"Why?"
"And I don't understand the use of it," Dolly went on with a really puzzled face.
"The use of what?"
"The use of the whole thing. I know what ships are good for, of course; other ships; but what is the use of such a ship as this?"
"To take care of the other ships."
"How?"
"Have you been below? Did you see the gun decks?"
"I was in a place where there were a great many guns--but I could not understand, and there was nobody to tell me things."
"Would you like to go down there again?"
"Oh yes!" said Dolly. "They will be a good while at lunch yet. Oh, thank you! I should like so much to go."
The young midshipman took her hand; perhaps he had a little sister at home and the action was pleasant and familiar; it seemed to be both; and led her down the way that took them to the upper gun deck.
"How comes it you are not taking lunch too?" he asked by the way.
"Oh, there are too many of them," said Dolly contentedly. "I don't care. I had a biscuit."
"You don't care for your lunch?"
"Yes, I do, when I'm hungry; but now I would rather see things. I never saw a ship before."
They arrived in the great, gloomy, black gun deck. The midshipman let go Dolly's hand, and she stood and looked along the avenue between the bristling black cannon.
"Now, what is it that you don't understand?" he asked, watching her.
"What are these guns here for?"
"Don't you know _that?_ Guns are to fight with."
"Yes, I know," said Dolly; "but how can you fight with them here in a row? and what would you fight with? I mean, who would you fight against?"
"Some other ship, if Fate willed it so. Look here; this is the way of it."
He took a letter from the breast of his coat, tore off a blank leaf; then resting it on the side of a gun carriage, he proceeded to make a sketch. Dolly's eyes followed his pencil point, spell-bound with interest. Under his quick and ready fingers grew, she could not tell how, the figure of a ship,--hull, masts, sails and rigging, deftly sketched in; till it seemed to Dolly she could almost see how the wind blew that was filling out the sails and floating off the streamer.
"There," said the artist,--"that is our enemy."
"Our enemy?" repeated Dolly.
"Our supposed enemy. We will suppose she is an enemy."
"But how could she be?"
"We might be at war with England suppose, or with France. This might be an English ship of war coming to catch up every merchantman she could overhaul that carried American colours, and make a prize of her; don't you see?"
"Do they do that?" said Dolly.
"What? catch up merchantmen? of course they do; and the more of value is on board, the better they are pleased. We lose so much, and they gain so much. Now we want to stop this fellow's power of doing mischief; you understand."
"What are those little black spots you are making along her sides."
"The port holes of her guns."
"Port holes?"
"The openings where the mouths of her guns look out. See," said he, pointing to the one near which they were standing,--"that is a port hole."
"That little window?"
"It isn't a window; it is a port hole."
"It is not a black spot."
"Because you are inside, and looking out towards the light. Look at them when you are leaving the ship; they will look like black spots then, you will find."
"Well, that's the enemy," said Dolly, drawing a short breath of excitement. "What is that ship you are making now?"
"That's the 'Achilles'; brought to; with her main topsails laid aback, and her fore topsails full; ready for action."
"I do not know what are topsails or fore topsails," said Dolly.
The midshipman explained; to illustrate his explanation sketched lightly another figure of a vessel, showing more distinctly the principal sails.
"And this is the 'Achilles,'" said Dolly, recurring to the principal design. "You have put her a great way off from the enemy, it seems to me."
"No. Point blank range. Quite near enough."
"Oh, what is 'point blank range'?" cried Dolly in despair. Her new friend smiled, but answered with good-humoured patience. Dolly listened and comprehended.
"Then, if this were an enemy, and that the 'Achilles,' and within point blank range, you would load one of these guns and fire at her?"
The midshipman shook his head. "We should load up all of them--all on that side."
"And five them one after another?"
"As fast as we could. We should give her a broadside. But we should probably give her one broadside after another."
"Suppose the balls all hit her?"
"Yes, you may suppose that. I should like to suppose it, if I were the officer in command."