n.

During or after a severe action on board a ship of war, the dead are
usually disposed of with but little or no ceremony, as the exigency of
the hour may require, as had been done on board of the prize. But
Captain Breaker was more considerate, as the conditions permitted him to
be; and the killed had been sewed up in hammocks, properly weighted.

"All hands to bury the dead;" piped the boatswain of the Bellevite, when
breakfast was finished.

By this time the deck had been cleaned up, and dried off under the warm
sun which had dissipated the fog and the morning mists. The bodies of
the slain had been previously placed at the port gangway, covered with
the American flag. The seamen removed their caps, the commander read the
service, and the bodies were committed to the deep. The officers and
seamen witnessed the ceremony with uncovered heads, and in reverent
silence.

CHAPTER XIX

COLONEL HOMER PASSFORD OF GLENFIELD

As soon as the battle on the deck of the Tallahatchie had been decided,
Graines, in command of the flanking party, had returned to the engine
room of the Bellevite. He and his men had fought bravely and effectively
in the action, though the full effect of the movement under his charge
could not be realized in the change of circumstances. The engine of the
ship had now cooled off, and Paul Vapoor hastened to the deck to see his
friend and crony, the news of whose wound had been conveyed to the
engine room in due time.

He was heartily rejoiced to find that it was no worse, and he had news
for the patient. Just before the burial of the dead he had been sent by
the commander to examine and report upon the condition of the engine of
the prize. Captain Rombold had protected it with chain cables dropped
over the side, so that it remained uninjured, and the British engineers
declared that it was in perfect working order.

"But whom do you suppose I saw on board the prize, Christy?" asked the
chief engineer, after he had incidentally stated the condition of the
engine.

"I cannot guess; but it may have been my cousin Corny Passford, though
he has always been in the military service of the Confederacy," replied
the wounded lieutenant.

"It was not Corny, but his father," added Paul.

"His father!" exclaimed Christy. "Uncle Homer Passford?"

"It was he; I know him well, for I used to meet him at Glenfield in
other days. I am as familiar with his face as with that of your father,
though I ha