“As for that,” continued Peter, “there wasn’t a touch of ill-will on either side, after the fight was over. Storey said the prisoners and captors sat around the fok’sle together, telling yarns, exchanging tobacco and many little courtesies. Hull is too brave a man to fear brave men. Some captains might have handcuffed the crew, not so Hull; and, indeed, every American sailor on the _Constitution_ felt a manly unwillingness to handcuff enemies who had fought so bravely.” “Sappha,” said the judge, “I have heard Mr. Murray singing with you at intervals this afternoon and evening a verse or two that you were setting to a wonderful bit of music. Try it again, my dear.” “It is _The March of the Men of Moray_, father. Mr. Murray wrote two or three verses to it about the _Macedonia_. Come, Leonard,” and she struck a few ringing chords and looked inspiration into his bending face. Then out rang the little ballad to the marching music of his clan: What will they say in England, When the story there is told, Of Commodore Decatur, And his sailor men so bold? They’ll say it was a gallant fight, And fairly lost and won; So honour to the sailor men, By whom the deed was done! What will they say in England? They’ll say with grateful lip, Now glory to Almighty God, No Frenchman took the ship! No Frenchman shot her colours down! The doomed ship had this grace-- To take her death blow from the hands Of men of the English race! And all good honest men and true Will pray for war to cease; And merchant ships go to-and-fro On messages of peace. And men-of-war sail on the land, And soldiers plough the sea, Ere brothers fight, who ought to dwell In love and unity. “Thank you, Mr. Murray,” said the judge. “’Tis a stirring melody!” “’Tis the march of my forefather’s clan, sir.” “And you have said for America, and for England, what they deserve. We both love fair play; and I am sure both nations know how to take, either a victory or a defeat, like men, and gentlemen. God make honourable peace between us, and that right early!” To this pious wish the company remaining, departed; but after Leonard had made his long, sweet adieu, Sappha heard her father gently tapping on the table the time of “_The March of the Men of Moray_,” as in pleasant thoughtfulness he hummed to its music, “They’ll say it was a gallant fight, And fairly lost and won, So honour to the sailor men, By whom the deed was done!” CHAPTER SIX _The Miracle of Love_