The next moment there was a terrific crash and grinding of timbers; then, as the Monongahela reeled with the shock, the strange ship staggered away, that weird scream echoing from her deck.
CHAPTER VIII. THE MYSTERIOUS SHIP.
Discipline is brought to an excellent state of perfection on all warships as a rule, and the practice cruiser was no exception.
Naval officers are trained to exercise instant discretion in time of danger, and it is considered a sign of incompetency if one should lose his wits under such circumstances.
Lieutenant Watson, the executive officer of the Monongahela, aroused from a sound sleep by the indescribable pandemonium, lost no time in heedless inquiries, but rushed on deck clad only in his nightclothes.
By the time he had cleared the companion ladder the officer of the watch and the captain of the ship were thundering orders right and left.
Under their instructions the old Monongahela was again before the wind, and an immediate examination of damages being made.
But in the midst of it all, over on the port side of the main deck, Trolley, excited and happy, was dancing about Clif, and shouting half in Japanese and half in English: