“Heaven knows that I wish to do so, my dear lad! Perhaps you may answer me one more question—a last one: Why did you drop your lawful name of ‘Roland Bayard,’ and take another by which you are now known—‘Craven Cloud?’ You need not answer if you do not choose?” “I will tell you. The life of a blockade runner——” “Blockade runner be blowed!” angrily exclaimed the old skipper. “Pirate, you mean! You can’t blind me with—blockade runner! Not after her taking the _Kitty_, you can’t! Pirate, lad—pirate!” “Just as you please! The life, I say, on such a ship is uncertain; death often tragic. I did not wish to carry an honest name through such a life, or to such a death. In a word—if those who loved me were destined to hear one Craven Cloud—blockade runner, pirate, slaver, as you please—had been taken and hanged, I did not wish them to know that I was the man. I took an alias, and I made it Craven Cloud because the name suited the case. There! that is all.” “But, Roland, you are no pirate—no slaver. It is impossible that you should be!” exclaimed the old skipper with the utmost confidence, yet still eagerly, prayerfully gazing into the troubled face of his young mate for confirmation of those words. But still no such confirmation came. The door opened and a soldier entered. “Sorry,” he said, in a serio-comic spirit in which some of the soldiers jested their cares away, “sorry to separate you, but the best of friends must part. Shutting up time has come, and the word is march!” “Do you mean I must go?” inquired the old skipper. “That’s about the measure of it, granddad.” “Good-by, Roland, lad! Mind, I don’t believe any ill of you, in spite of all. I shall come to see you again to-morrow, and bring Rosemary with me.” “No! no! no! no! Do not bring her! I am parted from Rosemary forever! The sight of her—would unman me!” cried the youth. “Then—what am I to say to her when I see her?” “Say—the best you can—the fairest, the most merciful you can!” exclaimed Roland. The old skipper wrung the youth’s hand and left the room. He returned to the hotel, but kept entirely out of the way of the Forces. He had not the courage to meet Rosemary. CHAPTER XVII ON BOARD THE PRIZE Soon after dinner the earl and the squire left the hotel for the ship. They took a street car that ran from Georgetown to the navy yard gate. There they alighted and entered the yard, passed the officers’ quarters, passed the workshops and the ship house and went down to the water side. As they neared it they saw an officer in naval uniform standing with his back toward them, and his gaze directed toward a boat, rowed by six men, that was swiftly coming toward the shore. Mr. Force quickened his steps and laid his hand on the arm of the man, whom he had recognized as Le. The latter turned quickly, started joyfully, and held out both hands, exclaiming: “Uncle Abel!”