As the Leopard went off on her course, considerably shaken by the fresh breeze which had stirred up a smart sea, the acting captain of the tug saw that all the men who had been on the forecastle had disappeared, with a single exception. The major was not to be seen, and doubtless he was taking care of the sick captain, or arranging his plan for the interview with the people of the Bellevite. In a few minutes more, this last man disappeared, and Percy Pierson took his place on the forecastle. "So you are a Yank, are you, Mr. Pierson?" said he of that name, looking up to the window at which Christy stood. "Whatever I am, I am in command of a Confederate steamer," replied Christy, laughing. "What is your brother doing, Mr. Percy?" "I am sure I don't know: he is only talking to the men," answered the young man, who had evidently been put there to act as a lookout. At that moment a voice was heard from farther aft, and Percy went towards the stern of the boat. A few minutes later he ascended to the pilot-house. On the sofa abaft the wheel was Lieutenant Dallberg, where he had dropped asleep as he finished his report of what he had learned on shore. "Mr. Dallberg!" shouted Percy; but the lieutenant did not show any signs of life till the messenger had shaken him smartly. "Major Pierson wants you down below." The officer rubbed his eyes for a moment, and then rose from the sofa, and left the apartment. The summons for the lieutenant made it look to Christy as though something was in progress below. There was only one thing which the major could think of doing; and that was to capture the Bellevite, either by force or by strategy. He would have given a good deal to know what the plan was, but it seemed to him to be quite impossible to leave the wheel. "How is the sick man, Percy?" asked Christy, when he found that the messenger was not disposed to leave the pilot-house. "He is a good deal better: they have just given him another glass of brandy," replied Percy. This statement did not agree with that of the major, who had told him the captain was likely to die, and that there was not a drop of brandy on board of the boat. The commandant of the fort had evidently been acting in the pilot-house with a purpose. "Didn't your brother order you to stay on the forecastle, Mr. Percy?" asked Christy, when his companion came to the wheel on the opposite side from the helmsman. "No: he said if I would help him, he would do what he could for me; and he told me to keep a lookout at this end of the tug. I can see ahead better here than I can down below," replied Percy, as he tried to turn the wheel. "I believe I could steer this thing." "I know you could, Percy. Do you see the Bellevite?" "Of course I do: I'm not blind." "She has stopped her screw, and is not going ahead now," added Christy, as he let go the spokes of the wheel, and proceeded to instruct his pupil. A few minutes later, Christy left the pilot-house to take a look below.