No experienced duelist ever entered into the business with more earnestness or zeal than Terrence Malone. He and the lieutenant’s second were some distance away settling points of position, he saw three or four men in the uniform of British officers coming around the bluff, among them the ship’s surgeon with a case of instruments and medicines in his hand. Captain Conkerall, though the real injured party, was not on the scene. His lieutenant readily took up his quarrel, on account of his jealousy of Fernando who had completely usurped his place as the favorite of Miss Morgianna Lane.

Arrangements were made at last, and Terrence came to his friend, took his arm and walked him forward.

“Fernando, me boy, we’ve loaded the pistols. He loaded this and I the one for the lieutenant, I put in a thumpin’ heavy charge, so he’ll overshoot, I am to give the word; but don’t look at me at all. I’ll manage to catch the lieutenant’s eye, and do ye watch him steadily, aim at his middle and fire when he does, and all will be right.”

They were all the while moving to the place selected for the duel.

“I think the ground we are leaving behind us is rather better,” said someone. “So it is,” answered the lieutenant with a sneer; “but it might be troublesome to carry the young gentleman down that way; here all is fair and easy.”

In a few moments they were at the spot; the ground was measured off, and each man was placed, and Fernando thought there was no chance for either escaping.

“Now thin,” said Terrence. “I’ll walk twelve paces, count ’one, two, three, fire!’ and you are both to fire at the word ‘fire.’ The man who reserves his shot or shoots a second before falls by my hand!”

This stern injunction seemed actually to awe the Britons, and Fernando fancied that he saw the lieutenant trembling. It was only fancy however. The lieutenant was really calm. Notwithstanding the advice of Terrence, Fernando could not help turning his eyes from the lieutenant to watch the figure of his retiring friend. At last he stopped a second or two elapsed he wheeled rapidly around. Fernando now turned his eyes toward his antagonist.

Lieutenant Matson was a slender man, and when he turned his right side toward Fernando, he was not much thicker than a rail.

“One two three fire!”

Fernando watched his opponent, and, at the word, raised his pistol and fired. His hat flew from his head, the crown torn completely out, while his antagonist leaped into the air, clapped his hand to the seat of his trousers and fell howling upon the ground. The people around Fernando all rushed forward, save Sukey, who came to his friend and, seeing that he was unhurt, began a mild reproof:

“Why didn’t you aim higher, Fernando?”

Terrence came back a moment later and, bursting into laughter, said:

“Begorra! this will interfere with his sedentary habits for a month. Arrah, me boy, it’s proud o’ ye I am.”

Fernando caught two or three glances thrown at him with expression of revengeful passion. Half a score of marines were seen coming around the rocks, and Terrence left off laughing. The three were alone against five times their number.

Fernando felt some one grasp him around the waist and hurry him from the spot, and ten minutes later they were in the boat skimming over the water back toward Baltimore.

“Put on ivery divilish stitch o’ canvas yer tub ’ll carry,” said Terrence to Luff Williams. “The Johnny Bulls won’t like this a bit, and bad luck to us if they git their hands on us.”

Fernando, now that the nervous strain was over, sank back in the boat, almost completely exhausted.

“Fernando, ye did it illegintly,” said the young Irishman.

“Will he die?”

“Not unless the doctors kill him trying to dig it out.”

“I hope they won’t.”

“What the divil’s the difference? Before this toime next year, we’ll be shootin’ redcoats for sport.”

“Say, what’s that, shipmate?” drawled out Luff Williams.

“Where?”

“Look ahead.”

“A long boat full o’ British marines!” cried Terrence. “Boys, I don’t like that. Mr. Luff Williams, if ye want a whole skin over yer body pull about and sail down the coast like the divil was after ye!”

In less than two minutes’ time their craft was put about and went flying before the wind, under a full stretch of canvas. The boat impelled by eight stout oarsmen pressed hard in their wake.

“Heave to! heave to!” cried an officer in the pursuing boat. “Heave to, or we will fire on you!”

“Niver mind him, me frind,” said Terrence to the man at the rudder. “I’ll tell ye when to lay low.”

They were in long musket shot distance, and Williams assured them that if they could round a headland, they would get a stiffer breeze and outsail their pursuer.

“Are they gaining on us?” Fernando asked.

“Not much, if any,” was the response.

Again the officer in the bow, making a speaking trumpet of his hands, shouted:

“Heave to, or I swear I’ll fire on you!”

“To the divil with you,” roared Terrence. “We’ve downed one redcoat in fair light; what more do ye want, bad luck to ye?”

The officer spoke to some one behind him, and a musket was handed him.

Terrence sprang to the stern saying:

“Now look out! lay low, ye lubbers! the blackguard’s goin’ to shoot!”

The officer raised his musket, and a moment later a puff of smoke issued from the muzzle.

“Down!” cried Terrence. All laid low, and the next second the report of a musket came on the air, and a bullet dropped in the water, a little to the larboard.

“They are coming agin,” cried Terrence.

