Next morning, after the routine work was out of the way, word was passed that parties would be allowed to leave the ship for a cruise ashore. The signal of this decision was sent to other vessels of the fleet, and before long boats were making for the shore in tow of the battleships’ steamers, carrying parties of singing, joyous tars. On board the Manhattan upwards of a hundred men were allowed liberty, and among them were Ned and Herc. Before they left the ship, the liberty parties were lined up aft and the captain made them a little speech.
“You men are to be allowed a run on shore as a reward for faithful service,” he said. “You will be expected to conduct yourselves in a manner[187] befitting your country and the service. I hope that in your own interests you will report back on board ship within the forty-eight hours I am allowing you. That is all.”
Discipline went to the winds for a minute. The men cheered Commander Dunham as he turned away.
“There’s a captain for you,” said one.
“Yes, he’s no bucko skipper, always working up a poor sailor,” put in another. “He’s all wool and a yard wide.”
“And so say we all of us!” cried Herc, heading the rush for the boats that were to take them ashore.
The shore parties, laughing and cheering and cutting up all manner of antics, climbed over the side and piled into the boats. No effort was made to check their somewhat noisy flow of spirits. The officers wisely recognized the fact that for the time being they were only a happy lot of blue-jackets acting much like boys just let out of school.
[188]
Herc injected more amusement into the situation when after a brief absence he appeared at the gangway leading Blue Lightning, the goat mascot of the Manhattan. Blue Lightning was a slate-colored goat—battleship gray, the sailors called his color—of a combative temperament. He had spent many years in the navy and had been a present to the Manhattan from the crew of the old cruiser Texas, when the latter vessel went out of commission.
“Hooray! Here comes Red Head with his goat!” cried the sailors. “Going to give him a cruise ashore, Herc?”
“Sure,” responded the Dreadnought Boy. “Isn’t he entitled to shore liberty just as much as we are? I guess a good feed of grass and a run will do his temper good. He’s been kind of grouchy lately.”
This was true. Only a few days before the goat had run amuck along the decks during the dinner hour, upsetting ditty boxes, butting incautious[189] sailors, and finally charging, regardless of discipline, up on the quarter-deck itself, nearly upsetting the rear-admiral who was taking a dignified stroll about his precincts.
“Come on, Lightning,” coaxed Herc, as he descended the ladder with the goat following close behind.
“Better look out, Red Head, he’s liable to attack you from the stern!” cried a voice.
“Not he,” scoffed Herc, “he’s got too much respect for me. Come on, old fellow.”
The goat followed Herc docilely enough till he had almost reached the bottom of the steep steps. Then, suddenly, he lowered his head. His yellow eyes gleamed viciously.
“Look out!” yelled the sailors in the boat below.
“Yes, be careful, Herc,” roared Ned. “The goat! He——”
But there was no time to add more. The goat’s lowered head suddenly collided with Herc’s anatomy,[190] and amidst a roar of yells and shouts the red-headed boy was impelled in a flying leap off the gangway and into the water.
“Wow! Blue Lightning’s struck!” shouted the tars.
“Gracious, he went through the air like a thirteen-inch shell!”
“A regular human sky-rocket!”
Herc rose sputtering and puffing and struck out for the boats. There was no use in being mad, so he only laughed as he was helped on board.
“Better change your uniform,” advised Ned.
“What for? I’ll soon dry out in this hot sun. Say, you fellows missed a nice swim; that water felt fine,............