The plan of the breastwork was well laid and executed; but the artillery
was poorly mounted and they were sadly in need of experienced gunners.
"Father, don't exert yourself until you are sick!" said Morgianna, when
her father came home one evening exhausted. "Surely, if the British
come, they will not harm us."
"My child, the plunderers have sacked other towns and insulted the
inhabitants, and why not ours?"
"But no ship is in sight."
"No; yet one has been hovering about the coast and Tris Penrose, who was
far out in his fishing smack to reconnoitre, says it is the _Xenophon_."
"The _Xenophon_!" and the pretty face grew pale. She remembered that
that vessel, five years before, had paid the village a friendly visit.
Captain Lane was watching her closely. She knew it and guessed the
reason. After a moment's silence, she asked:
"Father, isn't Lieutenant Matson on the _Xenophon_?"
"I suppose he is."
"Surely he is your friend."
"In war there are no friends among the enemy, child, and no enemy among
friends. We are simply Americans or British."
"Yet, father, there are personal ties stronger than loyalty to nation or
political party."
The old man heard her argument with evident anxiety. He loved his little
sea-waif as ardently as ever father loved a child, and for five years
he fancied and feared she loved the lieutenant of the _Xenophon_.
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