Not according to our ideas of wealth to-day, for we reckon riches to mean away up in the millions, whereas a man with two hundred thousand dollars in those days was looked upon as a veritable prodigy of wealth. Harry Vernon had considerably over a hundred thousand dollars, and was well content with his fortune. The _Lively Bee_ had left the city, and was far out of sight. In her track followed the _True-blooded Yankee_ of Boston and the _Lovely Lass_ of Salem, both first-class privateers, and both with records hard to beat. Then came that fast-cruising schooner, _Jack's Favorite_, specially commissioned to search for the _Essex_, which had not been heard from for some time. As Vernon saw them leave with all their wealth of canvas, a sigh escaped him. Already he was secretly planning again for life on the ocean wave. But when he looked at the sweet face of Pauline Jones, he felt that there was a harbor in which he would like to rest--a haven of peace if she did but share it with him. Intrepid in war, fearless in the angriest storm, he yet was a very coward in her presence; for, although he loved her with an ardor amounting almost to worship, he was too bashful to tell of his love. Perhaps the story would never have been told had not Bertha helped him. And when, with blushing face and almost stammering tongue, Pauline admitted that Vernon was her ideal of bravery and courage, and that she admired him, he was so elated that Washington did not seem large enough for him to call his home. But before the secret was known and Vernon's suspense ended, several weeks had passed, and the year had ripened into spring, and the buds and blossoms had developed into summer fruit and flowers. No tidings had been received of the _Lively Bee_, and Bertha was beginning to feel uneasy; her face was getting wan, her eyes were losing their luster. Great excitement was of daily experience; sometimes the news making the people hilarious with joy, and at others plunging them into the depths of despair. Washington was in mourning for the loss of Lawrence, who, though wounded, had shouted to his men: "Never give up the ship!" The _Chesapeake_ had been captured by the _Shannon_, and brave Lawrence's dead body reposed in Canadian soil. Then came the news of disasters on land, and the prospects were dark for the young Republic. The patriotic soul of Harry Vernon was chafing at idleness, and he had almost resolved to fit out another privateer, but was persuaded to wait a little longer for news of the _Lively Bee_. Then came news of the _Essex_, and all the country was filled with the praises of Captain Porter, who had captured so many British vessels. But while according so much praise to Porter, they did not fail to mete out their approbation of the courage of the young midshipman, Farragut, who, though a boy in years, had been given the command of the captured ship, _Barclay_. All Washington was reading Farragut's letter home.