Martha Finley

There was time for only a brief stay in the cottages near Newport before the "Dolphin" must sail for Annapolis, in order that Max might be there in season for the examination of applicants for cadetship in the United States Navy. He had not changed his mind, but was looking forward with delight to the life that seemed to be opening before him; for he loved the sea, and thought no profession could be more honourable than that chosen by his father, who was in his eyes the impersonation of all that was noble, good, and wise.

He was not sorry that his suspense in regard to acceptance would soon be ended, though both he and the other young people of the party would have liked to visit places in the neighbourhood of Newport made memorable by the occurrence of events in the Revolutionary War; but the Captain encouraged the hope that they would all be able to do so at some future time; also said they would find at Annapolis some souvenirs of the struggle for independence quite as well worth attention as those they were for the present leaving behind.

So they started upon their southward way in excellent spirits, Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore accompanying them.

On the first evening of their renewed voyage the young people gathered around the Captain and begged for some account of Revolutionary occurrences in the State they were now about to visit.

"I will go back a little further than that," he said pleasantly, drawing Gracie to a seat upon his knee,—"to the action of the people of Maryland upon hearing of the passage of the Stamp Act. In August, 1765, there was a meeting at Annapolis of the 'Assertors of British American privileges' held 'to show their detestation of and abhorrence to some late tremendous attacks on liberty, and their dislike to a certain late arrived officer, a native of this province.'

"The person to whom they referred was a Mr. Hood, who had been appointed stamp-master while in England shortly before. Dr. Franklin had recommended him for the place; but the people were so angry that no one would buy goods of him, though offered at a very low price. He learned that they intended to give him a coat of tar and feathers, but escaped to New York in time to save himself from that.

"As they couldn't catch him they made an effigy of him, dressed it oddly, put it in a cart, like a malefactor, with some sheets of paper before it, and paraded it through the town, the bell tolling all the while. They then took it to a hill, punished it at the whipping post and pillory, hung it on the gibbet, then set fire to a tar-barrel underneath and burned it."

"Oh," gasped Gracie, "how dreadful if it had been the man himself!"

"But it wasn't, Gracie dear," laughed Lulu; "and if it had been, I'm not sure it was worse than he deserved."

"But I suppose they had to use the stamps for all that,—hadn't they?" asked Rosie.

"The people refused to use them, and for a time all business was at an end," said the Captain, going on with his narrative. "Governor Sharpe sent back some of the stamped paper which arrived in December, informing the colonial secretary of the proceedings of the people, and said that if they got hold of any stamped paper they would be pretty sure to burn it.

"On the 31st of October the 'Maryland Gazette' appeared in mourning, and said, 'The times are Dreadful, Dismal, Doleful, Dolorous and Dollarless.' On the 10th of December the editor issued 'an apparition of the late "Maryland Gazette,"' and expressed his opinion that the odious Stamp Act would never be carried into effect.

"There was great rejoicing when the intelligence reached Annapolis that the Act had been repealed. There were many manifestations of mirth and festivity; but, as you all know, that rejoicing was short-lived, for the king and his ministers continued their aggressions upon the liberties of the American people.

"In the autumn of 1774 the people of Annapolis were greatly excited over the Boston Port Bill, and ripe for rebellion. They also resolved that no tea should be landed on their shores; and when on Saturday, October 15, the ship 'Peggy,' Captain Stewart, arrived from London, bringing among other things, seventeen packages of tea, the citizens were summoned to a general meeting.

"It was the first arrival of tea since it had become a proscribed article. It was ascertained that it was consigned to T. C. Williams & Co., of Annapolis, that they had imported it, and that Antony Stewart, proprietor of the vessel, had paid the duty on it. This the meeting looked upon as an acknowledgement of the right claimed by King and Parliament to tax the tea brought to the colonies, and it was resolved not to permit the tea to be landed.

"The people of the surrounding country were summoned to a meeting in the city, to be held on the following Wednesday. Mr. Stewart published a handbill of explanation of his connection with the affair, saying that he had no intention of violating the non-importation pledges, and regretted that the article had been placed on board his ship.

