At the mention of the name of Camp, the youth on board the “Nancy Breen” became more attentive; indeed, the expression upon his face seemed one of recognition.
“Do they mean to ruin us between them?” demanded the stout old gentleman. “Do they insist upon making beggars of us?”
He flourished the oaken staff and his face grew redder still.
“I will face these miscreants,” declared he. “I will have an understanding. Four of our ships have been held up in a month. Four in one month, do you understand? But still you do nothing!”
“If you will but listen to reason,” Mr. Dana said, but the angry old gentleman took him up in an instant.
“Reason!” cried he. “Reason! Was there ever a time, Mr. Dana, that I refused to harken to it? Answer me, sir! Specify an instance when I turned away from even common sense. I defy you to do it, sir; I defy you!”
“Now, now, Mr. Camp, don’t be vexed. I did not mean to insinuate that you were not open to reason. Nothing of the sort, dear sir, believe me. I merely desired that you listen to my remarks on the situation.”
The other planted the point of his staff firmly upon the stones.
“I have great respect for your capabilities, Mr. Dana,” said he. “No man more so. But the thing is beyond explanation. The vocabulary of Dr. Johnson himself would throw no light upon it.” He lifted the staff and pointed across the peaks of the buildings to where the British flag flew from a pole in the fort. “Do you see that? It should be an emblem of authority—the symbol of law. But it’s not! It should mark the power of the English nation—of English civilization. But it does not. Authority, law, the British nation, and its civilization as well, are a jest, Mr. Dana. Singly and together they are a jest for every low fellow in the town.”
“But,” expostulated the other, “can you not see that it will not last? It is only a momentary turbulence. It will pass. The good folks will come to their senses by and by.”