Marcy Gray had never been more amazed in his life.
CHAPTER X.
BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE.
The profound silence that reigned in the room for a minute or two after
Mr. Watkins made his extraordinary announcement, was broken at last by
Marcy Gray, who exclaimed eagerly:
"If that is the man who wants to see me, I hope you will take me to him at once. I have wanted to meet him ever since that miserable day when I stood by and saw him make his gallant attempt at escape, for I have seventeen hundred dollars that belong to him—my share of the prize money his schooner sold for, you know, captain."
"Mister, if you please," said the officer, with a smile. "I used to be captain in the merchant marine, but am now executive officer of Captain Benton's vessel, and am simply Mr. Watkins."
"Mr. Watkins," interposed Mrs. Gray, "my son has saved all the money that came to him through the sale of the Hollins, and longed for and dreamed of the day when he could restore it to its lawful owner. When Captain Beardsley turned his privateer into a blockade runner Marcy refused to take out a venture, though by so doing he might have made his seventeen hundred dollars of prize money bring him five thousand more. Captain Benton's money is safe, and he will receive it in the same shape in which it was paid to my son. But, sir," added Mrs. Gray, seeing that the officer did not occupy the chair that had been placed for him, "I trust you will not find it necessary to take Marcy into battle."
"I really cannot see anyway in which it can be avoided, madam," said Mr. Watkins truthfully. "There is bound to be a fight if the enemy stands his ground, and my vessel will be one of the foremost in it. But I hope you understand that we do not mean to keep him with us unless he wants to stay. He will be at liberty to return to you as soon as his services can be dispensed with."
"Yes, sir, I understand that," said the mother tearfully. "But a stray bullet or a shell will be as likely to strike a non-combatant as any one else. I have given one son to the service of his country, and I can give another; but when you take Marcy you take all I have."
The officer drew his hand across his eyes, as if brushing away a mist that was gathering there, and looked up at a painting over the mantel; while Marcy, knowing that the parting must come, and that it would be better to have it over as speedily as possible, began to bestir himself.