Theirs was not the courage that shows forth in bravado, and which delights, from mere exuberance of spirit, in defying peril for its own sake. Rather was it the true, deeper courage of devotion,—the courage that sacrificed self for others, and which for principle and what was deemed simple duty was ready to endure all things. It was the devotion that would accept all results, would meet death, if needs be, or wear life away in slow suffering.
Such courage was the solid material, not the flash and glitter that pleases and bewilders, and then is as unremembered as is the pebble a child tosses into the sea, and having watched the ripple it makes, never thinks of again.
All this has become the priceless jewel of our national history for all time, the salt that gives savor to our country's life. The keynote of it was this,—these men truly loved their country, and were its loyal, steadfast friends. And are we not told from the highest of all high sources that "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends"?
CHAPTER XVIII
It was nearly midnight when the two young men took their way back through the fields to their boat and its faithful guardian.
They were soon afloat, and none but Leet would have ventured to row so steadily and rapidly down Great Bay in the fog that now shut in about them like a wall of white wool, muffling all objects from sight.
The stillness was intense, save for the lapping of the water on the near-by shore,—this seeming to quicken the old darkey's acute knowledge of the course he was rowing.
The young men sat in either end of the boat, with Leet between them; and not a word was spoken until the keel grated on the sand of Riverhead Beach.
The old negro required no light to secure the craft in its accustomed place; and as the others stood waiting for him to do this, a faint sound of galloping horses came to their cars, apparently from down Devereux Lane, which led from the Salem road directly to the beach, and so on to the Neck.