"Envelopes, father?" asked the young officer curiously. "Base ball or boat-club business?"
"I should say neither; decidedly not," replied his father, taking the documents from his pocket, and handing them to him. "They have an official look, and bear the imprint of the Navy Department."
"What business can the Navy Department have with me now? I have the honor to be the executive officer of the gunboat Bronx, with the rank of master, on detached duty as prize-master," added Christy, as he looked at the ponderous envelopes.
"You can easily answer that question by reading the papers," replied his father.
"A commission!" exclaimed Christy, as he opened the first one. "I am promoted to the rank of lieutenant!"
"And, though you are my son, I must say that you deserve the promotion," added Captain Passford. "I have read your report of the capture of the Ocklockonee and the Escambia, and you have won your spurs, my son. I did not ask for this promotion, or even suggest it to any one."
"Well, I am astonished, confounded, overwhelmed!" exclaimed the young lieutenant, as we are now permitted to call him. "And the commission is dated back far enough to put me over the heads of not a few others of the same rank."
"Perhaps it will please you quite as much when I inform you that the officers you recommended for appointment as masters have been promoted to that rank," added the captain.
"I am even more pleased at their promotion than at my own," replied Christy, opening the other envelope, in which he was addressed as "Lieutenant Christopher Passford." "Ah, ha!" he exclaimed, leaping out of his chair in his excitement, to which he gave way on such an occasion as the present.
"What in the world is the matter with you, Christy?" demanded his mother, astonished at such an unusual demonstration on the part of her son.