"'
"No; I mean Mariana. Captain Lane, an old privateer officer of the
Revolution, is there. He has organized a company of Marylanders on the
peninsula on which Mariana is situated, and will be able to help you
some. You will find an abundance of ammunition for your artillery."
Fernando left the general's quarters with his heart beating in a way
which he could not explain. Terrence had just returned to the company.
Fernando ordered his men to be ready to march at dark, and was hastening
across the street to a tavern for his supper, when he was suddenly
accosted by a familiar voice with:
"Golly! massa Stevens, am dat you?"
"Job, where have you come from?"
"Everywhar, Massa. I done been rovin' de worl' over huntin' for de massa
I belong to when I war taken by de Britishers; but I can't find him.
Whar ye gwine?"
Fernando explained, and the negro said:
"Golly! ye goin' dar?"
"Yes, Job."
"De ship what am goin' ter bombard dat town am de _Xenophon_."
"_Xenophon_!" cried Fernando; "surely Providence must be in this."
Job volunteered at once to accompany the riflemen, and, having some
knowledge of gunnery, his services were very acceptable.
At dusk, with competent guides, Fernando set out for the village.
* * * * *
Five years had been added to the weight with which time was crushing
Captain Lane; but his spirit was still as undaunted as ever, and when he
found the town threatened by a British cruiser, he hastily organized the
people into militia companies, and began throwing up a line of
earthworks, which extended from his own house to the lowest extremity of
the village.
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