“He is very young for an admiral?” There was mystification in his voice.
Takishima shrugged his shoulders.
“About forty-five,” he answered. “He has been an admiral two years.”
Phil sighed thoughtfully. He was thinking of the difference between the two navies. Captain Rodgers, he knew, had passed his fifty-fifth birthday, and was no nearer than three years to his rear admiral’s commission.
The Kingsleys had left Mr. Impey with his new-found friends, and had joined Miss Tillotson and the newcomers. As if by mutual consent Takishima and his party had withdrawn to a small table farthest from the refreshment booth where Sydney had enthusiastically pounced upon the Japanese lieutenant, and the two were demonstrative over this unlooked-for meeting.
“Less than two years ago, Taki, you were only a midshipman, and now you have two gold stripes on your sleeve!” Sydney exclaimed in wonder. “That’s promotion for you!”
“It is a high compliment to your academy at Annapolis,” Takishima replied, smiling blandly. “You and Perry would now be lieutenants if you were in our navy.”
“Oh, that would be impossible,” Phil laughed gayly. “Imagine our giving orders to your sailors.”
“Do you remember how you tacked ship in the ‘Severn’ on the practice cruise?” Sydney asked reminiscently, his happy face all smiles at the recollection. “You were so rattled you had forgotten your English, but you sang out your orders in Japanese at the right time and she went about beautifully. You knew the time, but didn’t remember the words, eh, Taki?”
Takishima was not the slightest bit hurt at this playful jibe. His answer showed that only too plainly.