"That can hardly be, sir. Uncle Sam has but three steamers, of any
size or force, now the Missouri is burned; and yonder is one of
them, lying at the Navy Yard, while another is, or was lately, laid
up at Boston. The third is in the Gulf. This must be an entirely new
vessel, if she belong to Uncle Sam."

"New! She's as new as a Governor, and they tell me they've got so
now that they choose five or six of them, up at Albany, every fall.
That craft is sea-going, Mr. Mulford, as any one can tell at a
glance. She's none of your passenger-hoys."

"That's plain enough, sir--and she's armed. Perhaps she's English,
and they've brought her here into this open spot to try some new
machinery. Ay, ay! she's about to set her ensign to the navy men at
the yard, and we shall see to whom she belongs."

A long, low, expressive whistle from Spike succeeded this remark,
the colours of the steamer going up to the end of a gaff on the
sternmost of her schooner-rigged masts, just as Mulford ceased
speaking. There was just air enough, aided by the steamer's motion,
to open the bunting, and let the spectators see the design. There
were the stars and stripes, as usual, but the last ran
perpendicularly, instead of in a horizontal direction.

"Revenue, by George!" exclaimed the master, as soon as his breath
was exhausted in the whistle. "Who would have believed they could
screw themselves up to doing such a thing in that bloody service?"

"I now remember to have heard that Uncle Sam was building some large
steamers for the revenue service, and, if I mistake not, with some