Ned shot upward and grabbed the bridle of the flying beast.—[Page 10.]

THE
DREADNOUGHT BOYS’
WORLD CRUISE

BY
CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON

AUTHOR Of “THE BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES,” “THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS
ON BATTLE PRACTICE,” “THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ABOARD A
DESTROYER,” “THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON A SUBMARINE,”
“THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON AERO SERVICE,” ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
CHARLES L. WRENN

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1913
BY
HURST & COMPANY

CONTENTS

THE DREADNOUGHT
BOYS’ WORLD CRUISE

CHAPTER I.
AT THE GOLDEN GATE.

“This is Golden Gate Park, Herc.”

“Huh,” responded the red-headed lad, whom we know as Herc Taylor, gazing about him, “where are the Golden Gates?”

“Don’t be any thicker than you have to,” laughed Ned Strong. “The Golden Gate is the poetical Western name for the narrow entrance to San Francisco harbor, through which we passed on the Manhattan two days ago. It was so called on account of the Argonauts of Forty-nine who came sailing into it in the old days expecting to find fortunes in the diggings. This park is ’Frisco’s show place, and it is a beautiful spot.”

“Well, so far they’ve done nothing but dig fortunes out of us,” complained Herc; “four dollars and ten cents for that breakfast at the St. Francis Hotel was as steep as the hill it stands on.”

“That is what two of Uncle Sam’s sailormen get for mingling with the swells, Herc.”

“Don’t sailors always mingle with the swells?” inquired Herc.

“Say, you deserve to be keel-hauled for springing anything like that,” chuckled Ned. “But seriously, Herc, the days of the old-time sailor, who sought his pleasures in low groggeries and such places, have vanished. At every place we’ve stopped since the fleet left Norfolk, haven’t the men of the squadron behaved themselves like men-o’-war’s-men and gentlemen, instead of the popular idea of a sailor ashore?” Warming to his subject the young Dreadnought Boy continued: “The navy of to-day is made up of ambitious, keen-witted young fellows. Clever, clean and enthusiastic——”

“Thank you,” spoke Herc, removing his service cap, for both boys wore their uniforms, of which they were justly proud, “I hope you include me in that catalogue?”

“Not if you make the breaks you did at the St. Francis this morning,” rejoined Ned. “I thought those folks at the next table would have died laughing at you.”

“What for I’d like to know?” demanded Herc belligerently, coloring up as red as his own hair.

“Why, for one thing, when the waiter asked you if you wanted to be served ‘a la carte,’ you said, ‘No, you’d rather have it on a plate’; and then when the finger bowls came on, you squeezed your bit of lemon into the water and then hollered for sugar for the lemonade, and——”

Herc doubled up his fists furiously.

“If you weren’t my chum and side partner, Ned Strong, I’d—I’d——”

But what Herc would have done was destined never to be known, for at that instant there came a thunder of hoofs from far down the magnificent, sweeping drive, on the edge of which they were standing, and high above the noise made by the distant galloping horses rose a woman’s shrill scream.

The sudden interruption to the Dreadnought Boys’ conversation had come from beyond a curve in the drive, where trees and flowering shrubs shut out from view its continuation.

“Look! Ned, look!” cried Herc suddenly, gripping his companion’s arm excitedly.

Ned’s heart gave a bound as around the curve there suddenly swept into view a stirring but alarming picture. On the back of a large, spirited chestnut horse, which was clearly beyond control, was seated a young woman whose white face and terrified cries indicated plainly that her mount was running away. Behind her, whirling in their upraised hands lassos of plaited rawhide, like those used by cowboys, came two mounted park policemen. But their horses, fast animals though they were, could not gain sufficiently on the runaway to enable them to throw their ropes and check his career.

Aroused by the screams of the young woman and the shouts of the policemen, people came running from all directions. Their cries only served, as did those of the pursuing officers, further to alarm the runaway. With glaring eyes and distended nostrils it thundered on with its rider clinging desperately to her saddle, from which she was threatened with being thrown any minute.

A low railing separated the drive from the pathway on which the boys stood, but Ned was over it in a bound. Before Herc realized what his chum and shipmate meant to do, Ned was standing in the middle of the drive crouched as if making ready for a supreme effort. The runaway, oblivious to all but its wild terror, came down on him like a whirlwind. But Ned, who had been brought up on a farm and knew no fear of horses, awaited its coming without betraying a sign of agitation.

In another second it was upon him. Concentrating every ounce of energy he possessed on the daring act he contemplated, Ned shot upward and grabbed for the bridle of the flying beast.

“He’ll be killed!” shouted the crowd excitedly.

Herc said nothing, but with white face, on which his freckles stood out like sun-spots, leaned forward open-mouthed as his chum made his daring tackle.

“He’s got him! Oh, good boy, Ned! Hooray!” cried Herc, capering about as Ned’s hands closed on the horse’s bridle.

But Herc’s rejoicing was rather premature. The next instant it was changed to a groan of dismay as the horse, brought to a sudden stop, reared straight up, beating the air with its forefeet, while Ned, hanging on like a cockle burr to the bridle, was swung pendulum-wise through the air.

Up reared the big chestnut till it appeared as if it must fall over backward, crushing its rider and injuring Ned. As it was, it was a marvel how he escaped the threshing hoofs of the maddened animal. Herc, when he had recovered from the shock of his first amazement, was over the low fence in a jump and at Ned’s side.

Just as he reached it the horse changed its tactics, and coming down on all four feet once more commenced bucking furiously. The girl stuck bravely to her seat but it was a test that would have tried the most skillful rider.

“Grab his neck, Herc, and try to hold his head down!” panted Ned, clinging fast to the bridle.

