or the night. Half way
down the bay we met a tug carrying a committee from the "Sons of the
Revolution" of New York State. The committee had been selected by the
society to present us with a set of colors. The tug accompanied us to
our anchorage, then the committee came on board. The ceremony of
presentation was rather picturesque.

The visitors gathered on the bridge, the ship's bugler sounded the
assembly, and in obedience to the call we lined up on the forward deck.
We wore the white duck service uniform, including trousers, jumper, and
cap. Some of the uniforms had suffered in contact with pitch, but the
general effect was good. When everything was in readiness, the chairman
of the committee presented the set of colors and said:

"Captain Brownson, officers and men of the 'Yankee,' I have the honor,
on behalf of the Society of the Sons of the Revolution in the State of
New York, to present these colors to the members of the Naval Reserve of
the State of New York, who have enlisted for service under your
command."

He continued by hoping that the colors would ever float victorious, and
said that he did not doubt it, and then our skipper made a little speech
in reply. The affair wound up with a round of cheers and general
congratulations. The flags were handsome, and, as it came to pass, they
flaunted amid battle smoke before many weeks.

Our stay off Tompkinsville was to be short, but we had time to become
acquainted with a characteristic naval oddity known as the bumboat.
Diligent inquiries among the old sailors on board the "Yankee" failed to
enlighten me as to the derivation of the name, but the consensus of
opinion was that these floating peddlers sold articles which, to use a
slang phrase, were pretty "bum." Experience has given the opinion some
color of truth. Our bumboat boarded us early and stayed with us until
the corporal of the guard called "time."

She came laden with pies and doughnuts, pins and needles, tape and
buttons and whisk brooms and shoe blacking, handkerchiefs, ties,
scissors, soap, writing paper, envelopes, ink, pens, cakes, bread,
jelly, pocket knives, and a schedule of prices that would have brought a
blush of envy to the face of a Swiss inn-keeper. As the boys had not yet
grown entirely accustomed to what is called "Government straight," i.e.,
salt meat and hard-tack, the bumboat did a thriving business. Young
Potter's bill was tremendous, and Mrs. Bumboat bade him a regretful
farewel