"All right. Think over what I've said to you, and be ready with an
answer. When you learn a little more about a vessel I will give you a
chance as mate. Good-by."

Beardsley walked down the steps and out of the gate, and Marcy kept his
eyes fastened upon him as long as he remained in sight. Then he faced
about and looked at his mother, who had dropped her sewing into her lap
and sat motionless in her chair, the picture of misery and dejection.

"They're going for us, mother," said he, with a smile. "That interview
with Beardsley has satisfied me that I can't live up to my principles in
this country as I should like to."

"I never dreamed of anything like this," said Mrs. Gray, at length.
"What are you going to do, Marcy?"

"There's only one thing I can do and keep a roof over your head,"
answered Marcy, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and striding
up and down the porch. "I must accept his proposition; that's all there
is about it."

"Oh, Marcy!" exclaimed his mother.

"It looks fair enough on the surface, but I tell you there is something
back of it," said the boy, confidently. "He pretends to take it for
granted that I am a rebel, but he doesn't really believe it, and this
proposition of his is intended to try me and find out where I stand.
Almost the last question our class debated in school was: "Is a man ever
justified in acting from policy rather than principle." I took the
negative, and contended that he ought to act from principle, let the
consequences be what they might; but I don't think so now. I shall join
that rebel privateer, and I shall do it because I am sure something will
happen to your house if I don't. Now please don't say a word about it. I
feel bad enough as it is."

If Mr. Beardsley really was testing the boy hoping to find him wanting,
he was doomed to be disappointed, for promptly at half-past two the next
afternoon Marcy rode into his yard and went with him to see the
schooner, which was hidden in a bayou half a mile away. Marcy knew the
little craft as well as he knew his own, but her appearance had been so
greatly changed that he would not have recognized her if he had seen her
on the sound. Her black hull had been painted white, so that she would
not offer so fair a mark for the cannon of any cruiser she might be
unlucky enough to fall in with; her midship section had been changed
into a berth-deck, and she had gun-decks fore and aft. The two white men
who had charge of he