“Yes, sir; one of the two best destroyers that the United States has put in commission since the war began. I’m eager, sir, to see the best that the ‘Grigsby’ can do.”
“The best that the ‘Grigsby’ and her complement can do,” Dave Darrin amended.
Then, accompanied by the executive officer, Darrin started on a tour of inspection of the “Grigsby.”
“It seems a shame, doesn’t it,” Dave asked, “to think that a magnificent craft like this, costing a huge fortune, can be destroyed in a moment by contact with a single torpedo fired from some sneaking German submarine.”
“But it seems just as good the other way, sir, to think that such a craft as this can, perhaps, sink a dozen of the submarines before she meets her own fate.”
“I never fully appreciated before this war what war to the hilt meant,” Dave went on, thoughtfully. “Of course I knew that it spelled ‘death’ for many of the fighters, but it also means the destruction of so much property, the ruining of so much material that the world needs for its comfort! The world will be hard up, for a century to come, on account of the waste of useful materials caused by this war’s destructiveness.”
“But may the ‘Grigsby’ do her share of that destructive work!” said Lieutenant Fernald, fervently. “The property that we destroy belongs to those who would set the world back a thousand years!”
“I’m afraid we must go on destroying enemy property, and our own, too, in accomplishing harm to the enemy, Mr. Fernald. The more swiftly we destroy, the sooner our struggles against the German madmen will be ended!”
All was in readiness to sail. Punctually to the minute the “Grigsby” and the “Reed,” with anchors up, began to move out of the harbor. Both had their general orders as to the course to be followed, the length and duration of the cruise, too, with discretion as to changing their orders in emergencies such as might arise.
Hardly had they put out from port when the “Grigsby” and the “Reed” parted company.