“Such a lovely morning, papa, isn’t it?” she said, standing with her hand fast clasped in his, but turning her eyes again upon sea and sky.  “But where are we now?  Almost at Fortress Monroe?”

“Look and tell me what you see,” was his smiling rejoinder, as, with a hand on each of her shoulders, he turned her about so that she caught the view from the other side of the vessel.

“O papa, is that it?” she exclaimed.  “Why, we’re almost there, aren’t we?”

“Yes; we will reach our anchorage within a few minutes.”

“Oh, are we going to stop to see the old fort, papa?” she asked eagerly.

“I think we are,” was his smiling rejoinder.  “But you don’t expect to find in it a relic of the Revolution, do you?” he asked laughingly, pinching her cheek, then bending down to kiss again the rosy face upturned to his.

“Why yes, papa; I have been thinking there must have been a fight there.  Wasn’t that the case?”

“No, daughter; the fortress was not there at that time.”

“Was it in the war of 1812-14, then, papa?”

“No,” he returned, smiling down on her.  “The building of Fortress Monroe was not begun until 1817.  However, there was a small fort built on Point Comfort in 1630; also, shortly before the siege of Yorktown, Count De Grasse had some fortifications thrown up to protect his troops in landing to take part in that affair.”

But just then the talk was interrupted by the coming on deck of one after another of their party and the exchange of morning greetings; then followed the interest and excitement of the approach to the fortress and anchoring in its vicinity.

Next came the call to breakfast.  But naturally, and quite to Lulu’s satisfaction, the talk at the table turned upon the building of the fort, its history and that of the adjacent country, particularly Hampton, two and a half miles distant.

The captain pointed it out to them all as they stood upon the deck shortly afterward.

“Which is Old Point Comfort, papa?” asked Grace.

“That sandy promontory on the extremity of which stands Fortress Monroe,” he answered.  “Yonder, on the opposite side, is Point Willoughhy, the two forming the mouth of the James River; and these are the Rip Raps between the two.  You see that there the ocean tides and the currents of the river meet and cause a constant ripple.  There is a narrow channel of deep water through the bar, but elsewhere between the capes it is shallow.

“Beyond the Rip Raps we see the spacious harbor which is called Hampton Roads.  It is so large that great navies might ride there together.”

“And I think some have ridden there in our wars with England?” remarked Rosie, half inquiringly.

“You are quite right,” replied the captain; “that happened in both the Revolution and the last war with England.

“In October, 1775, Lord Dunmore, the British governor of Virginia,—­who had, however, abdicated some months earlier by fleeing on board a man-of-war, the Fowey,—­driven by his fears, and his desire for revenge, to destroy the property of the patriots, sent Captain Squires, of the British navy, with six tenders, into Hampton Creek.