That night he sent for the executive and had a long talk with him. There was something queer about those two Japanese boys, Rexdale said. Did Staples or any of the officers know anything about them? Inquiries were made, and the waiters themselves were closely questioned, but no information of importance could be gained. It was learned, indeed, that one of the ordinary seamen, Dick Scupp by name, was more "chummy" with Oto and Oshima than any one else on board. He was a simple, long-legged, awkward young fellow from northern Maine, who had enlisted at the outbreak of the Spanish War, and had served before Santiago, in the blockading squadron. He had taken a fancy to Oshima, particularly, and it was he who had rebuked Sam's rough treatment of his Japanese friend, just before the wrestling-match. He knew nothing, however, of the previous lives of the two little foreigners.
Rexdale would hardly have been surprised at Oto's skill in gunnery had he known that this meek and gentle Japanese lad had passed through the whole course at the Naval Academy at Annapolis, graduating—under his full name, Makoto Owari—in the first third of his class, just seven years before Dave received his own commission!
CHAPTER III. SEALED ORDERS.
The rest of the cruise of the Osprey was without special incident. Various drills were performed until every movement was executed to the officers' satisfaction. One of the most interesting was the "fire drill." A succession of loud, hurried strokes on the ship's bell brought the men hurrying up from below. Some ran to the hose, uncoiled it and coupled it to the pipes, others closed ports and ventilators, boat crews repaired to their stations, and in an almost incredibly short time water was gushing from the nozzle of the hose into the sea. Then there was "Boats and away!" the life-raft drill, signalling, and other manœuvres. Attention was paid to the slightest details, which were executed with the wonderful precision that characterises every naval movement. If the emergency should really arise, in the midst of a storm or under the enemy's fire, every man would know his station and the exact duties he was to perform. "Collision drill" and "setting up" finished the work in that line for the day.
During the afternoon land was near on both sides of the vessel, as she pursued her course to the north-west between Martha's Vineyard and the mainland. Nobska Head and, three hours later, Gay Head, were sighted and passed. Then the Osprey stood directly for Cape Charles. Just at sunset a heavy fog shut down.
"Three-quarters speed!" ordered Ensign Liddon, who was on the bridge.
"Three-quarters speed, sir," responded the quartermaster, throwing the indicators, which connected with the engine-room, around to that point. At about twelve knots an hour, or fifty-five revolutions of the screw to a minute, the ship crept steadily southward, with her whistle going twice a minute. At ten o'clock full speed was resumed, for the stars were out again.