's last hours. It removes all my doubts about telling
this story.

The reader will understand Danforth's letter, or the beginning of it,
if he will remember that after ten years of Nolan's exile everyone who
had him in charge was in a very delicate position. The government had
failed to renew the order of 1807 regarding him. What was a man to do?
Should he let him go? What, then, if he were called to account by the
Department for violating the order of 1807? Should he keep him? What,
then, if Nolan should be liberated some day, and should bring an
action of false imprisonment or kidnapping against every man who had
had him in charge? I urged and pressed this upon Southard, and I have
reason to think that other officers did the same thing. But the
Secretary always said, as they so often do at Washington, that there
were no special orders to give, and that we must act on our own
judgment. That means, "If you succeed, you will be sustained; if you
fail, you will be disavowed." Well, as Danforth says, all that is over
now, though I do not know but I expose myself to a criminal
prosecution on the evidence of the very revelation I am making.

Here is the letter:

LEVANT, 2 deg. 2' S. at 131 deg. W.

DEAR FRED:

I try to find heart and life to tell you that it is all over
with dear old Nolan. I have been with him on this voyage
more than I ever was, and I can understand wholly now the
way in which you used to speak of the dear old fellow. I
could see that he was not strong, but I had no idea the end
was so near. The doctor has been watching him very
carefully, and yesterday morning came to me and told me that
Nolan was not so well, and had not left his state-room--a
thing I never remember before. He had let the doctor come
and see him as he lay there--the first time the doctor had
been in the state-room--and he said he should like to see
me. Oh, dear! do you remember the mysteries we boys used to
invent about his room in the old _Intrepid_ days? Well, I
went in, and there, to be sure, the poor fellow lay in his
berth, smiling pleasantly as he gave me his hand, but
looking very frail. I could not help a glance round, which
showed me what a little shrine he had made of the box he was
lying in. The Stars and Stripes were triced up above and
around a picture of Washington, and he had painted a