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.
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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.
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"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.
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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[Pg 35] 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[Pg 36] 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[Pg 37] 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[Pg 38] 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?"