“Herc, you have no more soul than an oyster.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a good appetite, so I’m not worrying.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Herc resumed a few minutes later, “I’d like to knock the block off that old mountain with one of our thirteen-inch guns. I bet we’d see some fireworks worth while then.”
“Well, if you did you’d have to show better marksmanship than you have up to date.”
“How can I get to be a good shot when we don’t fire the big guns once in a blue moon?”
“Well, you’ve had lots of small caliber drill and that’s the same thing. Besides, every time we have big gun practice the expense runs into hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“Look! Look, there’s a war-ship!” cried Ned excitedly.
“So it is. What’s that flag? I know, it’s a bloomin’ Britisher.”
The British man-o’-war, a black, grim-looking sea-fighter, lay just inside the harbor. As the American squadron came sweeping in from the sea, her guns began to boom. All work was suspended for the moment, and then came the orders to return the salute. Flag after flag was dipped as the British battleship’s ensign, with its red cross, was run up and down. Bands crashed and blared the national anthem of both nations, Jackies cheered and waved and the guns boomed and roared deafeningly.
As the fleet came to anchor, a swift launch put off from the side of the English ship and the commander of the craft, the Indomitable, in a cocked hat and ablaze with gold lace, came on board the Manhattan to pay an official call on the commander of the Yankee squadron of world cruisers.