The crew of the _Lawrence_ gave little heed to sleeping, on this night; there were a few who turned into their hammocks, but Alec and I were not among the number. It would have been impossible for me to close my eyes while death seemed so near, and he, dear lad, could not rest because of the anxiety in his heart. We two left the group of sailors who listened eagerly to the wondrous tales with which old Silas was regaling them, and walked well aft where we might see the commodore when he came on deck, for the officers of the brig had gone below immediately after the new banner was displayed. “If Oliver lives through the morrow, he will have won for himself a name such as few can boast of,” Alec said proudly. It seemed as if the lad lost sight of himself in the great love he bore this brother who was our commander, and, realizing that a trifling accident might change the fortunes of war, I said, with the idea of lessening his disappointment in case it chanced that the British won the victory:-- “We are the weaker in both guns and men, Alec, and old Silas argues idly when he claims that our people can fight better than the enemy.” “Commodore Barclay is not as good an officer as Oliver.” “He has surely had more experience,” I ventured to suggest. “That does not count against such a man as my brother.” “I am ready to admit all you claim for our commodore, and make even stronger statements; but yet it is not well to be so positive regarding the result, Alec dear. No man can say what a day may bring forth, and our crews are to be pitted against experienced men-of-war’s-men.” “Oliver will be the victor!” the lad said emphatically, and in such a tone as told me that any attempt to make him less confident might cause hard feelings between us. “God grant he be!” I replied, and never did I speak more fervently; the words were, in reality, a prayer. Then, coming back to the thought which had been near to a hope, I added, “We are counting on a battle to-morrow as if there could be no question about it, and yet what grounds have we for believing that the Britishers will venture out of Malden harbor?” “Oliver says they will,” Alec replied, and as against such profound faith I could say no more. We paced to and fro until nearly daybreak, and then the commodore came on deck, looking weak and worn from the ravages of the fever; but with a sparkle of the eyes which I could see plainly even in the darkness. He threw one arm around Alec’s neck, and held out a hand for me to clasp. “What are you two lads doing on deck at this hour, when you should be in your hammocks gaining rest and strength against the work of this coming day?” “Then you really believe we shall at last face the Britishers?” Alec asked, caressing his brother’s hand. “Ay, lad; for if Commodore Barclay refuses to come out, it is decided that we shall go in after him.” “And am I to serve on Master Boyd’s gun, or will you permit that I stand by your side?”