"I shall see that it is done, Mr. Secretary. Taylor, you may carry on and—— Well, orderly?"
Captain Dunham looked up inquiringly as his orderly entered the cabin in some haste, and, after saluting, stood respectfully at attention. But it was plain from the man's manner that he was laboring under some excitement.
"The officer of the deck reports an airship coming this way, sir," said the orderly. "He told me to inform you at once, sir."
"An airship!"
"Yes, sir, or else a flying boat. We can't quite make out yet, sir."
"I will come on deck at once. Mr. Secretary, this may prove interesting. Possibly it is one of the Blue scouts; if so, I hope to bring the craft down, 'technically,' of course."
Herc saluted and hastened forward, while the captain and the Secretary of the Navy emerged on the deck. The Red fleet lay off Rock Island. They were awaiting word as to the movements of the "Blues" before steaming down the Sound to the attack.
So far, the wireless had been barren of news, and the movements of the defending squadron were surrounded with considerable mystery. The suspense had been wearing, and so every eye in the squadron, from Dreadnought, battleship, cruiser, destroyer, and torpedo boat, was centered on the strange aeroplane that was flying toward them.
Opinion was divided as to whether the distant flying machine was an aerial scout, or was a friendly craft bearing despatches from a portion of the squadron which had been sent around on the Atlantic side.
On came the flying craft, and as it neared the grim fleet that lay swinging with smoking funnels at anchor on the blue tide, it was seen to swerve downward like a swooping fish-hawk. For a mile or more it skimmed along the surface of the water and then struck it with a splash.