“Jove!” exclaimed Lieutenant Parry, “that’s a navy craft. See that large, intensely bright masthead light? That’s the night insignia of one of Uncle Sam’s ships.”
“Let’s give her a hail, sir,” suggested Midshipman Stark; “in a way, we, too, are a naval craft now.”
“Wonder what ship she is?” mused Lieutenant Parry, paying no attention to this suggestion. “I have it,” he exclaimed the next minute. “It’s the gunboat Brooklyn. I recollect she was ordered to Boston last week. She’s going up through the Sound.”
Midshipman Stark repeated his suggestion.
“That’s a good idea, Stark,” said the officer; “her commander, Lieutenant-Commander Scott, is an old friend of mine. Wouldn’t he be astonished to know that we were so close to him! Why, in time of war, if his was a hostile ship, all we would have to do would be to dive, and then torpedo him.”
“I believe we could even creep up and board him without his noticing us,” put in Mr. Lockyer, gazing at the bright light which was now almost abeam of them.
“By George! Do you really think so, Lockyer? Wouldn’t that be a prime joke? But how could we do it?”
Nobody had any suggestions to make till Ned spoke up.
“I think I could suggest a way, sir,” he said quietly.