"I expect so, sir," was the response.
Both officers gazed over the leaden expanse of the landlocked bay about them.
Five battleships, two cruisers, and three torpedo-boat destroyers lay at anchor, in regular files. Hard by was a "parent ship," with her flotilla of submarines nestling alongside, like small chickens round a motherly old hen.
"Desolate country hereabouts," said Commander Dunham presently. "I shouldn't have thought that an airman could have found his way here."
"It hardly seems possible," agreed his junior; "it's as barren a bit of coast as can be imagined."
The aeroplane drew closer. Its outlines were quite apparent now. On every vessel of the fleet excitement over its approach was now visible. Bright bits of bunting began to "wig-wag" the news from ship to ship. On every foredeck jackies almost suspended the tasks in hand to watch the oncoming of the aerial craft.
"What a contrast, Bulkley," observed Commander Dunham presently. "See that old sloop off there to seaward? She is of an almost obsolete type, while above us is coming the herald of a new era in peace, as well as war."
"That is so, sir. But that sloop, obsolete as she may appear, is quite fast. I understand she has been tacking about the fleet all day. I wonder what she wants?"
"Some fisherman, probably. However, see that she does not come too close. In confidence, Bulkley, I have been warned, in common with every other commander of the fleet, to beware of a band of daring anarchists who, it appears, have made no secret abroad of their intention to damage the United States navy."