to them already by not a few glorious traditions--though these,
perhaps, like others of their kind, had lost none of their glory
in the telling. A few of the older men had served in the war of the
Revolution, and all still kept fresh in mind the doughty deeds of
the old-time privateering war craft. Men still talked of Biddle's
daring cruises and Barney's stubborn fights, or told of Scotch Paul
and the grim work they had who followed his fortunes. Besides
these memories of an older generation, most of the officers had
themselves taken part, when younger in years and rank, in deeds
not a whit less glorious. Almost every man had had a share in some
gallant feat, to which he, in part at least, owed his present
position. The captain had perhaps been a midshipman under Truxtun
when he took the _Vengeance_, and had been sent aboard the captured
French frigate with the prize-master; the lieutenant had borne a
part in the various attacks on Tripoli, and had led his men in the
desperate hand-to-hand fights in which the Yankee cutlass proved
an overmatch for the Turkish and Moorish scimitars. Nearly every
senior officer had extricated himself by his own prowess or skill
from the dangers of battle or storm; he owed his rank to the fact
that he had proved worthy of it. Thrown upon his own resources, he
had learned self-reliance; he was a first-rate practical seaman,
and prided himself on the way his vessel was handled. Having reached
his rank by hard work, and knowing what real fighting meant, he was
careful to see that his men were trained in the _essentials_ of
discipline, and that they knew how to handle the guns in battle as
well as polish them in peace. Beyond almost any of his countrymen,
he worshipped the "Gridiron Flag," and, having been brought up in
the Navy, regarded its honor as his own. It was, perhaps, the Navy
alone that thought itself a match, ship against ship, for Great
Britain. The remainder of the nation pinned its faith to the army,