rmament, it will
hardly be prudent for you to meddle with them," said Captain Passford
with a smile, though he had as much confidence in the prudence as in the
bravery of his son.

"What shall I do, father, run away from them?" asked Christy, opening
his eyes very wide.

"Certainly, my son. There is as much patriotism in running away from a
superior force as there is in fighting an equal, for if the government
should lose your vessel and lose you and your ship's company, it would
be a disaster of more or less consequence to your country."

"I hardly think I shall fall in with the Scotian and the Arran, so I
will not consider the question of running away from them," said Christy
laughing.

"You have not received your orders yet, but they will probably require
you to report at once to the flag-officer in the Gulf, and perhaps
they will not permit you to look up blockade runners on the high seas,"
suggested Captain Passford. "These vessels may be fully armed and
manned, in charge of Confederate naval officers; and doubtless they will
be as glad to pick up the Bronx as you would be to pick up the Scotian
or the Arran. You don't know yet whether they will come as simple
blockade runners, or as naval vessels flying the Confederate flag.
Whatever your orders, Christy, don't allow yourself to be carried away
by any Quixotic enthusiasm."

"I don't think I have any more than half as much audacity as Captain
Breaker said I had. As I look upon it, my first duty is to deliver my
ship over to the flag-officer in the Gulf; and I suppose I shall be
instructed to pick up a Confederate cruiser or a blockade runner, if
one should cross my course."

"Obey your orders, Christy, whatever they may be. Now, I should like
to look over the Bronx before I go on shore," said Captain Passford.
"I think you said she was of about two hundred tons."

"That was what they said down south; but she is about three hundred
tons," replied Christy, as he proceeded to show his father the cabin
in which the conversation had taken place.

The captain's cabin was in the stern of the vessel, according to the
orthodox rule in naval vessels. Of course it was small, though it seemed
large to Christy who had spent so much of his leisure time in the cabin
of the Florence, his sailboat on the Hudson. It was substantially fitted
up, with little superfluous ornamentation; but it was a complete parlor,
as a landsman would regard it. From it, on the port side open