ON WATER.

The English navy was the pride of that great nation in 1812, as it is now. When war with the United States was discussed, the idea that America without a navy, and with but few if any trained naval officers could cope with England, caused the Briton to smile; but a great surprise was in store. The first American victories were on the high seas. Tradition, discipline, ships and training seemed all of no avail. While the English were carrying everything on land, where it was supposed they were weakest, they were losing everything on water, where thought to be strongest. Everybody was surprised. They supposed the first three or four American victories were accidents; but as success after success continued to follow the American arms at sea, they were dumfounded. England's boasted navy had lost its power.

The first naval engagement of any consequence was on August 19, 1812. Captain Hull of the United States frigate Constitution captured an English frigate, The Guerriere, after a hard fought battle. The Guerriere had made herself very obnoxious in her way of challenging American vessels. In this engagement she lost seventy-nine killed and wounded, while the Constitution lost but thirteen. There were ten impressed Americans on The Guerriere. On the 7th of September, the United States frigate Essex captured the Alert in a fight of eight minutes. The American sloop-of-war Wasp, on the 18th of October, encountered the British sloop-of-war Frolic, a much larger and stronger ship. The fight was terrible, and only three officers and one seaman on the Frolic remained unhurt; almost a hundred were killed and wounded, while the Americans lost but ten. The Wasp did not long enjoy her triumph, however. On that same evening the British man-of-war Poicters, Captain Beresford, captured the Wasp and her prize.

The phrase "Free Trade and Sailors' Rights," borne on the banner at the masthead of the Essex, soon became the war-cry of the American seaman.

The 25th of October, 1812, one week after the victory and loss of the gallant Wasp, dawned bright and clear on the English frigate Macedonian sailing westward of Canary Islands. Little change had come to the Macedonian since Fernando Stevens had been transferred from her to the sloop. At this time there were but three impressed Americans on the Macedonian, Sukey, a negro sailor called Tawney and a man named Rogers.

Notwithstanding their difference in race and social standing, Sukey and Tawney were attached to each other. Both were Americans, and both loved the star-spangled banner.

It was a holy Sabbath morning, and every sailor, according to Captain Garden's orders, was dressed in his best, when the cry of, "Sail ho!" rang out from the masthead. It was ascertained that the stranger was an American, and the ship was cleared for action. As the Macedonian bore down on the American--her men at their quarters--Sukey and Tawney, who happened to be stationed at the quarter-deck battery, respectfully accosted the captain, as he passed them in his rapid promenade, his spyglass under his arm.

"Say, look here," said Sukey, "we are not Englishmen; we don't want to be in the game. It's a bitter thing to lift a hand against the flag of that country which harbors our parents. Please release us from this contest and let us remain neutral during the fight; I tell you, I don't want to be in the game."

When a ship of any nation is running into action, there is no time for argument, small time for justice, and not much for humanity. Snatching a pistol from the belt of a boarder standing by, the captain leveled it at the heads of the sailors, and commanded them instantly to their quarters, under penalty of being shot on the spot. So, side by side with their country's foes, Sukey, Tawney and Rogers toiled at the guns, and fought out the fight to the last; with the exception of Rogers who was killed by one of his country's balls.

The conflict was terrible. Sukey was stationed on the gun deck, abreast the mainmast. This part of the ship they called the slaughter-house, for men fell five and six at a time. An enemy nearly always directs his shot at this point in order to cut away the mast. The beams and carlines were spattered with blood and brains. About the hatchways it looked like a butcher's stall; bits of human flesh were sticking in the ring-bolts. A pig that ran about the deck, though unharmed, was so covered with blood, that the sailors threw it overboard, swearing it would be rank cannibalism to eat it. A goat, kept on board for her milk, had her legs shot away, and was thrown into the sea.

The sailors who were killed were, according to the usual custom, ordered to be thrown overboard as soon as they fell; for the sight of so many corpses lying around might appall the survivors at the guns. A shot entering one of the portholes cut down two-thirds of a gun's crew. The captain of the next gun, dropping his lock string, which he had just pulled, turned over the heap of bodies to see who they were; when, perceiving an old messmate, who had sailed with him in many cruises, he burst into tears, and, taking the corpse up in his arms and going with it to the side, he held it over the water a moment, gazed on the silent pale face and cried:

"Oh, God! Tom--Tom, has it come to this at last----"

"D--n your prayers! over with that thing! overboard with it and down to your gun!" roared a wounded lieutenant. The order was obeyed, and the heart-stricken sailor returned to his post.

At last, having lost her fore and maintopmasts, her mizzenmast having been shot away to the deck, and her foreyard lying in two pieces on her shattered forecastle, having been hulled in a hundred places with round shot, the Macedonian was reduced to the last extremity. Captain Garden ordered his signal quarter-master to strike the flag.

Never did Sukey hear a command with greater joy. Never was a sailor so happy at being defeated. When the order was given to strike the flag, one of Captain Garden's officers, a man hated by the seamen for his tyranny, howled the most terrific remonstrances, and swore he would rather sink alongside than surrender. Had he been captain, probably he would have done so.

