Sailor-like pride wreathed the faces of every man on the bridge.
The Manhattan swung at anchor behind her flagship at precisely the same distance as she had steamed in column behind her all the long voyage from New York. It was a feat to be proud of, and called for a high degree of seamanship.
Behind the Manhattan the other vessels came to similar moorings, the Stars and Stripes fluttering out from the stern staff of each as the anchor touched the bottom. It was a sight to make the heart of a patriot beat proudly. Ten of the finest ships in the United States Navy swung at exact intervals in a perfect line. The flag of their country whipped out from the stern staff of each, as if in defiance of their country's foes.
Hardly had the anchor of the Iowa, the last ship in line, dropped before from the flagship another signal was broken out.
"Well done!" read Ned, studying the bright bits of bunting. "Congratulations to officers and men."
A great cheer went up from the fore deck of the Manhattan, and its echoes went winging down the line of grim fighting craft and was caught up by ship after ship.
At almost the same instant the sun dipped behind the coast hills, and the bugles began to sound the musical call of "Retreat."
It was the boys' first opportunity to see the impressive ceremony of "colors," as the lowering of the flag on a man-o'-war is termed. The ceremony is not gone through at sea, and the boys had been below when it had been carried out in New York on their first night on board.
Now they were to witness one of the most impressive ceremonies of the United States Navy.
Division after division of the crew was formed in line and marched aft, in rhythmic tread, to the stern deck, on which stood Captain Dunham and a group of his officers in full uniform, the last rays of the sun glinting on their gold braid.