“Haven’t you sweeps which we could work?” asked Fernando.

There was a pair of sweeps in the craft, and Terrence and Fernando manned them. Though Fernando was a little awkward at first, he soon came to use the sweep quite effectively and helped the little craft along.

“Do we gain on them?” asked Fernando.

“Not much, if any;” the helmsman answered.

At this moment, three or four muskets were fired from the boat, and the balls whistled among the sails or spattered in the water. Should they meet with one of those sudden calms which frequently overtook vessels off the bay, they knew they would be lost. The British marines were laying to their oars right lustily, and the boat flew over the waves.

“Have you no arms in the boat?” asked Fernando.

“Nothin’ but a fowlin’ piece and some goose shot.”

“Just the thing for me!” declared Sukey. “I was always good at killin’ geese on the wing.”

Sukey hunted up the gun and loaded both barrels heavily with shot and slugs. Then he took up his post in the stern, ready to rake the long boat fore and aft, should it come within range of his formidable gun. The officer and three or four marines continued to load and fire, until the boat was out of the harbor, when a strong breeze struck her sails and sent her spinning over the water.

“Huzzah! huzzah! we are gainin’ on’ em now!” cried Sukey, flourishing his gun in the air.

The British fired half a dozen more shots at the fleeing boat; but the bullets began dropping behind. They were out of reach of their longest range muskets.

“There ain’t no danger now,” declared Sukey. “They are not in the game.”

The breeze continued strong, and the little craft boldly cleft the waters, as it sped forward over the bounding waves.

“It’s no use to be wearing ourselves out, Fernando,” said Terrence. “The good breeze is doin’ more for us than a hundred oars could do.”

They put in their sweeps and, mounting the rail aft, clung to rigging, and shouted derision and defiance at their pursuers.

Although the Britons had little hope or expectation of overtaking them, yet, with that bull-dog tenacity characteristic of Englishmen, they continued the chase.

“That danger is over,” said Terrence, as they once more resumed their seats in the boat.

“What would they have done with us, Terrence, had they captured us?”

“Faith, it’s hard telling; but I think we’d found it unpleasant.”

“Wasn’t the fight fair?”

“As fair as iver one saw; but, begorra, it didn’t turn out the way they expected.”

“Why, la sakes, they didn’t think Fernando was goin’ to miss, did they?” said Sukey. “He ain’t been shootin’ squirrels out o’ the tallest trees in Ohio for nothin’.”

“This lieutenant thought he was going to have some sport with a greenhorn.”

“Can you see them yet?” asked Fernando of Williams, who sat well up in the stern holding the helm.

“Yes.”

“How far are they away?”

“Two or three miles.”

“And still a-coming?”

“Yes.”

“Plague take ’em!” growled Sukey, “why do they follow us so persistently?”

“May be they think to get us when we go ashore; but, bad luck to thim, they’ll find it tough if they come afther us.”

“Fernando, I wish we had our rifles,” growled Sukey. “Wouldn’t we make it unprofitable for the redcoats!”

Fernando was rather non-communicative, and sat in the bow of the boat lost in painful meditation. He had shed blood. It was the first, and, although in that age it was thought highly honorable, he felt an inward consciousness that dueling was both cowardly and brutal. Fear of being branded a coward had nerved him to face the pistol of his antagonist. It is not true courage that makes the duelist. There is no more honor, gentility, or courage in dueling than in robbing a safe. The greatest coward living may be a burglar, so he may, from fear of public scorn, fight a duel. Fernando had much to regret. He felt that his social standing had been lowered; yet he was happy in the thought that the duel had had no fatal results. Could he ever return to the school? Could he ever return to his home and face his Christian mother? He was roused from his painful reverie by a loud laugh on the part of Terrence. He turned his eyes toward the jolly fellow and found him convulsed with mirth.

“What ails you, Terrence?” he asked.

“Did you aim at the spot you hit?”

“No; I aimed at a more vital part; but, thank God, 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 scrape 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.

“Helloa, 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, flourishing 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 shore?”

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

When they ran into shore, 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 scrape, 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 shore 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’ Dick Long.”

Every Marylander assembled in the tap-room knew the sad story of poor Dick Long. He was a fisherman with a wife and four children and was loved by all who knew him. Dick was honest and peaceable, kind-hearted and brave. One day his fishing 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. Dick 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 ship brought home his dying words, which were these: “Tell my American brothers to avenge me.”

“Remember Dick Long, boys, and ef they come to Mariana, let us make ’em wish they had stayed away.”

The artful Terrence kindled the flame, and a short time after sunset, Fernando and Sukey were awakened from a doze by hearing a wild uproar on the streets. They sprang to their feet and ran to the window.

Fifteen or twenty officers and seamen had just landed and were making their way toward the public house, when they were assailed by a hundred infuriated Marylanders with sticks, clubs, stones, dirt, old tin buckets and almost every conceivable weapon. The officer in command was trying to explain that their intentions were pacific, that, after rowing for ten hours against the wind and tide, they were tired and hungry; but the inexorable Marylanders continued to shout:

“Dick Long, Dick Long! Don’t forget Dick Long!”