Herc made a spring and closed his muscular arms around the big chestnut’s neck, but he might as well have tried to harness a tornado. He was flung clear by a wild plunge of the brute, and the next instant it was dashing off with Ned still clinging to the bridle. The boy was lifted clean off his feet by the sudden rush, and, with his legs trailing out behind him like the tail of a kite, the young man-o’-war’s-man was carried along with the runaway.

Herc sprawled on the ground for a minute and then, feeling dizzy and shaken, regained his feet. But by that time the rattle of the runaway’s hoofs and those of his pursuers had almost died out in the distance. The red-headed lad set off on foot, running with all his might in the direction they had vanished.

The drive ended a little distance farther on and came out on a street mainly occupied by hotels, candy stores and itinerant vendors of peanuts and pop-corn. Straight for a small assemblage of push carts the big chestnut dashed. The frightened peddlers rushed off in all directions while the runaway gathered itself for a leap, and, like a steeplechaser, shot into the air and cleared the carts. But in landing on the opposite side it was not so successful. Its hind hoofs caught on the edge of the farthest cart and it came down on its knees with a heavy crash. This gave Ned, who was half stunned and bruised all over but still game and gritty, the opportunity he wanted. With a quick twist he compressed the curb and the snaffle together and had the horse under control. It struggled to regain its liberty, but finding that its efforts to get free only resulted in a fresh tightening of the curb-chain, it finally became docile.

By this time several bystanders had come running up, and some of them volunteered to hold the horse’s head while Ned helped the young woman off the saddle. But as he extended his arms to aid her in dismounting, she turned white and collapsed in a faint into the strong grip of the Dreadnought Boy.

Just then the mounted police, followed by a big crowd, came up, and behind them, panting and streaming with perspiration, came Herc.

“Ned! oh, Ned!” he was bawling. “Are you hurt?”

“Be quiet, you lubber!” cried Ned angrily, “can’t you see the young lady has fainted? Give me a hand to get her into one of those hotels, will you?” he asked, addressing the officers.

“Sure and we will, my bucko,” exclaimed one of them. “That was the nerviest thing I ever seen done, and I used to work on a cattle ranch before I went on the cops.”

“Youngster, you’re all right and a credit to the uniform you wear,” chimed in the other as he dismounted.

“Never mind that,” Ned hastened to say, as the crowd began to show symptoms of wanting to join in all this well-earned praise, “this young lady needs immediate attention.”

“You can bring her right in here. My living rooms are in the rear of the store,” said a motherly-looking woman who had come out of a soda-water store near by.

“Sure, that’s the best way, Mrs. Jones,” agreed one of the policemen. “Clear the way there, will you?” he added to the crowd, as the unconscious form of the young girl was carried into the store and laid on a lounge in the rear. There she was left to the care of Mrs. Jones and the people turned their attention to the boys.

“Well, that’s over. Come on, Herc, let’s get out of this,” said Ned hastily. “I feel like a fool.”

For a modest lad like Ned it was indeed an ordeal to be called openly “a hero” and “the nerviest lad in ’Frisco,” and half a hundred other adulatory names. The compliments came from the hearts of enthusiastic witnesses of his nervy rescue, but they only embarrassed the Dreadnought Boy and he was anxious to get away.

“She’ll be all right in a few minutes. Only a faint, but if it hadn’t been for you it might have been something worse,” said one of the policemen, coming out of the store where the girl had been carried; “and now you’ll need some fixing up yourself, young fellow. You look like you’d been through a cyclone.”

In truth, Ned did present a disreputable appearance. His uniform was torn, his face was bruised and scratched, and his cap was missing.

“Oh, I’m all right,” he replied hastily. “There’s a street car. Come on, Herc, we’ll catch it and get fixed up down town.”

“Hey!” shouted the policeman as the two boys dashed off to catch the already moving car, “Hey, young feller, come back and gimme yer name and address!”

But Ned and Herc paid no attention to his cries. They caught the back platform rail of the cable vehicle and swung themselves nimbly on.

“Just time to fix up and get down to the landing,” said Ned, consulting his watch, which had luckily escaped breaking in the recent adventure he had encountered, “we don’t want to overstay our leave, Herc.”

“Uh-huh,” grudgingly assented the red-headed lad, “but just the same ’Frisco suits me better than any place we’ve struck so far on this round-the-world cruise, and I’d like to look around a bit more.”

The Dreadnought Boys, who had just met such a thrilling experience in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco’s beauty spot, were, as our old readers know, the same two lads, who, as told in “The Dreadnought Boys on Battle Practice,” enlisted in Uncle Sam’s navy after tiring of a life of farm work under unjust conditions. They were cousins and life-long chums. In the volume referred to, the first of this series, we saw how quickly the boys, by earnest attention to duty and a fixed determination to make their mark in their chosen profession, attracted the attention of their superior officers. True, they had some hard knocks, chiefly caused by a bully, to whom Ned in a fair, stand-up fight taught a needed lesson. A flareback in one of the big-gun turrets gave them an opportunity to display the mettle they were made of, and right well did they take advantage of it. But ashore at Guantanamo, as well as on the ship, their enemies caused them considerable trouble and they were put to the test in many ways.

Wearing proudly medals of honor, and having achieved raises in rank, we found them next, in the second volume of this series, “The Dreadnought Boys Aboard a Destroyer,” participating in stirring scenes in South America, whither the torpedo boat destroyer Beale had been sent on a special mission. Dangers real and imminent threatened the boys, and they found themselves involved in a desperate battle between the government and revolutionaries. Their gunnery skill and knowledge of tactics won the day for the side that was in the right, and they earned fresh laurels following an exciting experience in a sea-fight.

