It was a very special delectation which the school were to enjoy to-day.  The girls thought it always “fun,” of course, to quit lessons and go to see anything; “even factories,” as one of the girls expressed it, to Dolly’s untold astonishment; for it seemed to her that to be allowed to look into the mystery of manufactures must be the next thing to taking part personally in a fairy tale.  However, to-day it was not a question of manufactures, but of a finished and furnished big ship, and not only finished and furnished, but manned. “This is something lively,” Eudora opined.  And she was quite right.

The day was a quiet day in November, with just a spice of frost in it; the air itself was lively, quick and quickening.  The party were driven to the Navy Yard in carriages, and there received very politely by the officers, some of whom knew Mrs. Delancy and lent themselves with much kindness to the undertaking.  The girls were more or less excited with pleasure and anticipation; but to Dolly the Navy Yard seemed to be already touching the borders of that mysterious and fascinating sea life in which her fancy had lately been roaming.  So when the girls were all carefully bestowed in stout little row boats to go out to the ship, Dolly’s foot it was which stepped upon enchanted boards, and her eye that saw an enchanted world around her.  What a field was this rippling water, crisped with the light breeze, and gurgling under the boat’s smooth sweep ahead!  How the oars rose and fell, all together, as if moved by only one hand.  Was this a part of the order and discipline of which she had read lately, as belonging to this strange world?  Probably; for now and then a command was issued to the oarsmen, curt and sharp; and obeyed, Dolly saw, although she did not know what the command meant.  Yes, she was in an enchanted sphere; and she looked at the “Achilles” as they drew nearer, with profoundest admiration.  Its great hulk grew large upon her view, with an absolute haze of romance and mystery hanging about its decks and rigging.  It was a large ship, finely equipped, according to the fashion of naval armament which was prevalent in those days; she was a three-decker; and the port holes of her guns looked in threatening ranks along the sides of the vessel.  Still and majestic she lay upon the quiet river; a very wonderful floating home indeed, and unlike all else she had ever known, to Dolly’s apprehension.  How she and the rest were ever to get on board was an insoluble problem to her, as to most of them; and the chair that was presently lowered along the ship’s side to receive them, seemed a very precarious sort of means of transport.  However, the getting aboard was safely accomplished; one by one they were hoisted up; and Dolly’s feet stood upon the great main deck.  And the first view was perfectly satisfactory, and even went far beyond her imaginings.  She found herself standing under a mixed confusion of masts and spars and sails, marvellous to behold, which yet she also saw was no confusion at all, but complicated and systematic order.  How much those midshipmen must have to learn, though, if they were to know the names and uses and handling of every spar and every rope and each sail among them! as Dolly knew they must.  Her eye came back to the deck.  What order there too; what neatness; why it was beautiful; and the uniforms here and there, and the sailors’ hats and jackets, filled up the picture to her heart’s desire.  Dolly breathed a full breath of satisfaction.

The Captain of the “Achilles” made his appearance, Captain Barbour.  He was a thick-set, grizzly haired man, rather short, not handsome at all; and yet with an air of authority unmistakably clothing him like a garment of power and dignity.  Plainly this man’s word was law, and the girls stood in awe of him.  He was known to Mrs. Delancy; and now she went on to present formally all her young people to him.  The captain returned the courtesy by calling up and introducing to her and them some of his officers; and then they went to a review of the ship.

It took a long while.  Between Mrs. Delancy and Captain Barbour a lively conversation was carried on; Dolly thought he was explaining things to the lady that she did not understand; but though it might be the case now and then, I think the talk moved mainly upon less technical matters.  Dolly could not get near enough to hear what it was, at any rate.  The young lieutenants, too, were taken up with playing the host to the older young ladies of the party.  If they received instruction also by the way, Dolly could not tell; the laughing hardly looked like it.  She and the other young ones at any rate followed humbly at the tail of everything, and just came up to a clear view of some detail when the others were moving away.  There was nobody to help Dolly understand anything; nevertheless, she wandered in a fairy vision of wonderland.  Into the cabins, down to the forecastle, down to the gun deck.  What could equal the black strangeness of that view! and what could it all mean?  Dolly wished for her Uncle Edward, or some one, to answer a thousand questions.  She had been reading about the guns, she looked curiously now at the realities, of which she had studied the pictures; recognised here a detail and there a detail, but remaining hugely ignorant of the whole and of the bearing of the several parts upon each other.  Yet she did not know how time flew; she did not know that she was getting tired; from one strange thing to another she followed her leaders about; very much alone indeed, for even the other girls of her own age were staring at a different class of objects, and could hardly be said to see what she saw, much less were ready to ask what she wanted to ask.  Dolly went round in a confused dream.

