"I hope I shall. Wouldn't it be glorious, if I could send such a despatch as Captain Winslow did, after he had sunk the Alabama?"
Somers's eyes glistened as he thought of it, but it was only an air-castle; and after he had contemplated it for a moment, his common sense obliged him to come down from the clouds.
The cruise of the Firefly would supply matter enough for a whole volume, but we have only space for a mere outline of the voyage. The steamer lay off and on for a week without meeting with anything that looked like a rebel privateer, when her commander decided to run into Halifax, where he hoped to obtain some information. The city was a nest of "secesh sympathizers," and the captain of the Firefly was not received with much enthusiasm outside of the American consulate. He had not been in the habit of hearing his country and her rulers vilified, and as he sat in the parlor of the hotel, and listened to hostile remarks, evidently intended for his ear, nothing but prudence prevented him from indulging in the luxury of pulling the noses of the speakers. He preserved his dignity in spite of his inclination.
"Upon my word, this is a very unexpected pleasure," said a familiar voice.
He looked up from the newspaper he was reading. Before him stood Mr. Pillgrim!
"Quite as unexpected to me as to you, Mr. Pillgrim!" replied Somers, with abundant self-possession.
"I dare say, Mr. Somers," laughed Pillgrim. "Of course you did not expect to see me. Will you take a glass of wine with me, Mr. Somers?"
"No, I thank you; I never indulge—as you are aware."
"I didn't know but your rapid advancement had changed your tastes."
"No, sir."