‘Hit ’em?’ Dan asked.
‘No, nor yet was it what you might call swearing. He—he blasted ’em with his natural speech. He asked them half-a-dozen times over whether the United States had enough armed ships for any shape or sort of war with any one. He asked ’em, if they thought she had those ships, to give him those ships, and they looked on the ground, as if they expected to find ’em there. He put it to ’em whether, setting ships aside, their country—I reckon he gave ’em good reasons—whether the United States was ready or able to face a new big war; she having but so few years back wound up one against England, and being all holds full of her own troubles. As I said, the strong way he laid it all before ’em blasted ’em, and when he’d done it was like a still in the woods after a storm. A little man—but they all looked little—pipes up like a young rook in a blowed-down nest, “Nevertheless, General, it seems you will be compelled to fight England.” Quick Big Hand wheels on him, “And is there anything in my past which makes you think I am averse to fighting Great Britain?”
‘Everybody laughed except him. “Oh, General, you mistake us entirely!" they says. “I trust so,” he says. “But I know my duty. We must have peace with England.”
‘“At any price?” says the man with the rook’s voice.
‘“At any price,” says he word by word. “Our ships will be searched—our citizens will be pressed, but——”
‘“Then what about the Declaration of Independence?” says one.
‘“Deal with facts, not fancies,” says Big Hand. “The United States are in no position to fight England.”
‘“But think of public opinion,” another one starts up. “The feeling in Philadelphia alone is at fever heat.”
‘He held up one of his big hands. “Gentlemen,” he says—slow he spoke, but his voice carried far—"I have to think of our country. Let me assure you that the treaty with Great Britain will be made though every city in the Union burn me in effigy.”