“Your father, if I remember rightly the address on the letters, is he not from Boston?” “Yes, sir.” “And a Northerner is thus in a southern town in the thickest of the war?” “My father is a prisoner; he was at Charleston when the first shot of the Civil War was fired, and the troops of the Union driven from Fort Sumter by the Confederates. My father’s opinions exposed him to the hatred of the Slavist part, and by the order of General Beauregard he was imprisoned. I was then in England, living with a relation who has just died, and left alone with no help but that of Crockston, our faithful servant, I wished to go to my father and share his prison with him.” “What was Mr. Halliburtt, then?” asked James Playfair. “A loyal and brave journalist,” replied Jenny proudly, one of the noblest editors of the “Tribune,” and the one who was the boldest in defending the cause of the negroes. “An abolitionist,” cried the Captain angrily; “one of those men, who, under the vain pretence of abolishing slavery, have deluged their country with blood and ruin.” “Sir!” replied Jenny Halliburtt, growing pale, “you are insulting my father; you must not forget that I stand alone to defend him.” The young Captain blushed scarlet; anger mingled with shame struggled in his breast; perhaps he would have answered the young girl, but he succeeded in restraining himself, and opening the door of the cabin, he called “Boatswain!” The boatswain came to him directly. “This cabin will henceforward belong to Miss Jenny Halliburtt; have a cot made ready for me at the end of the poop; that’s all I want.” The boatswain looked with a stupefied stare at the young novice addressed in a feminine name, but on a sign from James Playfair he went out. “And now, miss, you are at home,” said the young Captain of the “Dolphin.” Then he retired. CHAPTER IV. CROCKSTON’s TRICK. It was not long before the whole crew knew Miss Halliburtt’s story, which Crockston was no longer hindered from telling. By the Captain’s orders he was released from the capstan, and the cat-o’-nine-tails returned to its place. “A pretty animal,” said Crockston, “especially when it shows its velvety paws.” As soon as he was free, he went down to the sailors’ berths, found a small portmanteau, and carried it to Miss Jenny; the young girl was now able to resume her feminine attire, but she remained in her cabin, and did not again appear on deck. As for Crockston, it was well and duly agreed that, as he was no more a sailor than a horse-guard, he should be exempt from all duty on board.