“As I was saying, when I was interrupted by this infant crying in the night,” resumed Bob, disdainfully, “the expedition was partly national and partly individual, that is to say, it was a privateering trip with government backing. The man who fitted it out was named Gilbert, I believe.”
“A kind of patriot for revenue only?” inquired Ben, blandly.
“Precisely. Well, they had two gunboats, the Neptune and Fox, and about forty-five or fifty men. They stopped at Cape Vincent and Clayton, or French Creek as they used to call the place then, and then kept on their way rejoicing, until they came to Goose Bay. There they landed and had a parade.”
“What did they parade for?” inquired Jock.
“No one knows, or at least I don’t. What do they ever parade for?”
“For to show brass buttons and for to delight the ladies and small boys. I used to think a drum-major was a bigger man than the President,” replied Ben, quickly.
“After they had landed and paraded, they—”
“Went fishing?” inquired Ben.
“They sent a few men down toward Ogdensburg to spy out the land.”
“Weren’t they roaring and seeking whom they might devour this time?”