In “The Dreadnought Boys on a Submarine,” the boys engaged in service on yet another type of Uncle Sam’s fighting ships. Under the water and on the surface they encountered experiences that form one of the most exciting narratives of this series. The submarine affords a peculiar field of interest, and the mystery in which the lads found themselves involved in no way detracts from the thrill and swing of action in this story.

Still forging upward in their chosen profession the lads were detailed next to a squad which, more than any other, calls for nerve, coolness and skill, combined with technical knowledge. In “The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service,” we followed the two erstwhile farm boys into a new element. In navy aeroplanes they demonstrated the value of air-craft as an auxiliary to the fleet. Ned was especially successful in showing what could be done aloft. It will be readily remembered, too, that many difficulties, as well as triumphs, attended the boys’ aerial experiences, but they “made good,” like sterling American lads, and conquered every obstacle by using brains and brawn.

And now the boys were on their first long cruise. Back again on the huge, drab Dreadnought Manhattan, where they made their début into naval life, they formed part of the crew of the flag-ship of the sixteen battleships sent around the world to give other nations an impressive demonstration of Uncle Sam’s great sea-power. The passage down the eastern coast of South America and around the Horn had been made, the great fighting sea-dogs exciting the most intense interest and enthusiasm everywhere. Two days before, the massive, formidable squadron had steamed in column through the Golden Gate in perfect condition, and dropped anchor in San Francisco’s historic, land-locked harbor.

It was due to sail ere long across the broad Pacific for Hawaii and the “purple east,” returning to America by way of the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean. Small wonder that the men of the fleet were all on tip-toe with excitement over what lay ahead of them on this wonderful voyage. None were more enthusiastic over the prospect of visiting unknown waters than were Ned Strong and Herc Taylor. They looked for adventures afloat and ashore, but those they were destined to encounter surpassed even their fondest imaginings.

CHAPTER II.
AN IMPORTANT DUTY.

“Well, orderly, what is it?”

Captain Dunham, commander of the Manhattan, looked up from his desk in his handsomely furnished quarters. A smart-looking orderly had just been bidden to enter the cabin.

“The master-at-arms states that eight men are ashore, sir. Overstayed their leave, sir,” responded the orderly, saluting.

The captain thought a minute. Then he gave a sharp order.

“Send Gunner’s Mate Strong to me.”

The orderly saluted, clicked his heels and vanished on his errand. Five minutes later Ned Strong stood before his captain. As we know, Captain Dunham had a strong feeling of regard for Ned and Herc, and had watched their careers with interest. He raised his eyebrows as he saw Ned’s bruised face. Although the boy had shipped a new uniform, rating badge and all, the dark marks of his encounter of the previous day with the park runaway still showed.

“What is the matter with your face, Strong?” asked the captain. His voice was rather stern. Perhaps he thought his favorite among the crew had been mixed up in some brawl ashore.

“Why, I,—that is, we—sir, I mean Herc—Coxswain Hercules Taylor and myself stopped a runaway horse in Golden Gate Park yesterday afternoon, and I guess I got a little battered up.”

“Good gracious, you boys are always having adventures. Whose horse was it you stopped?”

“I’ve no idea, sir. We hurried away after we saw the young lady was all right.”

A smile flitted across the captain’s face.

“Upon my word, Strong, are you qualifying for a hero of romance?” he inquired. “Stopping a horse with a young lady on board it! Really, you are plunging into adventure with a vengeance! But I sent for you to assign you to an important piece of duty. Eight of our men are ashore,—in some vile den in Chinatown, I suppose. You will take ten men ashore in Number One Steamer. They will be armed with loaded service revolvers.”

Ned’s eyes flashed. This was an important detail, he knew. Usually such work was assigned to the marines; and that he was to be intrusted with the command of such a squad made him square his shoulders even more than usual and feel a thrill of satisfaction at the confidence reposed in him by his captain.

“Aye, aye, sir,” he said, striving not to betray his delight.

“Report to the master-at-arms with my orders. He will do the rest. Use no unnecessary violence. Simply bring the men on board the ship.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Is that all?”

“That’s all, my lad. Carry on and waste no time.”

Ned saluted and retired. He proceeded straight to the master-at-arms, who handed him a typewritten list of names.

“These are the fellows you are to bring in, Strong,” he said. “You have your other orders?”

“Yes, sir. I am to take ten men in Steamer Number One. And—and can Taylor be one of them, sir?”

“What, that red-headed firebrand?” exclaimed the master-at-arms smilingly. “There! Very well, then, Strong,” seeing Ned’s look of disappointment, “but, for goodness sake, keep him out of trouble.”

“Oh, I’ll be careful of him, sir. Thank you.”

“And now you are all ready? I’ll summon the patrol and pass word for’ard for Taylor.”

“You have no idea where I am to look for the men, sir?” asked Ned, while the patrol was being summoned.

“No; it will be up to you to find them. But I understand that some of them were last seen in Chinatown.”

The patrol was lined up.

Ned took command as smartly as any commissioned officer. He gave his orders and the patrol, including Herc Taylor, marched to the Jacob’s ladder on the port side of the ship, for the starboard is sacred to officers. They clambered into the drab-colored, hooded steam launch. The engineer tooted the whistle, the craft was cast off and then she cut swiftly over the choppy harbor for the landing stage.

“There they go, looking for the fellows that are playing hooky!” exclaimed a man loudly, as Ned and his detachment marched off toward Chinatown, eyed by a curious throng.

“And they’re going to bring them in, too,” thought Ned, with that outward thrust of a square chin that, with Ned Strong, betokened, to use a popular and expressive phrase, that he “meant business.”

