The Commodore grasped the hand of the young and ardent sailor, and was delighted to see the flash of joy and pride that sparkled forth from his bright eye. 'You may thank yourself, Mr. Oakum, and the manly efforts you have made to improve your advantages.' Just then the office door was gently opened, and a shaggy head appeared, nodding very significantly, but saying nothing. 'Well, Peter, any thing new stirring?' 'Why, I thought your honor would be pleased to know that the Major had arrived, and the young lady.' 'What, has Major Morris returned, and Susie with him? that is good news.' Peter's head was immediately withdrawn, and he was heard stumping it away at a rapid rate. 'It will be no child's play, Mr. Oakum, as you will find, bringing that vessel home; for I am determined, war or no war, that you must get her into port at all hazards, and if I did not think that you would prove a man in the hour of extremity, depend upon it, sir, I should never confide such a trust to you. The risk of loss I expect to run; and after you have done your best, should you fall into the enemies' hands, you will not be in the least to blame. The management of every thing in reference to this matter I leave entirely to yourself. My schooner is ready for you. She is under your command; select your own crew, and hands enough to make a double crew for the ship on her return.' CHAPTER XVI. Mr. George Rutherford, as I have hinted in a former chapter, was becoming entangled in his pecuniary circumstances. He had no fears as yet that he should not be able to pay every obligation, and have a competency left; but his sensitive spirit was keenly alive to that kind of humiliating deference which is always more or less demanded and received by those who, more calculating in their habits, keep their capital at command, and are enabled to exchange their ready money for the borrower's security. But whatever annoyance or inward torment he suffered was carefully concealed within his own breast; he could not bear to throw a shade over the bright and joyous heart of his wife. It was, however, impossible that one who loved with such entire devotedness, should not perceive when some dark and troublous cloud lay upon the object of her affection. Often would she come to him as he sat musing, at the close of day, and ask-- 'What is it, George! does anything trouble you? these wrinkles are truly beginning to be permanent. Do tell me, and let me share it with you.' And then he would smile, and kiss the fair hand, and say-- 'Nothing, dear Mary; nothing worth telling; there are a thousand little vexations and cares in life, you know, which help to make the marks upon us, I suppose, and thus show that they have been. Nothing, dear Mary.'