to Halifax for repairs.

One more adventure in which the "Sally" and her wily captain figured
is worth recounting. Again the dingy schooner was edging her way along
the rugged shore, bound for the Portsmouth navy-yard. No vessel could
have seemed more harmless. Her patched and dirty canvas was held in
place by oft-spliced ropes and rigging none too taut. Her bluff bows
butted away the waves in clouds of spray, that dashed over the decks,
which seldom received other washing. Her cargo seemed to be cord-wood,
neatly split, and piled high on deck. While off Casco, the wind
dropped down, and the "Sally" was left floating idly upon the glassy
ocean. Far in the distance lay an English man-o'-war, also becalmed;
but from which a long-boat, stoutly manned, soon put out, and made for
the becalmed schooner. The boat was soon within hail, and a trim young
officer in the stern-sheets sung out,--

"What craft's that?"

"Schooner 'Sally' of Portsmouth," came the answer, in the drawling
tones of a down-east skipper.

"Where from?"

"Portland."

"Where bound?"

"Portsmouth."

"What's your cargo."

"Firewood," responded Capt. Fernald with a carelessness he was far
from feeling; for deep down in the hold, under the cord-wood, were two
twenty-four-pounder cannon, thirteen thousand pounds of powder, and
about one hundred boarding pikes and cutlasses.

The British officer hesitated a moment, as if the little coaster was
of too little importance for further examination.

"Well, I think I'll come aboard," said he carelessly, and soon stood
with three or four of his men on the deck of the "Sally."

After glancing contemptuously about the ill-kept decks, he turned to
his men with the sharp order: "Clear away some of that wood from the
hatchways, and see what's in the hold."

The men set to work, passing the cord-wood away from the hatch ways,
and piling it upon the after-deck. Soon they had worked their way into
the hold, and were going deeper and deeper down toward the munitions
of war. Capt. Fernald's blood seemed to stop coursing in his veins. He
knew that but one layer of cord-wood then lay above the cannon, and he
expected every instant to see the black iron uncovered. But the
British officer grew impatient.

"That's enough of that work," said he; "there's nothing but wood
there. Captain, you can proceed on your course."

A momentary murmur arose from the English sailors. The "Sally" was
theirs by right of capture, an