Our sailor-boy was rejoiced at the promotion of his friends; but he was heartily disgusted when he learned, a few days later, that Captain Bankhead had been ordered to the command of a gunboat in the Eastern Gulf Squadron, and that by no possibility could he obtain a berth in the same vessel. He poured out his sorrows in dubious strains to his friend Tom Longstone, who did all he could to comfort him. “I’ve got enough of this fresh-water duty!” said Jack. “I want to see the blue sea again, and be tumbled about in a gale once more. I suppose we can get back into the Harrisburg again, if we want to do so.” “Don’t you do it, my darling. We have done very well in this ’ere trim little craft.” “But I don’t want to paddle about here in fresh water all my days; though I wouldn’t mind it if Captain Bankhead were to remain in command.” “See here, Jack: do you mind what them ’ere men are doin’?” continued Tom, pointing to the shipwrights at work on the forecastle of the Middy. “They are putting up bulwarks, of course.” “That means that we are going to sea, my bantling.” “But who is going to command her? That is the question.” “I dunno, Jack.” “Mr. Dickey, very likely.” “Perhaps he be: he’s a ensign now!” added Tom with one of his inward chuckles. “What a lubberly name that is to give an officer in the United States Navy! It aren’t much better nor callin’ him a marine.” The supposition in regard to Mr. Ensign Dickey proved not to be correct; for the command of the Middy was given to Lieutenant McBride: but the aspiring little gentleman was to serve as executive officer, while an acting-ensign--Mr. Brackett--was attached to her as second-lieutenant. The repairs and alterations were completed, her quota of officers reported to the captain, and the Middy was again ready for duty. “All hands, up anchor, ahoy!” piped the acting-boatswain one fine morning about the middle of September. “Here’s a letter which Commander Bankhead requested me to deliver to you, Somers,” said Captain McBride, who had just come on board with his orders, having arrived the night before from Ship Island. “Thank you, sir,” replied Jack, as he received the letter through the window of the wheel-house. “You had better open it before we get off; for it may contain an official document,” added the captain. “I have been expecting an order to send you ashore; but I hope there is nothing of the kind there.” “Nothing, sir.” “Anchor away, sir!” reported the boatswain. “Strike one bell, quartermaster!” said Mr. Dickey. “One bell, sir!” replied Tom Longstone. There was a pilot on board, who had already received his instructions; and, as Tom had the helm, Jack was at liberty to read his letter, which was an object of no little interest to him. Captain Bankhead informed him that he was waiting an opportunity to join his ship, and that they should probably meet again in a few weeks; for the Middy had been transferred to the Eastern Gulf Squadron.