"Christy, you remind me of some old ladies I have met, who, when they receive a letter, wonder for five or ten minutes whom it is from before they break the envelope, when a sight of the contents would inform them instantly," added the captain, laughing.
"But I am afraid the contents of this envelope will be like the explosion of a mine to me, and therefore I am not just like the old ladies you have met," returned the lieutenant-commander. "One mine a day let off in my face is about all I can stand."
"Open the envelope!" urged his father rather impatiently.
"It never rains but it pours!" exclaimed Christy, when he had looked over the paper it enclosed. "I am appointed to the command of the St. Regis! I think some one who gives names to our new vessels must have spent a summer with Paul Smith at his hotel by the river and lake of that name; and the same man probably selected the name of Chateaugay. I suppose it is some little snapping gunboat like the Bronx; but I don't object to her on that account."
"She is nothing like the Bronx, for she is more than twice as large; and you have already seen some service on her deck."
"Some steamer that has had her name changed. But I have served regularly only on board of the Bellevite and the Bronx, and it cannot be either of them," said Christy, with a puzzled expression.
"She is neither the one nor the other. She has had three names: the first was the Trafalgar, the second the Tallahatchie, and the third the St. Regis," continued the captain.
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Christy, relapsing into silent thoughtfulness, for he could hardly believe the paper from which he had read his appointment; and officers far his senior in years would have rejoiced to receive the command of such a ship.
"Not only possible, but an accomplished fact; and the only sad thing about it is that you must sail in the St. Regis day after to-morrow."
"I am informed that my orders will come by to-morrow," added the lieutenant-commander.