“'Ah,' lie says, 'but you're not in the service now. That will of co'se be neces-sa'y. Well, sir, the Administ'ation appreciates your gen'osity,' he says. 'You'll convey the Administ'ation's thanks to these myste'ous parties,' he says, looking extraor'nary calm an' fishy. An' I goes back to Baltimore feelin' a trifle damp, but still pat'iotic. Well, sir, they're prompt at that Department, if they are damp. In three days I got orders to take the _Octarara_ up here to be fitted out an' commissioned an' manned, an' instead of a family party there won't be but four Baltimore men aboard her.” “They couldn't have anything that looked like privateering,” said my father, after a pause, “with a lot of Confederate privateers locked up in the Tombs here for piracy.” “Tha's what I said to Dan. 'Twasn't reason to be sure. Dan wanted the family party; but he saw reason, an' brought the _Octarara_ up, an' I came later, an' here we are, bustin' 'ith pat'iot-ism and ordered to Hampton Roads, maybe they know when. I don't myself.” “Yes, sir,” broke in Mr. Morgan. “They do say huntin' blockade is like a dog after fleas, respectin' their liveliness, ve'y similar; him not knowin' where they are till he's bit.” Captain Cavarly seemed to disapprove of this saying, glancing sharply at Mr. Morgan, whether because he felt it a slur on the navy, or for another reason, I could not guess at that time; moreover, they all now fell to looking at me inquiringly, which made me nervous and out of countenance. “I'll have to refer you to the p'oper official, Mr. Cree,” said Cavarly. “Ben, boy,” said my father, in a voice quickly growing husky, while his eyes looked dim and sad, “your uncle advises you ship naval apprentice, and he thinks you're as well not aboard the _Saratoga_ as yet.” “He's quite right, sir,” said Cavarly. “There was no favo'itism where I learned seamanship.” “Man can't throw the necessa'y belayin' pins at his relative,” said Mr. Morgan. “It lace'ates the feelin's.” “And Captain Cavarly is good enough to----” “Oh, tha's all right, tha's all right.” “He'll see if he can't get you a berth with him, if you like, Ben, supposing you feel that way.” My father paused, looking troubled and uncertain, while Cavarly murmured, “Tha's all right,” soothingly, and Morgan, “Don' lace'ate the feelin's.” For me, I felt bewildered, and my heart seemed to be pumping my head full of confusion, so that I stammered, saying I would go. Then Cavarly and Morgan and my father went on talking, while Calhoun sat quietly listening, and I was content enough to have no further notice taken of me.