The Second Lesson—Completing His Education—Found New Friends—The Mutiny—Death of Sambo.

That is bold language boy. You say you “know that you are right.” There are but a few things in this world that we positively know. We are likely to be deceived in many ways. Sometimes the eye is imperfect, and the mind clouded. Sometimes our eager desire to accomplish an object, aided by our imagination, leads us astray. Now look and see if you can see the white spot on the flag staff?

No, I can’t see the white spot, but I can see the red.

Yet you knew that you were right.

Walter was confused.

I think that I am right.

Do you know that you are right?

His confusion increased.

Now place the staff so that you can see both the white and red, then you will be right. You are now looking at a bunch of red leaves.

Walter felt chagrined. The flag was moved about five feet and then he could see it from top to bottom.

You are right now, replied Webb.

But how did you know it wasn’t right? You stood behind the compass, but did not look through it.

I knew it by that tall pine tree on top of yonder hill. I discovered a mile back that the tree was exactly in line, and if you will look back, you will see a dead hemlock tree, with the bark off. By noticing objects both ahead and behind, you can detect the least variation.

Walter comprehended the explanation.

If I understand you, the needle must set on the figures 45°, W., and looking forward through the slots, the eye must strike the staff and pine tree, and looking back, the hemlock tree must be in line exactly.

Right boy. Now move on to the flag and take a new sight.

The compass was set at the next station by Walter, with great care. Before him, he could see the staff and pine tree, and behind he could see the dead hemlock.

Well done, boy! exclaimed Webb. You have mastered your first lesson. You can take charge of the instrument now for the season. We shall run this course for the next month, then we will go into winter quarters, and you can go into the books, and by spring, you can take charge of the survey.

Walter’s eyes glistened with satisfaction, both for the praise and promises of his employer. From this time to the close of the season, Walter took charge of the work, and gave entire satisfaction to his employer.

About the first of November, they went on board a flat-boat and floated down the Delaware. Amy, Walter’s cat, accompanied them. They arrived at Philadelphia on the fifth day, and immediately proceeded to the residence of Mr. Webb, where Walter was well received and kindly treated, and at once commenced his school days, and earnestly studied mathematics, geometry and trigonometry. He threw his whole soul into his studies, and worked night and day to solve the difficult problems. Although he was in a city of fashion, he could not be induced to enter society. His books and Amy were his only companions.

Thus, the winter passed. In the spring he returned to the Minisink country to survey.

Thus, four years passed—surveying in the summer, and studying at school in the winter. During this time he had not only mastered surveying and civil engineering, but had acquired a knowledge of navigation that rendered him capable of sailing a ship around the world.

Having now arrived at the age of twenty-one, he was his own master, and more than that, he was master of himself.

He was now to choose what should be his future course. One great incentive of his life was to find Amy or her friends. He knew that her grand-father lived in England. He wished to go there, but how to accomplish it, he did not know. Like a dutiful child, he asked his old friend and preceptor, Charles Webb.

Would you like a position on a ship? he asked.

Yes, he replied, if it was one in the line of promotion.

Leave that to me, replied Webb. I will see that you are promoted in the start. You understand navigation as well as any Captain in the English Navy, and in a few months you can learn to work a ship. After that all will be easy. I have a particular friend that is in port now, Captain Davis, of His Majesty’s Ship, “Reindeer.” I think he would like you. His wife generally sails with him. His only child was stolen from him twenty years ago by the Indians, while they were on shore at Kingston, on the Hudson.

I will follow your advice, said Walter.

Then no time must be lost, as I do not know what moment the ship may sail. I will request him to call on me this evening, and he hastily wrote the following note:

“Will Captain Davis honor his old friend by calling this evening. Charles Webb.”

There! Take that and go down to the dock. There you will find a boat in charge of an officer. Hand him this letter, and he will deliver it to the Captain, who is on board the Reindeer, anchored in the stream.

As Walter approached the river, he saw a ship lying at anchor. A curious feeling came over him. The tall masts, the white sails, the ports in the sides with bristling cannon projecting.

Is that to be my future home? he thought to himself. Am I to plough the briny deep? Will that bear me to the grand-father of my Amy?