"But the people had been deceived on former occasions, and knew that when men got into trouble they were apt to whine and pretend innocence; therefore they were more disposed to punish than forgive Mr. Stewart, and at their Wednesday meeting resolved to destroy the vessel with its packages of tea.

"But Mr. Stewart, by the advice of some of his friends, decided to destroy the vessel and the tea himself, and did so. He ran the ship aground near Windmill Point and set her on fire. That satisfied the people and the crowd dispersed.

"A historian of the time says, 'the destruction of tea at Boston has acquired renown as an act of unexampled daring, but the tea burning of Annapolis, which occurred the ensuing fall, far surpassed it in the apparent deliberation, and utter carelessness of concealment, attending the bold measures which led to its accomplishment.'"

"Did the Americans hold any other such 'tea parties,' Papa?" asked Lulu with a humorous look.

"Yes," he said; "in New York and New Jersey; but I will reserve the stories of those doings for another time, and go on now with what occurred in Maryland,—principally at Annapolis,—in the times now under consideration.

"There was a small tea-burning at Elizabethtown—now called Hagerstown,—the Committee of Vigilance obliging a man named John Parks to go with his hat off and a lighted torch in his hand and set fire to a chest of tea in his possession. The committee also recommended entire non-intercourse with Parks; but that did not seem sufficient to the people, and they added to it the breaking of his doors and windows. It is said too, that tar and feathers were freely used in various places.

"Maryland was not ready quite so soon as some of the other colonies to declare herself free and independent; but Charles Carroll, William Paca, Samuel Chase, and others, called county conventions, and used their influence to persuade their fellow-citizens of the wisdom and necessity of such a course, and on the 28th of June, the Maryland Convention empowered their delegates to concur with the other colonies in a declaration of independence.

"As you all know, that declaration was drawn up and signed by Congress shortly afterward, and the men whose names I have mentioned were all among the signers."

"Was there any fighting in or about Annapolis, Papa?" asked Lulu.

"No," he said, "but it was frequently the scene of military displays."

"I'd have liked that a great deal better if I had been there," remarked Gracie. "But won't you please tell us about them, Papa?"

"I will," he answered, smiling upon her and softly smoothing her hair. "Washington passed through Annapolis on his way northward after the battle of Yorktown, which, as you will all remember, virtually ended our struggle for independence, though there was still fighting going on in different parts of the country. Business was suspended in Annapolis when Washington was known to be coming, and the people crowded streets and windows to gain a sight of the chief as he passed. A public address was made him, and everything done to show their appreciation, respect, and esteem.

"Again he was there when, the war at an end, he resigned his commission as commander-in-chief of the American forces.

"'The State House at Annapolis, now venerated because of the associations which cluster around it, was filled with the brave, the fair, and the patriotic of Maryland, to witness the sublime spectacle of that beloved chief resigning his military power wielded with such mighty energy and glorious results for eight long years into the hands of the civil authority which gave it,' says Lossing."

"But why did Washington go to Maryland to do that, Papa?" asked Gracie.

"Because the Continental Congress was then in session there," replied her father. "It was a most interesting scene which then took place in the Senate Chamber of the Capitol. The time was noon of the 23d of December, 1783. Beside the congressmen there were present the governor, council and legislature of Maryland, general officers, and the representative of France. Places were assigned to all these, while spectators filled the galleries and crowded the floor.

"Bancroft tells, us that 'rising with dignity, Washington spoke of the rectitude of the common cause; the support of Congress; of his country-men; of Providence; and he commended the interests of our dearest country to the care of Almighty God. Then saying that he had finished the work assigned him to do, he bade an affectionate farewell to the august body under whose orders he had so long acted, resigned with satisfaction the commission which he had accepted with diffidence, and took leave of public life. His emotion was so great that, as he advanced and delivered up his commission, he seemed unable to have uttered more.'

