“Never you mind, lad,” old Silas said, as we stood looking after the retreating fleet, and doubtless showing in our faces signs of that which was in our hearts. “Never you mind. Commodore Perry ain’t the one to hang ’round here while there’s a British vessel afloat on Lake Erie, and I’m willin’ to wager all my prize-money that if Commodore Barclay doesn’t come out boldly to meet us, we shall hunt him up, and the battle won’t be long delayed unless it so chances the gallant redcoats surrender without firing a gun.” FOOTNOTES: [3] Formerly the _Contractor_. CHAPTER XII. PUT-IN-BAY. As a rule the crews of the several vessels shared the old gunner’s opinion regarding Commodore Perry’s intention of giving us all the work possible, now that his squadron was at liberty. It seems really wonderful, as I look back on those days when I hoped to win fame as a soldier or sailor, how quickly the men came to have confidence in our boyish-looking commodore. Hardly one of them had ever seen him before he arrived in Presque Isle, and yet all were ready to trust their lives in his hands without reserve. All believed as did old Silas, and every one labored with a will to make the _Niagara_ ready that there might be no delay when our commander found the opportunity to strike a blow. At five o’clock on that afternoon the last gun had been brought off from the shore, and without waiting until the decks could be put shipshape, word was passed from one craft to the other for all to make sail, following the lead of the flag-ship. “Now you can see whether I told the truth,” old Silas said triumphantly when the _Lawrence_ was gotten under way, her flags floating proudly in the breeze. “There’s not a craft in the fleet ready for action, and yet off we go in search of the enemy. Precious little time lost in that kind of work, eh?” Nobody grumbled because of such eagerness, although it kept us all jumping mighty lively when we should have been bottling up sleep after four nights of almost incessant labor; but we toiled and sweated hour after hour as cheerfully as if it was done solely for our private benefit. By break of day we had arrived off the North Foreland. The vessels were in something approaching proper trim, and half of the men had been told off to take a watch below. Alec and I were among those thus released from duty, yet we remained on deck when our eyes seemed glued together owing to lack of sleep, in the hope that we might catch a glimpse of Leon Marchand. Although I have never mentioned the lad’s name since relating the particulars of our second escape from North Foreland, I have not kept silence because we failed to think of him. Hardly a day had passed but that we held converse regarding the French boy, speculating as to what might have been his fate after the soldiers discovered that he had led them on a wild-goose chase, and promising that whenever the fortunes of war should permit we would do our best at finding him.