“I don’t think I do. If he had given my poor mother a hundredth part of his big fortune when she was alive, I would have blessed his memory, and heeded his slightest wish, alive or dead.” “Then the executor of your uncle must go down on his knees, and beg you to take the fortune he has left you!” exclaimed the lieutenant. “If you don’t want it yourself, take the money, and hand it over to the poor, myself among the number.” “I suppose I shall take whatever my uncle has left me; and I shall try to make a good use of it. But when I came into the academy squadron, I had made up my mind that I would be the architect of my own fortunes. I came here to learn the arts of seamanship and navigation as the means to earn my own living. I don’t feel like turning away from my plan yet. I love the sea.” “But with all the money your uncle will leave you, can’t you sail all over the world in your own yacht; and that yacht a steamer like the American Prince, or a full-rigged ship like the Young America? What are you talking about?” “But I want to finish my course in the Tritonia; and, if you won’t laugh at me, I mean to be the captain of her before she reaches the shores of the United States,” said Tom, with enthusiasm. “Oh, murther! is that what’s the matter wid you?” ejaculated O’Hara, with a laugh. “I had that same fayver; and, when I first got into the Tritonia, I said to myself that I would be the captain of her in six months; and now it’s more than a year I’m in her, and I’m only fourth lieutenant.” “If I fail, I fail; but I shall do all I can to win the position.” “But don’t be a lunatic any longer! Open the letter, and see what’s the matter. Faix I’m dying with curiosity to know what’s in it,” continued the lieutenant. “One reason why I did not open it before was that I wanted to talk with you about it; for I believe you are the best friend I have in the ship,” said Tom earnestly; for he had a great admiration for his fellow watch-officer. “Thank you for that. Upon my sowl, I think you are a good fellow, if you are a lunatic on the letter. Take the advice of your best friend on board, and see what’s in that envelope immejitly.” “I will, since you advise it,” replied Tom, taking the letter from his pocket. While O’Hara was glancing at the superscription, the boatswain’s whistle sounded through the ship. “All hands, up anchor!” shouted that officer, after he had piped the call. Tom Speers grasped the letter, and returned it to his pocket. At the next instant he was at his station, for with his lofty ambition he could not afford to be the last in his place. The first lieutenant was in position on the quarter-deck, with the speaking-trumpet in his hand, though it was an emblem of authority, rather than a useful implement in a quiet time. “Man the capstan!” said this high official, in moderate tones, considering the magnitude of the position he filled.