"Washington still stood while the president of Congress, turning pale from emotion, made a short address in reply, only a sentence or two of which I will quote:"—

"Having taught a lesson useful to those who inflict and those who feel oppression, with the blessings of your fellow-citizens you retire from the great field of action; but the glory of your virtues will continue to animate remotest ages. We join you in commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, beseeching him to dispose the hearts and minds of its citizens to improve the opportunity afforded them of becoming a happy and respectable nation."

"Which I think we have become," added Max, with satisfaction, as his father paused in his narrative.

"By God's blessing upon the work of our pious forefathers," added the Captain, with a look of mingled gratitude and pride in the land of his birth.

"I think we must all visit the State House when in Annapolis," remarked Grandma Elsie, who sat near and had been listening with almost as keen interest as that shown by the younger ones.

"Certainly we must," said Mr. Dinsmore. "Some of us have been there before, but a second visit will not prove uninteresting, especially along with the young folks, to whom it will be quite new," and he glanced smilingly around upon the bright, eager faces.

His suggestion was followed by expressions of pleasure in the prospect. Then the Captain was besieged with entreaties that he would go on with his account of things of historical interest to be found in Annapolis.

"There is the little gallery in which Mrs. Washington and other ladies stood to witness the scene I have tried to describe," he continued. "It is said to be unchanged, as are also the doors, windows, cornices, and other architectural belongings. I confess it sent a thrill through me when I first saw them all, to think they were the very same which echoed the voice of the Father of his Country on that memorable occasion.

"Also the very spot where Mifflin, the president, and Thomson, the secretary, of Congress sat when the treaty of peace with Great Britain was ratified, can be pointed out to the interested observer, which I certainly was."

"It is a fine building," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, "much admired for its style of architecture and the beauty of its situation."

"It is indeed," assented the Captain. "It is built of brick, has a fine dome, surmounted by two smaller ones, with a cupola of wood. As it stands upon an elevation in the centre of the city, there is a magnificent prospect from its dome. One sees the city and harbour, while far away to the southeast stretches Chesapeake Bay, with Kent Island and the eastern shore looming up in the distance."

"I remember two incidents which I have heard were connected with the building of that State House," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore. "One is, that when the corner-stone was laid by Governor Eden, just as he struck it with a mallet a severe clap of thunder burst over the city out of a clear sky; the other, that the man who executed the stucco-work of the dome, fell from the scaffold and was killed just as he had completed his centre-piece."

"Yes," the Captain said, "I have heard those incidents were traditional, but am not able to vouch for their truth."

"Is there not a portrait of Washington there?" asked Violet.

"Yes," replied her husband, "in the House of Delegates; it is a full-length likeness, and he is attended by La Fayette and Colonel Tilghman, the Continental army passing in review. It was painted by Peale as commemorative of the surrender at Yorktown, having been ordered by the Assembly of Maryland.

"There are also full-length portraits of Carroll, Stone, Paca, and Chase on the walls of the Senate Chamber. The first two were painted by Sully, the other two by Bordley,—both native artists. There is also a full-length portrait of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, in Roman costume. Peale painted that also, and presented it to Maryland, his native State, in 1794. The work was done in England, and is of a high order.

"The only other portrait I recollect as being there is one of John Eager Howard, who, you doubtless remember, was one of the heroes of the Revolution."

Favourable winds and weather enabled the "Dolphin" to reach her destination a day or two earlier than the Captain had expected, so giving our party a little more time for sight-seeing than they had hoped for. They made good use of it, going about and visiting all the places of interest. Almost the first that received their attention was the State House, with its mementos of the Revolutionary days, of which the Captain had been telling them.

They lingered long over the portraits and in the Senate Chamber, where the Father of his Country had resigned his commission as commander-in-chief of the Continental armies.

They ascended to the cupola also, and gazed with delight upon the beautiful landscape spread out at their feet,—Max manifesting great interest in the vessels lying in the harbour, particularly the practice-ship "Constellation" and the school-ship "Santee," and scarcely less in the monitor "Passaic" and the steam-sloop "Wyoming," swinging at their anchorage in the river.