He fully realized that he had a hard task ahead of him. Sailors are notoriously the prey of all sorts of harpies ashore, and not infrequently are persuaded to resist forcibly being returned to their ships. It was but a small force that Ned had under him in case of serious trouble; but, as he looked at the clear-skinned, bright-eyed young Jackies, he felt that he would be willing to face a regiment.

With Ned occasionally giving an order, the patrol marched through the water-front district, visiting many places of resort for sailors,—and abominable dens most of them were,—without getting any trace of the delinquents. Ned, in addition, questioned several pedestrians, policemen and loafers of the district, but he could get no clew to the men there.

“We’ll have to look for them in Chinatown,” he decided, and gave orders for his men to march thither.

Through the straggly streets the little company proceeded until they arrived in the purlieus of what, next to the Oriental settlement in Melbourne, Australia, is the biggest Chinese colony in the world. It was for all the world like a city of the poppy-land and not a part of the western metropolis.

Slitty, malignant eyes peered out of yellow faces as the smartly marching company from the dreadnought swung by. Most of the cunning Orientals knew full well on what errand the Jackies were bound, and resented it. Although Ned did not know it, the secret telegraphy of Chinatown was put into full operation as they advanced.

A butcher chopping meat on his stall would produce a peculiar kind of rhythmic tapping of his axe. This was in turn picked up by a cobbler mending shoes with antique Chinese tools. And so the news of the coming of the patrol preceded them by this subtle method of signaling, and long before they reached the street they were aiming for the proprietors of the places they meant to search knew of their coming.

“Halt!” ordered Ned, as they entered the street he had determined to search first. It was a narrow passageway between high, moldering walls. The walls flared with red prayer papers and other Mongolian notices inscribed on vermilion papers. From small barred windows evil-looking faces peered at them curiously.

From some remote place high up in one of the sinister-looking rookeries came the monotonous beating of a Chinese tom-tom, and the sharp screeching of a fife in uncanny cadences. Ned looked about him as the file came to a standstill. To his left a steep flight of steps led into an underground basement where he thought he might find some of the missing men.

Up the basement steps came an enormously fat Chinaman, with a round, greasy moon-face and an ingratiating chin.

“Hullo, sailor-man, what you wantee?” he inquired blandly, squinting at Ned’s command through his slanted black eyes.

“We come from fleet,” responded Ned, who knew something of the wily Oriental’s ways. “You catchum any sailors here?”

The Chinaman slowly shook his pigtailed head. Details of armed sailors had halted in front of his place often before and he knew what this one meant.

“Me no savee sailors. We no catchum ’Melicans. Nothing but Johns (Chinamen),” he declared with a bland smile.

But Ned was not satisfied. Ordering his men to remain above, he pushed past the protesting Mongolian and down the slippery, foul steps.

“What you do?” demanded the Chinaman angrily.

“See how much truth there is under that yellow skin of yours,” responded Ned, as he shoved open a door at the foot of the steps and was met by a blast of foul, heated air from the den within.

CHAPTER III.
IN CHINATOWN.

Close behind him was the fat, oily Chinaman, protesting, almost weepingly, that he harbored no “’Melican sailors.”

“Who was it that dodged into that room, then?” demanded Ned, indicating a door at the farther end of the dingy, ill-lighted room, that had banged to with a slam as he entered. The boy could have sworn that he caught sight of a naval uniform as whoever had opened the door slipped through it and vanished.

“That one of my frens,” explained the bland Chinee.

“What did he run away for, then?”

“He plentee much scared. Thinkee you lobber, maybe.”

In the center of the room, which was lighted, but not illumined, by a smoky lamp suspended from the ceiling, was a table of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl in fantastic Oriental patterns. Several chairs were about the table, and to Ned’s eye they looked as if they had recently been shoved hastily back. On the table were four cups.

“What was your friend doing here?” was Ned’s next question to the Chinee, who had been eying him craftily as he looked about at his surroundings.

“He dlinkum tea, so be,” was the quick response, “he likee tea velly, velly much.”

Ned picked up one of the cups and sniffed at it. His lips curled disgustedly.

“That cup never held tea,” he exclaimed with authority. “Now, look here, my friend, you’re backed up against the United States government, do you understand? Take me into that farther room at once.”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“You no catchum business there, so be,” was the retort, while a sinister expression crept into the face of the Mongolian.

“I haven’t, eh?” Ned stepped forward but the Chinee slipped between him and the door leading into the room beyond.

“You no tly get in,” spoke the Chinee warningly. He fumbled in the loose sleeves of his blouse.

But Ned was in no mood to be trifled with. He knew as well as if he had actually seen them, that hiding in the room beyond were some of the stragglers from the ship. The Chinaman who owned the den had a reputation for persuading men-o’-war’s-men to desert their ships and join the merchant service. He was, in fact, what in seaport towns is called a “crimp.” That is to say, for a consideration, he furnished men to merchant ships, principally British tramp steamers. In this way he drove a thriving trade and his pet victims were discontented navy men.

“Stand aside from that door at once,” snapped the Dreadnought Boy angrily. “Ah—you would, would you!”

From the Chinaman’s sleeve had flashed a wicked-looking blade. But Ned was as quick as his adversary—in fact, a shade quicker. He jumped forward and seized the Chinaman’s wrist, wringing it till the Mongolian yelled with pain. Then he took the knife and released his victim.

“Now are you going to open that door, or do I have to make you a prisoner and have you locked up on a charge of resisting a United States officer?” he shot out.

“No have key,” wailed the Chinee.

“Then I’ll take another way.”

