“But what is that launch they have there, sir?” prompted Ensign Conkling, who had accompanied his superior officer.
“Exactly. Ahoy there, Stark, what’s that launch you have alongside?”
“That’s our prize, sir.”
“Your prize?”
“Yes, sir. She’s loaded with machine guns of the latest type. I rather think, sir, we’ve put a crimp in the revolutionists’ plans.”
Lieutenant Timmons burst into a laugh.
“I should rather think so!” he exclaimed, “but, you young rascal, are you aware that serious complications may follow this action?”
“Why, sir, I——” began Stark, all his conceit gone, and a rather embarrassed feeling coming in its stead. “I, sir, that is——”
“Oh, well, never mind explanations now. You have done splendidly, and upheld the best traditions of the navy. I wish we could all have a chance at those chaps. But the thing to decide now is what to do with those captured guns.”