“Mr. Bolton?” inquired the young officer, as Bill stepped forward.
“Himself,” smiled Bill.
“I’m Pierce, of the Stamford.” The two shook hands.
“Commander Brown’s compliments,” he continued after Bill had introduced the quartet, “he wishes you to come aboard the Amtonia. We wirelessed the news, of course, and have just received a message of thanks addressed to you, signed by the President. You are to go to Washington, just as soon as this business here is cleaned up. In fact, the President wants to meet the five of you.”
“I bet Bill will get the Congressional Medal!” shrilled Charlie.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” smiled Pierce. “Gosh!” he exploded, “this is a big thing you fellows have put over!”
“But Bill was the brains of it,” said Osceola.
“Without everybody’s help,” said Bill, “we never should have pulled it off.”
“Cut the argument,” laughed Ensign Pierce. “The skipper is waiting, and so are several hundred delighted passengers.”
“That’s just it,” protested Bill, “I’d rather be shot than face that mob!”