Calhoun," he added. "I mean a captain's uniform." Dyck smiled. "I
never have."

The next moment the door of the admiral's cabin was opened.

"Mr. Dyck Calhoun of the Ariadne, sir," said Captain Ivy.




CHAPTER XV

THE ADMIRAL HAS HIS SAY

The admiral's face was naturally vigorous and cheerful, but, as he looked
at Dyck Calhoun, a steely hardness came into it, and gave a cynical twist
to the lips. He was a short man, and spare, but his bearing had dignity
and every motion significance.

He had had his high moment with the French admiral, had given his
commands to the fleet and had arranged the disposition of the captured
French ships. He was in good spirits, and the wreckage in the fleet
seemed not to shake his nerve, for he had lost in men far less than the
enemy, and had captured many ships--a good day's work, due finally to the
man in sailor's clothes standing there with Captain Ivy. The admiral
took in the dress of Calhoun at a glance--the trousers of blue cloth, the
sheath-knife belt, the stockings of white silk, the white shirt with the
horizontal stripes, the loose, unstarched, collar, the fine black silk
handkerchief at the throat, the waistcoat of red kerseymere, the shoes
like dancing-pumps, and the short, round blue jacket, with the flat gold