Bang! went a gun, and a cloud of smoke issued from the ship’s side. A moment after, a boat left the ship, and was rowed towards the shore. Walter watched it with interest. When it came in full view, he saw that four sailors pulled at the oars, dressed in blue uniform. In the stern sat two men clad in the uniform of English Naval officers, the elder of which was smoking a cigar. It occurred to him that it was to one of these men that he was to hand the letter. As soon as the boat landed, the two officers stepped on the wharf, and the boat pulled out in the stream. Walter advanced, raising his cap:—

Gentlemen, can you inform me what officer commands the boat that has just set you two gentlemen on shore?

The two looked at each other as if in doubt, when the younger replied:

This gentleman is Captain.

Not so fast, replied Davis. I am Captain of the ship—you are Captain of this boat. What can we do for you young man?

Mr. Webb requested me to hand this letter to the officer having charge of the boat, at the same time presenting the letter.

The younger of the two took it.

Here, Captain, this is for you.

The Captain read it.

Are you acquainted with Mr. Webb young man?

Yes, he replied, in a sweet, mild voice. I have been in his employ for several years.

How is that? asked the Captain. I have made his house my home for several years, but I never saw you there.

That was because you were in port during the warm season. At that time I was in the wilderness surveying for Mr. Webb.

The Captain looked at the young man in astonishment.

What is your name?

Walter Wallace.

Is Mr. Webb at home? Being answered in the affirmative, he said to the officer at his side:

Send a boat for me to-morrow at eight. Remember we weigh anchor at ebb.

The officer raised his hat to his superior and walked away. Then at a given signal the boat returned to the shore and the officer stepped on board.

The Captain stood and looked at his ship as it gently rocked in the swell of the river.

A beauty! A beauty! Handsomer than the Reindeer it is named after. Do you return to Webb’s? asked the Captain, addressing Walter.

Yes sir.

Then we will walk along together.

Walter felt awkward. Here he was walking along side of a large, handsome man, dressed in the rich, glittering uniform of the British Navy. He was recognized by the passers-by—at least he was saluted by their raising their hats.

But little had been said in their walk from the river to Webb’s. Arriving there, Walter entered and seated the Captain in the parlor, while he went to notify Webb.

Ah, boy, back so soon? I did not think that you would meet the boat until after the firing of the sun-down gun.

Walter explained how he met the boat as it landed—the delivery of the letter—that one of the gentlemen that came on the boat had accompanied him home, and was now in the parlor waiting.

Did you learn his name?

No, but I learned he was the Captain of the ship.

That is Captain Davis himself. To him I expect to trust my ward. You remain here until I call you.

Then Webb went to the parlor.

Good day Captain, ahead of time, but always welcome.

No, I am just in time. I had to come now or never—at least not until my return from England.

England! exclaimed Webb, I thought you were going into winter quarters.

So I supposed, but this morning I received orders to sail to-morrow.

Then I have no time to accomplish the object I had in view in sending for you.

State your object, and if possible, I will help you accomplish it.

I sent for you in relation to the young man you have often heard me speak of, that I found in the Minisink wilderness.

Is that the young man that handed me the letter?

Yes.

The fellow that killed the panther, and fell in love with the cat?

Precisely. Only the cat is the namesake or representative of the girl he fell in love with.

Oh, I remember it all, replied Davis. In what way can I assist either you or him?

I wish to procure a situation for him on your ship.

In what capacity?

I will leave that to you.

Of course that will depend on his qualifications. He could not have learned any of the duties of a seaman in the wilderness you found him.

Not all the duties, Captain, certainly not. Yet there are many things that are indispensable to a seaman that has been learned on land—yes even in the howling wilderness. But we will call him. You can examine him and then decide.

Walter was waiting on the stoop, when he was addressed by Sambo.

Massa Walt—Massa Webb want you in de parlor. Too bad Walt—too bad. They are going to take you off in big ship. Sambo never see Walt any more. Walt get drowned. Walt never come back to see Sambo or cat any more.

I shall take the cat with me, replied Walter.

