The Man Without a Country and Other Tales | Page 8

the
same," just nodded to Fellows, as if to say he must leave Mr. Nolan to
her, and led him off to the place where the dance was forming.
Nolan thought he had got his chance. He had known her at Philadelphia,
and at other places had met her, and this was a Godsend. You could not

talk in contra-dances, as you do in cotillons, or even in the pauses of
waltzing; but there were chances for tongues and sounds, as well as for
eyes and blushes. He began with her travels, and Europe, and Vesuvius,
and the French; and then, when they had worked down, and had that
long talking-time at the bottom of the set, he said, boldly,--a little pale,
she said, as she told me the story, years after,--
"And what do you hear from home, Mrs. Graff?"
And that splendid creature looked through him. Jove! how she must
have looked through him!
"Home!! Mr. Nolan!!! I thought you were the man who never wanted
to hear of home again!"--and she walked directly up the deck to her
husband, and left poor Nolan alone, as he always was.--He did not
dance again.
I cannot give any history of him in order; nobody can now; and, indeed,
I am not trying to. These are the traditions, which I sort out, as I believe
them, from the myths which have been told about this man for forty
years. The lies that have been told about him are legion. The fellows
used to say he was the "Iron Mask"; and poor George Pons went to his
grave in the belief that this was the author of "Junius," who was being
punished for his celebrated libel on Thomas Jefferson. Pons was not
very strong in the historical line. A happier story than either of these I
have told is of the War. That came along soon after. I have heard this
affair told in three or four ways,--and, indeed, it may have happened
more than once. But which ship it was on I cannot tell. However, in one,
at least, of the great frigate-duels with the English, in which the navy
was really baptized, it happened that a round-shot from the enemy
entered one of our ports square, and took right down the officer of the
gun himself, and almost every man of the gun's crew. Now you may
say what you choose about courage, but that is not a nice thing to see.
But, as the men who were not killed picked themselves up, and as they
and the surgeon's people were carrying off the bodies, there appeared
Nolan, in his shirt-sleeves, with the rammer in his hand, and, just as if
he had been the officer, told them off with authority,--who should go to
the cockpit with the wounded men, who should stay with
him,--perfectly cheery, and with that way which makes men feel sure
all is right and is going to be right. And he finished loading the gun
with his own hands, aimed it, and bade the men fire. And there he

stayed, captain of that gun, keeping those fellows in spirits, till the
enemy struck,--sitting on the carriage while the gun was cooling,
though he was exposed all the time,--showing them easier ways to
handle heavy shot,--making the raw hands laugh at their own
blunders,--and when the gun cooled again, getting it loaded and fired
twice as often as any other gun on the ship. The captain walked forward
by way of encouraging the men, and Nolan touched his hat and said,--
"I am showing them how we do this in the artillery, sir."
And this is the part of the story where all the legends agree; and the
Commodore said,--
"I see you do, and I thank you, sir; and I shall never forget this day, sir,
and you never shall, sir."
And after the whole thing was over, and he had the Englishman's sword,
in the midst of the state and ceremony of the quarter-deck, he said,--
"Where is Mr. Nolan? Ask Mr. Nolan to come here."
And when Nolan came, the captain said,--
"Mr. Nolan, we are all very grateful to you to-day; you are one of us
to-day; you will be named in the despatches."
And then the old man took off his own sword of ceremony, and gave it
to Nolan, and made him put it on. The man told me this who saw it.
Nolan cried like a baby, and well he might. He had not worn a sword
since that infernal day at Fort Adams. But always afterwards on
occasions of ceremony, he wore that quaint old French sword of the
Commodore's.
The captain did mention him in the despatches. It was always said he
asked that he might be pardoned.