In respect, doubtless, of her yachty lines, the Seneca had been used by a former President as a sort of official craft to convoy him to maneuvers and reviews.
Ned felt his enthusiasm rising, too, as lying against the Seneca's side, like the young of some sea monster, he made out the porpoise-like backs of the two submarines of which she was the parent ship. The sight of them brought back to him the stirring days when he and Herc had aided the inventor of that type of diving boat, both in his pioneer voyages and in his romance.
He had only time to drink in this and other details with greedy eyes, when the gig swept around to the starboard gangway, reserved by immemorial custom for officers' embarkation.
From the marine sentry stationed at the head of the gangway came a sharp hail.
"Boat ahoy! What boat is that?"
"Aye! aye!" came from the coxswain.
This showed that there were commissioned officers on board. Had they been non-commissioned passengers, the reply to the hail would have been: "No! no!" For the captain and for other higher naval ranks there were other rejoinders, which have been enumerated in preceding volumes.
The gig was made fast. With a springy step and glowing features, Ned stepped out first. He was followed closely by Herc. A rattling sound and an exclamation behind him, made Ned pause as he set foot on the gangway platform.
For an instant there was every sign that poor Herc was going to get into hot water for the second time that day. That unlucky sword had become entangled in his long legs, and for a time he hovered on the brink of disaster. But the watchful coxswain caught his arm and saved him the humiliation of tumbling into the water, new uniform and all.
It was all over in a moment and both boys hastened up to the head of the gangway. A corporal and four other marines besides the sentry now stood there. There was a sharp command and the sea-soldiers presented arms smartly.