TIME moved on swiftly enough to the older people, busily engaged in
preparations for the contemplated trip to Annapolis, yet with rather
laggard step to the younger ones, who were in haste to experience
its pleasures and excitements. But in the performance of school
duties they one and all acquitted themselves quite to the captain’s
satisfaction; even excitable Lulu finding it not nearly so difficult to
concentrate her thoughts upon the business in hand as it had been when
first her father began to act as tutor to his children. Also Marian’s
companionship in her lessons during the second week was an assistance
to renewed and increased interest in them.
But at length the appointed day for the sailing of the _Dolphin_ came.
Marian adhered to her decision to remain behind, attending to the
preparation of her summer wardrobe, but the others, all in good health
and spirits, were ready and eager for the trip.
The weather was charming, making their drive to the city delightful;
the rest of the short journey on board the _Dolphin_—which they found
awaiting them at the wharf and in the most beautiful order, everything
about her deck and above and below looking spick and span as though she
had but just come from the hands of her builders and decorators.
They arrived the day before that on which the graduating exercises
were to be held, dropping anchor in the Severn just as the afternoon
artillery drill began. They witnessed it from the deck and could see
that Max was a prominent figure therein. He seemed to go into it most
enthusiastically, and they all, his father especially, watched his
every movement with pride and delight.
He had purposely left the lad in ignorance of the exact time of the
expected arrival, and Max discovered the near vicinity of the _Dolphin_
only when the exercises had come to an end. At the same instant a
message from the commandant reached him, giving permission for him to
go aboard the yacht and remain there until half-past nine that evening,
and the _Dolphin’s_ row-boat was seen to leave her side with the
captain in it.
In a very few moments more Max was on the deck of the yacht, surrounded
by those nearest and dearest to him, his father looking on with
beaming eyes while they crowded around the lad with their joyful and
affectionate greetings.
“Now, Max, sit down here among us and give a full account of yourself,
your doings and experiences since we saw you last,” said Grandma Elsie
with an affectionate smile into the bright young face, and making room
for him by her side as she spoke.
Max gave his father an inquiring look, and receiving an approving nod
in reply, took the seat and did his best to answer satisfactorily the
questions which were showered upon him from all sides: queries as to
the progress he was making in his studies, great-gun exercise, field
artillery, infantry tactics, etc., and in regard to various other
matters.
But a joyous bark suddenly interrupted the talk, and Max’s dog Prince
bounded into the midst of the group, raised himself upon his hind legs,
put his fore-paws on his young master’s shoulders, his tail wagging
fast with delight, and tried to lick Max’s face.
“Why, hello, Prince, I’m glad to see you, old fellow!” cried the lad,
patting and stroking him, but avoiding the caress. “There, that will
do; you try to kiss harder and longer than any other of my friends.”
“P’raps that’s because I love you harder,” Prince seemed to say. “And
it’s longer since I saw you last. The captain never invited me to come
along before.”
“He didn’t?” laughed Max. “Well, I don’t believe you asked him; but I’m
right glad to see you here at last. Also to find you haven’t forgotten
how to talk.”
“No, my young master, but it’s the first time I’ve done anything in
that line since you left me at Woodburn.”
By this time everybody was laughing.
“Oh, Max, who is making Prince talk—you or Cousin Ronald?” asked Lulu.
“See if you can’t find out for yourself, Lu,” laughed Max. “Suppose you
ask Prince; surely he should know.”
“Well, I’ll try it,” she returned merrily. “Prince, who helped you to
do that talking just now?”
“Why, who helps you to talk, Miss Lu?” came promptly in return,
apparently from the dog’s lips.
“Oh, I don’t need any help in that line,” she returned laughingly, “and
never have since I first learned how in my babyhood.”
“Do you never tire of talking, Miss Lu?” The query seemed to come from
Prince’s lips as he looked up gravely into her face.
“No, I can’t say that I do,” she laughed. “Do you?”
“I am oftener tired of not being able to express my thoughts and
feelings,” was the reply. Then the call to tea put an end to the
conversation for the time.
Prince followed the others to the table and when all were seated laid
himself down at Max’s feet. There he lay looking up into the lad’s
face, and when the plates had been filled a low whine seemed to say he
too would be glad to have a share of the savory viands.
“Just wait a bit, old fellow, and your turn will come,” said Max. “You
never starve where my father is master, I’m sure.”
“No, that’s true enough; but it is not always so easy to wait when
one’s hungry and sees other folks with plates heaped with savory
victuals right before them. Why shouldn’t dogs be helped at once as
well as men, women, and children?”
Prince’s tail swept the floor and his hungry eyes looked up wistfully
into those of his young master as the words seemed to come from his
lips.
“Well done, Prince! such efforts at speech ought to be duly rewarded,”
remarked the captain gravely; then he directed a servant to take the
dog out and feed him well.
“What is the programme for this evening?” asked Violet; “a trip up the
river again?”
