s drawing near.

CHAPTER LIX.

A MAN-OF-WAR BUTTON DIVIDES TWO BROTHERS.

The conduct of Mandeville, in claiming the acquaintance of the First
Lieutenant under such disreputable circumstances was strongly
contrasted by the behaviour of another person on board, placed for a
time in a somewhat similar situation.

Among the genteel youths of the after-guard was a lad of about sixteen,
a very handsome young fellow, with starry eyes, curly hair of a golden
colour, and a bright, sunshiny complexion: he must have been the son of
some goldsmith. He was one of the few sailors--not in the
main-top--whom I used to single out for occasional conversation. After
several friendly interviews he became quite frank, and communicated
certain portions of his history. There is some charm in the sea, which
induces most persons to be very communicative concerning themselves.

We had lain in Rio but a day, when I observed that this lad--whom I
shall here call Frank--wore an unwonted expression of sadness, mixed
with apprehension. I questioned him as to the cause, but he chose to
conceal it. Not three days after, he abruptly accosted me on the
gun-deck, where I happened to be taking a promenade.

"I can't keep it to myself any more," he said; "I must have a
confidant, or I shall go mad!"

"What is the matter?" said I, in alarm.

"Matter enough--look at this!" and he handed me a torn half sheet of an
old New York _Herald_, putting his finger upon a particular word in a
particular paragraph. It was the announcement of the sailing from the
Brooklyn Navy-yard of a United States store ship, with provisions for
the squadron in Rio. It was upon a particular name, in the list of
officers and midshipmen, that Frank's fingers was placed.

"That is my own brother," said he; "he must have got a reefer's warrant
since I left home. Now, White-Jacket, what's to be done? I have
calculated that the store ship may be expected here every day; my
brother will then see me--he an officer and I a miserable sailor that
any moment may be flogged at the gangway, before his very eyes.
Heavens! White-Jacket, what shall I do? Would you run? Do you think
there is any chance to desert? I won't see him, by Heaven, with this
sailor's frock on, and he with the anchor button!"

"Why, Frank," said I, "I do not really see sufficient cause for this
fit you are in. Your brother is an of officer--very good; and you are
nothing but a sailor--but that is no disgrace