spered to the commodore, "By George, Cleveland, is that youth's name
Henry, and does he speak French?"

"Hush, Piron, he may hear you. His mother was French, and he speaks the
language like a native. She died when he was a baby, and he doesn't like
to allude to it. Come, steward, we are all ready. Serve the gumbo!"

The cabin of the frigate was divided by a light lattice-work bulkhead in
two parts, running from quarter to quarter of the vessel. The after part
had a large sleeping stateroom on either side, resting on the quarter
galleries, and opening on to another gallery which hung over the stern
of the frigate. Inside, in the open space, was a round table, cushioned
lounges, a few chairs, with a bronze lamp pendent from a beam above,
while taking the curve of the stern over the after windows was a range
of bookcases, half hidden by the gilt cornice and curtains of the
windows. The entire fittings and furniture of cabin and staterooms,
including the neat Brussels carpet on the deck, were elegant and useful,
though by no means luxurious. The forward cabin, where no carpet graced
the floor, was much more spacious. It took in the two after ports of the
gun-deck; and the carriages and cannon within the sills of the ports
were painted a marble white, as were the ropes, in covered canvas, that
held them. In a recess forward was a large mahogany sideboard, or
buffet, the top fitted with a framework for glasses and decanters, which
were reflected from a large mirror let into the bulkhead. In the middle
of this space was the dining-table, lighted by a pair of globe lamps
hanging from above, while neat racks for bottles and water-jugs, moving
on sliding brass rods, were also suspended from the paneled beams and
carlines of the upper deck ceiling. On the right--the starboard
side--was a door leading into a roomy pantry, where the steward and
Domino, and the servants of the commodore, bestirred themselves at
dinner-time.

"So, my friends," exclaimed the commodore, "you wish to hear what became
of me after I last parted with you?"

"By all means, Cleveland! we are all dying to hear, and--" Here Piron's
appeal was interrupted by the heavy report of a bow gun, which gave a
slight, though almost imperceptible jar to the frigate.

"Smithereens! Stingo! what noise is that?" exclaimed Burns.

"Only the nine o'clock gun, sir," replied Darcantel.

"Hech, mon!" said Stewart, "ye needna upset ma glass of auld Madeira in
yer mickle fri