Fighting for the Right | Page 7

the Confederacy. The name of this man was given to him, and it was believed that papers signed by him would be found on board of the Ionian.
A knock at the door of his room disturbed his examination of the documents, and he found the commander of the steamer there. After looking about the ward room, and into the adjoining staterooms, he came in without ceremony.
"Here is my hand, Mr. Passford," said he, suiting the action to the word. "I find after reading my instructions that I am expected to consult with you, and as I have the very highest respect and regard for you after the brilliant record you have made"--
"Don't you believe that I won my promotion to my present rank through the influence of my father?" demanded Christy, laughing pleasantly, as he took the offered hand and warmly pressed it.
"If you did, your father did the very best thing in the world for his country, and has given it one of the bravest and best officers in the service," replied Captain Chantor, still wringing the hand of his passenger. "But I don't believe anything of the kind; and no officer who knows you, even if he is thirsting for promotion, believes it. I have heard a great many of higher rank than either of us speak of you, and if you had been present your ears would have tingled; but I never heard a single officer of any rank suggest that you owed your rapid advancement to anything but your professional skill and your unflinching bravery, as well as to your absolute and hearty devotion to your country. I rank you in date, Mr. Passford, but I would give a great deal to have your record written against my name."
"Your praise is exceedingly profuse, Captain Chantor, but I must believe you are honest, however unworthy I may be of your unstinted laudation," said Christy with his eyes fixed on the floor, and blushing like a school-girl.
"I hope and believe there will be no discount on our fellowship. A man came on board this afternoon, and gives me a letter from the proper authority, referring me to you in regard to his mission."
Christy decided to see this person at once.
CHAPTER III
THE DEPARTURE OF THE CHATEAUGAY
The commander told Christy that he would probably find the person who had brought the letter to him in the waist, for he knew nothing of his quality, position, or anything else about him, and he did not know where to berth him, though there was room enough in the ward room or the steerage. He was dressed like a gentleman, and brought two very handsome valises on board with him.
"For all that, I did not know but that he might be a French cook, a steward, or something of that sort," added Captain Chantor, laughing.
"He is a man who is said to be a Napoleon in his profession; but I will tell you all about him after we get under way, for I am in a hurry to speak with him," replied Christy.
"He is evidently a Frenchman," continued the captain.
"He is; but I never saw him in my life, and know nothing about him except what I have learned from a long letter my father gave me when I was coming on board."
"I have been told that you speak French like a native of Paris, Mr. Passford," suggested the commander.
"Not so bad as that; I have studied the language a great deal under competent instructors from Paris, but I am not so proficient as you may think, though I can make my way with those who speak it," replied the passenger, as he moved towards the door of the stateroom.
"And I can't speak the first word of it, for I have been a sailor all my life, though I went through the naval academy somewhat hurriedly," continued the commander.
"Fortunately you don't need French on the quarter-deck;" and Christy left the stateroom.
The captain went into his cabin, but came out before the passenger could reach the deck. He informed Christy that he was directed to heave short on the anchor and watch for a signal mentioned, which was to be hoisted near the Battery. He might get under way at any minute.
Christy found the person of whom the captain had spoken in the waist. He was dressed in a black suit, and looked more like a dandy than a detective. He was apparently about forty years of age, rather slenderly built, but with a graceful form. He wore a long black mustache, but no other beard. He was pacing the deck, and seemed to be very uneasy, possibly because he was all alone, for no one took any notice of him, though the captain had received him very politely.
"Monsieur Gilfleur?" said Christy, walking up