ling you about that sailed from
Wilmington just before you came back from your furlong. She was a
Britisher, yon know, and a warship took her prisoner; but the courts
allowed that Wilmington wasn't blockaded at all, except on paper, and
ordered her to be released. I only wish the Yankees had had the pluck to
hold fast to her."

Marcy's thoughts had often reverted to the capture of the brig _Herald_
and to Captain Beardsley's expressed wish that the act might lead to an
open rupture between the United States and England, and he was glad to
learn that there was to be no trouble on that score. But England could
not long keep her meddlesome fingers out of our pie. She did all she
dared to aid the Confederacy, and when the war was ended, had the fun of
handing over a good many millions of dollars to pay for the American
vessels that British built and British armed steamers had destroyed upon
the high seas.

"I saw you bring aboard some little bundles a while ago," continued
Beardsley. "What was in 'em?"

"One of them contained two woolen dresses I bought for mother, and in
the others there was nothing but medicine," said Marcy. "Woolen goods
will be worth money by and by."

"Oh, yes; they'll run up a little. Things always do in war times. The
money them medicines cost, you will be able to turn over about three
times when we get back to Newbern. You'll clear about three hundred
dollars, when you might just as well have made five thousand, if you'd
took my advice and put in your seventeen hundred, as I wanted you to
do."

Marcy made no rely, for he had grown weary of telling the captain that
he intended to use that money for another purpose.

During the two days they remained in port two large steamers came in,
and on the way out they passed as many more, both of which showed the
English colors when Marcy, in obedience to Beardsley's orders, ran the
Confederate emblem up to the _Hattie's_ peak.

"Everything that's aboard them ships is meant for us," said Captain
Beardsley. "I know it, because there never was no such steamers sailing
into this port before the war. Them fellows over the water are sending
in goods faster'n we can take 'em out. Go aloft, Marcy, and holler the
minute you see anything that looks like a sail or a smoke."

When the pilot had been discharged and the schooner filled away for
home, her crew settled down to business again, and every man became
alert and watchful. Those dreadful night runs on the