Jack Lange was hurrying along Front Street; he had been transferred from the _Constitution_ to the _Wasp_. It was but a moment before that he had landed. He had the tall water-roll in his gait. He was very jaunty in appearance, with his clean, white breeches very much belled at the bottom, his short blue jacket and glazed cap, and from the smile on his face one could see that he was very well pleased with himself. The half-fathom of ribbon that hung over his left ear would occasionally trail out behind like a homing pennant. He was bound for Brownjohn's wharf, where he knew he might fall in with some of his old messmates and gather up the news. As he luffed sharp about a corner he passed some one hurrying in the opposite direction. It was a man of about thirty years of age. His arms were held stiff at his side, and his face was twitching nervously. His eyes were rolling in excitement. Jack Lange turned, and lifting one hand to the side of his mouth, he shouted: "Ship ahoy, there!" The other man whirled quickly, and the two stood looking at one another for an instant before either spoke. Then the big sailor advanced. "What's the hurry, messmate?" he said. "This is McGovern, isn't it? Don't you remember me?" "Sure I remember you," returned the other in a voice with a touch of a rich brogue. "Have you heard the news?" he added suddenly, his hand trembling as he touched Lange on the arm. "What is it--about war?" asked Jack, eagerly. "Aye, the war, d'ye mind that? There'll be great doings before long!" "I suppose they'll lay the navy up in ordinary, and we poor fellows will join the sorefoots with a musket over our shoulders." "Not a bit of it; they're going to outfit and sail to meet 'em," responded McGovern. "I'm off to tell my folks." The news was all about the town. People were running hither and thither, clapping on their hats, women called to one another from the windows of the houses, crowds commenced to gather. Suddenly Jack hesitated. Surely it was a cheer, a rousing, sailors' cheer, off to the left down the alley! He listened again, and giving a hitch to his breeches, he started in a lumbering, clumsy gait, swinging his cap about his head. "Hurray!" he bellowed at top lung as he saw in a crowd gathered before one of the little taverns the uniforms of some of the _Constitution's_ men, and recognized also Bill Roberts, and his old messmate Grattan. When the _Wasp_ sailed again, she carried between her decks as fine a crew as ever hauled a rope or manned a yard. Some of the men who had served on board the _Constitution_ now swung their hammocks in the crowded forecastle of the little sloop.