"He replied that he would shoot any man who dared to touch a rope without his orders; he 'would go his own course, and had no idea of trusting himself with a nut-shell'—meaning me. And then he went below for his pistols.
"I called my right-hand man of the crew, and told him my situation; I also informed him that I wanted the main topsail filled.
"He answered with a clear 'Ay, ay, sir!' in a manner which was not to be misunderstood, and my confidence was perfectly restored.
"From that moment I became master of the vessel, and immediately gave all necessary orders for making sail, notifying the captain not to come on deck with his pistols unless he wished to go overboard; for I would really have had little trouble in having such an order obeyed."
We can readily understand how such a letter would arouse the people to a frenzy of excitement.
And thus, in alternate enthusiasm and depression, the months passed away.
The people had not realized what war meant, they had not yet faced the dread monster, as in a few months they were destined to do—when the British marched into their city and burned the Capitol and the White House.
That was not dreamed of then, and the people feasted only on the news of distant conflict.
"If the war does not end by the New Year," said Vernon to Bertha Tempest, "I shall fit out another privateer."