Readers of the “Dreadnought Boys on Battle Practice” will recall the occasion which Mr. Varian, the inventor of the powerful explosive Chaosite, had thus chosen to commemorate. The watch had been presented to Ned Strong, as an ordinary seaman on board the big Dreadnought Manhattan. At the risk of his own life he had saved Mr. Varian from some rascals who had abducted him, and under the threat of blowing him up, had tried to compel the inventor to give up the formula of his explosive and the blue prints of a patent gun-breech of his devising for handling the stuff. It was Ned Strong’s ingenuity and pluck, it will be recalled, which had resulted in the plans of these men being a complete failure, and in their all being sentenced to long prison terms.
Closely following on this adventure, for which he received the congratulations of his own commander and also of the rear-admiral of the fleet, Ned Strong and Herc Taylor had behaved with singular gallantry just after the eruption in the forward turret of a dreaded “flareback.” At great risk they closed the safety doors, which had jammed, and then carried several unconscious men, including Lieutenant Timmons, the officer in charge, from the inferno of smoke and deadly gas. For this, readers of that volume will recall, both had been awarded medals of honor. Thus, in a few short months following their enlistment from the remote New York State village of Lamb’s Corners, both had become national heroes—that is, during the brief period of public memory. Had the recollection of their gallant deed not died out in the public mind, it is doubtful if the man who had accosted them would have chosen just these two youths who had so fully deeded their lives to their country and their flag.
“All right, we will go with you,” said Ned briskly, as if he had suddenly come to some private conclusion.
“Ah, zat is good,” smiled the dark-skinned individual. “I am glad you have come to zat determination.”
He started briskly off, headed for the drug store and followed by the two young man-of-war’s men.
As the boys were a short distance behind him, they had an opportunity to exchange a word or two as they went.
“Say, Ned,” began Herc, in a tone of remonstrance, “what’s the matter with you?”
“You don’t like the looks of that fellow?”
“No more than I like the looks of a skunk with its tail swung toward me.”