“What more likely, sir? You know how it is with our government--always wrong, whatever it does! and I can show you paragraphs in letters written from New Orleens, which tell us that Uncle Sam is paying seventy-five and eighty per cent. more for flour than anybody else.” “He must be a flush old chap to be able to do that, Spike.” “Flush! I rather think he is. Do you know that he is spendin', accordin' to approved accounts, at this blessed moment, as much as half a million a day? I own a wish to be pickin' up some of the coppers while they are scattered about so plentifully.” “Half a million a day! why that is only at the rate of $187,000,000 per annum; a mere trifle, Spike, that is scarce worth mentioning among us mariners.” “It's so in the newspapers, I can swear, lieutenant.” “Ay, ay, and the newspapers will swear to it, too, and they that gave the newspapers their cue. But no matter, our business is with this flour. Will you sell us a barrel or two for our mess? I heard the caterer say we should want flour in the course of a week or so.” Spike seemed embarrassed, though not to a degree to awaken suspicion in his companion. “I never sold cargo at sea, long as I've sailed and owned a craft,” he answered, as if uncertain what to do. “If you'll pay the price I expect to get in the Gulf, and will take ten barrels, I do n't know but we may make a trade on't. I shall only ask expected prices.” “Which will be--?” “Ten dollars a barrel. For one hundred silver dollars I will put into your boat ten barrels of the very best brand known in the western country.” “This is dealing rather more extensively than I anticipated, but we will reflect on it.” Wallance now indolently arose and ascended to the quarter-deck, followed by Spike, who continued to press the flour on him, as if anxious to make money. But the lieutenant hesitated about paying a price as high as ten dollars, or to take a quantity as large as ten barrels. “Our mess is no great matter after all,” he said carelessly. “Four lieutenants, the purser, two doctors, the master, and a marine officer, and you get us all. Nine men could never eat ten barrels of flour, my dear Spike, you will see for yourself, with the quantity of excellent bread we carry. You forget the bread.” “Not a bit of it, Mr. Wallace, since that is your name. But such flour as this of mine has not been seen in the Gulf this many a day. I ought in reason to ask twelve dollars for it, and insist on such a ship as your'n's taking twenty instead of the ten barrels.” “I thank you, sir, the ten will more than suffice; unless, indeed, the captain wants some for the cabin. How is it with your steerage messes, Mr. Archer--do you want any flour?”