HERC "MIXES IN."
Miller's Haven was a small place on the Sound shore, several miles up.
It boasted a bay full of shoals and tricky channels and a group of
islands lying in a cluster near the mouth of this bay.
Ned knew from his previous instructions that the _Seneca_ would be
lying in the shelter of one of these islands, as securely moored to
avoid observation from the scouts of the Blue squadron as was possible.
Miller's Haven was a sleepy spot,--little more than a fishing village,
in truth,--and nobody in the place was likely to pay much attention to
the fact that a small gunboat, looking more like a yacht than a vessel
of the navy, lay, with every appearance of secrecy, off their hamlet.
In fact, the _Seneca_ had been used in several capacities. Her latest
work, before being told off as a scout and despatch craft, was with the
Revenue Service.
In this capacity the _Seneca_ had been deemed worthy of refitting
so far as boilers and engines were concerned, so that, although she
was not large, she was swift and powerful and just the craft for the
work in which she was to be employed during the maneuvers. Her speed
had been shown in several chases after motor-boat smugglers, in most
cases she having easily overhauled even the fastest of these wasp-like
violators of Uncle Sam's customs regulations.
"We'll go to the hotel first," decided Ned as they stood on the
wind-swept platform at Miller's Haven.
Out on the Sound the blue water was flecked with white and a brisk
wind, salt-laden and delightful to the boys' sea-going nostrils, had
left the sky clear and cloudless.
"You're going to meet Ensign Summerville there?" asked Herc.
"Yes, he'll come ashore with a boat and take us out and introduce us to
our first command."
"Huh! it may be our last, too," grunted Herc. "Say, this thing of being
a real, full-fledged officer scares me just a little. Suppose we fall
down?"
"We can only attend to our duty the best we know how," rejoined Ned.
"If we can carry out the work cut out for us in good shape, it will
mean that we'll go a few more rungs up the ladder."
"Yes, if nobody pulls the ladder down," mumbled Herc pessimistically.
The two trim, trig lads, in their quiet, unassuming clothes, attracted
little or no attention on the single street that Miller's Haven
boasted. True, one or two passers-by looked rather curiously at the
yellow leather sword cases that they carried, but that was all.
The hotel soon came in sight, a dingy-looking structure sadly in need
of paint. A dejected-looking citizen with a drooping mustache, a
drooping manner, drooping gray garments and a drooping way of draping
himself in his chair, occupied the porch.
"Doesn't look like much of a place," commented Ned, "but we can get a
room here that will be good enough to change in, I dare say."
"A room!" demanded Herc. "What do you want a room for? I thought we
were going to eat."
"No, we will change into our uniforms first. It would not be the
correct thing to board our new command in ordinary clothes. I should
think you'd know that."
"Have we got to wear our swords?" inquired Herc with a rebellious look.
"Don't you know enough of navy usages yet to be aware that officers
must wear their swords under certain conditions, such as taking
command of a new craft and other ceremonial occasions?"
"Umph! Well, all I hope is I don't tumble over that cheese toaster of
mine."
"If you do anything like that, I'll disown you for a brother officer
of mine," laughed Ned. "But, seriously, Herc, I want you to be on your
best behavior and not make any bad breaks."
"Huh! Just as if you were any more used to carrying a sticker,--I mean
a sword,--than I am! I'll be all right. Don't you worry about me,
Mister Lieutenant. I bet I will be just as good an officer as there is
in the navy."
"We'll wait and see----" began Ned good-naturedly, when Herc cut him
short with an exclamation.
"Look who's here! Right behind us!"
"Well, what is it?" asked Ned, for he was half-way up the steps by
this time and the drooping eyes of the landlord, as Ned had rightly
conjectured that the dejected man was, were regarding him with languid
interest.
"It's that Rankin fellow! He's looking at us disrespectfully. I've a
good mind to tell him that we are officers!"
"You'll do no such thing. If he has been detailed to the _Seneca_,
which I think probable, he'll find out our rank for himself soon
enough."
"Just the same, I'd like to make him salute me," grumbled Herc.
Rankin ascended the steps behind the two Dreadnought Boys. He was close
on their heels, when suddenly Herc's feet flew up and out behind him.
In his new dignity he had been holding his head so high that he did
not notice a bit of banana peel lying on the untidy steps of the Eagle
Hotel.
Crash! The newly created officer performed an almost complete back
somersault with great effect. Plump! came down his not over-light form
right on top of the ascending Rankin. Together they rolled down the
steps and into the dusty road, while Ned looked on in dismay.
"You done that a-purpose! I'll fix you for it!" bellowed Rankin
furiously.
"What are you talking about, you numbskull?" retaliated Herc, as the
two rolled on the dusty street. "Don't be a fool! Let me up."
But Rankin clung tightly to Herc, for whom he had conceived an intense
dislike ever since the episode on the train.
"You try to make a fool out of me, will you?" he growled; and as they
clinched and tumbled about at the foot of the steps, Rankin aimed a
vicious blow at Herc, who returned it with right good will.
"Gracious! Here's a fine kettle of fish!" exclaimed Ned in
consternation.
He started back down the steps at top speed, determined to stop such
a scene at all costs. It was really too bad that their arrival in
Miller's Haven should be marked by such a disgraceful mix-up.
Ned glanced anxiously down the street and was glad to see that no one
was in sight. He would not, for the world, have had anyone witness the
mêlée who was in any way connected with the navy.
"Get up at once, Herc!" he cried, thoroughly angry. "Stop it instantly.
Do you hear?"
But despite Ned's admonitions, the pair on the ground continued their
struggle, the noise of their thumps and pantings rising above Ned's
voice. Flushed with vexation and indignation at Herc, Ned determined to
take decisive action.
He cleared the last two steps of the flight leading to the street in
one jump. The next instant his hands shot out.
"Stop this and stop it quick!" he ejaculated. "What sort of a way do
you consider this to behave?"