The End of a Coil

"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.

CHAPTER V

THE PIECE OF ROPE

It was Saturday and holiday, and Dolly went home to her aunt's. There her aunt and uncle, as was natural, expected a long story of the morning's experience. And Dolly one would think might have given it; matter for the detail was not wanting; yet she seemed to have little to tell. On the other hand, she had a great deal to ask. She wanted to know why people could not do all their fighting on land; why ships of war were necessary; Mr. Eberstein tried to explain that there might be great and needful advantages attendant upon the use of them. Then Dolly begged for instances. Had we, Americans, ever fought at sea? Mr. Eberstein answered that, and gave her details of facts, while Mrs. Eberstein sat by silent and watched Dolly's serious, meditative face.

"I should think," said Dolly, "that when there is a fight, a ship of war would be a very dreadful place."

"There is no doubt of that, my little girl," said Mr. Eberstein. "Take the noise, and the smoke, the packed condition of one of those gun decks, and the every now and then coming in of a round shot, crashing through planks and timbers, splintering what comes in its way, and stretching half a dozen men at once, more or less, on the floor in dead and wounded, – I think it must be as good a likeness of the infernal regions as earth can give – in one way at least."

"In what way?" Dolly asked immediately.

"Confusion of pain and horror. Not wickedness."

"Uncle Ned, do you think God can like it?"

"No."

"Then isn't it wicked?"

"No, little one; not necessarily. No sort of pain or suffering can be pleasing to God; we know it is not; yet sin has made it necessary, and He often sends it."

"Don't He always send it?"

"Why no. Some sorts people bring on themselves by their own folly and perverseness; and some sorts people work on others by their own wicked self-will. God does not cause that, though He will overrule it to do what He wants done."

"Uncle Ned, do you think we shall ever have to use our ships of war again?"

"We are using them all the time. We send them to this place and that place to protect our own people, and their merchant vessels and their commerce, from interference and injury."

"No, but I mean, in fighting. Do you think we shall ever have to send them to fight again?"

"Probably."

"To fight whom?"

"That I don't know."

"Then why do you say 'probably'?"

"Because human nature remains what it was, and will no doubt do the same work in the future that it has done from the beginning."

"Why is fighting part of that work, Uncle Ned?"

"Ah, why! Greed, which wants what is the right of others; pride, which resents even a fancied interference with its own; anger, which cries for revenge; these are the reasons."

Dolly looked very deeply serious.

"Why do you care so much about it, Dolly?" her aunt asked at length, after a meditative pause of several minutes.

"I would be sorry to have the 'Achilles' go into battle," said Dolly; and a perceptible slight shudder passed over her shoulders.

"Is the 'Achilles' so much to you, just because you have seen her?"

"No – " said Dolly thoughtfully; "it isn't the ship; it's the people."

"Oh! – But what do you know of the people?"

"I saw a good many of them, Aunt Harry."

Politic Dolly! She had really seen only one. Yet she had no idea of being politic; and why she did not say whom she had seen, and what reason she had for being interested in him, I cannot tell you.

From that time Dolly's reading took a new turn. She sought out in the bookcases everything that related to sailors and ships, and especially naval warfare, and simply devoured it. The little Life of Lord Nelson, by Southey, in two small calf-bound volumes, became her darling book. Better than any novel, for it was true, and equal to any novel for its varied, picturesque, passionate, stirring life story. Dolly read it, till she could have given you at any time an accurate and detailed account of any one of Nelson's great battles; and more than that, she studied the geography of the lands and waters thereby concerned, and where possible the topography also. I suppose the "Achilles" stood for a model of all the ships in which successively the great commander hoisted his flag; and if the hero himself did not take the form and features of a certain American midshipman, it was probably because there was a likeness of the subject of the Memoir opposite to the title-page; and the rather plain, rather melancholy, rather feeble traits of the English naval captain, could by no effort of imagination be confounded with the quiet strength and gentle manliness which Dolly had found in the straight brows and keen blue eyes and kindly smile of her midshipman friend. That would not do. Nelson was not like him, nor he like Nelson; but Dolly had little doubt but he would do as much, if he had occasion. In that faith she read on; and made every action lively with the vision of those keen-sighted blue eyes and firm sweet mouth in the midst of the smoke of battle and the confusion of orders given and received. How often the Life of Nelson was read, I dare not say; nor with what renewed eagerness the Marine Dictionary and its plates of ships and cannon were studied and searched. From that, Dolly's attention was extended to other books which told of the sea and of life upon it, even though the life were not war-like. Captain Cook's voyages came in for a large amount of favour; and Cooper's "Afloat and Ashore," which happened about this time to fall into Dolly's hands, was devoured with a hunger which grew on what it fed. Nobody knew; she had ceased to talk on naval subjects; and it was so common a thing for Dolly to be swallowed up in some book or other whenever she was at home, that Mrs. Eberstein's curiosity was not excited.

Meanwhile school days and school work went on, and week succeeded week, and everybody but Dolly had forgotten all about the "Achilles;" when one day a small package was brought to the door and handed in "For Miss Dolly Copley." It was a Saturday afternoon. Dolly and her aunt were sitting comfortably together in Mrs. Eberstein's workroom upstairs, and Mr. Eberstein was there too at his secretary.

"For me?" said Dolly, when the servant brought the package in. "It's a box! Aunt Harry, what can it be?"

"Open and see, Dolly."