sturbed him. It was the
prospective injury to the cause of his country which occasioned his
solicitude. His object was to save the Vernon, the Bronx, or both, from
being handed over to the enemy without a struggle to save them, one or
both.

He had no fault to find with the captain for his decision against
him, which seemed to be natural and warrantable. He had no ill-feeling
against his cousin, for he was trying to serve the cause he had
espoused. He was even willing to believe that he would have done the
same thing himself under like circumstances.

After he had considered the subject for a couple of hours he went back
to one of his first points, relating to the fitness and capacity of
Corny to accomplish the task he had undertaken. It was evident enough
on the face of it that his cousin, even if he had been a veteran naval
officer, could not carry out the plan alone. He must have confederates,
in the double sense, on board of the Vernon. In the early stages of the
war, men who had served in the navy as officers were coming home from
all parts of the world to take part on one side or the other in the
struggle. Those even who were disloyal could obtain commissions in
the loyal navy if their consciences would let them take the oath of
allegiance with a mental reservation. Christy had encountered several
of this kind.

Many of the seamen were foreigners who cared little on which side they
served, and one or more of the four officers in the ward room might be
at work for the Confederacy. Christy thought he was in an excellent
position to investigate the matter, and he decided that this should be
his first duty. Among the crew there must be some who were to take part
in the plot of Corny, whatever it was.

Before the close of the conference the Atlantic had begun to be quite
"sloppy," and the Vernon was now laboring in an ugly cross sea, which
caused her to roll heavily.

CHAPTER IX

A MORAL PHILOSOPHER.

The temporary berth was finished, the bedding put into it, and Christy
took possession of it. For the present he had done all the thinking he
cared to do, and he felt that his present duty was in action. He was a
prisoner of war, and as such he was in disgrace in a loyal ship's
company; at least, he felt that he was so under present circumstances.
He was not disgusted at his failure to establish his identity, nor
disheartened at the prospect before him. More than ever before in the
two years of his exper