While they slipped through the door the chorus changed again, and as the boy seized his cap, sprang down the steps and started for the launch landing, high above and behind him, he could still hear them singing:
"Here's to the Kid and the Dirigo,
He's off for a cruise on the Hwang-ho!"
II
"You sent for me, sir?"
Jack Russell stood in the doorway of the Admiral's cabin on the Ohio, cap in hand. The Admiral had been poring over some papers on his desk and for a moment did not dissect the voice from the whirring of the electric fan over his head, but as the boy took a step or two forward he turned and nodded.
"Oh, it's you, Russell. I didn't mean to disturb you on shore, but I've something for you to do and the sooner you start the better."
The boy awaited his words breathlessly—his first orders.
"It's rather a mean job, but I've nobody else available and, if you make good—of course, you will make good—in fact, it's rather a chance to distinguish yourself."
"Thank you, sir."