them around a fall on their shoulders. Suddenly, at length, they came to a mountain covered with snow. At its foot they encamped for three days. Then they went on again, but a heavy rain set in, sending down such torrents from the hills that the river rose eight feet in one night. The water came roaring down the valley where our soldiers were, so unexpectedly and powerfully that they had scarcely time to retreat and get into their bateaux before the whole plain was flooded with water. Seven boats were overturned and the provisions in them lost. Many of them were made sick, too, by the storm and exposure, and so grew sad and discouraged. Some gave up and went back to their homes, while Arnold went on with the rest. The rain changed to snow, and there was ice in the water in which the poor fellows had to wade to push their bateaux along through ponds and marshes near the sources of the Dead River.

"At last they reached Lake Megantic. They encamped on its eastern shore, and the next morning Arnold, with a party of fifty-five men on shore with Captain Nanchet and thirteen with himself in five bateaux and a birch canoe, pushed on down the river to a French settlement to get provisions to send back to his almost starving men. They passed seventeen falls, marching through snow two inches deep, then reached the Highlands which separate the waters of New England from Canada. But as it is of the history of Maine I am telling you, and Arnold and his band have now passed out of it, we will leave the rest of his story for another time."

"He did a good deal more for his country before he turned traitor, didn't he, grandma?" asked Elsie.

"Yes; he fought bravely again and again. The great victory at Saratoga was largely due to him; in a less degree to Morgan."

"Daniel Morgan who commanded at the battle of the Cowpens?" asked Elsie.

"The very same," replied Mrs. Travilla.

"Didn't some other things happen along this coast, grandma?" asked Ned.

"Yes, indeed; several things. In the war of 1812-14 there occurred a naval battle near Portland, between the American ship Enterprise and the English brig Boxer. On the morning of the 1st of September, 1813, the Enterprise sailed from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and on the morning of the 3d chased a schooner suspected of being a British privateer, into Portland harbor. The next day she left that harbor and steered eastward looking for British cruisers. On the 5th they discovered in a bay what Captain Burrows supposed to be a vessel of war getting under way. She was a British brig, and on sighting the Enterprise she displayed four British ensigns, fired several guns as signals to boats that had been sent ashore to return, and crowding canvas, bore down gallantly for the Enterprise.

"Seeing that, Burrows cleared his ship for action, sailed out a proper distance from land to have plenty of sea room for the fight, then shortened sail and edged toward the Boxer. That was at three o'clock in the afternoon. Twenty minutes later the two brigs closed within half pistol shot, and both opened fire at the same time. The sea was almost quiet, there was but little wind, and that condition of things made the cannonading very destructive. Ten minutes after the firing began the Enterprise ranged ahead of the Boxer, steered across her bows and delivered her fire with such precision and destructive energy that at four o'clock the British officer in command shouted through his trumpet that he had surrendered, but his flag being nailed to the mast, could not be lowered until the Enterprise should cease firing."

"And did she, grandma?" asked Ned.

"Yes; I do not think our men ever fired on a foe whom they believed to be ready to surrender. Captain Blyth of the Boxer was already dead, having been nearly cut in two by an eighteen-pound ball, and Captain Burrows was mortally wounded. He had been helping the men to run out a carronade, and while doing so a shot, supposed to be a canister ball, struck his thigh, causing a fatal wound. He lived eight hours, and must have suffered terrible agony. He refused to be carried below until the sword of the commander of the Boxer should be brought to him. He took it eagerly when brought, saying, 'Now I am satisfied; I die contented.'"

"What did they do for a commander after their captain was so dreadfully injured?" asked Elsie.

"Lieutenant Edward R. M'Call took command of the Enterprise and showed great skill and courage," replied Grandma Elsie. "On the morning of the 7th he took both vessels into Portland Harbor, and the next day the bodies of the two commanders were buried side by side in the same cemetery, and with all the honors to which their rank and powers entitled them."

"Were the ships quite spoiled, grandma?" asked Ned.

"The Enterprise was not, but the Boxer was much cut up in both hull and rigging," she replied. "The battle showed that the Americans exceeded the English in both nautical skill and marksmanship. Lossing tells us that a London paper, speaking of the battle, said, 'The fact seems to be but too clearly established that the Americans have some superior mode of firing, and we cannot be too anxiously employed in discovering to what circumstances that superiority is owing.'"

"I think the man who wrote that was feeling mortified that one of their vessels had been whipped by one of ours," remarked Ned sagely.

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "I think the nailing of their flag to the mast showed that they felt confident of victory. Cooper tells in his history that when the Enterprise hailed to know if the Boxer had struck—as she kept her flag flying—one of the officers of the British vessel leaped upon a gun, shook both fists at the Americans, and shouted 'No, no, no!' adding some opprobrious epithets."

"Oh, didn't that make our fellows angry?" asked Ned.

"I think not," replied Grandma Elsie; "it seems to have amused them, as they saw that he was ordered down by his superiors."

"Was it a long fight, grandma?" asked Elsie.

"It had lasted only thirty-five minutes when the Boxer surrendered."

"Had a great many of her men been killed?" asked Ned.

"I don't know," replied his grandma, "but on the Enterprise there was but one besides Burrows; Midshipman Kervin Waters, who had been mortally wounded, died a few weeks later. He was buried by the side of his gallant leader—Burrows."

"Oh, dear!" sighed little Elsie, "war is so dreadful!"

"It is indeed," said her grandma, "and it was made especially dreadful at that time to the people of this country by reason of our being so much weaker than England in men, money, and ships."

"But it was a blessing that our seamen were so much more skilful than hers, Grandma Elsie," said Max, who had drawn near in time to hear the last few sentences. "Our little navy did good work in that war, small as she was in comparison with the enemy's. We had but twenty ships to her thousand, yet showed ourselves strong enough to put an end to her tyrannical conduct toward our poor sailors. She has never interfered again in that way with them."

"And never will, I think," added Grandma Elsie. "The two Anglo-Saxon nations are good friends now, and I trust always will be."

"I hope so indeed," said Max. "We must be prepared for war, but I hope may be long able to maintain peace with all other nations."

"A hope in which we can all join, I think," said Mrs. Travilla, glancing around upon the circle of interested faces; for all the Dolphin's passengers had by this time gathered about them.

"You were talking of the war of 1812, were you, mother?" asked Captain Raymond.

"Yes; I was telling the children of the fight between the Boxer and the Enterprise," replied Mrs. Travilla.

"And oh, won't you tell us some more, grandma?" entreated Ned.

"I think your father could do it better," she said, looking persuasively at the captain.

"I am not at all sure of that," he said; "but if you wish it I will tell what I can remember of such occurrences at the points along the coast which we are about to visit. But first let me beg that every one will feel free to leave the vicinity should my story seem to them dull and prosy," he added, with a smiling glance about upon the little company.

There was a moment's pause; then Violet said laughingly, "That was very kind and thoughtful my dear, and I for one shall not hesitate to go should I feel inclined."

The captain responded with a bow and smile; then, after a moment's pause, began upon the chosen theme.

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