The boys did not expect to be aboard the smuggler again, and therefore they took with them what little luggage they carried. This was very scanty, because, as Amos put it, they were “going light,” and doing without a good many things which, as ordinary travelers, they might have deemed necessary.
In fact, they had long ago learned that it is remarkable how few things are absolutely indispensable when traveling, and especially with a couple of rough-and-ready boys, accustomed to looking after themselves.
Once in the small patrol tender of the destroyer they speedily made the grim-looking little fighter that could cover thirty miles an hour, and then have a little reserve speed for an emergency.
Aboard this boat they were introduced to the commander, who took something of the same interest in them as the other officer had done. It was so remarkable a thing to come upon two American boys under circumstances like these that he felt a great and pardonable curiosity to hear something of their story.
Amos, who had by that time recovered his tongue, in particular, was not averse to obliging him, and rattled off an account of some of the adventures that had befallen them since crossing over from London and searching along the battle lines in Belgium for the missing Frank.
When the commander learned that this brother was no other than Frank Bradford, whose exploits had passed from hand to mouth wherever the Allies fought, he was doubly charmed. At the same time he expressed the pious wish that the boys might fail in their mission, because the cause needed aviators like the daring bird-man, and his loss would mean a big gap in the ranks.
The questions asked by the commander were principally about how they came to embark on the powerboat in some Grecian sea town, and what caused them to decide to try and effect the capture of the lawless craft. These events would make a brave showing in his report of the night’s work; for Captain Zenos had long been a thorn in the flesh of the Allies, carrying many a cargo of arms and explosives past their lines into Turkish camps.
“I am only sorry he slipped through our fingers this time,” he told the boys as they drew near the bulky battleship, from which the searchlight shone upon them, and the small craft followed in their rear, manned by a prize crew; “but with his vessel gone he may have his services crippled somewhat. And besides, he may be picked up by one of our scout boats.”
A short time later Jack and Amos found themselves aboard the battleship. It certainly gave them a thrill to realize that they actually trod the deck of one of His Majesty’s big bulldogs of the navy, a vessel that doubtless daily engaged some of the Turkish batteries along the shores of the Gallipoli Peninsula or on the Anatolian mainland.
They were speedily taken into the presence of the Vice-Admiral. He may have been a gruff sea-dog in the eyes of his men, and known as a martinet; but he had another and much more genial side to his nature, which he exhibited to his two young American guests.