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Updated: May 4, 2025
Fernando explained that he had two friends; but the captain did not care if he had a dozen, and in less time than the whole matter could be told the three travellers found themselves in the vehicle whirling up the avenue of trees, many of which still bore the marks of shells and cannon shot. The greeting between Fernando and Morgianna was warm, but formal.
The captain spent as much of his time with her as he could spare from his duties, and as he held the little creature on his knee, heard her gentle voice in baby accents, and felt her warm baby fingers on his cheek, a new emotion took possession of his heart. He loved little Morgianna dearly as a father might.
Fernando obtained a promise from Morgianna that she would not venture from the shelter, by promising in return to keep off the redoubt. The British shells were telling on the American fort. Though the walls were strong and resisted their balls, several men had fallen beneath their shells.
The British supposed those two shots accidents, but after the third, they were convinced that there was an experienced hand at the gun. Fernando, in his anxiety to mark the effect of the third shot, forgot his promise to Morgianna and, with the glass in hand, mounted the rampart. The heavy boom of the cannon shook sea and shore. There was no need of a glass to mark the effects.
Fernando went to the great white stone house, which had been repaired and again occupied by Captain Lane and his daughter. Captain Lane and Morgianna were alone in the large sitting-room when he entered. The captain was convalescent, but not wholly recovered from his attack of rheumatism. "So you are going away?" said Captain Lane when Fernando had told him of his last order.
She was not old enough to know her name, and there was not found about her clothes or in the boat anything whatever by which her name could possibly be known, so she had to be rechristened. What name should he give her? He reflected a moment and then, remembering the name on the stern of that black, mysterious vessel, answered: "Morgianna!" "Morgianna?" said the cook.
Poor Fernando; there was good love going a-begging and getting nothing for it but a frown and a hard word; while " he did not finish the sentence, for a pair of white arms were put around his neck, and a voice as sweet as the rippling music of the hillside brook said: "Never fret yourself, father, for Morgianna loves you first of all and best of all," and she slipped on his knee and kissed away the anxious cloud gathering on his brow.
The plan of the breastwork was well laid and executed; but the artillery was poorly mounted and they were sadly in need of experienced gunners. "Father, don't exert yourself until you are sick!" said Morgianna, when her father came home one evening exhausted. "Surely, if the British come, they will not harm us."
"Yes, Morgianna Lane! she is my adopted daughter." The cook smiled at the thought of bluff old Captain Lane the bachelor having an adopted daughter. After the perils and excitements of such a night, it was not strange that Captain Lane slept long and soundly. He had good officers, and when he retired he gave them orders not to disturb him, unless absolutely necessary, until he should awake.
As years went on, Morgianna grew in beauty, intelligence, grace and goodness. Captain Lane was proud of her, and she was never so happy as when sitting on his knee listening to his yarns of the sea. Her own sad, dark story had never been told to her, that was left for the future.
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