ed the wharves to inspect the mystery.

At last someone thought of sending a boat to board her. Twenty men
manned a launch and steamed out cautiously.

"Ahoy, there! Where do you belong?" demanded the officer in charge of
the launch.

"I have a letter to the President of the United States," answered the
boy with quivering lips.

"Whose vessel is this? Let down the gangway."

Two black sailors sprang from the hold of the mysterious vessel to obey.

"She belongs to the United States," replied the boy. "Please let me take
the letter. You can take the boat."

Astounded beyond measure, the officer leaped on board. No name was
visible.

"What is her name?" he asked eagerly.

"She has none. The President can name her. She was called the
'Lightning,'" said the boy steadily.

"By ----! I might have known," cried the officer. "Where is He? Who are
you?"

"He is not here. The letter tells, sir. I am his son."

Rupert put both hands upon the spokes of the wheel, and held his head up
straight. He faced the officer who had ordered the chase when the
"Lightning" escaped with his country's gold.

What thoughts went through the lad's mind? Did he regret this last and
most quixotic step? Did he long to "up the anchor," and give the signal
to fly ahead? Did he regret freedom and lawlessness? Or was his heart
that was broken by disgrace, healed by the atonement?

"Let me have the letter." The officer spoke after a long look at the son
of America's most execrated malefactor. His voice was not harsh, for he
divined how the boy's loyalty to his father and his country really
blended into an emotion which men call honor.

Rupert put his hand to his breast:--

"My orders are to deliver the letter to the President with my own hand."

"You shall do so. The President is there."

The officer pointed to a high, white monster of distinction. "He is
aboard there. He is watching you this minute. Jump in!"

The boy paled. For only a moment his courage deserted him, and he almost
tumbled into the launch.

A great crowd of witnesses had gathered about the President, as if to
protect him.

The word "assassin," was whispered from man to man. Even the officer
could not command an avenue to the Chief Executive.

"Let him be brought," said the President authoritatively. With a marine
glass he had watched the motions of the vessel, the boy, and the
officer.

"I know him. Give way there! Let him come alone."

Then the men formed a