It was a splendid sight. Five large boats, manned by sailors, and filled with soldiers in gay red coats. How their guns glittered in the sun! The oars all moved together in regular order, and the officers in their fine uniforms stood up to direct the expedition. It was a courageous company come with a warship and cannon to fight helpless fishermen. So Rebecca Bates and Sarah Winsor thought, as they sat up in the light-house tower looking down on the procession of boats as it went past the point and entered the harbor. "Oh! If I only were a man!" cried Rebecca. "What could you do? See what a lot of them; and look at their guns!" "I don't care. I'd fight. I'd use father's old shotgun--anything. Think of uncle's new boat and the sloop!" "Yes; and all the boats." "It's too bad; isn't it?" "Yes; and to think we must sit here and see it all and not lift a finger to help." "Do you think there will be a fight?" "I don't know. Uncle and father are in the village, and they will do all they can." "See how still it is in town. There's not a man to be seen." "Oh, they are hiding till the soldiers get nearer. Then we'll hear the shots and the drum." "The drum! How can they? It's here. Father brought it home to mend it last night." "Did he? Oh! then let's--" "See, the first boat has reached the sloop. Oh! oh! They are going to burn her." "Isn't it mean?" "It's too bad!--too--" "Where is that drum?" "It's in the kitchen." "I've got a great mind to go down and beat it." "What good would that do?" "Scare 'em." "They'd see it was only two girls, and they would laugh and go on burning just the same." "No. We could hide behind the sand hills and the bushes. Come, let's--" "Oh, look! look! The sloop's afire!" "Come, I can't stay and see it any more. The cowardly Britishers to burn the boats! Why don't they go up to the town and fight like--" "Come, let's get the drum. It'll do no harm; and perhaps--" "Well, let's. There's the fife, too; we might take that with us." "Yes; and we'll--" No time for further talk. Down the steep stairs of the tower rushed these two young patriots, bent on doing what they could for their country. They burst into the kitchen like a whirlwind, with rosy cheeks and flying hair. Mrs. Bates sat sorrowfully gazing out of the window at the scene of destruction going on in the harbor, and praying for her country and that the dreadful war might soon he over. She could not help. Son and husband were shouldering their poor old guns in the town, and there was nothing to do but to watch and wait and pray. Not so the two girls. They meant to do something, and, in a fever of excitement, they got the drum and took the cracked fife from the bureau drawer. Mrs. Bates, intent on the scene outside, did not heed them, and they slipped out by the back door, unnoticed.