"I was, but I've just received orders to join the _Brooklyn_ and bring at least fifteen men with me. It seems they are short-handed and can't get the men at Norfolk. If this lad wants to go with me, now is his chance. What's his handle?" "My name is Walter Russell, sir. But--but are you going to join the _Brooklyn_ at once?" stammered Walter, never having dreamed that he would be taken away on the spot. "Uncle Sam doesn't wait long when he picks his man," replied the old gunner, for such Caleb Walton was. "Orders were to leave Boston to-night, but I fancy we'll be kept until to-morrow night, for we are shy three men, not counting you. Come on." And he led the way to the building he had previously pointed out. "He's all right, and you're in luck," whispered Phil Newell, when he got the chance. "Cotton to Caleb Walton, and you'll have a friend worth the making." How true were Newell's words the chapters to follow will prove. The building to which Caleb Walton led them was one in which were situated the main business offices of the yard. This was now a busy place, and they had to fairly push their way through the crowd of seamen, officers, and workmen, who kept coming and going, on one errand or another. Several telephones were ringing, and from a corner came the steady click-click of a telegraph sounder. "Uncle Sam has his shirt sleeves rolled up and is pitching in," whispered Caleb Walton. "Here we are. Captain Line, here is another man for my party." "He's rather a boy," rejoined Captain Line, as he gave Walter a searching glance. "Is your father with you?" "My father is dead," answered Walter, softly. "Here is my guardian's consent." And he handed over the sheet. "That seems to be correct. Walton, take him over to the examination room. And hurry up, for I must catch the four-fifty train for New York." The "course of sprouts" had begun, and almost before he knew it, Walter had been passed upon as able-bodied. Time was pressing, and in a quarter of an hour the youth received a slip of paper signed and sealed by Captain Line. "That is good for your passage to Fortress Monroe," he said. "You will make the journey in company with Walton and a number of others. When you get there you will report to Lieutenant Lee, who will have you transferred to the _Brooklyn_,--unless the flagship has already sailed, in which case you will be assigned to some other ship." "And when do I start, sir?" "Walton will have the orders inside of the next hour. Go with him, and he will tell you what to do." Then came a bang of the curtain to a roller-top desk, a shoving back of a revolving chair, and in a twinkle Captain Line had disappeared from view. Truly, Uncle Sam and all under him were rushing things.