Sukey and Tawney were among the boat's crew which rowed Captain Garden to the enemy. As, he touched the deck, Captain Garden saluted his captor, Captain Decatur, and offered him his sword; but it was courteously declined. The victor remembered the dinner parties he and Captain Garden had enjoyed in Norfolk, previous to the breaking out of hostilities, and while both were in command of the very frigates now crippled on the sea. The Macedonian had gone into Norfolk with despatches; while Decatur was in that port. Then they had laughed and joked over their wine, and a wager of a beaver hat was said to have been made between them upon the event of the hostile meeting of their ships.

This was their next meeting. Sukey and Tawney went home in the American frigate United States. With Sukey's return to his native country, the reader's interest in the naval operations perhaps ceases. Naval battles are the same, bloody and desperate, and the details of the fight with the Macedonian are the details of all others. After briefly noticing the principal victories and defeats on sea, we shall take up again the characters in our story.

On November 22d, the United States brig Vixen was captured by the English frigate Southampton, and both were subsequently shipwrecked on December 29th, the United States frigate Constitution, under Commodore Bainbridge, captured the British frigate Java, off the coast of Brazil. The American loss was 44 and the British 151. The American victories of the year of 1812 with such little loss produced much exultation in America and surprise and mortification in England. American seamen had been the greatest sufferers at the hands of the British, and they had long burned to avenge the insults of the English Navy. They fought for patriotism, glory and vengeance.

The year 1813 was noted for the continued success of the American Navy. On February 24th, the Hornet captured the British brig Peacock on the coast of South America. On June 1st, the British frigate Shannon captured the Chesapeake after a terrible battle, in which the Americans lost 133 and the British half as many. Captain Lawrence of the Chesapeake was mortally wounded, and his dying command, "Don't give up the ship!" has been the motto for many worthy enterprises.

In August, Captain Porter, with the American frigate Essex, cruising in the Pacific Ocean, captured twelve armed British whalers. In the same month, the American sloop-of-war Argus, cruising in the English channel, captured twenty-one British merchantmen, but on the 13th was herself captured by the British man-of-war Pelican after a severe engagement. On the 3d of September, the American brig Enterprise captured the British Boxer off the coast of Maine. Perry's victory on Lake Erie, which occurred on the 10th of this month, has already been noticed.

The year 1814 was not a line of unbroken success, though American victories were many and brilliant. On the 28th of March, the brilliant career of the United States frigate Essex, in the Pacific Ocean, was terminated by her capture by two British war vessels at Valparaiso. On April 21st, the United States sloop-of-war Frolic was captured by the British frigate Orpheus. On the 27th of the same month, the United States sloop-of-war Peacock captured the British brig-of-war Epervier with $118,000 in specie on board. On June 9th, the United States sloop-of-war Rattlesnake was captured by a British man-of-war. This reverse was followed by the loss of the United States sloop Syren on the 12th. On the 28th, the American sloop Wasp captured the British sloop Reindeer, in the British channel. On the 1st of September, the Wasp captured the British sloop Avon, and after taking three other prizes, this remarkably successful vessel mysteriously disappeared. Her fate was never known, though it is supposed she was lost at sea.

On January 15, 1815, the United States frigate President was captured by four English vessels. On the 28th of February, although peace was declared, the United States frigate Constitution captured two British vessels of war, off the island of Madeira. In March, the United States frigate Hornet captured the British brig Penguin, off the coast of Brazil.

The last hostile act at sea took place in the Straits of Sunda, in the East Indies, where the United States brig-of-war Peacock captured the Nautilus, a British sloop-of-war. The three American vessels at sea when the war closed each came home crowned with laurels. The part taken by the American privateers during the war was considerable and a detailed history of them would fill a volume larger than this. During the war there were I,750 British vessels captured, against a loss of I,683 American ships. The spirit and energy of the American seamen, under all their embarrassments, gave an unmistakable indication of the future greatness of the power of the United States Navy.

On the first night after Sukey and Terrence joined Fernando, the three sat about the bivouac fire, while all save the sentries slept, talking over the past which, to Fernando, seemed like a troubled dream.

"Did either of you ever meet Captain Snipes?" asked Fernando.

"Bad luck to him, I did not," said Terrence. "It's bad it would have fared with the spalpeen if I had."

At mention of Captain Snipes, there came an expression over Sukey's face which is indescribable. His face grew pale, and his brow contracted, his teeth set, and his eyes seemed to have the glitter of steel, while he shrugged his shoulders, as if he again felt the cat-o'-nine-tails about them.

"Did he never come aboard the Macedonian again?" asked Fernando.

"No."

"Did you hear of him?"

"Yes."

"Where was he?"

"He was transferred to the Xenophon."

"The Xenophon? was not Lieutenant Matson in command of that vessel?"

"For awhile."

"Was he not promoted?"

"No; it seems his affair with you got to England."

