“I think I saw a black gum log soaking in the swamp a few days ago,” said Laurence, smiling at the grinning faces before him; but there was a chorus immediately:
“Naw, suh; dis lorg ain’ never had a drap o’ water on it, an’ we all’s been dryin’ it fer a whole mont’.” The log was then steaming like a tea-kettle, and the negroes yah-yahed with delight at the ready acceptance of their ruse.
“Very well, then,” cried Laurence Washington; “you can all have holiday until this log is burned out, and if I am not mistaken it will last the week through!”
Immediately after breakfast horses were brought out, and the great coach, and several gigs and chaises, to take a party to old Pohick Church. There was to be a service, however, on the Bellona, and the “church flag” was flying from her peak. Admiral Vernon invited George to go with him on board the ship. They went to the landing, where the captain’s gig awaited them. On board the Bellona, everything was as clean as hands could make it, the ship was dressed, and the men, being excused from work that day, were in their Sunday clothes and prepared for their holiday.
The service, performed by the chaplain, was held upon the gun-deck. Four hundred sailors, in spotless clothing and each with a sprig of mistletoe in his glazed hat, were assembled, seated on capstan-bars, which made improvised benches. In front of them their officers were assembled, the captain at their head, while in front of the officers were the admiral and his guests. Never had George seen a more beautiful and reverent service. The sailors were reminded of their homes in green England, far away, and every heart was softened by the recollection. The officers needed no reminder of their families and friends at home, and all felt drawn together in sympathy at their common separation from those dearest to them.
After the service the admiral took George over the ship, showing him all the beauty and strength of her. The boy gazed with wonder and delight at her trim yards, her immaculate decks, and at the rows of menacing guns in her batteries. Until then he had strongly inclined to the army, but in the first flush of his new enthusiasm he longed to be a naval officer. There were several midshipmen of his own age on board, to whom the admiral introduced him, and George yearned, boy fashion, to wear a smart uniform like theirs, and to carry a midshipman’s dirk. He said little; his enthusiasms were all of that silent kind which burn the more furiously because their blaze is concealed. But the moment he reached the house, after leaving the ship, he went straight to his brother Laurence’s study, and marched in with this bold announcement:
“Brother Laurence, I want to serve in the king’s navy.”
Laurence looked up smiling at George’s earnest face, in which a fixed purpose was plainly seen.
“I should have preferred the army for you,” responded Laurence. “But if a youngster will serve in the king’s navy, in the king’s navy he must serve.”
“And will you get me my warrant?” eagerly asked George.