"Half a mile the other side of the ferry landing." He went on and gave Rob pretty full directions how to find his house; and Larry McGee added, quite respectfully,
"Ye're an owld sailor yersilf, sor?"
"Am I? Well, yes, I was once, before I lost my leg. The ships weren't all turned into iron pots then."
"Was it there ye lost yer lig?"
"There? Oh, you mean aboard ship? That's where it was, my hearty. Did you over hear of Mobile Bay?"
"I niver did, sor."
"I did," exclaimed Rob.
"Did you, then? I'm glad of that, my boy. Did you ever hear of a sailor named Farragut?"
"The great Admiral? Admiral Farragut? Oh yes, indeed. Father's got a picture of him, up in the rigging of a ship, with a telescope in his hand. He was a great fighter."
"You're the boy for me. Do you know about that picture? That was the old ship Hartford; and when the Admiral was up in the rigging there, with the bullets flying round him, I was down on deck, getting my leg shot off."