Sustained honor Part 16

"No; I aimed at a more vital part; but, thank G.o.d, I missed, and now I am happy."

"It's more than the lieutenant is, I'm thinkin'."

"But, Terrence, the most serious question is, what are we going to do?"

"Now that's sensible. Let me see, Misther Williams, what's the nearest port? Isn't there a town above on this coast?"

"Yes, not more than ten miles away around that point o' land we'll find a willage."

"Why not put in there?"

"Yes, we kin; but, hang it, how am I a-goin' to git back to Baltimore?"

"Oh, that's aisy enough. Run in after night."

"Yes, an' be sunk by the blasted Britishers!"

"He won't know ye after dark."

"But, Terrence, what are we to do?" asked Fernando.

"It's do, is it?--faith, do nothin'!"

"But the academy?"

"It will get along without us."

"But can we get along without it?"

"Aisy, me frind; don't be alarmed. We'll be back in a week or a fortnight at most. It will all blow over, and no one will ask us any questions. Lave it all to me."

Fernando had almost come to the conclusion that he had left too much to his friend. Terrence had only got him out of one sc.r.a.pe into another, until he had come to mistrust the good judgment and sound discretion of his friend. Not that he doubted the good intentions of Terrence. He had as kind a heart as ever beat in the breast of a young Irishman of twenty-three; but his propensity to mischievous pranks was continually getting him and his friends into trouble.

Fernando went to the fore part of the boat and sat by Sukey.

For a few moments both were silent. Fernando was first to speak.

"Sukey, how is all this to end?" he asked with a sigh.

"I don't know," Sukey answered, in his peculiar, drawling way. "We needn't complain, though; because we came out best so far."

"But it was terrible, shooting at him. I might have killed him."

"He might have killed you, and that would have been worse."

"I never thought of that."

"No doubt he did."

"I wish we were back in the college; but I greatly fear we will be expelled in disgrace. It would kill our mothers."

"No; I think they would get over it; but I tell you, Fernando, my opinion is, it don't make much difference."

"Why?"

"The United States and England are going to fight. I got a paper last night, and it was chock full of fight, and as for your shootin' the lieutenant, I am sure everybody, even your mother and the faculty, will be glad of it. I only blame you for one thing."

"What is that, Sukey?"

"When you had such a good chance, why didn't you aim higher?"

The expression on Sukey's face was too ludicrous for even the young duelist, and he laughed in spite of himself.

"h.e.l.loa, there's the town," cried Sukey, as they rounded a headland and entered the mouth of a broad bay, standing in toward a beautiful village. This village has wholly disappeared. Railroads shunned it, and the water traffic being too small to support it, it degenerated into a village of fishermen, which, in 1837, was totally destroyed by fire, and has never been rebuilt. Before the war of 1812, it was a neat, flouris.h.i.+ng little town.

"Is this the town you were spakin' about?" asked Terrence of the boatman.

"Yes, zur."

"What place is it?"

"Mariana."

"Mariana," repeated Fernando, "I have heard that name before. Where was it? Mariana,--Mariana."

Terrence came forward to his companions and said:

"Now, lads, like as not the frinds of Matson may be afther following us. Lave it all to me. We'll change our names and go up to the tavern, where we'll hire rooms and be gintlemen traveling for pleasure."

"Would they dare follow us on sh.o.r.e?"

"No; I think not; but if they should, my plan will answer."

When they ran into sh.o.r.e, Terrence paid the boatman and discharged him.

Terrence was the son of a rich Irish merchant in Philadelphia, who kept his son liberally supplied with money, who, with corresponding liberality, spent it.

Terrence felt that this was his sc.r.a.pe, and he resolved to bear the expenses.

With his friends, he went to the tavern, where they engaged rooms.

Fernando and Sukey retired to their rooms, while Terrence remained in the tap-room, where there was a crowd of Marylanders. He began telling them a most horrible story of the impressment of himself and his friends by a British vessel and of their recent escape. He stated that they had been closely pursued, and he would not be surprised if the Britishers sent a boat on sh.o.r.e to take them away.

He could not have chosen a better theme to inflame those Marylanders.

One tall, raw-boned man, who carried a rifle and bullet pouch with him, said:

"Boys, that reminds us mightily o' d.i.c.k Long."

Every Marylander a.s.sembled in the tap-room knew the sad story of poor d.i.c.k Long. He was a fisherman with a wife and four children and was loved by all who knew him. d.i.c.k was honest and peaceable, kind-hearted and brave. One day his fis.h.i.+ng smack was driven by a gale some distance out at sea, when a British cruiser captured him, and he was impressed into his majesty's service. d.i.c.k managed after many weary months to get a letter to his wife. At Halifax, he tried to desert, was caught, brought back and lashed to the "long tom" and received a flogging with the cat-o'-nine-tails. He struck the cruel boatsman, and was lashed to the mast and flogged until he died. A deserter from the s.h.i.+p brought home his dying words, which were these: "Tell my American brothers to avenge me."