Dey won’t let you do dat. Mighty ’ticular on ship. Dey kill Amy and throw her overboard in the sea, an’ if Massa say boo, dey whip him wid a cat ob nine tails, put irons on his feet and stow him down in de hole wid de rats.

Have no fears, Sambo, if I go, the cat will go with me. That is a condition the Captain must agree to before I put my foot on board.

Oh, Massa, promises like pie crust—“made to be broken.” What Massa do when three hundred miles to sea, two or three hundred to do what de Captain says—Walt overboard—one man less, dat is all. Walt not missed—ship sail on. Captain don’t like you now—say you come out of de woods—don’t know anything. Stay on shore, Massa—stay wid Sambo an’ de cat. Captain tink you big baby—he say you kill panther and love cat.

Walter started for the parlor in an uneasy state of mind. As simple as Sambo was, he had succeeded in raising doubts in his mind, as to the propriety of his going to sea.

Captain Davis, I have the pleasure of introducing to you Walter Wallace, the boy I have told you so much about.

I am happy to meet and form your acquaintance, young man, and it will not be my fault if we do not become fast friends.

Walter took his hand timidly and said:

I trust such may be the case.

I learn from Mr. Webb that you would like to ship on board the Reindeer.

Mr. Webb has so advised me.

What position would you prefer?

Any that I am capable of filling, was his prompt reply.

Have you any knowledge of vessels?

None, except what I have learned from the books.

Put the questions to the boy directly, suggested Webb.

That would do if I was examining him for Sailing Master, replied the Captain, but it is not expected that the young man has studied or knows anything about navigation.

I am willing to be examined on that point, rejoined Walter.

The Captain was surprised at the cool confidence of the boy, but proceeded with his examination. He soon found that theoretically, the young man was perfect. He also learned that book learning was not to be despised, for Walter was not only master of the principles of navigation, but could locate almost all the continents, seas and shoals of the world. He could name the different parts of a ship, and the rigging employed in sailing it.

That will do for the present, young man. You can retire, and I will talk over the matter with Mr. Webb.

Walter left the room.

Mr. Webb, this young man is a prodigy. When, how and where did he acquire this knowledge? I never understood that you were a navigator.

But you forget, Captain, that I am a surveyor and civil engineer, and that before I could trust him to do my work, I had to know that he understood the principles, and from surveying to navigation, there is but one step, and that step he has taken.

But, rejoined Captain Davis, in surveying through the woods, no great accuracy is required, but at sea, accuracy is required. It is essential to the safety of the ship. And in case we are driven from our course by the wind or currents, we must determine our exact latitude and longitude, otherwise we are lost. And this youngster makes this calculation to a fraction.

The boy’s precision, said Webb, is owing to his early education. I taught him, that in surveying, there was no such thing as “good enough,” that all his work must be done exactly right. In a word, he must know that he was right. At sea, circumstances over which you have no control, may drive you from your course. Not so on land. An error there is carelessness, and often the entire work has to be done over again. But at sea, you take your bearings and start anew. And it was for these reasons that I impressed on the young man’s mind the necessity of accuracy.

And the result shows that you have succeeded, replied the Captain. Webb, I really like the boy, and would like to give him a berth on board of the Reindeer suitable to his attainments, but you know how it is in the English Navy. My officers would be struck with horror, to be introduced to this back woods-man as one of their equals.

That, the young man does not require. Neither would he accept the berth, replied Webb. What he wants is a place that is in the line of promotion, and work his way up. Give him that chance, and he will succeed.

There is just where the difficulty lies, replied Davis. The son of some Count, Countess, Lord or Admiral, having neither brains or attainments, can pass the Board of Admiralty on the strength of their name, while the man of worth is rejected as incompetent. I cannot place him before the mast among that rough element. Neither will I give him a berth among the marines. I like the boy, and would prefer his society in the cabin. Why I take such a liking to him, I do not know, unless it is that he puts me in mind of my own baby boy that was stolen from me years ago.

Is he alive?

Possibly yes—probably no. How I would reverence the man that had received, reared and educated him as you have done by this child of the forest. Webb, cannot I adopt him as my son? Cannot I take him in the place of my own long lost boy? Cannot I be a father to him, as I trust someone has been to my child? Then I can protect him, and save him from insult and harm. Yes, that is my plan. I will take him on board as my guest, if not as my son, and trust the future for the consequences. Call Mr. Wallace in.

