Captain Perry came back on the 10th day of April. The ice was out of the lake, and the forces in the blockhouse at the entrance of Presque Isle Bay were redoubled, for now we had every reason to expect the British fleet.
Two weeks after his return the three gunboats were launched, and I dare venture to say not one person in Presque Isle, old or young, missed the spectacle.
It was a gala day in the village, and when we saw the little craft swinging at their cables just off the landing-place, there came to every one, I believe, to myself I know, an additional sense of security, although these vessels were as yet uncompleted, and without guns or ammunition.
The two brigs would be ready for leaving the ways in three weeks, it was said, and Alec and I looked forward to that day with the keenest interest, for Captain Perry had told us that upon one of these he should sail, while at the same time he ratified the promise made by my father.
We promised ourselves that nothing should prevent us from seeing these two craft, which both of us felt certain would make the bravest showing against the Britishers, leap into the water, and yet we failed of being present.
This is how it was:—
One week before the day set for the launching a message came from Commodore Chauncey, who was then at Buffalo, ordering Captain Perry to join him in a certain secret enterprise against the enemy.
Now Alec’s brother was not minded to take two lads with him, and would have kept the matter secret, but that it came to us quite by accident.
Emboldened by the service already rendered, we decided that it was our right to accompany the expedition.
I need not repeat the arguments which we used to persuade the captain to receive us as volunteers. He objected to our proposition; first, because it was not expected he should bring any force with him, and secondly, because he must journey from Presque Isle to Buffalo in an open four-oared boat, which, in itself, was like to be a perilous undertaking at that season of the year.