At last the party had gone everywhere that such a party could go; Captain Barbour had spared them the lower gun deck.  They came back to the captain’s cabin, where a very pleasant lunch was served to the ladies.  It was served, that is, to those who could get it, to those who were near enough and old enough to put in a claim by right of appearance.  Dolly and one or two more who were undeniably little girls stood a bad chance, hanging about on the outskirts of the crowd, for the cabin would not take them all in; and hearing a distant sound of clinking glass and silver and words of refreshment.  It was all they seemed likely to get; and when a kindly elderly officer had taken pity on the child and given Dolly a biscuit, she concluded to resign the rest of the unattainable luncheon and make the most of her other opportunities while she had them.  Eating the biscuit, which she was very glad of, she wandered off by herself, along the deck; looking again carefully at all she saw; for her eyes were greedy of seeing.  Sails, ­what strange shapes; and how close rolled up some of them were!  Ropes, ­what a multitude; and cables.  Coils of them on deck; and if she looked up, an endless tracery of lines seen against the blue sky.  There was a sailor going up something like a rope ladder; going up and up; how could he? and how far could he go?  Dolly almost grew dizzy gazing at him.

“What are you looking after, little one?” a voice near her asked.  An unceremonious address, certainly; frankly put; but the voice was not unkindly or uncivil, and Dolly was not sensitive on the point of personal dignity.  She brought her eyes down for a moment far enough to see the shimmer of gold lace on a midshipman’s cap, and answered,

“I am looking at that man.  He’s going up and up, to the top of everything.  I should think his head would turn.”

“Yours will, if you look after him with your head in that position.”

Dolly let her eyes come now to the speaker’s face.  One of the young midshipmen it was, standing near her, with his arms folded and leaning upon something which served as a support to them, and looking down at Dolly.  For standing so and leaning over, he was still a good deal taller than she.  Further, Dolly observed a pair of level brows, beneath them a pair of wise-looking, cognisance-taking blue eyes, an expression of steady calm, betokening either an even temperament or an habitual power of self-control; and just now in the eyes and the mouth there was the play almost of a smile somewhat merry, wholly kindly.  It took Dolly’s confidence entirely and at once.

“You don’t think you would like to be a sailor?” he went on.

“Is it pleasant?” said Dolly, retorting the question earnestly and doubtfully.

The smile broke a little more on the other’s face.  “How do you like the ship?” he asked.

“I do not know,” said Dolly, glancing along the deck.  “I think it is a strange place to live.”

“Why?”

“And I don’t understand the use of it,” Dolly went on with a really puzzled face.

“The use of what?”

“The use of the whole thing.  I know what ships are good for, of course; other ships; but what is the use of such a ship as this?”

“To take care of the other ships.”

“How?”

“Have you been below?  Did you see the gun decks?”

“I was in a place where there were a great many guns ­but I could not understand, and there was nobody to tell me things.”

“Would you like to go down there again?”

“Oh yes!” said Dolly.  “They will be a good while at lunch yet.  Oh, thank you!  I should like so much to go.”

The young midshipman took her hand; perhaps he had a little sister at home and the action was pleasant and familiar; it seemed to be both; and led her down the way that took them to the upper gun deck.

“How comes it you are not taking lunch too?” he asked by the way.

“Oh, there are too many of them,” said Dolly contentedly.  “I don’t care.  I had a biscuit.”

“You don’t care for your lunch?”

“Yes, I do, when I’m hungry; but now I would rather see things.  I never saw a ship before.”

They arrived in the great, gloomy, black gun deck.  The midshipman let go Dolly’s hand, and she stood and looked along the avenue between the bristling black cannon.

“Now, what is it that you don’t understand?” he asked, watching her.

“What are these guns here for?”

“Don’t you know that? Guns are to fight with.”

“Yes, I know,” said Dolly; “but how can you fight with them here in a row? and what would you fight with?  I mean, who would you fight against?”

“Some other ship, if Fate willed it so.  Look here; this is the way of it.”

He took a letter from the breast of his coat, tore off a blank leaf; then resting it on the side of a gun carriage, he proceeded to make a sketch.  Dolly’s eyes followed his pencil point, spell-bound with interest.  Under his quick and ready fingers grew, she could not tell how, the figure of a ship, ­hull, masts, sails and rigging, deftly sketched in; till it seemed to Dolly she could almost see how the wind blew that was filling out the sails and floating off the streamer.

“There,” said the artist, ­“that is our enemy.”

“Our enemy?” repeated Dolly.

“Our supposed enemy.  We will suppose she is an enemy.”

“But how could she be?”

“We might be at war with England suppose, or with France.  This might be an English ship of war coming to catch up every merchantman she could overhaul that carried American colours, and make a prize of her; don’t you see?”

“Do they do that?” said Dolly.

“What? catch up merchantmen? of course they do; and the more of value is on board, the better they are pleased.  We lose so much, and they gain so much.  Now we want to stop this fellow’s power of doing mischief; you understand.”