"Papa, can I visit them?" he asked.

"Yes, my boy, I hope to take you to see them all," was the pleasant-toned reply. "I intend that you and all the party shall see everything that is worth their attention."

"That's very kind of you, Captain," remarked Evelyn in a lively tone. "I for one am very desirous to see the Naval Academy, its grounds and the drills,—one at least. I so enjoyed seeing those on Gardiner's Island."

"You shall," replied the Captain, with his pleasant smile. "It will give me pleasure to take any of you who wish to go."

"I think that will be all of us," remarked Violet, with a bright and happy glance up into her husband's face.

They were descending the stairs as they talked, and presently had all passed out into the State House grounds. There they met a gentleman in undress naval uniform who, coming forward with a look of extreme pleasure, warmly grasped the hand of Captain Raymond, calling him by name, and saying, "I do not know when I have had so agreeable a surprise."

The Captain returned the salutation as warmly as it was given, then introduced the rest of his party, telling them that this friend of his was commander-commandant of cadets.

At that Max's eyes opened very wide and fixed themselves upon the gentleman with as eager interest as if he had been a king.

Captain Raymond noted it with a look of mingled amusement and pride in the lad.

"This is my son Max, sir, a candidate for cadetship," he said, laying a hand affectionately upon Max's shoulder, "and I see he is much interested in this his first sight of one who will, he hopes, soon be his commander."

"Ah! a son of yours, Raymond? But I might have guessed it from his striking likeness to his father," the commandant said in a pleased and interested tone, grasping the boy's hand warmly as he spoke. "I have little doubt that he will pass," he added with a smile, "for he should inherit a good mind, and he looks bright and intelligent,—his father's son mentally as well as physically."

Max coloured with pleasure. "It is exactly what I want to be, sir," he said,—"as like my father as possible." And his eyes sought that father's face with a look of love and reverence that was pleasant to see.

The Captain met it with a smile of fatherly affection. "One's children are apt to be partial judges," he said; then changing the subject of conversation, he stated the desire of those under his escort to see the Naval Academy and the Naval vessels lying at anchor in the harbour.

The commandant, saying he had some hours at his disposal, undertook to be their escort; and thus they saw everything under the most favourable auspices.

The drill of the artillery battalion seemed to Max and Lulu very similar to that they had witnessed at West Point, but was scarcely the less exciting and interesting. They watched it all with sparkling eyes and eager, animated looks, Max hoping soon to take part in it, and not at all regretting his choice of a profession. He was not a bashful lad, though by no means conceited or forward, and his father had assured him that if he retained his self-possession, not giving way to nervousness or fright, he was fully competent to pass.

The boy had unbounded confidence in his father's word, which helped him to so fully retain his self-possession that he found little or no difficulty in answering every question put to him,—for the Captain had been very careful to drill him perfectly, making him thorough in all the branches required,—and passed most successfully.

He was also pronounced by the examining physician physically sound and of robust constitution. He was accepted, took the oath of allegiance, and felt himself several inches taller than before.

Captain Raymond attended to all the business matters, saw the room and room-mate selected for his son, and did all that could be done to secure the boy's comfort and welfare. The parting from Mamma Vi, his sisters, and baby brother was quite hard for the lad's affectionate heart, but he managed to go through it almost without shedding tears, though one or two would come when Gracie clung weeping about his neck; but the last, the final farewell to his father, was hardest of all. In vain he reminded himself that it was not a final separation, that he might hope for long visits at home at some future time, that letters would pass frequently between them, and a visit be paid him now and then by that dearly loved, honoured, and revered parent; just now he could only remember that the daily, hourly intercourse he had found so delightful was over, probably forever in this world.

The Captain read it all in his boy's speaking countenance, and deeply sympathized with his son; indeed his own heart was heavy over the thought that this, his first-born and well-beloved child was now to pass from under his protecting care and try the world for himself. He felt that he must bestow upon him a few more words of loving, fatherly counsel.

