“’Tis a pity, Richard,” said he, smiling thoughtfully at the captain, “’tis a pity we have no service afield open to our young men.  One of your spirit and bearing should be of that profession.  Captain Jack was as brave and dashing an officer as I ever laid eyes on.”

I hesitated, the tingling at the compliment.

“I begin to think I was born for the sea, sir,” I answered, at length.

“What!” cried the captain; “what news is this, Richard?  ’Slife! how has this come about?”

My anger subdued by Mr. Washington’s presence, a curious mood had taken its place.  A foolish mood, I thought it, but one of feeling things to come.

“I believe I shall one day take part in a great sea-fight,” I said.  And, tho’ ashamed to speak of it, I told him of Stanwix’s prophecy that I should pace the decks of a man-o’-war.

“A pox on Stanwix!” said the captain, “an artful old seadog!  I never yet knew one who did not think the sun rises and sets from poop to forecastle, who did not wheedle with all the young blood to get them to follow a bow-legged profession.”

Colonel Washington laughed.

“Judge not, Clapsaddle,” said he; “here are two of us trying to get the lad for our own bow-legged profession.  We are as hot as Methodists to convert.”

“Small conversion he needed when I was here to watch him, colonel.  And he rides with any trooper I ever laid eyes on.  Why, sir, I myself threw him on a saddle before he could well-nigh walk, and ’twere a waste of material to put him in the navy.”

“But what this old man said of a flag not yet seen in heaven or earth interests me,” said Colonel Washington.  “Tell me,” he added with a penetration we both remarked, “tell me, does your Captain Stanwix follow the times?  Is he a man to read his prints and pamphlets?  In other words, is he a man who might predict out of his own heated imagination?”

“Nay, sir,” I answered, “he nods over his tobacco the day long.  And I will make bold to swear, he has never heard of the Stamp Act.”

“’Tis strange,” said the colonel, musing; “I have heard of this second sight—­have seen it among my own negroes.  But I heartily pray that this may be but the childish fancy of an old mariner.  How do you interpret it, sir?” he added, addressing himself to me.

“If a prophecy, I can interpret it in but one way,” I began, and there I stopped.

“To be sure,” said Mr. Washington.  He studied me awhile as though weighing my judgment, and went on:  “Needless to say, Richard, that such a service, if it comes, will not be that of his Majesty.”

“And it were, colonel, I would not embark in it a step,” I cried.

He laughed.

“The lad has his father’s impulse,” he said to Captain Daniel.  “But I thought old Mr. Carvel to be one of the warmest loyalists in the colonies.”

I bit my lip; for, since that unhappy deception of Mr. Carvel, I had not meant to be drawn into an avowal of my sentiments.  But I had, alas, inherited a hasty tongue.