WELCOME TO THE "SENECA."
Swiftly, steadily urged on, like some great beetle moving across the
surface of a sheet of burnished glass, the gig was impelled over the
smooth expanse of the sheltered waters; for, although outside in the
Sound itself the whitecaps were prancing under the lee of the islands,
here it was almost a flat calm.
The men rowed in perfect unison, like some accurately timed piece of
mechanism. Before long they could make out, lying in under the shoulder
of a distant island, the outlines of a slate-colored craft.
"The _Seneca_?" asked Ned of the coxswain.
"Yes, sir; that's the _Seneca_."
"She looks a trim little hooker."
"Aye, aye, sir; she's all of that, sir."
Ned and Herc gazed with burning eyes and dancing pulses at the little
craft. She was certainly not very large or imposing, but to them just
then the finest Dreadnought ever launched could not have brought such
emotions.
Not more than two hundred and fifty feet long, the _Seneca_ appeared at
first glance more like the ideal of a smart yacht than a craft of war.
She had a sharp, overhanging bow and a beautifully modeled stern. Her
rigging was of the schooner type, with the spider-web outlines of her
wireless aerials slung between them.
In respect, doubtless, of her yachty lines, the _Seneca_ had been used
by a former President as a sort of official craft to convoy him to
maneuvers and reviews.
Ned felt his enthusiasm rising, too, as lying against the _Seneca's_
side, like the young of some sea monster, he made out the porpoise-like
backs of the two submarines of which she was the parent ship. The sight
of them brought back to him the stirring days when he and Herc had
aided the inventor of that type of diving boat, both in his pioneer
voyages and in his romance.
He had only time to drink in this and other details with greedy eyes,
when the gig swept around to the starboard gangway, reserved by
immemorial custom for officers' embarkation.
From the marine sentry stationed at the head of the gangway came a
sharp hail.
"Boat ahoy! What boat is that?"
"Aye! aye!" came from the coxswain.
This showed that there were commissioned officers on board. Had they
been non-commissioned passengers, the reply to the hail would have
been: "No! no!" For the captain and for other higher naval ranks there
were other rejoinders, which have been enumerated in preceding volumes.
The gig was made fast. With a springy step and glowing features, Ned
stepped out first. He was followed closely by Herc. A rattling sound
and an exclamation behind him, made Ned pause as he set foot on the
gangway platform.
For an instant there was every sign that poor Herc was going to get
into hot water for the second time that day. That unlucky sword had
become entangled in his long legs, and for a time he hovered on the
brink of disaster. But the watchful coxswain caught his arm and saved
him the humiliation of tumbling into the water, new uniform and all.
It was all over in a moment and both boys hastened up to the head of
the gangway. A corporal and four other marines besides the sentry now
stood there. There was a sharp command and the sea-soldiers presented
arms smartly.
"Goodness, I'll wear out my new cap with much more of this," thought
Herc, as he acknowledged the salute simultaneously with Ned.
Just then a smart looking young naval officer behind the marines
saluted. This, of course, called for another answer. "Lieutenant
Strong, I presume?" inquired this personage.
"Yes. And this is Ensign Taylor."
They shook hands and then the young officer, who was Ensign
Summerville, suggested that the new arrivals be shown to their quarters.
"You may as well make yourselves at home as soon as possible," he said
with a smile.
"Thanks; you are very kind," rejoined Ned, speaking for himself and
Herc, for the latter was in a sort of happy daze.
"Then if you will come this way, please."
At a word from the corporal of marines, the boys' baggage was picked up
by two of his men who preceded the party along the deck and turned into
an alleyway, from which in turn they descended a companionway into the
wardroom from which the cabins opened.
Up till the actual moment that he beheld his cabin, Ned still
entertained fears that it might all be a vision which was likely to
fade out at any moment. But the sight of the snug cabin with its
big double ports and broad berth, bookcase, desk and chairs made him
realize that it was no figment of his imagination.
Knowing men-of-war of all types as well as he did, the boy appreciated
with a throb of delight that this was no ordinary junior officer's
cabin into which he had been ushered. Its size and the elaborateness of
its fittings precluded that idea.
"Why--why, this is a magnificent stateroom," he found himself saying.
"It is the room that the commander of this vessel has always occupied,"
was the smiling rejoinder.
Lieutenant Ned Strong gave one of his winning laughs in return.
"Upon my word, Mr. Summerville," said he, "I can hardly wake up to the
fact that I am to command this fine little craft."
"Well, you certainly are, for the purposes of this war game, anyhow.
They've got a notion that I'm rather a dab at strategic navigation, so
they've passed me on to the Washington cruiser. Let me congratulate you
on the command of a fine little craft."
"Thank you, you are very good," replied Ned; "but I hate to dispossess
you."
"Pray don't mention it. You see I have often heard of you and your
shipmate, and I am as glad as anyone of your deserved promotion. I only
hope that it may be permanent."
An inspection of Herc's cabin next door followed. It was smaller and
very much plainer than Ned's and contained no desk and only two chairs.
But had it been Aladdin's palace, it could not have gratified Herc's
delighted eyes any more than it did.
"But I'm forgetting something," said the Ensign suddenly. "Let us go
back to your cabin, Mr. Strong. Your orders are on your desk. You
will also find a secret code book, to which you, only, will possess
the key with one of your junior officers, and signed copies of your
commissions."
As Ned already knew that the orders under which he sailed were sealed,
he did not glance over them just then. Instead, he let his eyes feast
on the engrossed copies of their commissions and a document which
stated that Lieutenant Edward Strong was to take charge of the gunboat
_Seneca_ till "further orders from this department," and that Ensign
Hercules Taylor was to be his second in command and assume such duties
as were assigned to him on board.
"And now, sir," suggested Ensign Summerville, "the _Seneca_ is under
steam. She is ready for your orders."
Ned thrilled at the sound of the words. This trim little craft was
absolutely at his command!
"First, however, you will no doubt wish to see your other officers.
There is Mr. Drayton, chief engineer; Mr. Rankin, his assistant, but
you have already met him----"
"We have," rejoined Ned with a certain grim note in his voice.
"We most certainly have," added Herc, in a way which made the ensign
give him a quick look of understanding. He made no audible comment, but
those who knew Ensign Summerville would have guessed from a peculiar
expression that came over his face that he recognized and sympathized
with the antipathy the boys had formed for the assistant engineer.
"Our only other commissioned officer besides yourselves is Mr.
Kenworth, not long out of Annapolis. Ah! there he is now. Kenworth,
come here a moment, will you?"
He addressed a tall, slender, very erect young man in a midshipman's
uniform who was just passing through the wardroom.
"This is Lieutenant Strong, of whom I have already told you. He assumes
my command. This is Mr. Taylor, the newly commissioned second in
command.
"Hullo, you fellows have met before?" he demanded the next instant, for
Kenworth had drawn back slightly, a supercilious smile on his thin,
dark face.
"Yes, I have met _Lieutenant_ Strong as a boatswain's mate," said
Kenworth, with a disagreeable intonation; "Mr. Taylor, too, I have seen
before the mast."
It was all true enough; both the Dreadnought Boys had good cause to
recollect Mr. Kenworth. For a moment the air in the wardroom appeared
charged with electricity.
Ensign Summerville looked from one to the other in surprise. He saw
hauteur and dislike on Kenworth's face, a look that might have meant
anything on Ned's countenance and undisguised disgust on Herc's
freckled features.