Not so fast Captain, said Webb. If you take the boy, you must take his incumbrances with him.

Incumbrances? What do you mean?

I mean that he has got a cat that he won’t leave behind—a namesake of a little girl that he loved in the mountains.

That is all easy, replied the Captain, my wife has three or four in the cabin now, and she finds much enjoyment in petting them. One more won’t sink the ship.

Walter stepped into the room with the cat in his arms.

Well, young man, said the Captain, we have settled your case. You and your cat are to go on board with me, and you are to be the guests of myself and wife until I can find a proper place for you. How does that suit you?

You are very kind, Captain to make that offer, but it does not suit me. I would prefer to be somebody, and have something to do.

I understand your motives, young man, and promise that in a short time you shall be somebody, as you call it.

That is all right, rejoined Webb. Captain Davis will be a father to you, and when we meet again, I hope to address you as Lieutenant Wallace.

How would you like to change your name from Wallace to Davis? inquired Davis.

For what purpose? asked Walter.

That you may appear as my son, and command the respect of all on board.

That would be deception, Captain.

The Captain felt chagrined. He had not learned the real character of the boy in which he had taken such an interest. He saw at a flash that Walter did not understand his meaning. He meant the offer as a feeler, to see if Walter would consent to his adoption and take his name. He scarcely knew how to extricate himself from the difficulty he had placed himself in by proposing to Walter to change his name. The words “That would be deception, Captain,” still rang in his ears, and raised the boy in his estimation.

Webb noticed the Captain’s embarrassment and went to his relief.

Walter, I think you had better accept the Captain’s proposition.

Which one of them? he asked excitedly. To go on board of the ship, or change my name?

To go on board the ship as the guest of Captain Davis and wife. Say no more about the name or position at present Let time determine that.

Father, said Walter addressing Webb, I rely on you in this matter. You command and I’ll obey.

I command nothing. I merely advise. You are your own master now, and have a right to choose for yourself. Things have changed since we met on the Callicoon. Then you was a stripling of a boy, without home, parents or shelter. But now you are a man, noble, generous and good. Go with Captain Davis, and be to him what you have been to me—a noble, generous son.

Father! exclaimed Walter passionately, am I to you what your words imply?

Yes, and more. I feel as if you were bone of my bone, and blood of my blood. You are the only child I ever knew—the only one that ever called me father.

Tears trickled down Walter’s cheeks, and throwing his arms around Webb’s neck exclaimed:

Yes, father—more than a father, what I am, what I shall be, I owe to you. How can I leave you?

Captain Davis had been an interested spectator of the scene of love and affection that passed between Walter and Webb. The word father had fallen with significance on his ear. Never had he been addressed by that endearing name, and he now felt that he would give his ship and commission to change places with Webb—to have those manly arms embrace his neck, and hear the endearing word father addressed to him. Rising, he took Walter by the hand:—

Have no fears, young man, love and serve me as you have my friend Webb, and what a father can or should do for a son, I will do for you—even to the command of the Reindeer. Be ready to-morrow at two, when myself and wife will call for you.

So soon, Captain?

Yes, that is our orders. We sail at ebb to-morrow.

When Captain Davis had left, Walter approached Webb and said:

This is sudden—unexpected, a very sudden change in my affairs.

No more sudden than the killing of the panther—the water spout, and falling into my hands.

A lucky fall for me, father.

But now you will fall into good hands. Captain Davis is a gentleman, and already feels interested in you, as if you were his own child, and would like to have you take his name.

That can never be. My name is Walter Wallace, and ever shall be.

But you must be getting ready to depart. Sambo will assist you in packing and removing your trunk to the vessel.

Sambo had been an attentive listener to what had passed between the parties, and looked upon the whole matter with distrust.

Will Massa Webb excuse Sambo? ejaculated the negro.

Walter looked at him in surprise. He had always been a faithful, loyal servant, and seemed to be dearly attached to Walter.

Certainly, Sambo, if you can give a good reason, said Webb.