“If you and the others wish it, my dear,” replied her husband, to whom
her query seemed to be addressed. “I had thought, however, of going
down the river and bay, as we went up on our last visit here. We will
put it to the vote of those present. I am quite indifferent personally
as to which course we pursue.” It soon appeared that the majority were
in favor of moving toward the bay, and on leaving the table the captain
issued his orders, the _Dolphin_ weighed anchor, and the wind being
favorable, they sailed down the river and out into the bay.
“Annapolis is a very old town, is it not, Brother Levis?” asked Walter.
“Yes,” was the reply; “it was founded by the Puritans under Captain
William Clayborne. He first settled over yonder on Kent Island in
1631, but was expelled from there—he and his adherents—in 1638, for
refusing to acknowledge allegiance to the newly established government
of Lord Baltimore. In 1642 some Puritans, expelled from Virginia for
non-conformity, settled where now stands Annapolis, founded a town
there and called it Providence. In 1691 it became the capital of the
State and the name was changed to Annapolis.”
“You have gone farther back in its history than you ever did in telling
us about it before, papa,” remarked Lulu.
“Ah? how far back did I go before?” he asked pleasantly.
“To the time when they heard of the resistance to the passing of the
Stamp Act by the people of Massachusetts, sir,” she replied. “Don’t you
remember that when we were sailing from Newport to Annapolis, to bring
Max here to enter the Academy, we young folks all gathered round you,
just as we have to-night, and asked for revolutionary happenings in
Maryland?”
“Ah, yes, I do remember it now, though it was nearly a year ago,” he
returned, looking with a humorous smile down into her eyes.
“Why, just think,” exclaimed Max, “the town was then more than a
hundred years old. What a venerable old place it is now!”
“Ah, no wonder you grow manly so fast, young sir, living in such a
grand old place,” remarked a strange voice apparently coming from the
rear of the little party seated pretty close together on the deck.
Naturally every head turned in the direction of the sound, but the
speaker was not to be seen.
“Who and where are you, sir?” queried the captain. “Step forward and
take a seat with the rest of us.”
“Thank you, sir; but I do not want to intrude. You must excuse me for
coming aboard, but I wanted a sail and thought my weight wouldn’t
retard the boat. I’ll pay for my passage if you say so.”
The speaker continued invisible, though every word was distinctly heard.
“Then do so by giving us a sight of your face,” returned Captain
Raymond.
“It is not covered, sir, and you are all welcome to look your fill,”
was the reply.
“Where is de mans, papa?” asked little Ned, gazing wonderingly about.
“Sitting in Cousin Ronald’s chair, I think,” replied his father,
smoothing the curls of the little prattler, who was seated upon his
knee.
“No, papa, dat Tousin Ronald.”
“Well, then, perhaps it was Brother Max.”
“No, papa, Bruver Maxie not talk dat way. Does oo, Maxie?”
“I think not, Neddie boy,” returned Max, smiling on the baby boy and
giving his round rosy cheek an affectionate pat.
“No, no, little chap, I’m not Brother Max,” said the voice, sounding
somewhat farther away than before, “or any such callow chicken, but a
full-grown man.”
“Ah, ha, I know now that it is Cousin Ronald,” laughed Lulu, “for Max
would never call himself a callow chicken.”
“I shouldn’t think Cousin Ronald would call him so either,” said Grace
in a hurt tone; “chickens are cowardly and I’m sure Max is not.”
“Better not be too sure, but wait till you see him tried, miss,” said a
squeaky little voice, coming seemingly from another part of the vessel.
“Now that’s you, Max, I know, because it is the very same voice we
heard at Minersville on the evening of the glorious Fourth,” remarked
Lulu with a merry laugh.
Max neither acknowledged nor denied that she was right. Looking up and
catching sight of the Stars and Stripes floating from the masthead, “O
Lu,” he asked, “do you know who invented our flag—‘old glory,’ as we
love to call her?”
“Why, no; who did?”
“A little woman named Betty Ross, a Philadelphia Quakeress. She had a
great deal of taste, was particularly fond of red, white, and blue,
and adorned many of the apartments we read of in colonial history;
the halls of Congress, the governor’s reception-room in Philadelphia,
among others. She was acquainted with a number of the great men of the
time—Morris, Franklin, Rittenhouse, Adams, and best and greatest of
all—our Washington. And she had a brother-in-law, Colonel Ross, who was
a gallant American officer in the Revolutionary War.
“On the 14th of June, 1777, Congress was considering about a design for
a national flag, and it was at once proposed that Betsy Ross should
be requested to design one. The committee asked Colonel Ross, Dr.
Franklin, and Robert Morris to call upon her. They went and General
Washington with them. Mrs. Ross consented, drew the design, and made
the first American flag with her own hands. General Washington had
showed her a rough design which she said was wrong—the stars having six
corners when the right number was but five. She said she didn’t know
whether she could make the flag, but would try; which, as I have just
said, she did, and succeeded so well that Congress was satisfied with
it; and it was the first star-spangled banner that ever floated on the
breeze.”