Ned stepped back a few paces and took a short run. His shoulder smashed against the door with the force of a battering ram. With a crash it flew open, the flimsy lock, which had been turned from the inside, carrying away at the first assault of the husky young tar.

Inside was another room, dimmer and fouler than the other. But Ned’s fighting blood was up, and he was reckless of traps and pitfalls. He plunged into the place as the door smashed open. Nothing was visible at first, but suddenly he became aware of a pair of legs, clad in the baggy blue of the navy, sticking out from under a table. He seized hold of them and dragged out a young seaman who was a recent recruit on board the Manhattan.

“You, eh, Manners? This is a nice way to start your career in the navy! Stand up, now, before I make you.”

The young fellow, with his light hair much rumpled and a sullen look on his otherwise well-formed and pleasing features, scrambled to his feet. His natty uniform was stained and dusty. He was a sad-looking object indeed, and, moreover, appeared to be in a semi-daze.

“Stand over there,” commanded Ned sharply. “Don’t try any monkey business or you’ll get a dose of the brig that will be remembered by you the rest of your natural life.”

“Aw, see here, Strong, I——”

“Not another word. Is anyone else under there? Speak quick.”

“Yes. Seaman Sharp.”

“That all?”

“Yes.”

“Where are the other men who came ashore in your liberty party?”

“I dunno,” and the tone in which this was said appeared to imply that the speaker cared still less.

Ned paid no more attention to him for the time being. He had other work in hand.

“Sharp, come out at once if you don’t want me to summon the patrol and yank you out,” commanded Ned in a voice that left no mistake as to his determination to follow out his threat.

There was a scuffling sound from under the table and out came Sharp. He was a sullen, hang-dog looking fellow who had been years in the navy on different ships and was now serving his third enlistment aboard the Manhattan. He bore a bad reputation and had never risen from the rank of seaman.

“Manners, I’m sorry to see you in such company,” said Ned. “It can only lead to the brig and stoppage of your pay and shore leave. Now then, both of you come ahead.”

“Not much!” shouted Sharp. “You overbearing, conceited young puppy! Take that!” He aimed a terrific blow at Ned’s head, but the boy skillfully dodged it by ducking. He made no attempt to return the blow, remembering Captain Dunham’s instructions.

“See here, Sharp, I intended to make things as easy for you as I could, but I won’t stand for anything like this. Now then, are you coming peaceably or not? If you won’t come like a sensible man, and save yourself future trouble, I’ll summon the patrol and have you taken aboard the ship.”

Ned had previously arranged that three sharp blasts on his navy whistle or a single shot from his revolver would mean: “Trouble, come at once.”

But he was not anxious to have trouble. If he could get the two men out peaceably he would much prefer it.

“Come, Sharp, be a man. You, too, Manners. I’ll make things as easy as I can for you on board if you’ll act properly. Are you coming with me?”

“No, by thunder!” roared out Sharp.

“Look to yourself, Strong!” echoed Manners. The next instant the two closed in on the Dreadnought Boy and he was also conscious of a terrific blow aimed at him from the rear.

CHAPTER IV.
NED “DELIVERS THE GOODS.”

Sharp’s fist,—it was like a flesh and blood sledge hammer,—shot out full for Ned’s jaw. With a dexterity born of long practice in wholesome boxing bouts, which are encouraged in the navy, the young man-o’-war’s-man put up a swift guard, and Sharp’s blow was harmlessly diverted. Almost before Ned had completed this maneuver, he had faced round on the foe that attacked him from the rear. It was the fat Chinaman. He wielded a lacquered stool—a formidable weapon.

But it was destined to be turned upon himself. Ned, with a quick jerk, had it out of his hands just as the greasy Oriental raised it for a smashing blow. Then, with a quick outward movement of his foot, he caught it between the Chinaman’s legs and sent him sprawling in a heap in a corner. The Mongolian, though not hurt, deemed it more prudent to remain still.

Ned was given no time to draw breath. Manners was upon him like a wildcat the next instant, and Ned had his hands full. Sharp was puffy and out of training. His muscles, though ponderous, were flabby, and his breath short. Already he was panting. But Manners offered a more serious problem. He was young, strongly thewed and in fairly good condition. The young gunner’s mate was prepared for him, though, and he managed to land two terrific body blows before Manners could use his fists effectively.

Not an instant did Ned lose in following up the brief temporary advantage he had before Sharp joined in the assault. He grabbed Manners in an iron grip, and as Sharp, bellowing furiously, charged down like a wild bull, his arms going like the sails of a windmill,—he was too furious to employ science in his attack,—Ned was all ready for him.

His plan had been formed in a jiffy. It was simple but hugely effective. He utilized Manners, whom he held at arm’s length by the scruff of the neck, as a human battering ram.

As Sharp rushed in, Ned, exerting the full force of his steel-true muscles, swung Manners with all the energy he possessed against the infuriated sailor. The force of the collision took the breath out of Sharp, and Ned was upon him in an instant. Seizing each of the recalcitrant stragglers by the back of the neck, he banged them together till they howled for mercy.

“Well, are you ready to come along now?” demanded Ned sharply.

“All right. We’ll go,” panted Sharp, “but I’ll get even on you, Strong, if it takes me till the last day I live.”

Manners merely nodded sullenly, but it was easy to see that the fight was out of him as completely as it had evaporated from Sharp under Ned’s necessarily vigorous treatment. Ned was the last lad in the world to needlessly seek trouble. But he had taken good care to be prepared to meet it if it came to him. This is the spirit that is properly encouraged in the navy,—not a desire to bully or seek excuses for trouble, but to have a well-trained body and mind, prepared if trouble does come to meet it, in a manly fashion and without loss of dignity or sacrifice of the principles for which our navy stands.

