The petty officer stepped forward and received some brief instructions from his superior, which were given in Jack's hearing. "These are Union boys, and one of them has come out here to ship," said the officer. "I want you to pilot him to the _Harriet Lane_. You are not to interfere with the management of the schooner in any way, for she is not a prize. She sails under our flag. Tell the captain the same story you have told me," he added, turning to Jack, "and I think it will be all right. Good-bye." With these parting words the officer and his boarding party clambered down into the launch, which put off to resume her useless vigil at the mouth of the Inlet; the boatswain's mate, at Jack's request, took his place at the wheel, and the _Fairy Belle_ filled away on her course. "All right so far," said Marcy, who breathed a great deal easier now than he did when the launch first hove in sight. "If the captain of the _Harriet Lane_ treats us as well as that ensign did, I shall be glad I came out here." "He will, sir," said the boatswain's mate, letting go of the wheel with one hand long enough to raise his forefinger to his cap. "He always does. We have often had shore boats, come off to us since we have been on the blockade." "You have!" exclaimed Marcy, who was very much surprised. "And do you let them go ashore again when they get ready?" "Cert'ny, sir. They come and go betwixt two days--not because they are afraid of us, but because they must look out that the rebels ashore don't hear of it. Some of the boats get news from Newbern every day or so." "We know that," answered Jack. "And we heard a rebel say, not long ago, that if the Newbern people could find out who it is that sends off the papers so regularly they would make short work of him. How much farther have we to go?" "Not more than ten miles, sir. We'll see our lights directly." "Do you know anything about this little blockade-runner that your launch is watching for?" inquired Marcy. "Who is she? What's her name and where does she hail from?" "We know all about her, sir, for we chased her once when she was the privateer _Osprey_. She belongs up Roanoke River, but she runs the blockade out of Newbern. Her captain--what's this his name is again?--Beardsley, used to be a smuggler; and if we get our hands on him we'll be likely to remember him for that. Our Uncle Sam ain't so broke up yet but what he can deal with men who have violated his laws." "I hope to goodness you may get your hands upon him," thought Marcy, who was surprised at the extent and accuracy of the blue-jacket's information. It proved beyond a doubt that there were Union men ashore who kept the Yankee commanders posted, and Marcy wished he knew who they were. He might find it convenient to appeal to them if he and his mother got into trouble with Captain Beardsley.