In the meantime, Ned had been practically the guest of honor at Lieutenant De Free's quarters. Two or three other naval officers were present, and they all displayed frank interest in the bright, intelligent youth and his invention, which he explained at length.
"But, my dear De Frees," one of them—a young ensign named Tandy—had declared, "you can say all you like about the aeroplane in warfare. In efficiency it will never take the place of the submarine, for instance. I'm willing to wager any amount that on any night that I held the deck, an aeroplane, equipped with pontoons or anything else, could not, by any possibility, approach within a hundred yards of my vessel."
"You really think so, Tandy?" queried Lieutenant De Frees good-naturedly. "Well, I tell you what we will do: At some other time we'll meet and talk it over. If you are still in the same mind, we will draw up conditions for such a test. It should be interesting and of great value theoretically."
"Yes," laughed Tandy, "it will demonstrate the fact that no aerial craft could torpedo or blew up a war vessel at night without being perceived in time. Therefore, what is the use of equipping the ships with such craft? They take up valuable room and waste a lot of money which would be better spent on guns and ordnance."
"I agree with you, Tandy," said Lieutenant Morrow, a veteran of many years' service, "from my observation of aeroplanes, one could not get within bomb-dropping or torpedo-aiming distance of a war vessel at night. Why, the noise of their engines would alone betray their nearness."
"But what if she glided up on pontoons?" smiled Lieutenant De Frees.
"The same thing would hold good," declared young Ensign Tandy, with a confident air.
Of course, Ned, as a petty officer, could not take part in this conversation, but it made a deep impression on him. After warm good-nights from the officers, who really felt an admiration for this clean-cut and self-respecting, although perfectly respectful young sailor, Ned set out on his homeward way. In his breast-pocket—or rather tucked inside his loose blouse—he carried the plans of his invention.
It was quite dark, with the exception of a pallid light given out by a sickly moon, that was every now and then obscured altogether by hurrying clouds. Ned walked along quickly, at his usual swinging pace. His thoughts were too much upon his invention for him to pay much attention to his surroundings.
All at once, however, he stopped short and listened for an instant. But not a sound, except the sighing of a light, night wind in the trees that bordered the road, disturbed the stillness.