“How did you feel when you found yourself in a strange city with no money in your pocket and no friends to go to?” inquired Ned Griffin.
“I didn’t think much about it, because I never let a little thing like that worry me,” said Jack with another laugh. “I did not by any means intend to go hungry, or sleep on the Levee, if my pockets were empty. There were several of our vessels in the river, and I knew I could ship whenever I felt like it; but I had made up my mind that I would not go afloat again until I had said ‘hello!’ to my relatives up here in Mooreville.”
The first boat that left the dispatch steamer took Jack ashore and landed him on the Levee among some river craft that belonged to the quartermaster’s department of Banks’ army. Being a deep-water man he did not bestow more than a passing glance upon them, but turned his face toward the docks above at which a large fleet of sea-going vessels was moored; and as he walked he kept a bright lookout for two things—a sailorman who could tell him what had happened in the world since he left it (being on the blockade Jack thought was almost as bad as being out of the world), and a soldier who could direct him to the office of the provost marshal. As he stepped from the Levee to the nearest dock his gaze became riveted upon a rakish looking fore-and-aft schooner that lay there discharging a miscellaneous cargo. She looked familiar to him. She was painted white with a green stripe at her water-line, and bore the name “Hyperion, Portland,” on her stern; but Jack Gray was positive that he had known and sailed on her when she was painted black with a red stripe at the water-line, and went by a very different name. He dodged up the after gang-plank to the deck and took another look. He had had charge of that deck more than once. Everything on and about it was familiar to him, not excepting the face of the lank Yankee skipper, whose head and shoulders at that moment emerged from the companion-way. Jack turned about and approached him with a comical smile on his countenance.
“Want a pilot this trip, Captain Frazier?” said he.
“No, I don’t,” was the surly reply. He looked searchingly into Jack’s face, but could not remember that he had ever seen him before.
“No offence, I hope,” continued the latter. “But I served you so well before that I think you might give me a lift when you see me stranded here without a shot in the locker. I took the West Wind through Oregon Inlet when——”
“Mr. Gray—Jack!” said the captain, in an excited whisper. “Sh! Not another word out of you; not a whimper. Come below with me.”
Shaking all over with suppressed merriment Jack Gray followed the skipper down the stairs and into the cabin, the door of which was quickly but softly closed and locked.
“Sit down,” continued the captain. “And if you care a cent for me don’t speak above your breath. Where have you been? That uniform says you belong to the navy.”
“I did, but I don’t belong now,” replied Jack. “Shortly after I made that trip with you I shipped for a year, but have been kept over my time. I have been on the blockade, and have helped capture many a fine craft like this one.”