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