ay to join the _Osprey_.

"And I wish I might find her sunk at her dock, and so badly smashed that
she never could be raised and repaired," was what he thought every time
he looked out of the car window and ran his eyes over the crowds of
excited people that were gathered upon the platforms of all the depots
they passed. "But, after all, what difference does it make? If I don't
go to sea I shall have to live among secret enemies, and I don't know
but one thing is about as bad as the other. If any poor mortal ever
lived this way before, I am sorry for him."

Although Marcy was almost a stranger in Newbern, he had no difficulty in
finding his vessel when he got out of the cars. He walked straight to
her, and while he was yet half a block away, the sight of her masts told
him that she was still on top of the water. She would soon be ready to
sail, too, for her crew were rushing her stores aboard, while Captain
Beardsley walked his quarter-deck smoking a cigar and looking on. His
face seemed to say that he was a little surprised to see his pilot; but
if he was he did not show it in his greeting.

"Well, there, you did come back, didn't yon?" said he, extending his
hand.

"Of course I came back," replied Marcy. "What else did yon expect me to
do? I was on the road in less than two hours after your order came to
hand."

"That's prompt and businesslike," said the captain approvingly. "But I
didn't look for you to appear quite so soon. How's everybody to home?"

"All right as far as I could see; and Allison wants to join your crew."

"The idea!" exclaimed Captain Beardsley. "Well, he can just stay where
he is for all of me, hollering for the Confederacy and doing never a
thing to help us gain our independence. His place is in the army, and I
won't have no haymakers aboard of me. See any Union folks while you was
to home?"

"I saw and talked with one man who said he was for the Union," answered
the young pilot. He was prepared for the question, and positive that if
he managed the matter rightly, Beardsley would soon let him know whether
or not he was concerned in that little plot, as Marcy believed he was.
But, as it happened, no management was necessary, for keeping a secret
was the hardest work Beardsley ever did.

"Did, hey?" he exclaimed, throwing the stump of his cigar over the stern
and looking very angry indeed. "I always suspected that man Hanson. You
discharged him, of course."

"No, I didn't," replied Marcy