The old sailor’s brow became darker and darker. He growled.
“Your resignation, your resignation! You talk of it very lightly. It remains to be seen whether it will be accepted. ‘The Conquest’ does not sail on a pleasure-party; she is sent out on a serious campaign, and will probably be absent for some time. We have unpleasant complications down there and are sending out reinforcements. You are still in France; but you are actually under orders to meet the enemy; Men do not resign in the face of the enemy, Lieut. Champcey!”
Daniel had turned very pale.
“You are severe, captain,” he said.
“I have no idea, I assure you, of being gentle; and, if that can induce you to change your mind”—
“Unfortunately, I cannot alter my decision.”
The old sailor rose violently, and walked up and down the room several times, giving vent to his anger in oaths of various kinds; then he returned to Daniel, and said in his driest tone,—
“If that is so, the case is serious; I must report it to the secretary of the navy. What time is it? Eleven o’clock. Come here again at half- past twelve. I shall have settled the matter then.”
Quite certain that his superior would say nothing in his favor, Daniel retired, walking hurriedly through the narrow passages, when a joyous voice hailed him, calling out, “Champcey!”
He turned, and found himself face to face with two of his comrades, with whom he had been most intimate at school. They said eagerly,—