Once more the fleet was at sea. Everything was ship-shape and “man-o’-war fashion,” the days spent at Hilo having been devoted to putting the big battle fleet in tip-top condition after the buffeting it had gone through in the big storm. Officers and men were all a-tip-toe with anticipation at the prospect of the next stop, which was Yokahama. The Dreadnought Boys particularly were anxious for a sight of the Flowery Kingdom.
Ned’s duties having called him, one calm, peaceful evening, to the after part of the ship, he was passing the wireless room on his return forward when he caught the sound of a message being sent out from the flag-ship to the rest of the fleet. The boy had been keen to learn everything connected with his profession, and the study of wireless had been included in the curriculum he had set himself.
He spent spare moments when he could in the wireless room and under the operator’s tutelage had become quite a fair hand at the key. He paused and listened to the dots and dashes as the flame leaped and crackled between its terminals, sending out into space a message to the long line of ships behind the Manhattan.
Ned listened till the message was complete and then, with sparkling eyes, he resumed his journey.
“I guess there’s going to be a surprised bunch of blue-jackets on board before morning,” he said to himself, as he hurried along through steel-walled corridors and metal-enclosed casements. “I’m glad I caught that message. Forewarned is forearmed.”
Herc noted his comrade’s suppressed excitement at supper that night and tried to find out the cause for it, but he was unsuccessful. Ned, however, could not forbear giving him a hint a little later.
“Sleepy, Herc?” he asked.
“No, but as soon as I get into my downy hammock, it doesn’t take me long to slip off into dreamland.”
“Well, don’t sleep too soundly to-night.”