It's too late. I can never be anything different. My father and grandfather both died in drunken sprees—it's in my blood. I can't help it. I've had a chance or two to do something a little out of the ordinary in this war, thank God for it, but I suppose the reason I was able to carry it through was that I cared little whether I lived or died. No, that isn't true. I'd rather die than live, but I would like to go out of existence doing something fine and noble. I—I—might get a better chance on the other side, then, you know. Life is nothing to me, and there are no possibilities in it."

He spoke bitterly. It was rare that any one saw him in that mood.

"I tell you I'm cursed! I wouldn't take that girl if she did accept me. I only wanted to trouble you. Well, no, not exactly that, either. I love her, God knows, but the devil's got me in his grip and—"

"I can't understand it," said Sempland, vaguely.

"Of course you can't. You're so strong and so self-contained—such as you never can understand such as I. But to be a drunkard, and a gambler, and a—"

He stopped and threw up his hands, and then dropped them heavily by his side.

"It's in my blood, I tell you! It is not all my fault. Yet there is good in me, enough good to make me go mad if I stop to think of it. I want some way to get out of this life with honor. I leave the field for you."

"She doesn't love—"

"You're a fool, Sempland—forgive me—about that woman. I know women better than you. Not so much the good as the bad, but in some things women are alike, a woman is a woman whatever she does. That girl loves the ground you walk on."

"Nonsense! It's you."

"Pshaw! She is fascinated by what she's heard on one hand, and she shuts her eyes to what she has heard on the other. The war is young. We'll be beaten, of course, but not without some hard, desperate fighting. Your chance will come, and when it does—"

"I will master it or die!"

"Of course, but don't die. Master it. Leave dying to me. I've sought ways for it, and now one is at hand."

"What is it?"

"I am going to take out the David to-night."

"What!"

"Yes. It's a dead secret, but I can tell you. There are three blockade-runners ready to sail. The Wabash lies off the Main Ship Channel. Of course, all the others are blockaded, too, but General Beauregard thinks that if we can torpedo the flagship the others will hurry to her assistance and the blockade-runners can get out through the Swash Channel. Our magazines are running low, and we must have arms, powder, everything. There are two or three shiploads at Nassau. This is an attempt to get to them. If we can blow up Admiral Vernon's flagship, perhaps we can raise the blockade. At any rate it's the only chance for the blockade-runners to get out."

"Did the general order you to do this?"

"Certainly not. I suggested it to him. They don't order any one to the David, you know."

"I should say not," returned Sempland. "She's been down five times, hasn't she?"

"Yes, and every time with all of her crew."

"How many, all told, has she carried to death?"

"Some thirty or more, I believe."

"And she has never done any damage to the enemy?"

"She scraped the paint off the New Ironsides one night and scared her people to death, I reckon, but that's all."

"Lacy!" cried Sempland, suddenly, "I have no right to ask favors of you, but—"

"That's all right. Ask."

"Let me go to-night."

"What's the use? One officer is enough, and you could not do any good by going along. I should be in command—"

"Let me go in your place!"

"Nonsense! It's almost certain death."

"I don't care. It's my chance. I can run the thing as well as you."

"Oh, anybody can run the thing, for that matter."

"My life is of no more value to the South or to me than yours. Come! You have had your chances, and improved them; give this to me."

Lacy hesitated.

"Sempland, you're a fool, as I said before. You're running away from the woman who loves you. You're risking your life."

"Never mind about that," returned the other. "She doesn't love me, and I want to do it. For God's sake, old man, don't be selfish! Let me have an opportunity!"

Sempland was ordinarily a reticent and a quiet man, but this possibility awoke him into action. He pleaded so long and so hard, and so determinedly that he overbore the other man, and finally wrung from him a grudging assent to his request.

"If the general is willing, I'll give you my chance."

"Thank you. God bless you! If I don't come back, remember that you're to make a man of yourself—for her."

"You will come back. You must come back!"

CHAPTER IV

OPPORTUNITIES EMBRACED

"General Beauregard," said Lacy, as the two young officers were ushered into the general's office, "I have a most unusual request to make of you, sir."

"What is it, Major Lacy?" returned the little general.

"I want you to relieve me of the duty of taking out the David to-night, sir."

"What!"

"I want you to give it to Mr. Sempland here."

"You wish to avoid the danger?" queried Beauregard, gazing intently at Lacy.

"He does it as a favor to me, General," interrupted Sempland. "He has had his chance, and I have had none. I begged and implored him to allow me to go, and only wrung a most reluctant consent from him."

The general turned his head away, his fingers tapped softly on the desk.

"Things have not gone as we wished," he murmured half to himself, "the South is hard pushed, indeed. The war has dragged on. It becomes harder and harder, but we may not despair for our beloved country when her sons strive for posts of danger and are emulous to die in her service. Do you know what this means, Mr. Sempland?"

"What it means, General?"

"There is about one chance in a thousand of your coming back. Every time that infernal submarine has been used she has done no damage to the enemy and has drowned her crew. Payne was drowned in her with eight men when she was first sent out. She was swamped by the wash of a passing steamer on her next trial, and all hands were lost. Then she sank at Fort Sumter wharf, carrying down six of her men. Hundley took her into the Stono River and made a dive with her, hit mud, stuck there, and every soul was suffocated. They raised her and fixed her up again and tried her once more in the harbor here. She worked beautifully for a while, but fouled the cable of the receiving ship trying to pass under her keel, and stayed there. She has just been raised, the dead cleared out of her, now you want to go on her again."

"I do, sir," returned Sempland.

"Is life worth so little to you that you are willing to sacrifice it?"

"There is Lacy, sir."

"Oh, he is different!" burst out the general, and then bit his lip. "It would be greatly to Lacy's credit," had flashed into his mind, "if he could manage to die in some such heroic action."

Lacy and Sempland knew what the general thought, and Sempland could think of no words to bridge over the pause.

"You see," at last said Lacy, smiling satirically at Sempland, "the general understands. You would better let me go."

"No. The thing sometimes works. Glassell got out alive when he tried to blow up the New Ironsides, and anyway, I want this chance. I have had four years of war and have spent three of it in prison. For God's sake, General—"

"Very well. You shall have it," answered Beauregard, "but I will not have the boat used as a submarine. You can sink her until her hatch is awash, but no lower."

"Thank you," answered the delighted Sempland; "where shall I get a crew?"

"One has already been