His mother and his sister had been on board that day, and the young commander had parted from them with quite as much emotion as on the present occasion.

The members of the family were devotedly attached to each other, and in some respects the event seemed like a funeral to all of them, and not less to Christy than to the others, though he was entering upon a very exalted duty for one of his years.
"Pass the word for Mr.Flint," said Christy, after he had watched the receding boat that bore away his father for a few minutes.
"On duty, Captain Passford," said the first lieutenant, touching his cap to him a few minutes later.
"Heave short the anchor, and make ready to get under way," added the commander.
"Heave short, sir," replied Mr.Flint, as he touched his cap and retired.

"Pass the word for Mr.Giblock." Mr.Giblock was the boatswain of the ship, though he had only the rank of a boatswain's mate.

He was an old sailor, as salt as a barrel of pickled pork, and knew his duty from keel to truck.

In a few moments his pipe was heard, and the seamen began to walk around the capstan.
"Cable up and down, sir," said the boatswain, reporting to the second lieutenant on the forecastle.
Mr.Lillyworth was the acting second lieutenant, though he was not to be attached to the Bronx after she reached her destination in the Gulf.
He repeated the report from the boatswain to the first lieutenant.