“I’ll get even, I say!” bellowed Sharp as Ned, ignoring the Chinaman who still lay flat eying him out of his squinty eyes, marched his two tamed termagants to the door.

“You’re talking foolishly, Sharp,” rejoined Ned, calmly. “I gave you your chance. You wouldn’t take it. Now you are simply paying the penalty of your own stubbornness.”

Still muttering threats, Sharp and Manners were marched up the steps. As the Dreadnought Boy appeared with the pair that he had captured single-handed, the discipline of his little squad gave way to exclamations of amazement.

“Crickey,” exclaimed a sailor in an audible whisper, “Gunner’s-Mate Strong must be a regular man-eater! Sharp is known as a bully and Manners is no infant.”

“Judging by the looks, Strong is the daddy of them both,” grinned the man next to him, and a low laugh ran along the line.

“Bully for you, Ned!” burst out Herc.

“Silence,” ordered Ned sternly.

Then, marching his men up to the patrol, he gave his next order to his abashed followers.

“Armstrong, you and Peters take these fellows down to the launch and tell them there that they are under arrest. I shall hold you responsible for their safe delivery. As soon as you have done this, hurry back. You’ll find us somewhere along this street or you can easily locate us by inquiry.”

He turned to his two sullen-faced, surly prisoners.

“Now, men, you realize that you are prisoners. You’d better go peaceably or you may make a long stay in the brig with stoppage of pay and liberty. I’m going to spare you the ignominy of handcuffs. I think you’ve suffered enough.”

“Well, I should remark! Look at Sharp’s eye,” sputtered the irrepressible Herc.

“Taylor, if I hear any more from you, you will be ordered back to the steamer,” said Ned curtly.

When on duty, Ned recognized no friendships. A breach of discipline such as Herc’s was just as much of an offense as if any other man had committed it.

“Right face! Twos! Forward march!” ordered Ned. The eight remaining men of his force swung into the formation indicated with military precision, and off they marched once more through the unsavory Chinese quarter. Coming up the street on the other side, Ned espied a man from the New Hampshire. He was a respectable-looking fellow and was plainly in the quarter buying curios to send back home. His arms were full of purchases, most of them paid for at exorbitant rates, for the Chinese merchant swindles a sailor without compunction.

“Ahoy, shipmate!” hailed Ned. “We’re a picket sent out to round up the stragglers. Seen any of our fellows?”

“Oh, you’re from the Manhattan, ain’t you?”

“Yes. I thought you might have seen some of our men.”

“I sure have,” grinned the other. “I gave them a wide berth, too. One of them told me he could lick anybody aboard the New Hampshire. I might have tackled him but he had too many of his friends with him, so I made him a polite reply and vamoosed.”

“Where did all this happen?”

“Right down the street there. There’s a German runs the place. I wouldn’t go in it for two months’ pay.”

“Bad place, eh?”

“’Bout the worst there is in ’Frisco, a shipmate told me.”

“Well, I’ll soon find out.”

“Jumping top-masts, you ain’t goin’ in there, shipmate?”

“I certainly am. Why not?”

The other shook his head ominously.

“Well, the chances are about ten to one on your getting back to your ship! They won’t do a thing to you!”

“I’m not so sure about that. The roughest of characters must be taught to respect our uniform, and I’m going to see that they do it.”

Ned’s chin came forward and his lips compressed in what his shipmates called “Strong’s fighting look.”

“If you’re determined to go in, then, let me give you a bit of advice. I hope you won’t be too proud to accept it.”

“Of course not,” said Ned with a smile. “This sort of work is new to me, but I mean to do the best I can at it, and I can’t carry it out if I allow myself to be scared out of these low resorts.”

“That’s the talk for a man-o’-war’s-man,” said the other approvingly. “Well, my advice is just this: load up before you go in there,—that’s all.”

“Thank you, very much,” rejoined Ned. “My men are all armed and their revolvers are loaded.”

“Well, so long, good luck.”

“So long, shipmate. Forward march!” And once more the little detachment swung off down the street.

They marched on till they reached the place that the sailor from the New Hampshire had pointed out. It bore a sign in front: “The Fair Wind.”

“Humph,” thought Ned as he looked at the building, a dingy, three-storied brick structure in very bad repair. “‘The Fair Wind,’ eh? I think it’s a very bad wind that blows any foolish sailor in here.”

After his preliminary survey he turned to his detachment.

“I want you men to wait out here,” he said. “You understand?”

“But, Ned——” burst out Herc.

A look from the young commander of the picket stopped the red-headed youth’s outburst of protest. But Simpson, an elderly sailor of excellent character and long service, spoke up respectfully.

“Hadn’t you better take a couple of us along, sir?”

“No, that’s not part of my plan,” rejoined Ned. “A general entry of armed blue-jackets might be only a signal for trouble and that’s just what we want to avoid. Often an appeal to a man’s reason is more effective than force.”

“Very well, sir. We’ll hold ourselves in readiness, though.”

“I want you to do just that. If I give two sharp, short blasts on my whistle, come—and come on the jump. Otherwise, don’t move. Whatever you do, keep your heads. Remain cool, and under no circumstances draw your fire-arms. If it comes to a tussle, we’ve got our fists.”

Ned advanced to the swinging doors of the place, pushed them open and vanished. The anxious eyes of his squad followed him.

“I’ve a notion we’ll hear them two whistles in a jiffy,” remarked a man standing next to Herc.

“Well, if you do you’ll know that Ned is really up a tree,” responded Herc. “He’s not the sort that cries ‘wolf’ unless there’s real trouble bearing down on him.”

