“Three minutes, lads,” came the information from the deck.
The jackies sent up a cheer that might have been heard far over the sunlit sea. The morning was a glorious one, the sea having quieted down to a sluggish roll that scarcely disturbed the ship at all, though the small boats bobbed about somewhat, thus giving more zest to the work.
“Lay mines,” came the command.
Half a hundred hardy tars bent themselves to the oars and the fleet of boats slipped away from the towering sides of the “Long Island,” the men pulling for the mine field off to the southeast.
Each Battleship Boy carried a spy glass under his arm. Now and then he would place it to his eye for a long look at the ship.
“The ship is making signals, sir,” Dan informed the ensign in command of his boat.
“What do they want?”
“They are saying that whaleboat number two is off its course, sir. Orders, sir, to bear more to the southwest.”
“Wherry, there,” spelled Dan. “That’s us.” He acknowledged the signal.
“Pull up. Wherry lagging behind!”