Give reason? Yes, Sambo give the goodest of reasons. Ship sail to-morrow—to-morrow hangman’s day, to-morrow Friday. Bad day—bad luck—wind blow—ship sink—Massa Walt get drowned—sharks eat him up—Sambo see young Massa no more. Here the faithful black broke down, and cried like a child.

Sambo is not to be blamed for his fears. He believed that Friday was an unlucky day. Nor was his superstitious belief uncommon. Sailors, as a rule, regarded it as a day to be dreaded, and nothing but the most rigid discipline would compel them to weigh anchor and leave port on Friday.

Never mind, said Walter, we have been friends too long to quarrel now. I will pack my own things.

You’ll see, Massa, you’ll see, and bursting into tears, left the room.

That night was a busy and anxious one for Walter. On the morrow he was to leave his home and friends, and trust himself among strangers, and the treacherous waters of the Atlantic. The valley of the Hudson, and the grandeur of the Delaware were to be hid from his view.

His thoughts were on the Callicoon, and the lovely girl that passed from his sight on the raft. He wished to behold the place once more before he left his native shore.

Oh, Amy—my baby—boy and manly love—shall I ever see you more? Did the rolling, rocking, surging waves of the mad Callicoon cast you on some friendly shore? Have you, like me, found a protector? Are you, like me, hoping, praying, trusting, that your Walt is alive, and that some day we shall meet again? Noble, generous girl. It would be treason against nature and the laws of love to doubt you. Yes dear Amy, you live. I feel it. Something tells me—I know not what—that you love and pray for me. May God grant my prayer, that your prayer may be answered, that we may be in fact, as we are in heart, “twain one flesh.”

Thus did Walter pass his last night on shore, communing with his thoughts about that which occupied his whole soul.

Promptly at the time appointed, Captain Davis and wife called.

This is Mrs. Davis, my wife, and this is Mr Wallace, the young man that is to accompany us.

Mrs. Davis extended her hand and said:

I am happy to meet you, Mr. Wallace. I have heard the Captain speak so much of you, that I fell in love before I saw you.

I am afraid that I shall make the Captain jealous before the voyage is over.

No danger of that, humorously replied the Captain, at least the love would be all on one side. Walter’s heart is steeled against feminine charms and womanly affection. If I am rightly informed, his affections are bestowed on a female cat.

Walter’s eyes flashed fire. Davis discovered his mistake, and added:

But I am also informed that the cat is a keepsake or namesake of his boyish love. Well, well. I suppose I used to have some such feelings toward you, when I was a boy.

Where is this wonderful cat? asked Mrs. Davis.

Here, said Sambo, dropping the cat at her feet. Dis ’ere, be Miss Ame.

Beautiful! lovely! charming! exclaimed Mrs. Davis.

Now, Mrs. Davis, exclaimed the Captain, don’t you fall in love with that cat: If you do there will be war in the cabin.

And I will be the victor, if there is anything in numbers. I have two or three now.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

That is the signal for all on board, exclaimed Davis authoritatively. Now, Mr. Webb, please walk with me. Walter will accompany my wife, and you, Sambo, escort the cat.

The parties started for the wharf in the order indicated.

As the party left the door, Mrs. Davis took Walter’s arm. This was embarrassing for him, as he had always held himself aloof of their company, and what little he had seen of them in society had not favorably impressed him. In fact, his Ideal of woman was centered on one he had not seen for years and perhaps he would never see again.

Mrs. Davis attributed his silence to the fact that he was leaving his home and the scenes of his childhood to go, he knew not where, and for the purpose of awakening him, said:

Mr. Wallace, you must not feel so sad at this parting. I am sure that you will be pleased with the ocean voyage, and before we return, you will have an opportunity to see most of the cities of the world.

That will be interesting, he replied, yet to leave home and friends, to go forth, I know not where, or scarcely who I go with, is calculated to make me despondent.

But you do know who you go with. You go with Captain Davis and wife. In them you will find true friends. I know that I shall love you. Had I retained my own sweet babe that was stolen from me years ago, he would be like you, a man. Walter, will you take the place of that boy? Will you love me? Will you call me mother?