CHAPTER V.
“THE FAIR WIND.”

Within the doors he had so unceremoniously pushed open, Ned found a kind of shabby office and lounging lobby, equipped with ricketty furniture and smelling horribly of stale tobacco. The floor was littered with paper and cigar stumps and everything was dirty to a degree, a condition very offensive to the smart young Dreadnought Boy. But Ned was paying not much attention to these details. His eyes rapidly swept the room.

Behind a desk, caged off from the rest of the place, a fat, flabby-looking German with a pair of huge yellow moustaches was engaged on some sort of blotty bookkeeping. His big moustaches and round, unwholesome face made him look not unlike a big walrus. On the walls hung a few pictures of old-time clipper-ships and various other works of art, portraying “The Mary Anne Jennings in a Sou-wester off Ushant,” and “The American Barque Elisha J. Holmes Caught Aback off Cape Horn.” Under glass cases were curios of different kinds from the Seven Seas. Dust and grime lay thick on everything. Apparently it was many moons since a broom or soap and water had penetrated there.

The walrus-like German looked up as Ned entered, and right there Ned saw the wisdom of his move in coming in alone. The proprietor, as he guessed the man at the desk to be, greeted him with a nod.

“From der Manhattan, hein?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s my ship,” responded Ned, returning the nod. He saw at once that the man was quite unsuspicious of him and thought he was merely a foolish, weak-minded sailor out for “a good time.”

“Vell, you are velcome py der Fair Vind. Py der inside you findt plendy of your shibmades from der Manhaddan. Dey are fine fellows, all off dem.”

“Yes, they are fine fellows,” thought Ned to himself, but aloud he rejoined:

“Thank you; where will I find them?”

“In der back room, my heardy. Budt say,” the walrus-like man’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Ned searchingly, “you don’t seem like der sort dot comes py me place regular.”

“No, it’s my first cruise,” rejoined Ned.

But the other was more used to sailors and navy usages than Ned had bargained for.

“Your first cruise?” he grunted with growing suspicion. “Vot you do py uniform uv cunner’s-made, den?”

“I mean it’s my first cruise to the coast,” rejoined Ned, inwardly adding, “I’ll have to be careful. This place is every bit as bad as the fellow from the New Hampshire said it was, and the proprietor is as fine a specimen of a land-shark as you’d meet with in many a long day’s cruise.”

The proprietor’s suspicions were apparently lulled by Ned’s straightforward manner.

“Go righd aheadt, mein poy,” he said paternally and waved his fat, pudgy hand toward a door in the rear of the dingy front office.

Ned made his way toward the door indicated and shoved it open. If the atmosphere in the musty office outside had been bad, the air within the room fairly made Ned gasp. It was blue and thick with wreaths of tobacco smoke from a score of pipes and cigars. The Dreadnought Boy blinked and then gave vent to a loud sneeze.

This drew general attention toward him.

“Shut that door, you long-shore swab!” yelled somebody out of the blue mist.

Ned shut it and then sneezed again. Both he and Herc abhorred tobacco in any form. They knew that the user of it cannot develop athletically. It destroys staying power and wind, and in ordinary life its effect is to diminish efficiency in any line of work.

He blinked and winked two or three times before he got used to the dense, pungent fumes and the semi-twilight. Then with difficulty he began to make out the faces of the men congregated within.

Nobody paid any attention to him and he looked about eagerly to see if he could distinguish some naval uniforms. He was not long in doing so. Six of the men he was in search of were in the place, laughing and talking as if such a thing as overstaying their leave were the lightest matter in the world.

Seated near to where Ned was standing, but with his back turned to him, was a young sailor named Childs. He was an ordinary seaman and usually a quiet, self-respecting fellow. But he had wandered into bad company. On a chair opposite to the youthful sailor was seated a well-dressed man with a hawk-like face, who was apparently trying to impress something on the young fellow’s mind.

Ned came a little closer and listened. He knew how many traps are set for Jack ashore, and he was convinced that the hawk-faced man was trying to entice young Childs into one of them. It didn’t take long to show him that he was right.

The well-dressed man was telling Childs a wonderful story about a gold-mine that he had in the Sierras, and was trying to persuade the young fellow to induce his companions to club their funds and buy some shares in it. When this had been done, he said, he would have them sent up to the fabulously rich mine, and there they could hide till the fleet had sailed and the search for them had blown over. In the meantime, by simply digging in the mine they would have become almost, if not quite, millionaires.

The foolish young sailor, as Ned could see, was drinking in this ridiculous tale with greedy attention.

“But are you sure the Navy people couldn’t locate us and get us back on board ship?” he was asking. “You know a deserter gets a severe dose of punishment.”

The other waved a not over-clean hand upon which, however, a “diamond” as big as a hazelnut glittered.

“Why so timid, my lad?” he asked banteringly. “I thought all you sailors were brave and bold and—and all that sort of thing. Why, you could hide up at that mine for ten years if you wanted to and no one would ever find you. But you won’t want to hide that long. When you come out with gold galore and have your own mansion and auto, who would ever suspect that you were a runaway sailor? Who’d even dare to hint at such a thing?”

“That’s so,” agreed young Childs. “I haven’t got an awful lot of money. But I could get some from my folks, I guess, and so could some of my ship-mates.”

The eyes of the hawk-faced man glittered greedily.

“It’s a gilt-edged proposition and you can write the folks at home so,” confided the rascal to the gullible young blue-jacket. “I don’t mind telling you that if I hadn’t taken a personal liking to you I’d never have let you in on it. It’s just pure unselfishness on my part, that’s what it is. But there, I’m wealthy enough now and can afford to be a good fellow to those I take a fancy to.”