"Just in time to spoil a nate little promotion, too," put in Terrence. "I heard all about it from the captain of the merchantman I captured. He told me when we were playing poker one night."

Fernando looked sadly into the smouldering bivouac and heaved a sigh. Almost five years had elapsed since he had seen Morgianna, and he had not heard a word from her since he left her in the great stone house on the hill that night,--she laughing at his misery.

After a long silence Fernando asked:

"Is he married?"

"Who?" asked Sukey.

"Faith, the captain's absent minded," put in Terrence.

"I mean Lieutenant Matson."

"Not as I know of."

"Did you see him after we left Mariana?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Only six days before we were captured by Decatur. We touched at the Canary Islands, and the Xenophon was there. He came aboard our vessel."

"Did he recognize you?"

"No," Sukey answered. "Had he known me he wouldn't a-talked with a common sailor."

"Was he married then?"

"No; I heard him tell Captain Garden that he was still single."

Fernando heaved another sigh and asked:

"Did he say--did he say anything about her?"

"Who?"

Fernando heaved another sigh and asked:

"Did he say--did he say anything about her?'7

"Who?"

The conversation was not interesting to Terrence and he had gone to another part of the camp, to engage in a game of cards with a sentry.

"Morgianna," Fernando said.

"Morgianna? no--she is the girl at Mariana, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"I didn't hear him mention her name."

"They are not married yet?"

"No."

"Perhaps I was mistaken after all," said Fernando thoughtfully. "May be she don't care for him."

Then Fernando sighed again and gazed into the smouldering fire. After several minutes more, he said:

"Sukey, she must be in love with him."

"I thought so."

Fernando sighed and remarked:

"She may have married some one else, though."

"No, she ain't."

"Have you heard of her?"

"I saw her!" Sukey declared.

"When?"

"When I was in Baltimore last winter."

"Did you talk with her, Sukey?"

"No."

"Then how did you know she was not married?"

"When I was in Baltimore last winter."

"Did you talk with her, Sukey?"

"No."

"Then how did you know she was not married?"

"I was in a store and overheard two women who knew her gossiping. One asked the other if Morgianna Lane was married yet. One said:

"'I thought she would marry the English lieutenant.'

"The other said:

"'No, not yet. I suppose they are waiting till the war is over.'

"'Has she no other lover?' asked the other. Then the other woman said she believed not, at least none ever came to see her."

Fernando was quite sure she must have lovers by the score. Such a glorious woman as Morgianna could not but have an abundance to choose from.

"You saw Morgianna, Sukey, how did she look?"

"Just as when we left. Not a day older."

"You knew her at sight?"

"Of course; but she didn't know me. I suspect I was a hard-looking case then; for I had just come from the ship and had on my English pea-jacket, and my linen was not the cleanest."

Fernando sat silent for such a long time, that Sukey, who was tired, nodded awhile in silence, then, rolling up in his blanket, lay down under a tree and slept. Fernando still sat gazing into the fire and saying to himself:

"Oh, if it could have been, if it could have been!"

A young woman does a rash thing when she rejects such a warm, manly heart as that of Fernando Stevens. Not all men are capable of such unselfish devotion as his, and Morgianna little dreamed how much she was casting aside.

He was still gazing into the smouldering fire, when Terrence, who had won all the money from the soldier with whom he was playing cards, came to him and said:

"Captain, are ye goin' to spend the night gazing into the fire?"

"No, Terrence; I am not sleepy; but I will lie down."

"Captain, do ye remember the little girl at Mariana five years ago, the one yersilf and the Englishman were about to break heads over?"

"You mean Morgianna Lane, Terrence?"

"To be sure I do. I saw the swate craythur not two months since." Fernando, who was anything but sleepy, asked:

"Where did you see her, Terrence?"

"In Baltimore. She is prettier than whin you used to stroll over the beach in the moonlight with her."

"Is she married?"

"Divil a bit. I talked with her, and, d'ye belave me, almost the first question she asked me was about yersilf. Aye, Fernando, it was a grand story I told her about ye making a hero of yersilf. I told her how ye defeated Tecumseh and killed the thief with yer own hand, and how ye conquered at Chippewa and Lundy's Lane."

Fernando's heart gave a tremendous bound. Had she really asked about him? Then she had not forgotten him in five long years. Could this be true? Terrence had not the strictest regard for truth, and he might be only telling this out of mischief.

"Terrence, are you telling me the truth?" he asked.

"Ivery blissid word of it is the gospel truth, me frind," Terrence answered. "The little girl still lives at the village beyant Baltimore, and if ye want her, ye kin win her."

"Terrence, you are trifling with me; Morgianna cares nothing for me."

"Don't ye belave it. If she didn't, why did she ask about ye the very first chance she had? Me boy, whin a girl remembers a fellow after five years, it's some sign. Now if ye want that blushin' damsel, lave it all to me."

"Terrence, let us go to sleep, we have a hard march before us to-morrow."

"I take it at yer word, captain."

In less than ten minutes the light-hearted Irishman was buried in slumber.