officer, who promised to rise to the highest honors of his
profession and be a credit and glory to his country, has been cut
short."

A short time later the admiral himself came down and shook hands with
the boy, and thanked him for his services, and cheered him up by
telling him that he would take care that his presence of mind and
courage should be known.

For some days Harry lay between life and death, but by the time that
the ship sailed into Portsmouth harbor the doctors had considerable
hope that he would pull round. He was carried at once to the Naval
Hospital, and a few hours later Peter Langley was by his bedside. His
captain frequently came to see him, and upon one occasion came while
his foster-father was sitting by his bedside.

"Ah, Peter, is it you?" he said. "Your son told me that you had served
his majesty; but I didn't recognize the name as that of my old
boatswain on board the _Cleopatra_."

"I am glad to see your honor," Peter said; "but I wish it had been on
any other occasion. However, I think that the lad will not slip his
wind this time; but he's fretting that his career on blue water is at
an end."

"It is sad that it should be so," Captain Ball said; "but there are
many men who may live to a good age and will have done less for their
country than this lad in the short time he was at sea. First, he
prevented the dispatch, which would have warned the enemy of what was
coming, from reaching them; and, in the second place, his sharpness
and readiness saved no small portion of Admiral Nelson's fleet, and
converted what threatened to be a defeat into a victory. You must be
proud of your son, old salt."

"Has not the boy told you, sir, that he's not my son?" the boatswain
said.

"No, indeed!" Captain Ball exclaimed, surprised; "on the contrary, he
spoke of you as his father."

In a few words Peter Langley related the circumstances of the finding
of Harry when a baby. Captain Ball was silent for a while, and then
said, "Do you know, Peter, that I have been greatly struck by the
resemblance of that lad to an old friend and school-fellow of mine, a
Mr. Harper? They are as like as two peas--that is, he is exactly what
my friend was at his age. My friend never was married; but I remember
hearing a good many years ago--I should say some fifteen years ago,
which would be about in accordance with this lad's age--that he had
lost a sister at sea. The ship she was in was supposed to have
foundered, a