Toward evening the young people again gathered about the captain, asking that his story of naval exploits might be continued.

"I am not sure," he said pleasantly, "that to recount naval exploits is the wisest thing I can do; it stirs my blood, and revives the old love for the service."

"Oh, Papa, please don't ever, ever go back to your ship and leave us!" exclaimed Gracie, tears starting to her eyes at the very thought.

"I am not at all sure that I would be accepted should I offer my services again, my darling," he answered, drawing her into his arms and caressing her tenderly; "but really I have no serious thought of so doing."

"Oh, I'm glad of that, you dear Papa!" she said with a sigh of relief, putting her arm about his neck and kissing him with ardent affection.

"So am I," said Lulu. "I don't know what I wouldn't rather have happen than to be parted again for months and maybe years from my dear father."

A loving look was his reply as he drew her to his other side and caressed her with equal tenderness.

At that little Elsie came running toward them. "Me too, Papa," she said, "kiss me too, and let me sit on your knee while you tell 'bout things that happened a long while ago."

"Yes, the baby girl has the best right to sit on Papa's knee when she wants to," said Lulu, good-naturedly making way for the little one.

A loving look and smile from her father as he lifted the baby girl to the coveted seat and gave her the asked for caress, amply rewarded her little act of self-denial.

"I cannot begin to tell you to-day all the exploits of our navy even during the first war with England," the Captain said; "you will have to read the history for yourselves, and I trust will enjoy doing so, but I shall try to relate some of the more prominent incidents in a way to entertain you."

"What kind of flag did our naval vessels carry at the beginning of the Revolutionary War, Captain?" asked Evelyn. "It was not till 1777, if my memory serves me right, that our present flag was adopted by Congress."

"You are quite right," the Captain said, "and up to that time each vessel of the little Continental navy carried one of her own choosing; or rather each commander was allowed to choose a device to suit himself. It is claimed for John Paul Jones that he raised with his own hands the first flag of a regular American cruiser. The vessel was Hopkins's flag-ship the 'Alfred.' It was at Philadelphia, early in 1776 the banner was raised. It had a white field, with the words 'Liberty Tree' in the centre above a representation of a pine tree; beneath were the words, 'Appeal to God.'"

"Yes, sir; but didn't some one about that time raise a flag composed of thirteen stripes?" queried Eva.

"Quite true," replied the Captain, "and across it a rattlesnake; underneath that, the words, 'Don't Tread On Me.'

"Both Continental vessels and privateers were very successful, and by mid-summer of 1776 they had captured more than five hundred British soldiers. There was a Captain Conyngham, a brave and skilful seaman, who sailed from Dunkirk in May, 1777, in the brig 'Surprise,' under one of the commissions which Franklin carried with him to France for army and navy officers. (Those of you who have studied geography will, I suppose, remember that Dunkirk is in the north of France.) Conyngham was very successful; had in a few days captured the British packet ship 'Prince of Orange' and a brig, and returned with them to Dunkirk. The English ambassador at Paris complained very strongly, and to appease the wrath of the English, the French Government put the captain and his crew in prison."

"Oh, what a shame!" cried Lulu.

Her father smiled slightly at that. "They were not kept there very long," he said, "but were soon released, and Conyngham allowed to fit out another cruiser, called the 'Revenge.'"

"A very suitable name," laughed Max.

"Yes," assented his father, and went on with his history. "The British Government had sent two vessels to arrest Conyngham and his men as pirates, but when they reached Dunkirk he had already sailed. Had the British succeeded in taking them, they would no doubt have been hanged as pirates; for both Government and people of Great Britain were at that time much exasperated by the blows Americans were dealing their dearest interest, commerce. 'The Revenge' was doing so much injury,—making prizes of merchantmen, and so putting money into the hands of the American commissioners for public use,—that the British were at their wit's end; the people in the seaports were greatly alarmed, and insurance on cargoes went up to twenty-five per cent. Some of the British merchants sent out their goods in French vessels for greater security,—so many of them, in fact, that at one time there were forty French vessels together in the Thames taking in cargoes.

"At that time British transports were engaged in carrying German troops across the Atlantic to fight the Americans. Conyngham was on the look-out for these, but did not succeed in meeting with any of them."

"Such a despicable business as it was for George III to hire those fellows to fight the people here!" exclaimed Max. "I wish Conyngham had caught some of them. Papa, didn't he at one time disguise his ship and take her into an English port to refit?"

"So it is said," replied the Captain; "it was for repairs, after a storm. It is said also that he obtained supplies at one time in an Irish port."

"Didn't British ships take ours sometimes, Papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes," he replied, "victory was not always on the side of the Americans. The fast-sailing British frigates captured many privateersmen and merchantmen, and considering their great superiority of numbers it would have been strange indeed had that not been the case. The war on the ocean was very destructive to both parties; yet the Americans were, with reason, amazed and delighted with their measure of success, astonishing in proportion to the odds against them.

