“Ah, Strong and Taylor!” exclaimed the lieutenant as they appeared, “I have some more special duty to assign you to. I want to inform you beforehand, though, that it is of such a perilous character that if——”
He stopped with a smile. The expression that had come over both boys’ faces as they guessed that he was going to inform them that they might refuse if they wanted to had checked him.
“Well,” he broke off amusedly, “I see it is useless to attempt to warn you. I merely felt it my duty to say so. I don’t mind telling you, moreover, that I should have felt disappointed if you had refused, although I should not have blamed you. You will go ashore shortly with Mr. Stark. Further instructions you will receive from him. I may inform you, however—but mind, this must not be repeated—that I have received a cipher message this morning. The government is intensely interested in developments. Washington must be informed as soon as possible of the exact strength of the insurgents. It will be your duty, under Mr. Stark’s orders, of course, to find out. That is all.”
“One moment, sir,” broke in the midshipman, “the man Stanley—he would be a valuable aid, sir.”
“Very well, Stark, choose whom you wish—only bring this matter to a successful conclusion.”
The boys’ faces shone. The only drop of bitterness in the pleasure that was theirs in the thought of their important assignment, was removed now that Stanley was to be one of the party. They hastened to give him the information, which he received with a grim delight, and as much emotion as he ever allowed himself.
“Good thing that bullet didn’t put my flipper out of commission then,” he grinned, as he patted his wound of the night before, which luckily had proved to be a mere scratch, but painful at the time.
As our readers may have imagined, it was not part of Mr. Stark’s plan to go boldly marching into the insurgent main camp; nor was it his idea to perform scout duty, which might have taken a long time, and after all not have produced results. Lieutenant Timmons’ dispatch called for immediate action. At a consultation of the officers a plan, as ingenious as it was bold, had been hatched. What this was we shall shortly see.
It was not long before noon that a launch from the Beale put ashore a group of four plainly dressed young men, with nothing about them to distinguish them from the ordinary tourist type. Indeed, to heighten the illusion Midshipman Stark carried a red-bound guidebook, and a long puggaree gracefully floated from his sun helmet. In some naval theatricals some time before he had made a great hit as an Englishman. His mimicry and costume (the same he now wore) were declared perfect.
Ned, Herc and Stanley also wore tourist garb, and the quartette would have passed anywhere as a group of sightseers. Perhaps they were rather more robust, clear-eyed and bronzed than the ordinary run of such folk. It might have been noticed, too, that a handclasp of unusual warmth was exchanged between Lieutenant Timmons and his midshipman as the latter strode off with his companions.