CHAPTER XVII
THE LAST HOUR OF COMMAND
Through the night the "Sudbury" rolled lazily over the waves.
A wireless message had carried the news through space to Washington.
Orders had come to return to Norfolk, there turning Gray over to the
United States authorities.
Benson and his comrades were instructed to return to Washington with the charts and record books.
Down in a berth in the sick bay, lay Gray. The hospital steward had made the wounded man as comfortable as possible. The latter was painfully but not seriously wounded.
At the speed at which the gunboat was now proceeding the "Sudbury" was due at anchorage at six in the morning.
Lieutenant Jack had turned in, after leaving orders that he was to be called a few minutes before five. He wanted to be on deck to enjoy the sensations of his last hour of command on the cruise of a vessel of the United States Navy. Forward, the sailors of the watch were talking in low tones of their very youthful officers.
"There's the real stuff in those boy officers, mates," grunted one sailor who had been in the boarding party. "It don't make any difference whether they've been through Annapolis or not. Look at the way the lieutenant and Mr. Somers went up against the shooting. Kept us back, and took the medicine themselves, like real officers."
"You'd expect it of Somers," rejoined another sailor. "There's a bit of the bull-neck about him, and such men always fight. But the lieutenant makes a real officer that I'd be glad to foller anywhere."