"That? Oh, that's the meat-ball!" laughed old Tom.
"The meat-ball?" echoed the boys, much astonished.
"A sort of dinner flag, I suppose?" asked Herc, who was beginning to feel hungry.
"Not much, my lad," laughed the old sailor. "That's the gunnery pennant for the vessel making the best score at the targets. The Idaho won that off the Virginia capes on our last battle practice cruise. All the fleet's after it now, but if we have our way, the old Manhattan will be flying it after we get through peppering the marks off Guantanamo."
Each of the Dreadnought Boys found himself making up his mind, as old Tom spoke, that if it depended on them, the Manhattan would be the battleship to fly the coveted "meat-ball" when next the fleet made port.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
HERC TAKES A COLD BATH.
A few minutes after the boys' arrival at the landing, a launch with a lead-covered hood was seen approaching, towing three large ship's boats behind it. The latter were crowded with jackies coming ashore.