Lady, you neither know yourself nor me. There is a gulf between us. You belong to the rich, powerful and educated. I belong to the poor. You came from London, I from the woods. Tell me, Madam, where there is—where there can be anything in common between us?

Everything, Walter, everything. My boy was stolen by the Indians, and if he lives, like you, he must be deprived of civilized society. Like you, he once had a mother to love and caress him. Like you, he has no mother now. Like you he must depend on strangers. Like you, he may have a deep seated love in his heart for some person that once existed, but now exists only in his hopes or imagination. What a consolation it would be to know that he still lives—that some good, noble woman was acting toward him the part of a mother. And as I would wish others to do by my boy, so do I wish to do by you.

Walter was affected by this pleading. He was convinced that Mrs. Davis knew his history, and his deep, undying love for Amy. He faltered for a moment only:

Mother, as you wish it, so it shall be.

Bless you, boy, bless you. Now I shall have a child to love, and shall be loved in return. Oh, Walter, how happy we shall be when we get out on the broad, blue Atlantic, as there is a young lady going with us—the niece of the Lord of the Admiralty.

The parties were now approaching the wharf. In the stream lay the Reindeer, gently rocking at anchor, bedecked with flags.

It was generally known that the ship sailed that day, and the inhabitants of Philadelphia were generally out to see her depart. As they approached, they saw that the wharf was lined with people, and that some of them were engaged in a deadly struggle. The marines were trying to drive on board a number of sailors that were crazed with rum. Oaths, and imprecations were to be heard above the splashing water. The sailors refused to leave port on Friday. Ordinarily their superstition would cause them to demur. But now, being maddened by rum, they revolted to a man, and acted like blood-thirsty demons.

Captain Davis was unarmed, but he saw that something must be done quickly, or the mutineers would clear the wharf and become masters of the situation.

His Second Lieutenant was trying, in vain, to reason with the men, but they threatened and derided him.

Captain Davis threw himself among them, and in a stentorian voice cried:

Silence! men! Silence!

We will silence you! said a burly, brutal, drunken sailor drawing his knife from the sheath and sprang at the Captain, who was neither armed or prepared to defend himself.

The knife was raised and, about to strike him to the heart, when Walter sprang forward, and with one well directed blow under the assassin’s ear, knocked him off the dock, and his body splashed in the water.

Bloody land lubber! exclaimed half-a-dozen voices, as they all rushed upon him.

Single handed he would have been more than a match for any bully on board of the Reindeer. But to contend with a dozen armed monsters, whose every faculty was crazed with rum, rendered his case hopeless. Still he struck right and left, and with each blow a man fell.

Take that! cried one of the drunken demons, aiming his knife to reach his heart.

Up to this time, Sambo had been a silent spectator. But now, seeing his young master in serious danger, he threw himself between them, receiving the blow in his breast that was intended for his master.

I told you so, Massa Walt, I told you so! and fell dead at his feet.

This added fuel to the flames. Two of the remaining sailors grappled with him.

Charge! men! Charge! came from a person not before seen.

One of Walter’s antagonists fell, but the other held him by the throat. Now came the tug of war. The result depended on the strength of muscle. The fight goes on. They get nearer the dock, both exerting themselves to throw the other overboard. They both fell, and for a moment are buried in the briny deep. When they came to the surface, Walter had the sailor by the throat, holding him off at arm’s length. His face was black, and his tongue protruded. Walter withdrew his hand, and the sailor sank.

At this moment a boat appeared as if by magic, and Walter was drawn on board in an unconscious condition.

Thank you, Lieutenant, thank you! exclaimed Captain Davis. But for your timely arrival we should have all been murdered.

Not at all, Captain. I but did a sailor’s duty. I both saw and heard what was going on, and ordered a file of marines to your rescue.

Well planned and skillfully executed, said Davis. Now iron these mutineers, and place them in the cage until they can be lawfully disposed of.

Order being restored, embarkation commenced. Mrs. Davis sat in the stern, holding Walter’s head in her lap, while the Captain stood near the centre, with the cat Amy in his arms.

