"What's wrong with the United States Navy, Midshipman?" came the jovial question from a bronzed, broad-shouldered, bearded man of fifty who appeared at the quarter rail, offering Eph a hand to aid him on board.
But Eph, disdaining the proffered hand, seized the rail, vaulting neatly on board. Then he straightened up.
"I am Ensign Somers, from the gunboat 'Sudbury.'"
"Ensign, eh?" muttered the schooner's master, looking in some bewilderment at Eph's boyish face. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Somers."
"What craft is this, sir?" Eph continued.
"Schooner 'Varia,' from New York, bound for Jamaica."
"We saw 'Varia' painted on your stern, of course," smiled Eph. "But was that name painted there during the night?"
"Sir?" demanded the skipper, in some astonishment. "Oh, I see, Ensign. Your commander thinks we may be sailing under false colors. Will you be kind enough to step down into my cabin?"
Here an elderly man, in yachting dress, stepped forward out of a group of sailors at the waist of the craft.
"This schooner is chartered to convey—" he began, but Eph interposed, politely: