have no uniform, Captain Passford," suggested the appointee.

"I have one in my stateroom; but it is altogether too small for you,"
replied the commander, glancing in the gloom of the night at the
stalwart form of the third lieutenant, lacking not more than an inch of
six feet, and his weight could not have been less than one hundred and
eighty. "We will see what can be done in the morning."

"The crew all know me, and I dare say I can get along without a uniform
till we get back to the station, where I could get one from the
store-ship; but it is not likely that I shall need one then."

"I cannot say as to that. When you go forward take a look at the
prisoners, and report to me," added Christy, as Mr. Pennant went below.

In a few minutes he reported that the prisoners were all fast asleep.
Boxie had been relieved as guard, and another seaman was marching back
and forth by their couches. It was still dark and foggy, and a hail came
from the mast-head forward.

CHAPTER XVIII

A BATTLE ON A SMALL SCALE

"On deck!" shouted the lookout at the foremast head. "Light on the
starboard bow!"

"Silence, all!" cried the commander, as soon as he heard the hail from
aloft. "Go forward, Mr. Pennant, silence the hands, and direct the
lookout to hail in lower tones."

The third lieutenant sprang forward to obey the order, and Christy
followed him at a more moderate pace, consistent with his dignity as
the officer highest in rank on board. It was not so much a question
of dignity, however, with him as it was the intention to preserve his
self-possession. A light had been reported on the starboard bow; but
Christy had no more means of knowing what it meant than any other person
on deck. It suggested a blockade runner, a battery, or a house near the
shore where he did not expect to find one.

The captain went on the bridge; but he could not see the light. He
descended to the deck, and then mounted the fore-rigging. The lookout
saw him, and said he could not see the light any longer; it had been in
sight a couple of minutes, and then had disappeared. It was useless to
look for it if gone, and Christy returned to the bridge, where Mr.
Pennant was attentively studying the compass.

"In what direction is the head of the steamer pointed, Mr. Pennant?"
he asked as he joined the lieutenant.

"Exactly north-east, sir," replied Mr. Pennant.

"Then the report of the light on the starboard bow places it directly to
the east