Arriving on board, the Captain ordered a council of his officers to see what was their opinion about leaving port that night, and to learn, if possible, whether this had been a preconcerted mutiny, or whether it was caused by drinking too much rum.

The First Lieutenant said he would vouch for every man on board. The mutineers, he said, are safely ironed, and the rest of the men are loyal.

Weigh anchor! said the Captain to his subordinate. To hesitate on these drunken threats would be tantamount to surrendering my command.

In less time than it takes to write it, the anchor is weighed, the sails spread, and the Reindeer moves majestically toward the broad Atlantic.

A gentle breeze drove the Reindeer through the rippled water, and just as the sun was setting behind the western hills, Captain Davis had the satisfaction of knowing that his ship was safely out to sea.

Yet the Captain felt uneasy. The conduct of the men on shore raised some suspicion in his mind that trouble was brewing. In his officers he had perfect confidence.

The night was clear, with just wind enough to fill the sails, and the Captain and his First Lieutenant were sitting on the quarter-deck, discussing the events of the day.

By the way, Captain, who was that tall, noble-looking young man, that faced the whole company of cut-throats, and laid them out right and left, as a boy would so many marbles?

That is Walter Wallace, the foster child of my friend Charles Webb.

Wallace—that is a familiar name to me. Do you know what branch of the Wallace family he descended from?

No. Neither do I think he knows himself. Webb found him an orphan, alone, in the woods, and adopted him in his family. They lived at a place called Callicoon, not far from the Delaware river. The river overflowed the banks and drowned all but him.

Powers, for such was the Lieutenant’s name, manifested some feeling at this revelation, and exclaimed:

Is it possible?

Is what possible? asked the Captain.

Is it possible that I have found my sister’s child?

Sister’s child? exclaimed Davis. How could a sister of yours be living in such a wilderness?

By following the dictation of her conscience, and the man she loved, replied the Lieutenant. The story is short and quickly told. A brother and sister married a brother and sister. William Wallace married my sister, Amelia Powers, and Thomas Powers, my brother, married Mary Wallace. For this act they were driven from their home, crossed the Atlantic, and settled in Connecticut. From there they moved west to a place called Callicoon. I received several letters from them for several years, and then all correspondence stopped. I then employed some of the men that trade in furs to make inquiries about them. They reported that both families had resided on the Callicoon, but were all dead, having been washed away and drowned by a water spout at the head of the stream. The last that we heard of them, Wallace had a son named Walter, and Powers a daughter named Amy.

You are right, Lieutenant, you must be right. The noble soul that now lies in my cabin unconscious, is your nephew, your sister’s son.

Then let us hasten to him.

No; not at present. The Surgeon has commanded the strictest silence.

Let me see him, Captain, if it is but for a single moment. Let me see my wronged sister’s son.

Not for worlds, Lieutenant, not for worlds. That one moment might be fatal. That one moment might destroy our anticipations of the future. He is in good hands. My wife and your sister Cora are at his side administering to his wants.

How came he to be of your party? asked the Lieutenant.

At the request of Mr. Webb, who reared and educated him.

His education must be limited.

No, replied the Captain, not limited, but extended. No man on this ship is his superior—few his equal.

This will be new and awkward business for the ladies, different from nursing cats—By the way Captain, I see that you have added another to the list. The one you brought on board appears to have passed her three-score-and-ten. Its coat is as white as snow.

That cat, replied the Captain, has a history, and bears the name of your brother’s daughter, Amy, and Walter would fight for that cat as he would for the one she is named after, and I had to consent that the cat should come on board before he would agree to become my guest.

Perhaps that is the boy’s weakness—that in his younger days, he fell in love with the namesake of this cat.

There is no perhaps about it. It is a fact. Webb informed me, that when he and Walter were viewing the scene of the destruction of his home, the cat came to him, and that then and there Walter raised his hand to heaven, and swore in the presence of his God and his desolate home, that he would never love other than Amy Powers.

And does that love still burn? asked the Lieutenant.

Yes, replied the Captain, and it is for that reason that he sails with us. He is in search of Amy or her friends. And he has found the latter. God grant that he may be as successful in finding the former. Now you must excuse me, as I must go and look after my charge.