d my father, "unpacked? That's right, but you might as
well have undone them." We each dashed at a package, whipped out our
knives, cut the string, and rapidly unrolled the contents, till Bigley
held a pistol, and I a cutlass, of the regular navy pattern both.

My father took the sword from my hand, drew its short broad blade, and
made it whiz through the air as he gave a cut, guarding directly, and
then giving point.

"Hah!" he said, as we watched him breathlessly, "I used to have two
hundred and fifty stout Jack-tars under me, boys, every one of whom
handled a cutlass like that."

"Two hundred and fifty," I said; "just as many as there are cartridges
in those boxes."

"How did you know that they were cartridges?" he said smiling.

"Well, we guessed that they were, father," I replied colouring. "It
seemed as if there must be cartridges for the pistols."

"Right, my boy," he replied.

"And of course cartridges are not wanted for cutlasses," I continued.

"No," he said laughing; "you load your cutlasses with muscles."

"But they want belts," I ventured to observe.

"To be sure," said my father. "There they are in that box. You shall
unpack them when we've undone these. Let me look at that pistol,
Uggleston."

Bigley handed him the pistol, and my father drew the ramrod, thrust it
down the barrel, and gave it two or three taps to make sure that it was
not loaded. Then replacing the ramrod he cocked it, held it at arm's
length, and drew the trigger.

There was a little scintillation as the flint struck the cover of the
pan, and he cocked and drew the trigger again, we two watching him with
intense interest, and longing to try the pistol ourselves, but not
liking to ask permission.

"There, work away!" he said, "save the string, and lay the brown paper
in heaps; it may come in useful."

We set to work, while my father took a hammer and some large nails from
a drawer, and, standing on a stool, drove the nails in a row along a
board at one side of the office, and as we unpacked he took the weapons
from us and hung them up, a cutlass between two pistols, arranging the
nails so that the arms looked ornamental, while at the same time they
were quite ready to hand in case they should be wanted.

It took us some little time, but at last the task was done, and the
cartridge chests stowed away in a cupboard, but not till each one had
been carefully wrenched open, the copper nails taken out, and the lids
repl