“Beg your pardon, sir. That was a slip of the tongue,” Hal replied, meekly, as he colored. “Are you the gunboat 'Hudson?'”
“No; I'm her commanding officer, young man! Who in blazes are you?”
“I'm the goat, it seems,” muttered Hastings, under his breath. But, aloud, he replied:
“I have the pilot you requested.”
“Then why don't you bring him on board?” came the sharp question. “Did you think I only wanted to look at a pilot?”
“All right, sir. Shall I make fast to your starboard side gangway?” Hal called.
“In a hurry, young man!”
“That's the naval style, I guess,” murmured Jack to his chum. “No fooling in the talk. I wonder if that fellow eats pie? Or is his temper due to coffee?”
Answering only with a quiet grin, Hal rowed alongside the starboard side gangway. Jack, waiting, sprang quickly to the steps, ascending, [pg 035] waving his hand to Hal as he went. Young Hastings quickly shoved off, then bent to his oars.
“Where's the pilot?” came a stern voice, from the bridge, as Jack Benson's head showed above the starboard rail.