colonies that they don’t, in their pride, consider fit and proper.” Mr. Camp laughed scornfully. “Oh, no, no, Mr. Dana, you are a good man of business and far-sighted enough in trade; but you are blind to what is going on around you.”

[17]

This conversation was plainly heard by those on board the “Nancy Breen.” The skipper winked at the bronzed young man.

“The old gentleman seems to fancy a spell of bad weather,” said he.

“And he doesn’t seem the sort to strip and run before a gale,” returned the young passenger. “Do you know him?”

“By reputation only, Master Prentiss. He’s a merchant in the West India trade, now retired from active service. He’s said to be as rich as the king himself; anyway, he lives[18] somewhere in the Jerseys in a fine manor house and comes to New York but seldom.”

[18]

“For a retired merchant,” commented George Prentiss, “he takes an uncommon interest in shipping.”

“Oh, as for that, he’s retired only from the active work of it. He still has his moneys in the trade, I’m told. The gentleman who just now boarded us is his partner. But,” and the skipper looked at George inquiringly, “of course you knew that.”

But George shook his head.

“Merchant Camp I know something of,” said he, “but Mr. Dana I never laid eyes upon before.”

Lexington had been fought and the sneering British column driven back upon Boston. Then that city had been besieged by an army of farmers and mechanics; and Breed’s Hill had witnessed its desperate defeat, though we commonly now speak of the fight as the battle of Bunker Hill. And, finally, the British had run from Boston to their ships under the pitiless cannonading of Washington’s batteries.

New York was trembling and expectant.[19] Any day might witness the arrival of a British fleet; and in the meantime the colonists were preparing its defenses. George Prentiss was thinking of these things, his eyes once more fixed upon the frigates afar off. The skipper having coiled the line to his satisfaction came toward him.

[19]

“When you first came aboard me at New London,” he said, “I judged by the trim of your yards that you were from the army up Boston 

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