Nor did it grow lighter when the boat was driven in at a rickety side gangway. For, looking up, Dave saw a frowsy-looking lot of heads of men who were lounging at the rail and looking down at the water. The name of this frowsy-looking craft, Darrin discovered, was the “Prince.”
Dave went aboard on what would have been called the quarter-deck on a more pretentious craft. Dan led the way at once into the deckhouse and into a passage-way.
And right here Dave received another jolt. Inside, a clean-cut looking sailor lad, in new, handsome U. S. uniform, saluted smartly, at the same time stepping forward to take both suit-cases.
“Take Mr. Darrin to his cabin,” Danny Grin directed, gravely. “Then bring my bag to my quarters.”
In another moment Darrin had seen three more smart-looking jackies. He was then ushered into his cabin, and his bag placed inside the doorway.
“Hm! This cabin doesn’t look as bad as one might expect,” Dave Darrin murmured to himself. “But what can the game be? Danny-boy is certainly carrying on this joke in a mighty mysterious fashion.”
Hanging up the sheepskin coat that he had carried on one arm, Darrin next removed his long uniform overcoat and hung that up also. There came a brisk knock at the door.
“Lieutenant-Commander Dalzell’s compliments, sir, and will you join him, sir?” inquired the messenger at the door.
“Gladly,” assented Darrin, drawing aside the curtain that fell over the doorway and stepping outside.
His conductor led him forward into a large cabin.