"And I'll help all I can," said Larry. "Won't Ben and Gilbert be surprised when they hear of this?" he added.
"They might know you'd do something of the sort."
"That's so, too. By the way, I'm going up to the post-office to-day and see if there are any letters."
Much to the satisfaction of our friends they found over a score of men on the warship who could speak English. Some, of course, could speak but little, yet they could make themselves understood. On the other hand, both Larry and Luke began to pick up the Japanese language remarkably fast.
"If we keep at this for six months we'll be regular Japanese," said the youth. "It's not so hard as I thought it would be."
They found the discipline on the warship very strict and were called on to "toe the mark" continually. Yet all the officers were as considerate as they were firm, so there was little of hardship.
When Larry called at the post-office for letters he found two good-sized epistles awaiting him. One was from his brother Walter, and ran, in part, as follows:
"There is nothing particularly new in this part of the globe. I am doing very well in my new business and it looks now as if I should make a big thing of it. I rather think I am more cut out for work on land than for life on shipboard, although I don't regret the time I spent in the navy.
"Uncle Job is feeling very well these days and is building a new wing to the old house—going to put in a library of good books he tells me. He is as dear an old chap now as anybody would want for an uncle.
"I suppose you will hear from Ben and Gilbert. I am expecting a letter every day. It's queer you didn't go with them, but I suppose the old Columbia with her crew suits you better."