"Oh, so he's a marine, eh?" rejoined Herc, regarding the sentry with much disapproval. "One of those sea soldiers—a sort of half-and-half fellow."
Further comment on Herc's part was cut short by the outpouring of the laughing, shouting jackies who were coming ashore on leave. They poured up the narrow gangway in a seemingly never-ending stream.
"There'll be no one left to man the ships," gasped Herc, as the ranks of light-hearted shore-leave men poured past. Some of them carried suitcases, and were evidently going ashore to bid a last good-by to their friends. Others, whose folks probably resided in distant cities, were going ashore for a last look at New York.
"Those fellows will all have to be on board by midnight," explained old Tom to the boys. "They're going to crowd all they can into the few hours they'll have ashore."
"Then we are to sail soon?" inquired Ned, his heart beating high and his eyes sparkling.
"Before eight bells to-morrow morning we'll be in the Narrows," rejoined the old bluejacket.
"That's the stuff!" cried Ned, gazing at the ranks of bronzed, healthy faces which were still passing by.
"Want action, eh?" laughed old Tom. "Well, lads, you'll get it before you are many hours older; and remember, my lad, that it isn't all fun aboard a man-o'-war, and always bear in mind one thing—do what you're told without grumbling. Tee-total abstinence, when it comes to making remarks about what you are told to do in Uncle Sam's navy."
"Say, Ned," whispered Herc.
"What?" asked Ned, still engrossed in the animated scene before him, and in the formidable background formed by the motionless war machines.