“What are those little black spots you are making along her sides.”

“The port holes of her guns.”

“Port holes?”

“The openings where the mouths of her guns look out.  See,” said he, pointing to the one near which they were standing, ­“that is a port hole.”

“That little window?”

“It isn’t a window; it is a port hole.”

“It is not a black spot.”

“Because you are inside, and looking out towards the light.  Look at them when you are leaving the ship; they will look like black spots then, you will find.”

“Well, that’s the enemy,” said Dolly, drawing a short breath of excitement.  “What is that ship you are making now?”

“That’s the ‘Achilles’; brought to; with her main topsails laid aback, and her fore topsails full; ready for action.”

“I do not know what are topsails or fore topsails,” said Dolly.

The midshipman explained; to illustrate his explanation sketched lightly another figure of a vessel, showing more distinctly the principal sails.

“And this is the ‘Achilles,’” said Dolly, recurring to the principal design.  “You have put her a great way off from the enemy, it seems to me.”

“No.  Point blank range.  Quite near enough.”

“Oh, what is ’point blank range’?” cried Dolly in despair.  Her new friend smiled, but answered with good-humoured patience.  Dolly listened and comprehended.

“Then, if this were an enemy, and that the ‘Achilles,’ and within point blank range, you would load one of these guns and fire at her?”

The midshipman shook his head.  “We should load up all of them ­all on that side.”

“And five them one after another?”

“As fast as we could.  We should give her a broadside.  But we should probably give her one broadside after another.”

“Suppose the balls all hit her?”

“Yes, you may suppose that.  I should like to suppose it, if I were the officer in command.”

“What would they do to her? ­to that enemy ship?”

“If they all hit?  Hinder her from doing any more mischief.”

“How?”

“Break her masts, tear up her rigging, make a wreck of her generally.  Perhaps sink her.”

“But suppose while you are fighting that she fights too?”

“Extremely probable.”

“If a shot came in here ­could it come in here?”

“Certainly.  Cannon balls will go almost anywhere.”

“If it came in here, what would it do?”

“Kill three or four of the men at a gun, perhaps; tear away a bit of the ship’s side; or perhaps disable the gun.”

“While you were firing at the enemy on this side, the guns of the other side, I suppose, would have nothing to do?”

“They might be fighting another enemy on that side,” said the midshipman, smiling.

“I should think,” said Dolly, looking down the long line of the gun deck, and trying to imagine the state of things described, ­“I should think it would be most dreadful!”

“I have no doubt you would think so.”

“Don’t you think so?”

“I have never been in action yet.”

“Don’t you hope you never will?”

The young man laughed a little.  “What would be the use of ships of war, if there were never any fighting?  I should have nothing to do in the world.”

“You might do something else,” said Dolly, gazing at the lines of black guns stretching along both sides of the deck, so near to each other, so black, so grim.  “How many men does it take to manage each gun?  You said three or four might be killed.”

“According to the size of the gun.  Twelve men for these guns; larger would take fifteen.”

Again Dolly meditated; in imagination peopled the solitary place with the active crowd of men which would be there if each gun had twelve gunners, filled the silence with the roar of combined discharges, thought of the dead and wounded; at last turned her eyes to the blue ones that were watching her.

“I wonder if God likes it?” she said.

“Likes what?” said the midshipman in wonder.

“Such work.  I don’t see how He can.”

“How can you help such work?  People cannot get along without fighting.”

He did not speak carelessly or mockingly or banteringly; rather with a gentle, somewhat deliberate utterance.  Yet Dolly was persuaded there was no unmanly softness in him; she never doubted but that he would be ready to do his part in that dreadful work, if it must be done.  Moreover, he was paying to this odd little girl a delicate sort of respect and treating her with great consideration.  Her confidence, as I said, had been entirely given to him before; and now some gratitude began to mingle with it, along with great freedom to speak her mind.

“I don’t think God can like it,” she repeated.

“What would you do, then?” he also repeated, smiling.  “Let wicked people have their own way?”

“No.”

“If they are not to have their own way, you must stop them.”

“I think this is a dreadful way of stopping them.”

“It’s a bad job for the side that goes under,” the young officer admitted.

“I don’t believe God likes it,” Dolly concluded for the third time, with great conviction.

“Is that your rule for everything?”

“Yes.  Isn’t it your rule?”

“I have to obey orders,” he answered, watching her.

“Don’t you obey His orders?” said Dolly wistfully.

“I do not know what they are.”

“Oh, but they are in the Bible.  You can find them in the Bible.”

“Does it say anything about fighting?”

Dolly tried to think, and got confused.  Certainly it did say a good deal about fighting, but in various ways, it seemed to her.  She did not know how to answer.  She changed the subject.

“How do you get the shot, the balls, I mean, into these guns?  I don’t see how you get at them.  The mouths are out of the windows.  Port holes, I mean.”

