His state-room was lighted by a bull's eye, or round glass window, which could be opened in port, or in pleasant weather at sea. The room contained but one berth, which was quite wide for a ship, supplied with an excellent mattress; and one who could not sleep well in such a bed must be troubled with a rebellious conscience. There was also a bureau, the upper drawer of which, when the front was dropped down, became a convenient writing desk, supplied with small drawers, shelves, and pigeon-holes. The room was carpeted, and contained all that a reasonable man could require to make him comfortable and happy. There was only one drawback upon the happiness of Somers; and that was the absence of Mr. Waldron. There was not one among the officers whom he could now call by the endearing name of friend, though all of them were good officers and gentlemanly men, and he had no reason to anticipate any difficulty with any of them, unless it was with Mr. Pillgrim. He sighed for the friendly guidance and the genial companionship of the late commander of the Rosalie, especially in view of the embarrassing circumstances which surrounded him. But it was some compensation to know that his old shipmate, Tom Longstone, had been promoted to the rank of boatswain, and ordered to the Chatauqua. The old man's splendid behavior in Doboy Sound had enabled Mr. Waldron to secure this favor for him, and to obtain his appointment to his own ship. Mr. Longstone, as he must hereafter be called, came on board in a uniform of bright blue, and his dress so altered his appearance that Somers hardly recognized him. The old salt had always been very careful about "putting on airs," when he was a common sailor or a petty officer; but he knew how to be a gentleman, and his new dignity sat as easily upon him as though he had been brought up in the ward-room. Though he looked well, and carried himself like an officer, he could not immediately adapt his language to his new position. He was a representative sailor, and he could not help being "salt." The boatswain was Somers's only real friend on board, and the distance between a ward-room officer and a forward officer was so great that he was not likely to realize any especial satisfaction from the friendship; but it was pleasant to know that there was even one in the ship who was devoted to him, heart and soul. "All hands, up anchor!" piped the boatswain; and it was a pleasant sound to the fourth lieutenant of the Chatauqua, as doubtless it was to all hands, for "lying in the stream" is stupid work to an expectant crew.