Taken by the Enemy | Page 3

father had always treated him with great consideration, and
seldom if ever had occasion to exercise any of his paternal authority
over him, the young man never took advantage of the familiarity
existing between them. His father was certainly in a most extraordinary
mood for him, and he could not venture to speak a word to him.
He stood near the companion way, not far from his mother, and he
observed the movements of his father with the utmost interest, not
unmingled with anxiety; and Mrs. Passford fully shared with him the
solicitude of the moment.
The steamer was going at full speed in the direction of Sandy Hook.
Captain Passford gave no heed to the movement of the vessel, but for
several minutes planked the deck as though he were unable to realize
the truth or the force of the news he had hastily gathered from the
head-lines of the newspaper.
At last he halted in the waist, at some distance from the other members
of his family, raised his paper, and fixed his gaze upon the staring
announcement at the head of one of its columns. No one ventured to
approach him; for he was the magnate of the vessel, and, whatever his
humor, he was entitled to the full benefit of it.
He only glanced at the head-lines as he had done before, and then
dropped the paper, as though the announcement he had read was all he
desired to know.
"Beeks," said he, as a quartermaster passed near him.
The man addressed promptly halted, raised his hand to his cap, and
waited the pleasure of the owner of the steamer.
"Tell Captain Breaker that I wish to see him, if you please," added
Captain Passford.

The man repeated the name of the person he was to call, and hastened
away to obey the order. The owner resumed his march across the deck,
though it was evident to the anxious observers that he had in a great
measure recovered his self-possession, for his movements were less
nervous, and the usual placid calm was restored to his face.
In another minute, Captain Breaker, who was the actual commander of
the vessel, appeared in the waist, and walked up to his owner. Though
not more than forty-five years old, his hair and full beard were heavily
tinted with gray; and an artist who wished for an ideal shipmaster, who
was both a gentleman and a sailor, could not have found a better
representative of this type in the merchant or naval service, or on the
deck of the finest steam-yacht in the world.
"You sent for me, Captain Passford," said the commander, in respectful
but not subservient tones.
"You will take the steamer to some point off Fire Island, and come to
anchor there," replied the owner, as, without any explanation, he
walked away from the spot.
"Off Fire Island," added Captain Breaker, simply repeating the name of
the locality to which his order related, but not in a tone that required an
exclamation-point to express his surprise.
Whatever the captain of the Bellevite thought or felt, it was an
extraordinary order which he received. It was in the month of April,
and the vessel had been absent about five months on her winter
pleasure cruise.
In a few hours more the yacht could easily be at her moorings off
Bonnydale on the Hudson; but when almost in sight of New York, the
captain had been ordered to anchor, as though the owner had no
intention of returning to his elegant home.
If he was surprised, as doubtless he was, he did not manifest it in the
slightest degree; for he was a sailor, and it was a part of his gospel to
obey the orders of his owner without asking any questions.

No doubt he thought of his wife and children as he walked forward to
the pilot-house to execute his order, for he had been away from them
for a long time. The three papers brought on board by the pilot had all
been given to the owner, and he had no hint of the startling news they
contained.
The course of the Bellevite was promptly changed more to the
northward; and if the pilot wished to be informed in regard to this
strange alteration in the immediate destination of the vessel, Captain
Breaker was unable to give him any explanation.
Captain Passford was evidently himself again; and he did not rush
across the deck as he had done before, but seated himself in an
armchair he had occupied before the pilot came on board, and
proceeded to read something more than the headlines in the paper.
He hardly moved or looked up for half an hour, so intensely was he
absorbed in the narrative before him. Mrs. Passford