"The old ship is still standing," he continued, soliloquizing again, as he walked toward the bluff. "I suppose it will come awfully hard on the old man when he finds out that the government is going to sell her. What did they tell me his name was? Somebody or other distinguished; I forget who. Must have been a fine old chap in his day. What was it he said when he looked out of the window before he bade me good-night? This is going to be rather a tough sort of a job, I'm afraid, and I don't half like it." He had reached the hill by this time, and, feeling a little tired, he sat down on the steps overlooking the sea. There, below him on the Point, stood the ship-of-the-line. An imposing picture, indeed. He had been too busy the night before to notice it. He stared at it with growing interest, and a feeling of pity, for whom, for what, he could scarcely say, slowly rose in his heart. "Poor old ship!" he murmured. A ragged mass of fallen timber on the lee side proclaimed that some portion of her had been carried away during the storm of the night,--and she had little left to spare. There, too, on the reef beyond, were the remains of the _Josephine_, battered into a shapeless ruin. "Well, that was a close shave; the _Josephine_ will never carry sail again. What melancholy pictures!" he said, thoughtfully; "poor little boat, too! I've had many a good time on her, and now I--But I'd cheerfully give a dozen yachts," he continued, with the reckless hyperbole of youth, "to be rescued by----" CHAPTER VIII "OLD IRONSIDES" The continuity of his thought was suddenly broken. A beautiful hand, of exquisite touch, sunburned, but shapely, delicate, but strong, was laid lightly on his shoulder. He glanced down at it, thrilled! "Captain Barry," exclaimed a fresh, clear young voice, which in perfection matched the hand, "have you looked to the comfort of our guest? Oh, sir, I beg your pardon. I thought----" she cried in dismay, as Revere rose to his feet and bowed low before her. "May I answer your question? He has, as these clothes, which account for your mistake, will witness." "And are you well, sir? Are you none the worse for----?" "Much the better, I should say," answered the young man, "since my adventure has gained me the privilege of your acquaintance." "You might have had that without risking your life, sir," she responded, smiling. "Not without risking my heart, I am sure," he replied, gallantly. "What a strange way you have of addressing people!" she continued, looking at him so frankly and so innocently that he felt ashamed of himself. "Do you always talk in that way?" "Well, not always," he replied, laughing; "but I jest----" "Oh, it was only a jest, then," she interrupted, her heart sinking faintly. "But I jest when I should be thanking you for giving me my life," he continued, disregarding her interruption. "You saved my life, Miss--I do not know your name." "I am Emily Sanford, the admiral's granddaughter."