If our space would permit, we could, no doubt, tell what Jack Somers was thinking about as the train hurled him along into the arms of his future destiny. He was a good boy, and I suppose he thought of everything that would be likely to occur to the mind of a good boy leaving home to take a part in the most momentous war in which a nation ever engaged. But, of whatever else he thought, I am sure that his mother was uppermost in his mind. For her sake he was resolved to be true to his God, his country, and himself. At the appointed time, he met Lieutenant Bankhead at the hotel where he was boarding while in the city; and after dinner they repaired to the naval rendezvous, where John was duly presented for examination under the auspices of his influential friend. “Your name, my lad?” demanded the recruiting agent. “John Somers,” replied our hero with a promptness which was part of his nature. “How old are you?” “Seventeen, sir.” “Have you been to sea?” “Yes, sir.” “How long?” “One voyage to the West Indies, and two to Charlestown. I have been about boats ever since I was a baby.” “I can vouch for him that he is every inch a sailor,” added Lieutenant Bankhead; “and the smartest lad in a small craft I ever came across in my life.” “Looks like it,” said the agent. “What can you do, my lad?” “Hand, reef, and steer. I know something about rigging; but I don’t want to ship as an able seaman.” “Good: ordinary seaman, then; though you are rather young.” “Better than half of them in the service,” said Jack’s friend. “All right, Mr. Bankhead. We will take your word for it.” “I ought to know: I have sailed with him when I wouldn’t trust myself in the hands of many a skipper that I have known.” John was then taken into another room, where he was ordered to “strip,” and was thoroughly examined with regard to his physical condition. A minute description of his person was then written out, including his height, complexion, color of his eyes, and other distinguishing marks, which would enable his officers to identify him if occasion should require. He was pronounced sound in every respect, and fit to serve the United States Government in the capacity of an ordinary seaman. The men on board a ship-of-war are shipped in three classes: landsmen, who know nothing about a ship; ordinary seamen, who can “hand, reef, and steer,” and who are sent aloft to perform the ordinary work of a sailor; and seamen, sometimes called “able seamen,” who are competent to do everything required in fitting out and working the ship; who know all about rigging, splicing ropes, making and mending sails; who can rig and unrig any spar; and who understand the lead.