From the stacks of each of the grim sea bulldogs, black clouds of smoke were vomiting, and semaphore arms were jerking up and down frantically. On the bridges of every ship of the squadron stood the officers in full uniform. On the bridge of the Manhattan, of course, was the rear-admiral, a bluff, hearty seaman known the world over as “Fighting Bob.” From the after truck of the dreadnought’s cage masts fluttered his insignia.
The steamer came off with the last mails from the shore and was swung hastily into her davits. Below in the engine-rooms and boiler spaces, the great vessels of the squadron throbbed and hummed with pent-up energy. It was as if they were impatient to get to sea once more after the royal time they had enjoyed in San Francisco. From the gaff of each ship of the long line fluttered proudly Old Glory.
“What a sight, eh, Herc?” remarked Ned to his red-headed chum as, being temporarily unemployed, the two found a chance to look about and to chat.
“Never could have seen anything like this if we’d stayed at home on the farm,” grinned Herc. “Although, speaking of the farm, the ships do remind me of a long line of gray geese with the old Manhattan, the daddy gander, that shows ’em the way.”
“Well, I never saw geese that gave out black or any other colored smoke,” chuckled Ned, “nor do geese have funnels sticking up out of their backs. Otherwise your comparison is all right, Herc.”
A messenger came bustling up to them and thrust two packages into their hands.
“Just come off on the steamer,” he said.
“Now what in the world can this be?” wondered Ned as he opened his package, while Herc did the same. When the coverings were torn off, within each was revealed a purple plush box. Within these, in turn, nestling in beds of white satin, were two gold watches. On the back of each was this inscription: “Presented in token of appreciation of a gallant act. San Francisco, 19——.”
The boys’ eyes sparkled. No need to ask from whom the handsome presents came. The consul at dinner the night before had hinted at gifts, but that they were to be such magnificent ones had never entered the boys’ heads.
They had small time to admire them, however. Orders came to take stations, and each lad hastened to his turret to get everything in readiness for the good-bye salute of twenty-one guns.