Coming out on the spar deck Darrin found plenty of use for his eyes. Forward the “Prince” carried rather high bulwarks. Darrin had noted that in the harbor. But now he saw that which no observer on shore would have had reason to suspect.
In the bulwarks, on either side, were sliding doors or ports, and, behind these, in each instance, mounted on a carriage, was a very capable-looking naval gun.
Besides, on either side, was a machine gun, rigged to a platform that could be raised high enough to make the guns effective, even with the mark not more than a hundred feet from the hull.
“Rubber!” shouted Dalzell, joyously, from the bridge, as Dave strolled slowly forward.
“Some ship, all right,” Darrin called back. He then retraced his steps, making for the bridge, where Dan and Ensign Peters stood, both of them attired like merchantmen officers.
“What do you think of her?” demanded Danny Grin, as his chum took stand beside him.
“You told me it was going to be a humorous adventure,” Dave suggested. “I haven’t yet discovered where the laugh comes in.”
“Oh, we can’t laugh,” quoth Danny Grin, “until we find something to laugh at.”
“Of course,” Dave pursued, his eyes twinkling, “the ‘Prince’ is a good deal of a joke in herself.”
“And those hidden guns are the point to the joke,” Dan retorted. “But wait a few hours, or a few days. Oh, you’ll laugh!”