Now there was not one of those Britons who had ever heard of Dick Long before, and they could not conceive what that had to do with their landing; nor was this the boat crew which chased our friends; yet Terrence continued to agitate the matter. The truth is Terrence had personally declared war against Great Britain in advance of the United States and had commenced hostilities.

“Down with the bloody backs!” he cried. “Drive thim into the bay.”

The officers were forced to return to their boats and, tired as they were, pull down the coast to Baltimore.

Next morning, Fernando rose early and, after breakfast, went out alone to look about the village. It was located in a picturesque and beautiful spot. On the East was the broad bay and sea. On the West were undulating hills covered with umbrageous forests. To the South were some promontories and romantic headlands, against which the restless waters lashed themselves into foam. On a hill about a fourth of a mile from the village, was a large, elegant mansion built of granite, looking like a fairy castle in the distance. A broad carriage-drive, leading through an avenue of chestnuts, led up to the great front gate. The mansion was almost strong enough for a fort and was surrounded by a stone wall five feet high, with an iron picket fence on top of this.

“Who lives in the great house on the hill?” Fernando asked a man.

“Old Captain Lane.”

“Captain Lane. I have heard of him. Has he a daughter?”

“Yes, Morgianna.”

“It’s the same,” he thought, as he wandered away to the beach. “What strange providence has brought me here?” Fernando’s regrets were in a moment changed to rejoicing. He was glad he had quarrelled with the lieutenant and had been driven away to Mariana.

He went to the tavern and informed Sukey of his discovery and said:

“I am going to contrive in some way to speak with her again.”

“Well, don’t take that plaguey Irishman in the game, Fernando,” said Sukey. “If you do, he’ll make a precious mess o’ the whole thing.”

Terrence was enjoying himself. Before he had been in the town two days, he knew every person in it. All were his friends, and he was quite a lion. Terrence only hoped that a man-of-war would come to Mariana. He vowed he would lead the citizens against her, capture the ship and keep her for coast defence of Maryland.

It was the fourth day after their arrival, that, as Fernando was strolling alone according to his habit on the beach, his eyes fixed on the sands meditating on the recent stirring events, he suddenly became conscious of some one a short distance down the beach. He looked, up and saw a young lady with a parasol in one hand tripping along the sands, now and then picking up a shell. In an instant he knew her. His heart gave a wild bound and then seemed for a instant to stand still. Then it commenced a rapid vibration which increased as she approached. She was coming toward him, all unconscious of his presence and only intent on securing the most beautiful shells.

Suddenly, raising her eyes, she saw a handsome young man close to her. He tipped his hat, smiled and said: “Good morning, Miss Lane.”

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” she answered with a little laugh. “Why, I declare, how you frightened me!”

“I am sorry for it.”

“Never mind; I will survive the shock; but I know why you came to Mariana,” and there was a roguish twinkle in her blue eyes.

“Do you?”

“Yes, you fought the lieutenant and had to run away.”

“Miss Lane, how did you learn this?”

“Learn it! Don’t you know the papers are full of it? Papa read it this morning at breakfast, and he laughed until he cried. Where is that Irishman who gets you into so many funny scrapes?”

“He is at the tavern.”

“Well, papa says he must see you. He has fought duels in his day, and he thinks you a splendid shot; but it was naughty of you to fight without consulting me. He might have killed you.”

Fernando was now the happiest man on earth.

“Miss Lane, don’t think because I did not consult you, I did not think of you. You were in my mind as much as any other person at that trying ordeal, unless it was my mother.”

“Oh, don’t grow sentimental. Now that it is all over and not much harm done, let us laugh at it; but I want to scold you.”

“Why?”

“You did not obey me on that night. I told you to drink no more wine, and after I left, you drank too much, which provoked the quarrel.”

Fernando, who really had no clear idea of the subject-matter of the quarrel, answered:

“I plead guilty, Miss Lane, to being disobedient. Forgive me, and I promise to make amends in the future. Do you know him, Lieutenant Matson?”

“Know Lieutenant Matson? Certainly I do; I have known him for four years. Father has known him longer.”

“Does he ever come here?”

“Frequently.”

“If he comes while I am here, we will have the fight out.”

“No you won’t.”

“Why?”

“I forbid it.”

“Then I yield.”

“You surrender easily,” and the saucy blue eyes glanced slyly at his face. Fernando was at a loss for some answer. Suddenly she broke in with:

“I must go now. There, I see father on the hill. Won’t you come to tea this evening? Father would like so much to see you.”

Of course he would. He stammered out his thanks, while the fairy-like creature tripped away across the sands, leaving him in a maze of bewilderment. At the crest of the hill, she paused to wave her handkerchief, smiled with ravishing sweetness, and disappeared over the hill with her father.