CHAPTER III.
All were eager to visit the historical places immediately upon their arrival. As they entered the harbor of Castine Mrs. Travilla remarked that it was quite as picturesque as she expected from Lossing's description.
"Ah, I entirely agree with you, Cousin Elsie," responded Mr. Lilburn; "it is so bonny a place that I do not wonder it was coveted by the enemy."
The whole party presently landed, a guide was found who promised to conduct them to all the points of historical interest, and they set out upon their search. They very much admired the situation of the town, and the view from it of the bay, with its picturesque islands. They visited old Fort George, built by the British in 1779, in the centre of the peninsula, and repaired, fraised, and armed by them in 1814. It was only a ruin now, but interesting because of what it had been in those earlier days. The view from its banks, which were about eighteen feet high from the bottom of the six feet deep ditch, was very interesting. Looking northwestward from the fort they could see on the right the entrance to the canal cut by the British across Castine Neck, turning the peninsula into an island. It was about eighty rods long and twelve feet deep, and now had a bridge across it. Between the promontory and an island could be seen the mouth of the Penobscot River. On the extreme left they could see the town of Belfast, thirteen miles distant. Leaving that point they visited the remains of several other forts built by the British, after which they returned to the yacht for the evening meal and the night's rest.
The Dolphin was allowed to remain stationary until all her passengers were on deck again the next morning; then the anchor was lifted, and she steamed up the river. Favored with delightful weather they greatly enjoyed the trip up the beautiful, winding stream. They had taken on board a man well acquainted with the river and every point of interest upon its banks, and who pointed out each one as they neared it. As they entered Marsh Bay the young people were told that the British squadron lay there one night on their way toward Hampden. Elsie and Ned showed keen interest when told of it, and in hearing from their father of the cannon-ball of the British that lodged in a storehouse there in 1814.
"Do you remember the story Lossing tells about a Norway pine somewhere in this region?" asked Mrs. Travilla, addressing Captain Raymond.
"Something of it," he said, with an amused smile, and the children at once begged to hear it.
"Will you gratify them, mother?" asked the captain. "You probably have a better recollection of his story than I."