At the table Somers sat opposite the lieutenant, and he found it impossible to avoid looking upon him with a strange and undefinable interest. Since his first glance at the commodore's visitor, who seemed to be on the best of terms with the family, he had been perplexed by some strange misgivings. He could not banish from his mind an assurance that he had seen him before; that he had talked with him, and even been, to some extent, intimate with him. The thought that Kate was somewhat changed in her demeanor towards him did not contribute to increase his satisfaction. She had contrived to take the lieutenant's arm instead of his own, and perhaps he had come as the successor of Phil Kennedy, who had been reputed to be high in her good graces. But Mr. Pillgrim was a gentleman of thirty-five, at least, and this was not probable, in his view of the matter. Somers, being disinterested, was more worried to know when, where, and under what circumstances he had met the lieutenant. CHAPTER II. WAITING FOR THE SHIP. Somers was utterly unable to satisfy himself in regard to Lieutenant Pillgrim. The face was certainly familiar to him, not as a combination of remembered features, but rather as an expression. To him the eye seemed to be the whole of the man, and its gaze would haunt him, though his memory refused to identify it with any time, place, or circumstances. Though his reason compelled him to believe that he was mistaken, and that Mr. Pillgrim was actually a stranger, his consciousness of having seen, and even of having been intimate with, the gentleman, most obstinately refused to be shaken. "Of course, gentlemen, you have no idea to what point the Chatauqua has been ordered?" said the commodore. "I have not," replied Mr. Pillgrim. "I have heard it said that she was going to the Gulf," added Somers. "Very likely; there are two points where extensive naval operations are likely to be undertaken--at Mobile and at Wilmington. The rebellion has had so many hard knocks that the bottom must drop out before many months." "I am afraid the end is farther off than most people at the North are willing to believe," said Mr. Pillgrim. "Every thing looks hopeful. If we can contrive to batter down Fort Fisher, and open Mobile Bay, the rebels may count the months of their Confederacy on their fingers." "I think there is greater power of resistance left in the South, than we give it the credit for." "The rebels have fought well; what of it?" continued the commodore, who did not seem to be pleased with the style of the lieutenant's remarks. "As fighting men, we can hardly fail to respect those who have fought so bravely as the people of the South." "People of the South!" sneered the commodore. "Why don't you call them rebels?" "Of course that is what I mean," answered Mr. Pillgrim, a slight flush visible on his cheek.