The Admiral hurried out of the room, and, despite his years and his dignity, ran toward "The Hole," a sheltered portion of the harbor where small craft usually anchored. He got as near as possible to the lighthouse tug, and waved his handkerchief violently. Just as the anchor of the tug dropped, a sailor reported to the officer in charge:
"Signal from the shore, sir!"
"Don't notice it," was the reply, made gruffly. "Hang the impertinence of some of these spring visitors."
"Yes, sir. I think it's Admiral Allison a-signallin', sir."
"Ah, that's different! Lower away! I'll go ashore for him."
The tug's boat had scarcely touched the beach when the Admiral gave the prow a mighty shove and shouted, "Shove off! Give way!" first wetting his feet thoroughly. Then he sprang like a cat from thwart to thwart until he got aft and dropped beside the astonished officer, whispering:
"Charley, you were at the Naval Academy while I was on duty there!"
"Yes, Admiral, and you were the best friend I ever had there. I couldn't have pulled through if it hadn't been for you, as you well know!"
"I'm glad you think so, my dear boy, for I want some special help from you to-day. Up anchor, and let me catch that train for New York."
"Why, Admiral, you know what a slow old tub this is, and we've been blowing off steam."