At this query of Walter's Caleb Walton burst into a roar of laughter. "It's easy to see you're a landsman," he said. "I didn't say a Scotch vessel; I said a Scotch prize—a ship captured illegally, and one that must be given back to her owners. I don't know where that term came from, but it's what the men in the navy always use."
"I see."
"A legitimate prize is sold, and then the money is divided. If the vessel captured was the equal of that taking her, then all the prize money goes to her captain and crew; but if the captured ship is inferior, then her takers get only half of the money, and Uncle Sam keeps the balance."
"And what part would I get if my ship took a prize?" went on Walter, more interested than ever, for the question of prize money had not appealed to him before.
"You would get a share according to your regular pay—perhaps one dollar out of every five or ten thousand."
"That wouldn't be much—on a small craft."
"You are right, lad, but it would be a tidy amount on a big warship worth two or three mil-