“There was an eagle on that flag, Max, was there not?” asked the
captain as the lad paused in his story.
“Yes, sir; a spread eagle with the thirteen stars in a circle of rays
of glory. It is said that many eminent men visited Mrs. Ross’ shop
while she was at work on the flag and were deeply interested in it.”
“Well,” remarked Lulu thoughtfully, “if that flag was flung to the
breeze in June of 1777, it is a mistake for people to say that the
rough flag made and floated at Fort Schuyler the next fall was the
first.”
“Quite true,” said her father, “though probably they—the makers of the
Fort Schuyler flag—had not heard of the other and believed theirs to
be the first. It is stated that Washington had displayed at Cambridge,
Massachusetts, on January 2d, 1776, what might be called the original
of our present banner. It had thirteen stripes of red and white with a
St. Andrew cross instead of the stars.”
“Was there not another called the rattlesnake flag?” asked Rosie.
“Yes, in two forms: in one the figure was left complete, and under it
were the words, ‘Don’t tread on me.’ In the other the snake was in
thirteen pieces—in some cases with thirteen rattles—and the legend was
‘Join or die.’”
The captain paused a moment, then went on: “I was reading lately an
account taken from an English paper of what was probably the first
floating of the American flag in British waters. It was on February
3d, 1783, that the ship _Bedford_, a Massachusetts vessel commanded by
Captain Moore, passed Gravesend, and on the 6th she was reported at
the custom-house. The Lords of Council and the Commissioners of the
Customs held a consultation, because of the many acts of Parliament
still in force against the ‘rebels’ of America—as our British cousins
were wont to style us—before allowing her regular entry. She was
American built, manned wholly by American seamen, and belonged to
Nantucket, Massachusetts.
“The article goes on to say she carried the ‘rebel’ colors and was the
first to display the ‘rebellious stripes of America in any British
port.’
“But before that the Stars and Stripes had appeared on British soil. A
noted philanthropist and sturdy patriot of Philadelphia, named Elkannah
Watson, had at the close of the Revolutionary War received four hundred
guineas as a wager, and on the same day was dining with the painter
Copley, whom he engaged to paint his portrait for the sum of money
just obtained from the wager. The portrait was all finished but the
background, which they had agreed should represent a ship bearing to
America the news of the acknowledgment by the British government of our
independence—the Stars and Stripes floating from her gaff and gilded by
the rays of the rising sun was still wanting, the painter considering
it imprudent to put it there at that time, as his gallery was the
resort of royalty and the nobility. Watson speaks of ‘the glorious 5th
of December, 1782,’ on which he and Copley listened to the speech of
the king in which he formally received and recognized the United States
of America as one of the nations of the earth. After that Watson went
home with the artist to dinner; but before sitting down to the table
Copley finished his picture, inviting his company to be present in his
studio while ‘with a bold hand, master touch, and American heart’ he
attached to the ship the Stars and Stripes.”
“That was displaying what the British had called the rebel colors very
promptly upon the king’s acknowledgment, and very near his palace,”
remarked Mr. Dinsmore with a smile of grim satisfaction.
“Yes; doubtless a bitter pill for his majesty to swallow,” laughed
Rosie.
“Well, he needn’t have had it to swallow if he hadn’t been so
tyrannical and obstinate,” remarked Walter. “I remember that Bancroft
says, ‘The American struggle was avowedly a war in defence of the
common rights of mankind.’”
“That is very true, Walter,” returned his grandfather. “They—the
leading men of the time—were a noble band of patriots and lovers of
their kind. We have a right to be proud of them.”
“And I am proud of them, sir,” returned the lad, his cheeks glowing and
his eyes sparkling.
“That’s right, my little man; everybody should love his country and
feel proud of all its people who resist tyranny and stand up boldly for
the principle that ‘all men are created equal; that they are endowed
by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are
life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,’” said a strange voice
which seemed to come from their rear.
Every one turned to see the speaker; then finding he was not visible,
laughed pleasantly.
“I am glad to learn that you are so well acquainted with our glorious
Declaration of Independence, Cousin Ronald, and seem to appreciate
it so highly,” remarked Grandma Elsie, with a smiling look into the
pleasant face of her kinsman.
“Ah, indeed, cousin! are you entirely sure that I am deserving of that
compliment?” queried Mr. Lilburn gravely.
“Quite sure,” she returned. “I could hardly have quoted it so correctly
myself.”
“But was that my voice, cousin?” he asked.
“One of your voices, I have no doubt,” she replied laughingly.
“Mr. Lilburn,” said Max, “I have been telling some of my comrades of
your ventriloquial powers and they are extremely desirous to witness
their exercise. Will you not kindly gratify them while here?”
“Why, laddie, I am hardly more capable in that line than yourself,”
laughed the old gentleman.
“But you, sir, are not under authority as I am and so liable to be
called to account for your doings.”
“Eh! perhaps not. Well, well, we will be on the lookout for
opportunities, you and I. I own I am not averse to gratifying the young
folks when I can do so without displeasing their elders.”