For the upper gun deck had been put to a certain extent in order of action, and the guns were run out.

“You are of an inquiring disposition,” said the midshipman gravely.

“Am I?”

“I think you are.”

“But I should like to know” ­pursued Dolly, looking at the muzzle of the gun by which they were standing.

“The guns would be run in to be loaded.”

Dolly looked at the heavy piece of metal, and at him, but did not repeat her question.

“Now you want to know how,” he said, smiling.  “If I were captain, I would have the men here and show you.  The gun is run in by means of this tackle, see! ­and when it is charged, it is bowsed out again.”

Seeing Dolly’s wise grave eyes bent upon the subject, he went on to amuse her with a full detail of the exercise of the gun; from “casting loose,” to the finishing “secure your guns;” explaining the manner of handling and loading, and the use of the principal tackle concerned.  Dolly listened, intent, fascinated, enchained; and I think the young man was a little fascinated too, though his attentions were given to so very young a lady.  Dolly’s brown eyes were so utterly pure and grave and unconscious; the brain at work behind them was so evidently clear and busy and competent; the pleasure she showed was so unschoolgirl-like, and he thought so unchildlike, and at the same time so very far from being young lady-like.  What she was like, he did not know; she was an odd little apparition there in the gun-deck of the “Achilles,” leaning with her elbows upon a gun carriage, and surveyeing with her soft eyes the various paraphernalia of conflict and carnage around her.  Contrast could hardly be stronger.

“Suppose,” said Dolly at last, “a shot should make a hole in the side of the ship, and let in the water?”

“Well?  Suppose it,” he answered.

“Does that ever happen?”

“Quite often.  Why not?”

“What would you do then?”

“Pump out the water as fast as it came in, ­if we could.”

“Suppose you couldn’t?”

“Then we should go down.”

“And all in the ship?”

“All who could not get out of it.”

“How could any get out of it?”

“In the boats.”

“Oh! ­I forgot the boats.  Would they hold everybody?”

“Probably not.  The other ships’ boats would come to help.”

“The officers would go first, I suppose?”

“Last.  The highest officer of all would be the last man on board.”

“Why?”

“He must do his duty.  If he cannot save his ship, at least he must save his men; ­all he can.  He is there to do his duty.”

“I think it would be better not to be there at all,” said Dolly very gravely.

“Who would take care of you then, if an enemy’s fleet were coming to attack Philadelphia?” said the young officer.

“I would go home,” said Dolly.  “I don’t know what would become of Philadelphia.  But I do not think God can like it.”

“Shall we go above where it is more cheerful? or have you seen it all?”

Dolly gave him her hand again and let him help her till they got on deck.  There they went roaming towards the fore part of the vessel, looking at everything by the way; Dolly asking the names and the meaning of things, and receiving explanations, especially regarding the sails and rigging and steering of the ship.  She was even shown where the sailors made their home in the forecastle.  As they were returning aft, Dolly stopped by a coil of rope on deck and began pulling at an end of it.  Her companion inquired what she wanted?

“I would like a little piece,” said Dolly; “if I could get it.”

“A piece of rope?”

“Yes; ­just a little bit; but it is very strong; it won’t break.”

She was tugging at a loose strand.

“How large a bit do you want?”

“Oh, just a little piece,” said Dolly.  “I wanted just a little piece to keep ­but it’s no matter.  I wanted to keep it.”

“A keepsake?” said the young man.  “To remember us by?  They are breaking up,” ­he added immediately, casting his glance aft, where a stir and a gathering and a movement on deck in front of the captain’s cabin could now be seen, and the sound of voices came fresh along the breeze.  “They are going ­there is no time now.  I will send you a piece, if you will tell me where I can send it.  Where do you live?”

“Oh, will you?  Oh, thank you!” said Dolly, and her face lifted confidingly to the young officer grew sunny with pleasure.  “I live at Mrs. Delancy’s school; ­but no, I don’t!  I don’t live there.  My home is at Uncle Edward’s ­Mr. Edward Eberstein ­in Walnut Street.”

“What number?” said the midshipman, using his pencil again on the much scribbled piece of paper; and Dolly told him.

“And whom shall I send the ­the piece of rope, to?”

“Oh, yes! ­Dolly Copley.  That is my name.  Good bye, I must go.”

“Dolly Copley.  You shall have it,” said he, giving the little hand she held out to him a right sailorly grasp.  And Dolly ran away.  In the bustle and anxiety of getting lowered into the little boat again she forgot him and everything else; however, so soon as she was safely seated and just as the men were ordered to “give way,” she looked up at the great ship they were leaving; and there, just above her, leaning on the guards and looking over and down at her, she saw her midshipman friend.  Dolly saw nothing else till his face was too small in the distance to be any longer recognised.