show you."

"Where do you live?"

"Half a mile the other side of the ferry landing." He went on and gave
Rob pretty full directions how to find his house; and Larry McGee added,
quite respectfully,

"Ye're an owld sailor yersilf, sor?"

"Am I? Well, yes, I was once, before I lost my leg. The ships weren't
all turned into iron pots then."

"Was it there ye lost yer lig?"

"There? Oh, you mean aboard ship? That's where it was, my hearty. Did
you over hear of Mobile Bay?"

"I niver did, sor."

"I did," exclaimed Rob.

"Did you, then? I'm glad of that, my boy. Did you ever hear of a sailor
named Farragut?"

"The great Admiral? Admiral Farragut? Oh yes, indeed. Father's got a
picture of him, up in the rigging of a ship, with a telescope in his
hand. He was a great fighter."

"You're the boy for me. Do you know about that picture? That was the old
ship _Hartford_; and when the Admiral was up in the rigging there, with
the bullets flying round him, I was down on deck, getting my leg shot
off."

Larry McGee took off his hat right away.

"Wuz that so indade, yer honor? Wuz it for that ye got the goold shtar
ye're wearin'?"

"Star? No, indeed. I got a pension, but I didn't get any star."

"But it's a foine one."

So it was, and it was fastened by a strong, wide blue ribbon to the old
man's left breast. It looked like solid gold, and it was curiously
lettered and ornamented.

"I'm proud of that, my man. And I got it that day too."

"How was it?" asked Rob, who had dropped his four-masted ship to listen.

"How was it? I'll tell you, my boy. It was Farragut himself. He was the
best sailor ever trod a plank, and he hated steam and iron pots to the
day of his death. He came to see me and the rest, in hospital, like the
true sailor he was, and he'd a good word all around. I'd been one of the
crew of his own gig, and before he went he put his hand in his pocket,
and seemed to be feeling for something. Belike his hand had been in that
pocket pretty often, those days, for it looked as if he couldn't find a
thing. When it came out, though, it had a piece of gold in it. An old
Spanish doubloon he'd carried for a pocketpiece--"

"That's a gold coin?" asked Rob.

"The biggest there is, except a double-eagle, only there's not many of
'em nowadays. And says he to me, says he: 'Good-bye, Jack Peabody. Most
likely I'll never see you again. Keep that to remember me by. I don't
think you'll forget the old ship, nor Mobi