Ordinarily Dave would have been glad of his fine new command and prompt sailing orders. Now, he wished regretfully that he could have had a few days ashore. That he might meet the “Griswold” at sea, of which there was not more than half a chance, meant little to him. He would, in that case, pass the ship on which Belle journeyed, but that would mean nothing.
“Oh, well, it’s war-time,” Dave sighed, when Dan expressed sympathy. “A few years of war, you know, and then a man will have a chance to see his home folks again, once in a while.”
“It’s tough, that’s what it is,” answered Dan, sympathetically.
“No, it isn’t even that,” Dave rejoined, quickly. “There are thousands of men at sea on ships who may not see their wives again unless we chaps do our duty all the time. There are scores of women on the sea whose husbands will never see them again if we sleep or lag. The men of the destroyer fleet have no right to think of their own pleasure or convenience. I’m ready for sea, and I pray for a busy and successful cruise against the enemy!”
Only from the deck of the “Prince” had the two chums seen their new craft. Now they went down the hill toward the harbor, ready to report and take over their ships.
It was the first time during the war that the two chums had sailed separately. It was also Dan Dalzell’s first regular command, for the “Prince” had been handed over to him only on temporary detail.
“We’ll miss each other, Danny-boy,” cried Dave, regretfully, as the chums gripped each other’s hands at the quay. “We’ve been used to sailing together.”
“We can have a radio talk once in a while,” Dan returned glumly.
“Yes, but we’re supposed to talk by radio only on official matters.”
“We can at least find out when we’re near each other.”