A NEW ASSIGNMENT.
It was the next morning. In Captain Dunham's cabin on the _Manhattan_,
Herc had just concluded reciting his story to the commander and to no
less a person than the Secretary of the Navy.
It had been a badly embarrassed boy who had at first faced the stern
questioning of his commanding officer; but by degrees, as his story
went on, Captain Dunham's manner relaxed. His stern air gave place to
one of deep interest. And now, at the conclusion of Herc's narrative,
he spoke:
"I was at first inclined to very grave suspicions of you, Taylor, but
your previous good record and your manner convince me that you are
telling the truth, more particularly as the department has been aware
for some time of the existence of a band of spies who had, in some way,
secured the coöperation of renegades in our navy. We have been trying
through the night to get some word of Strong; but we have failed. I'm
afraid, my lad, that you must resign yourself to the inevitable. At any
rate, Strong, so far as we know, died in the pursuit of his duty and
lived up to the best traditions of the navy."
"Then you believe that he is dead, sir?" Herc blurted out, his freckles
showing like scars against his pale cheeks.
"There is no other conclusion to be reached, Taylor. His long absence
from duty, and the lack of all word from him, convince me of the worst.
Strong is not the sort of lad to remain out of touch, if he were in
the land of the living. You may go now, and the Secretary and myself
will talk over the details of rounding up this gang of miscreants.
If they had anything to do with Strong's death, I will give you the
satisfaction of taking part in the pursuit and apprehension of them."
The Secretary broke in.
"That clew that Taylor has in the shape of that scrap of paper,
I regard as valuable, Captain," he said. "I would recommend that
inquiries be sent out concerning the yacht _Halcyon_. It is quite
possible that the conspirators may be meaning to make good their escape
on her. In that case, if we can trace her, she can be intercepted at
sea and the men apprehended."
"I shall see that it is done, Mr. Secretary. Taylor, you may carry on
and---- Well, orderly?"
Captain Dunham looked up inquiringly as his orderly entered the cabin
in some haste, and, after saluting, stood respectfully at attention.
But it was plain from the man's manner that he was laboring under some
excitement.
"The officer of the deck reports an airship coming this way, sir,"
said the orderly. "He told me to inform you at once, sir."
"An airship!"
"Yes, sir, or else a flying boat. We can't quite make out yet, sir."
"I will come on deck at once. Mr. Secretary, this may prove
interesting. Possibly it is one of the Blue scouts; if so, I hope to
bring the craft down, 'technically,' of course."
Herc saluted and hastened forward, while the captain and the Secretary
of the Navy emerged on the deck. The Red fleet lay off Rock Island.
They were awaiting word as to the movements of the "Blues" before
steaming down the Sound to the attack.
So far, the wireless had been barren of news, and the movements of
the defending squadron were surrounded with considerable mystery. The
suspense had been wearing, and so every eye in the squadron, from
Dreadnought, battleship, cruiser, destroyer, and torpedo boat, was
centered on the strange aeroplane that was flying toward them.
Opinion was divided as to whether the distant flying machine was an
aerial scout, or was a friendly craft bearing despatches from a portion
of the squadron which had been sent around on the Atlantic side.
On came the flying craft, and as it neared the grim fleet that lay
swinging with smoking funnels at anchor on the blue tide, it was seen
to swerve downward like a swooping fish-hawk. For a mile or more it
skimmed along the surface of the water and then struck it with a splash.
"A flying boat!" exclaimed Captain Dunham, who had the binoculars on it.
The craft drove straight on over the water at a rapid rate of speed. As
it drew closer, Captain Dunham exclaimed in a voice that trembled with
excitement, despite his efforts to control it:
"Great Scott! That's one of our men!"
"A man attached to the Red fleet?" asked the Secretary.
"Yes, he is wig-wagging with his free arm. It's--it's--great Scott!
It's Ned Strong, by all that's wonderful!"
* * * * *
It was half an hour later, and Ned had told his story. It was a
concise, crisp statement occupying no more time than was necessary, but
embodying a wonderful amount of important information. When he came to
relate how he had "appropriated" one of the Blue fleet's aeroplanes
and had flown straight to the _Manhattan_ in it, the enthusiasm of his
hearers knew no bounds.
For the time being, interest in this phase of his adventures even
overtopped the recovery of the book of plans and coast defences
taken from Kenworth. The book was found to contain full details of
fire-control systems, gun tests, and other naval data of the utmost
importance.
"By Neptune, lad, the United States Navy owes you a debt of gratitude
it can hardly repay," exclaimed Captain Dunham, with shining eyes.
"I shall see, however, that the service does what is in its power to
recognize the signal ability you have displayed, Mr. Strong," remarked
the Secretary.
"Thank you, sir," responded Ned, with glowing cheeks, "but the
knowledge that I have been of service to the Flag is in itself reward
enough."
"Hardly substantial, however," smiled the Secretary.
A few moments later Ned was dismissed and joined Herc. Their greeting
was not an effusive one on the surface. Both had been trained in a
school where men are taught to restrain and control their emotions.
But in the hearty handclasp, and the few spoken words, each friend
recognized the glad emotion that the other was feeling over their
reunion.
Later in the day both lads were summoned to the captain's cabin.
"Here is where we lose our commands," said Herc, with dismal foreboding.
He was right. Captain Dunham's first words apprised both boys that they
were no longer officers.
"You are relieved of the command of your gunboat," said the captain
crisply; and then, as the boys' faces fell, despite all their efforts
to maintain "stiff upper lips," he added, "to take charge of an
expedition which will be explained to you."
The boys longed to exchange glances, but they stood stiffly at "eyes
front." What could be coming now?
"We have located the yacht _Halcyon_," said the Secretary briefly. "The
secret service men have placed us in possession of facts which make
it certain that Saki and the rest are on board her. She is to sail
to-night."
"Shall you not intercept her, sir?" asked Ned, betrayed by his interest
into a breach of naval etiquette.
"Of course. That will be your duty."
"Our duty, sir?"
"Yes. You are assigned, in virtue of your commissions, to the command
of the _Henry_, second-class destroyer. You will intercept and place
under arrest the men on board the _Halcyon_ and bring the craft back to
New York harbor."
"When do we start, sir?"
"At once. The crew of the _Henry_ have been notified. Steam is up
and everything in readiness. You will, of course, keep in constant
communication by wireless, using the code. When you overhaul the
_Halcyon_, use no half-way measures. Arrest everyone on board, seize
all documents and denounce the ship. In particular, apprehend the man
calling himself Saki. He is in reality Captain Hasamira of the Japanese
Navy and a most dangerous man."
"He certainly proved so to these lads," smiled Captain Dunham. "Now
be off with you, boys, and bring back the men you are going after. We
shall rely on you."
"Aye, aye, sir," said both Dreadnought Boys saluting, though their
hearts were in such a wild tumult that they hardly knew what they were
saying.