Sharp as Marcy Gray was, his strong love for the Union and his intense hatred for the business in which he was perforce engaged, sometimes led him to come dangerously near to betraying himself. Allison looked sharply at him, but there was nothing in Marcy's face to indicate that he did not mean every word he said.
"I am heartily glad I am going to sea again," continued the latter; and he told nothing but the truth. The companionship of the ignorant foreigners who composed the Osprey's crew was more to his liking than daily intercourse with pretended friends who were constantly watching for a chance to get him into trouble.
"Do you think I could get on with Captain Beardsley?" inquired Allison.
"You might. The crew was full when I left the schooner, but I will speak to the captain, if you would like to have me."
"I really wish you would, for I am anxious to do something for the glorious cause of Southern independence. When do you sail?"
"I don't know. About all the captain says in his letter is that he wants me to report immediately."
"Does he say whether or not the Hollins has been sold yet?"
"Oh, yes; he speaks of that, and congratulates me on the fact that I have eight hundred and seventy-live dollars more to my credit on the schooner's books than I did when I left her at Newbern."
"W-h-e-w!" whistled Allison. "How long did it take you to make the capture?"
"Four or five hours, I should say."