"Phil was smart about some things; but he couldn't keep a hotel. Why, that young pup that finally gave him his quietus, twirled him around his fingers, like he had been a school girl."
"Thank you, Mr. Coles; but I shall have the pleasure of serving you in the same way before many weeks," thought Somers, flattered by this warm and disinterested tribute to his strategetic ability.
"You mean Somers?" said Langdon.
"I mean Somers. The young pup isn't twenty-one yet, but he is the smartest man in the old navy, by all odds, whether the others be admirals, commodores, lieutenants, or what not."
"That's high praise, Coles."
"It's true. If he wasn't an imfernal Yankee, I would drink his health in this old Bourbon. Good liquor—isn't it, Langdon?"
"Like the juice of a diamond."
"I would give more for this Somers than I would for any four rear admirals. He has just been appointed to the Chatauqua; but he will be in command of some small craft down South, before many months, doing more mischief to us than any four first-class steamers in the service. He is as brave as a young lion; knows a ship from keel to truck, and is as familiar with every bolt and pin of an engine as though he had been a machinist all his life."
"Big thing, eh, Coles?"
"If I had this Somers, I could make his fortune and mine in a year, and have a million surplus besides."