"So do I," replied Jack, "for if we should happen to run foul of one of
them, my Confederate colors would be no protection whatever. The
boarding officer would very naturally inquire: 'What are you doing out
here so near the blockading fleet?' and no answer that we could give
would satisfy him. Why don't you take the old one? It would be a pity to
have that nice piece of silk whipped to tatters by a Cape Hatteras
gale."

"My friend Dick Graham gave me that old flag," answered Marcy; "and I
told him that the next time it was hoisted it would be in a breeze that
was not tainted by any secession rag. I want to keep my promise if I
can. Now, I will put what is left of the quilt in my trunk where mother
can find it in the morning." After that the boys went to bed, but not to
sleep. Marcy was too nervous. Thinking over the details of the
remarkable story his brother had told him during the evening, and
speculating upon the possible results of his trip to the blockading
fleet, effectually banished slumber; and seeing how restless he was.
Jack was considerate enough to stay awake to keep him company. The time
passed more rapidly than it generally does under such circumstances, and
it did not seem to them that they had been in bed an hour before they
heard their mother's gentle tap at the door, and her voice telling them
that the day was breaking.

"I told her we shouldn't need a warm breakfast," said Marcy. "But this
looks as though she had stayed up all night on purpose to have one ready
for us."

The only thing the boys had to do before they left the room was to hide
some papers which they did not want anybody to see while they were
gone--to wit, Marcy's leaves of absence, signed by Captain Beardsley,
and the letter of recommendation that the master of the smuggling vessel
had given Jack. These they slipped under the edge of the carpet, where
the boys thought they would be safe (they little dreamed that the time
would come when that same carpet would be torn up and cut into blankets
for the use of Confederate soldiers); but the papers which related to
the part he had taken in rescuing the brig _Sabine_ from the hands of
the _Sumter's_ men, Jack put carefully into his pocket. They were
documents that he would not be afraid or ashamed to show to the officers
of the blockading fleet.

That was the last breakfast that Jack Gray ate under his mother's roof
for long months to come. Realizing that it might be so, it required t