The carriage having returned, Mr. and Mrs. Osbrook, with Adrian and Octavia, got into it and rode to Kensington; Junius, in a new suit of uniform, and with a new cockade in his hat, having long before set out on foot, as he despised riding when it was practicable to walk, and the distance from his mother's house to the ship-yard now seemed almost nothing, having been so often traversed by him. In a very short time, he was on the deck of the frigate, with a number of officers and other gentlemen, beside the shipwrights. That afternoon, almost all the stores in Philadelphia were shut up, and few of the inhabitants remained in their houses. Till near three o'clock, the whole population of the city seemed to be pouring toward the Northern Liberties: all the streets in the direction of Kensington being crowded with people.
When the party from Mrs. Camelford's arrived at the river-side, the vast concourse far exceeded their expectations, though Junius had told them that the crowd had begun to assemble as early as twelve o'clock. They were soon seated on chairs, on the deck of the gun-boat, and Lieutenant Osbrook left the ladies under the care of another gentlemen, while he went on board the frigate.
The river was covered with boats of every description, filled with people. The roofs, as well as the windows of the houses and stores that commanded a view of the water, were crowded with spectators; and so also were the trees. Scaffolds, which had been erected for the purpose, were lined with tiers of occupants, one row above another. All the ships, then in port, had gone up to Kensington, and their decks were covered with ladies and gentlemen; the sailors taking their stations in the rigging. In two or three vessels were bands of military music, and a third band was playing in the frigate that was the object of so much interest. All the officers then in the city (and many had come thither on purpose) were present: and all, both of army and navy, were in full uniform. Nothing could be more gay and animated than the whole scene. Every one was attired to the best advantage, and the white dresses and green parasols of the ladies added much to the picturesque effect of the scene. The steam-boats came up filled with passengers, and were anchored at a convenient distance.
The gentlemen took out their watches frequently, as the time approached when the tide was to turn; for the frigate was to be launched on the top of high water. As the moment drew near, every eye was fixed on the noble vessel, and there was a breathless anxiety of the most intense interest. The carpenters stood with their arms raised, ready to knock away the blocks that held her. The signal was given, and it was done. The frigate began to move—every hat was simultaneously taken off—the guns from all the armed vessels fired a salute—the music struck up, "The Tars of Columbia"—and loud huzzas resounded from thousands of voices. The frigate glided gracefully and rapidly along, amidst repeated shouts of acclamation, with the colours of her country flying at her stern: and, when she plunged into the water, (which she threw up tremendously about her,) the violent agitation of the river, for a considerable distance round, announced that she had reached the element which she was never more to leave. On her bowsprit stood the boatswain, who christened her by breaking a bottle of liquor over her head, and shouting, "Hurra for the Guerrier!" And the shout was repeated by every man present: thousands of hats waving round from the river and from the shore.
The moment "the gallant Guerrier" was afloat, she turned round majestically with the tide, and an anchor, for the first time, descended from her bow, mooring her, for the present, in the place where she had entered the water. The music continued for some time to play the favourite national airs, and at length the vast concourse of spectators began to turn their steps toward home. Adrian and Octavia could talk of nothing in the carriage but the scene they had just witnessed, and they gave their mother a most animated account of it. Mr. and Mrs. Osbrook took their leave and returned to their own residence: and soon after Junius came home in a state of the highest excitement, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks glowing, and full of the honour and glory, as he called it, of having been on board of the new Guerrier when she was launched. He inquired almost immediately for Cornelia. The carriage had been sent down to the steam-boat to bring her home, and in a short time she arrived, but looking very pale.
"Well, my dear Cornelia," said Junius, as he led her to the sofa, "was it not a glorious sight? Was it not a show worth looking at? I never was so delighted in all my life, except when we heard the lee-gun of the British Guerrier, as a signal of surrender, after her colours had been shot away."
"Tell me, dearest girl," said Adrian, "were not your expectations more than realized? Did you ever see any thing so interesting as the launch of the frigate?"
Cornelia's eyes filled with tears, and her lips trembled, as she replied, in a faltering voice, "I did not see it at all."
"Not see it!" was the general exclamation.
"Indeed, I did not," repeated Cornelia.