“I thought, sir, if we could take the gas launch and make after them quiet like, we might find out where the arms were landed, or at least head ’em off.”
“A good plan, my man, but suppose they have several armed men on board? You know, in the delicate situation the United States occupies in this matter, we cannot afford to risk a fight.”
“No, sir,” broke in Ned, “but supposing we borrowed the consul’s launch. That wouldn’t be identified with the Beale, and we could head them off, perhaps, without any one being the wiser as to who it was.”
“The very thing,” heartily agreed Lieutenant Timmons, “only mind you, no adventures like those you had in Cuba.”
“Oh, no, sir,” laughed Ned, flushing up.
“Very well, then, that will do. You may go forward, and be subject to call. I will see to it that the launch is here—at about dusk, eh, Stark?”
“Yes, sir, I think that would be the best time,” rejoined the middy.
“Well, you are to be in command of the expedition——”
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Stark, blushing under the honor. “Thank you, sir,” he broke out.