"We don't expect to whip the whole Yankee navy, but we shall do the best we can, and that's more than you seem inclined to do. You have had a good deal to say concerning the cowards who are stopping at home when the South is calling for their services. Why did you not go to the front yourself long ago, you noisy braggart? Put a uniform on before you speak to me again." "Good for you, Marcy," cried a score of voices. "Actions and not frothy sentiment are what we want now." "Hit him again and I'll help," shouted another; and Marcy's old-time friend, Wat Gifford, elbowed his way through the crowd. He was in full uniform, and was the only citizen of Nashville who had snuffed powder at the bombardment of Fort Sumter. "Talk is cheap, but it takes patriotism to face Yankees." If Marcy had had a week in which to consider the matter, he could not have done a better thing than he did right there on the spur of the moment. Young Allison slunk away abashed, and the privateer's pilot regained at one bound all he had ever lost in the estimation of the Nashville people. CHAPTER XVII. MARCY GRAY PRIVATEERSMAN. "Wat, you're just the fellow I want to see," exclaimed Marcy, taking his friend by the arm and leading him from the post-office. "When did you get home?" "Came last night to recruit after my arduous campaign, and to spread a little enthusiasm and patriotism among you stay-at-home chaps," answered Wat. "But, say," he added, in a lower tone. "I didn't expect to find you in the service. You're Union." "Who told you that?" "I'll be switched if I know. It's all over the country and in everybody's mouth. I reckon you're Union about as I am. I say that secession is all wrong, that we would be better without it, and that the people who are urging it on don't know what they are about. There's Allison for one; and I'm heartily glad you gave him such a set-back. He'll talk himself hoarse, but when it comes to shouldering a musket, he'll not be there. He'll be a bully chap to stand back and holler 'St-boy'; but he won't take a hand himself." By this time the two friends had perched themselves upon a low fence where they could be alone and talk without fear of being overheard, and Gifford showed his Yankee descent by pulling out his knife and looking around for a stick to whittle. "And is that the reason all our old friends have gone back on us, mother and me--because they think we are for the Union?" asked Marcy. "I believe that is the reason a good many have turned the cold shoulder upon you," replied Gifford. "You asked me a fair question, and I have given you a plain answer; but I am sorry to have to do it." "It's all right," Marcy assured him. "I want to know where I stand--" "And then you will know how to carry yourself," added his friend. "But every one hasn't gone back on you; I haven't." "You are the solitary exception."