"ARE WE AWAKE?"
The commander of the _Manhattan_, an imposing, bronzed figure of a man,
and a thorough sailor, swung around in his chair and faced the two
young Jackies he had summoned.
"These are the lads I was speaking to you about, Mr. Secretary," he
said, addressing his companion.
The lads drew themselves up and saluted, not without a quickened action
of their hearts. They guessed at once from the manner in which he had
been addressed, that the stranger was one of the "big-wigs" of the
naval department. Herc turned as red as his thatch, and the freckles
stood out on his round and jolly countenance like the famous spots on
the sun.
Ned retained his self-possession better, but in reality he was quite
as excited as was his shipmate and chum. Eagerly he waited for words
which might offer a key to the meaning of this unusual summons.
They were not long in coming. The Secretary nodded his head and looked
approvingly at the boys.
"They quite measure up, sir, to all that I have heard of them," he
said. "And now," with a kindly smile at the two embarrassed lads, "I
don't think we need keep them in suspense any longer."
"I quite agree with you," rejoined the captain. "Lads, I have sent for
you to confer upon you, at the request of the Secretary of the Navy, a
most unusual honor. I know you will appreciate it as it merits."
The boys did not utter, in words, a reply. It would not have been
proper for them to have made any comments or to have spoken, except in
answer to direct orders or to questions. The commander continued:
"Your careers in the navy have been marked by more than ordinary
devotion to duty and by frequent exhibitions of ability that have made
you both appear to be worthy of still higher promotion than you have
yet achieved. I think that you both possess executive ability, and the
Secretary and myself have decided to assign you to roles in the coming
war game that will give you ample opportunity to show of what sort of
stuff you are made."
The boys, with burning faces, drew themselves up and saluted. But
within their breasts was a wild tumult despite their calm exteriors.
What could be coming?
"And now for what you are to do. You are to proceed to Miller's Haven
on the Connecticut shore and there join the gunboat _Seneca_. You will
convoy two submarines for use in scout work against the Blue fleet,
which, of course, you know, is opposed to us and is defending the
harbor of New York. You understand?"
"Y-y-yes, sir," rejoined Ned; while Herc, so taken by surprise that he
was deprived of articulate speech, merely mumbled something.
"To whom are we to report, sir?" ventured Ned.
Commander Dunham smiled and exchanged glances with the departmental
visitor.
"You will report to yourselves. That is, you will be in command of the
_Seneca_."
Even Ned's sense of discipline deserted him at this announcement.
"In--in command? I--I'm afraid, sir, I----"
"I said in command. Practically every commissioned officer in the
service will be on other and more important duties. We have, therefore,
secured for you temporary commissions, enduring, of course, only
during your period of attachment to the _Seneca_. She is a small boat
of not very modern design, but I shall expect to see you perform some
important work with her. She is equipped with wireless, of course, and
the fact that both of you understand wireless and the naval code has
been another inducement to give you this big chance. You will each get
a copy of the special code to be used in the war game when you join the
ship."
"Then we--we are officers?" stuttered Herc, unable to keep silent any
longer. As for Ned, outwardly cool and collected, his glowing eyes
showed what he thought.
"Officers temporarily," was the reply. "Here are your commissions."
From his desk Commander Dunham took the two documents which to the
Dreadnought Boys appeared the most wonderful things they had ever set
eyes on.
Handing one to Ned, the commander then spoke some words that sent the
boy soaring up into the seventh heaven of delight.
"This confers on you, Strong, the rank, pay and authority of a
lieutenant, junior grade, in the United States Navy. Taylor, your
commission confers upon you the special rank of ensign.
"That is all. Your uniforms will be secured from the yard tailor. Your
instructions are in this sealed package. You are not to open them till
you have cleared. From time to time you will get other instructions
by wireless, couched in the terms of the secret code adopted by the
Red fleet. Your duty, in a nutshell, will be to be the eyes of the Red
squadron. Carry on!"
With this crisp expression of dismissal, the commander turned to his
table again. The lads saluted, and marched out of the cabin.
They appeared to be traversing fleecy clouds of wonderful brightness as
they made their way forward.
"Hello, Red-head," hailed a gunner's mate as Herc strutted with all the
pride of a peacock to the forward part of the ship, "what's biting you?"
"Don't talk to me like that, Jenks," returned Herc with some hauteur.
"I'm an officer."
"A what?" roared Jenks. "Say, turn over. You're on your back. You
haven't been working hard enough lately, Brick-top, and you're talking
in your sleep."
"Wonderful as it all seems, though, Jenks, it's true," said Ned, with
dancing eyes. "But I can't realize yet that I'm not asleep and dreaming
the greatest dream a fellow could ever have."
Jenks stared for a minute and then clasped Ned's hand.
"I'm mighty glad, shipmate," said he. "You had it coming to you."
"But it isn't going to last," said Herc plaintively. "It will only hold
out as long as the war game, and then we'll be back in the ranks--that
is, if we don't fall out of bed first."
Ned said nothing, but he gazed with absent eyes over the busy
scene,--the swarming river and the great yard with its life and
movement and busy note of preparation. He was indulging in the most
delicious reverie he had ever experienced.