obody good," quoted the "Kid," who
happened to be sweeper that week. "I won't have to polish the brass on
_those_ kits again."

Shortly after the return of the last boat, smoke was sighted to seaward.
The crew was called to general quarters without delay, and our ship
steamed out to investigate. After a brief but exciting chase, we
discovered that the supposed enemy was the auxiliary cruiser "Dixie," a
sister ship of the "Yankee." She was manned by the Maryland Naval
Reserves, and her armament was composed of six-inch breechloading
rifles, not of the rapid-fire class.

It soon became evident that her commanding officer, Commander Davis, was
superior in rank to Commander Brownson, and he took charge of affairs at
once. Captain Brownson was rowed over to the "Dixie" to pay his
respects, and on his return a rumor that we were to be relieved of coast
patrol duty by the "Dixie" and to proceed to Key West, went through the
ship like wildfire.

Tom LeValley brought the news to a group of us gathered on the after gun
deck. We were just discussing the peculiar, and apparently ridiculous,
degrees of etiquette found among naval officers in general, as
exemplified by the ranking of Commander Davis over Commander Brownson.

"They are both commanders," Tommy was explaining, "but Commander Davis
happens to rank Commander Brownson by sixteen numbers in the official
list. Both entered the service November 29, 1861, and--"

"Whoop!"

Down the ladder charged LeValley, wildly flourishing his cap. He stopped
in front of us and gasped: "Hurrah! we're going--going to the United
States, fellows."

"What's up?" demanded "Stump."

"The 'Dixie'--"

"Yes?"

"She's to relieve us, and we are ordered to Key West and then to New
York. We're going--"

"Rats!" broke in "Hay," in disgust. "You can't give us any game like
that. It's a rumor, my boy. We're never going home. The 'Yankee' is the
modern 'Flying Dutchman,' and--"

At that moment the "Kid" appeared in sight, and his beaming face
convinced us. It was glorious news, but not one of us felt like
cheering. Our emotions were too deep for that. The mere prospect of
seeing home again was enough pleasure for the moment, and we were
content to talk quietly over the welcome possibility of soon meeting
relatives and friends.

The "Yankee" was destined, however, to experience a little more service
before dropping anchor in home waters.

For several days we cruised along the coast between