They were leaving together the hotel where the remainder of their party were domiciled for the present. "Max, my son," he said kindly, looking at his watch as he spoke, "we have still more than an hour to spend as we like before you must be at the Academy. Shall we spend it on board the yacht?"

"Yes, sir, if you can spare the time to me," answered the lad, making a great effort to speak brightly and cheerfully.

"Then we will go there," the Captain said, giving his son an affectionate look and smile. "I can find no better use for the next hour than devoting it to a little talk with my first-born, on whom I have built so many hopes."

A few minutes later they were sitting side by side in the "Dolphin's" cabin, no human creature near to see or overhear what might pass between them.

For a little while there was silence, each busy with his own thoughts. It was Max who ended it at last.

"Papa," he said brokenly, his hand creeping into his father's, "you—you have been such a good, good father to me; and—and I want to be a credit and comfort to you. I"—

But there he broke down completely, and the next moment—neither ever knew exactly how it came about—he was sobbing in his father's arms.

"I—I wish I'd been a better boy, Papa," he went on, "it 'most breaks my heart to think now of the pain and trouble I've given you at times."

"My boy, my dear, dear boy," the Captain said in moved tones, pressing the lad to his heart, "you have been a great joy and comfort to me for years past, and words would fail me to tell how dear you are to your father's heart. It seems scarcely longer ago than yesterday that I first held my dear boy in my arms, and prayed God that if his life was spared he might grow up into a good, useful, Christian man, a blessing to his parents, to the church, and to the world. Oh, my boy, never be afraid or ashamed to own yourself one who fears God and tries to keep his commandments, who loves Jesus, trusts in Him for salvation from sin and death, and tries to honour Him in all his words and ways. Strive to keep very near to the Master, Max, and to honour Him in all things. Never be ashamed to own yourself His disciple, His servant, and Him as your Lord and King. Remember His words, 'Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him shall also the Son of man be ashamed when He cometh in the glory of His Father with the holy angels.' Doubtless it will at times bring the ridicule of your companions upon you, but he is only a coward who can not bear that when undeserved; and what is it compared to Christ's sufferings on the cross for you?"

"Oh, Papa, nothing, nothing at all compared to what Jesus bore for me! He will give me strength to be faithful in confessing Him before men, and your prayers will help me, too."

"Yes, my boy, and you may be sure that you will be ever on your father's heart, which will be often going up in prayer to God for a blessing on his absent son. It is to me a joyful thought that He is the hearer and answerer of prayer, and will be ever near my son, to keep him in the hour of trial and temptation, though I may know nothing of his danger or distress.

"Let us kneel down now and ask Him to be your guard and guide through all life's journey, to help you to be His faithful servant in all things, and to bring you safe to heaven at last."

They knelt side by side, and in a few well chosen words the Captain commended his beloved son to the care, the guardianship, and the guidance of the God of his fathers, asking that he might be a faithful follower of Jesus through all life's journey, and afterward spend an eternity of bliss in that happy land where sin and sorrow and partings are never known.

A hearty embrace followed, some few more words of fatherly counsel and advice, then they left the vessel, wended their way to the Naval Academy and parted for the time, the Captain comforting the heart of the more than half homesick lad with the promise of a visit from him at no very distant day and frequent letters in the mean time.

The "Dolphin" was to sail northward again that evening; and as Max watched his father out of sight it required a mighty effort to keep back the tears from his eyes at the thought that he should behold that noble form and dearly loved face no more for months or—"Oh, who could say that some accident might not rob him forever of his best and dearest earthly friend?"

But he struggled with himself, turned resolutely about, and entered into lively chat with some of his new comrades, all the while the cheering thought in his heart that nothing could separate him from the presence and loving care of his heavenly Father; also that he surely would be permitted, before many months had passed, to see again the dear earthly one he so loved and honoured. And in the meanwhile he was resolved to do everything in his power to win that father's approbation, and make him proud and happy in his first-born son.