"If we whirl round like this it will make us dizzy," said the sergeant as a mild joke. "What makes the boat do so?"
"The tender is so happy to get out of Confederate hands that it wants to dance, and it is indulging in a waltz," replied Deck as another pleasantry.
"I wish it wouldn't do so, for I don't like the motion. I suppose you don't intend to continue this voyage down to New Orleans; for that would not be a more agreeable locality than the Beech Grove intrenchments," added Fronklyn.
"I don't believe we shall care to go as far as that."
"How far down do you mean to go, Lieutenant?"
"That depends; if we can get the craft under control, I don't think we need go much farther," said Deck, as he began to feel about in the bottom of the boat.
"What are you fishing for, Lieutenant?" asked his companion.
"I think you had better not use that word any more at present."
"What word?"
"Lieutenant; for I don't care to have my rank published any more on this cruise, for some one on the shore might hear it. Call me Deck; and as you are not a sergeant here any more than I am a lieutenant, I will not call you so; but I forget your first name, as I have never used it."