"During that year—1776—they had captured three hundred and forty British vessels; four had been burned, forty-five recaptured, and eighteen released.

"It was in the fall of that year that Benedict Arnold commanded some stirring naval operations on Lake Champlain. In the previous spring the British had made preparations to invade the Champlain and Hudson valleys, hoping thus to effect a separation between New England and the other colonies which would naturally make it an easier task to conquer both sections.

"To ward off that threatened danger the Americans holding Ticonderoga and Crown Point—both on the lake as you will remember—constructed a small squadron, the command of which was given to Arnold, who knew more about naval affairs than any other available person. Three schooners, one sloop, and five gondolas were armed and manned, and with this little squadron Arnold sailed down to the foot of the lake and made observations.

"In the mean time the British had heard of what was going on, and they, too, had prepared a small squadron on the river Sorel, the outlet of the lake. Their navy consisted of twenty-four gun-boats, each armed with a field-piece or carriage-gun, and a large flat-bottomed boat called the 'Thunderer,' carrying heavy guns.

"It was not till the middle of October that the fight took place. Arnold, with his flotilla, was then lying between the western shore of the lake and Valcour Island. The 'Congress' was his flag-ship. The British attacked him, and a very severe fight followed. It was brought to a conclusion only by the coming of a very dark night. The Americans had lost the 'Royal Savage' in the action; the rest of the flotilla fled up the lake, eluding the British in the darkness.

"The next morning the British followed; and all that day and the following night the chase continued. Early the next morning the British succeeded in coming up with the Americans, and another battle followed. Arnold, who was on the galley 'Congress,' fought hard until his vessel was nearly a wreck, then ran her and four others into a creek and set them on fire to prevent their falling into the hands of the foe.

"Those who were left of the crews escaped and made their way to Crown Point."

"Arnold did do good work for his country in the early part of the war," exclaimed Rosie. "If he had been killed in that fight he would always have been considered as great a patriot as any other man of the time."

"Yes," replied the Captain with an involuntary sigh, "if he had fallen then, or even some years later, his memory would have been as fondly cherished as that of almost any other soldier of the Revolution. He would have been considered one of the noblest champions of liberty. Ah, what a pity he should turn traitor and make himself the object of infamy, as lasting as the history of his native land, which he attempted to betray into the hands of her foes!"

"Doubtless after years must have brought him many an hour of bitter regret," said Mrs. Travilla, echoing the Captain's sigh. "Poor fellow! I hope he repented and was forgiven of God, though his countrymen could never forgive him. He had a pious mother who tried to train him up aright, and certainly must have often prayed earnestly for her son; so I hope he may have repented and found forgiveness and salvation through the atoning blood of Christ."

"I would be glad indeed to know that he had, Mamma," said Violet.

"I too," added the Captain. "I think he must have been a very wretched man in the latter years of his life."

"Was he treated well in England, Papa?" asked Lulu.

"Not by every one," replied her father; "some of the noble-minded there showed him very plainly that they despised him for his treason. George III. introduced him to Earl Balcarras, who had been with Burgoyne at the battle of Bemis's Heights; but the earl refused his hand, and turned on his heel saying, 'I know General Arnold, and abominate traitors.'"

"How Arnold must have felt that!" exclaimed Rosie. "I would not have liked to be in his shoes."

"Nor I," said her mother. "The British officers thoroughly despised him, and there is an anecdote of a meeting he once had with Talleyrand which must have been trying to his feelings, if he had any sense of honour left.

"It seems that Talleyrand, who was fleeing from France during the revolution there, inquired at the hotel where he was at the time, for some American who could give him letters of introduction to persons of influence here. He was told that an American gentleman was in an adjoining room. It seems it was Arnold, though no one, I suppose, knew who he was. Talleyrand sought an interview with him, and made his request for letters of introduction, when Arnold at once retreated from the room, as he did so saying with a look of pain on his face, 'I was born in America, lived there till the prime of my life, but, alas! I can call no man in America my friend.'"

"I should feel sorry for him in spite of that black act of treason," Violet said, "if he had not followed it up by such infamous deeds against his countrymen, even those of them who had been his neighbours and friends in his early years. I remember Lossing tells us that while New Haven—set on fire by Arnold's band of Tories and Hessians—was burning, he stood in the belfry of a church watching the conflagration with probably the same kind of satisfaction that Nero felt in the destruction of Rome. Think of such a murderous expedition against the home and friends of his childhood and youth! the wanton destruction of a thriving town! It showed him to be a most malicious wretch, worthy of the scorn and contempt with which he was treated even by many of those who had profited by his treason."

"Yes; 'the way of transgressors is hard,'" quoted her mother.