“We are in for’t now, Jack. We shall have some music afore long,” said Tom Longstone, when Jack reported his information to the old quartermaster. “I’ll bet a month’s pay we pitch into Mobile afore April Fool’s Day.” “I hope so,” replied Jack. “Perhaps you won’t feel so good about it when the time comes. You don’t know what ’tis, Jack, to see round-shot smashin’ through the sides of the ship, tearing off splinters, and scatterin’ ’em like kindlin’-wood all over the decks, knocking over the best men at the guns. We don’t any on us know much about it.” “I’m ready for it, if we can only knock Mobile, or any other rebel place, in pieces. I hoped I should be in when Charleston was taken.” “Time enough yet, Jack.” If our hero could have known in what bloody and exciting scenes he was soon to engage, he would have been satisfied to spend the intervening time in preparing for the future. Every day the men were drilled at the guns, and in the use of the cutlass and boarding-pike; so that, the longer the trying ordeal of battle was deferred, the better prepared were the crew to meet it. After a passage of four days, the Harrisburg arrived at Ship Island; which my young readers are aware is little more than a sand-bar off the eastern coast of Louisiana. She was now nearer the rebels than she had been before; and certain little steamers, flaunting the Confederate flag, were occasionally seen near the land, as they came out to ascertain what Uncle Sam was doing at the island. They were very prudent, however; and seldom placed themselves within range of the heavy guns on board the ships-of-war. After the ship had been at this station about ten days, a boat-expedition was organized; though its object, as usual, was a profound secret to all except the officers. From various indications, the enterprise promised to be an exciting affair. The first, second, and third cutters were to compose the boat-party; and, besides the regular crews, a limited number of seamen were to engage in the expedition. Forthwith there was a great struggle among the men to obtain places in the boats; for there was hardly a man on board who did not wish to be counted in. The men had all been selected by Mr. Bankhead; and Jack Somers was terribly disappointed when he found that he was “left out in the cold.” Tom Longstone was to go in the first cutter, and our hero bemoaned to him his sad fate in being compelled to stay behind. “Never mind, Jack; plenty of time yet. It will be your turn next,” replied Tom in soothing tones. “Let me go in your place, Tom,” asked Jack, half in jest, and half in earnest. “Can’t do that,” replied the veteran, shaking his head. “If there’s any chance for a fight, I mustn’t lose it. Besides, you may lose your number in the mess if you go.” “I’ll risk that. Don’t you think I can get a chance to go?” “Perhaps you can find someone that will give you his chance, my little piper.” “Who wants to go?” said a voice at the mess-table behind them.