“That’s mighty good of you,” replied poor Childs warmly. “I’ll give you a deposit on ten shares now and I’ll write home for more.”

He reached for his wallet and the hawk-eyed man’s evil optics glittered.

“I don’t mind telling you,” he said impressively, “that your intellect and ability will warrant me in naming you for the Chairman of the Board of Directors as soon as we get our company incorporated and things going.”

Young Childs’ face fairly glowed.

“You arrange for another suit for me,” he said as he opened his wallet, in which reposed his pay, and prepared to hand it over, “and then I’ll speak to my ship-mates about their part in it. I guess we can raise quite a sum. It does seem a big step, though, from a blue-jacket to a mining magnate. I have to thank you for that. The only thing that worries me is the chance that they may grab me before I get to the mountains.”

“No chance. Schmidt, the boss of this place, will arrange all that. He’s helped lots of sailors before now. Now hand over that money.”

“All right. I’m your man——”

“No, you’re not. You belong to Uncle Sam!” And Ned’s hand fell on the young sailor’s shoulder. “Now put back your money and come with me.”

“No, you’re not. You belong to Uncle Sam.”—[Page 58].

Both men leaped to their feet. An angry light flashed into young Childs’ eyes as he saw Gunner’s-Mate Strong confronting him with a half-angry, half-pitying look on his firm, clean-cut features.

CHAPTER VI.
A TIGHT PLACE.

“What business have you butting in?” demanded the hawk-eyed man, pale with anger as he saw his gull being taken away from him.

“I don’t recognize you,” spoke Ned coldly. “Come, Childs, put your money back in your wallet and be thankful I arrived in time to save you from being plucked by a rascal.”

“I—I am not going.”

“Not going?”

“No; you see, Strong——”

“Now see here,” began the hawk-eyed man, laying a persuasive arm, which Ned straightway shook off, upon the Dreadnought Boy’s shoulder, “this young fellow and me is good friends—see? I’m going to do him a good turn. I’ve offered him some stock in the Eldorado Limited Mines and——”

“Yes,” rejoined Ned scorchingly, “limited just about describes them, I guess.”

“But I’m a friend.”

“A what?” Ned’s eyes began to blaze dangerously.

“A friend of this lad’s. He——”

“A nice sort of friend you are,” shot out Ned witheringly. “It’s just such land-sharks as you that get gullible young fellows like Childs here into trouble. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d have stripped him of his money and then left him to face the music of a court-martial. I don’t blame him, a young, inexperienced sailor. But I haven’t words to express my scorn of such creatures as you, who would try to induce a lad to desert his country and the flag he has sworn to serve under.”

“My! Quite an orator, ain’t you?” sneered the other with an evil leer.

Ned wasted no more words on him, although he fairly burned with indignation toward the fellow. He bent all his efforts to bringing young Childs back to his senses.

“You have been in the navy long enough to know what it means to be branded as a deserter, Childs,” he said. “Surely you are not going to jeopardize a promising career for the sake of such worthless inducements as this swindler holds out.”

“Swindler!” cried Childs. “Why, he promised——”

“I know. I overheard enough to understand. A gold mine. I guess it’s under his hat, and a precious poor one it must be, too. Come along, Childs, join your ship-mates outside and then I’ll come back for the rest.”

The conversation had been carried on in low tones and nobody in the room was in the least aware of what was going forward. Ned was wise in this.

Except for the men-o’-war’s-men present, everyone in the place bore the stamp of “hard character” unmistakably branded on his features. Stokers and roustabout sailors from tramp steamers, Ned adjudged most of them to be. Ugly customers, if the worst came to the worst. He began to be glad he had arranged to summon aid instantly if need be.

“Don’t go with him,” cried the swindler. “It’ll be the worse for you if you do. You’re only going to get into trouble.”

“You’ll land in trouble yourself, or I miss my guess. Childs, come on. You’re going with me.”

The young fellow hesitated undecidedly. It was plain that he was wavering. Ned decided to drive home a final nail of argument.

“If you come now, Childs, it is possible that your punishment will be light. I’ll do my best for you. You have an excellent record and that will be taken into consideration. Be advised. I’ve seen more of the service than you have and know what I’m talking about. Will you come, or shall I have to summon the patrol to take you? In that case it will go hard with you.”

Childs’ lips trembled. He was little more than a boy, and he now began to see the magnitude of the offence he had been contemplating.

“I’ll come, sir,” he said, “you’re right. It’s best to face the music.”

“That’s the talk. Now——”

Childs was jerked violently from Ned’s grasp. Ned made a grab and recovered his prisoner from the hawk-eyed man, who had pulled him aside and was whispering to him.

What happened then came so quickly that it fairly took Ned off his feet, so to speak.

The hawk-eyed man gave a shout. Then he uttered some quick exclamations in German in a loud tone. In a flash every man in the room but the men-o’-war’s-men was upon his feet. From the front office the walrus-faced proprietor came lumbering heavily in. In his hand was a big revolver. The swindler uttered what appeared to be a signal, and en masse the stokers and long-shore loafers made a rush for Ned as he stood with his back against the wall and Childs by his side.

“Stand back, you fellows!” cried Ned in a firm, ringing voice. “I’m armed with the authority of the United States Navy. The man who lays hands on me answers to the Government. Understand that?”

Seemingly they did, for the mob of brutalized, hard-bitten characters checked its forward dash and wavered. But Schmidt, the walrus-faced German, rallied his ranks of rowdies.

“Don’t let dot young naval pup gedt oudt of here!” he cried. “He’s a spy! He’s looking for deserters! If you ledt him gedt oudt, a lot of you be catched undt shofed back in der nafy brigs.”