CHAPTER I. ON SPECIAL DUTY.

There was a sudden stir in the forward section of the stuffy, crowded railway coach.

The interruption to the stolid apathy that had crept over the passengers, for the dust and heat had made them drowsy, came in the form of voices raised in anger and indignant protest.

The racket proceeded from a cross-seat occupied by two young fellows. One of them was a youth of about eighteen with hair of a violent ruddy hue. His seat-mate was, perhaps, a trifle older, heavy set, rather sallow, with close-cropped black hair. Both were sunburned and bore, somehow, the unmistakable look of those who follow the sea.

[Pg 6]

"See here, you, what have you got your hand in my pocket for, hey?"

Thus the red-haired lad, before whom reposed a leather suit-case bearing the name,—neatly stenciled on one end,—"H. Taylor, U.S.N."

"I've lost my wallet," came the rejoinder in angry, high-pitched tones. "It had most of my pay in it, too."

"Well, what's the matter with looking in your own pocket?" sputtered Herc Taylor indignantly.

"I did, but I can't find it."

"So you assume that I'm the thief, do you?"

This was certainly a conversation to attract attention. Both speakers appeared to be in highly belligerent moods. Several of the passengers seated in the vicinity of the excitement began to rise in their seats and crane their necks, the better to behold the "scrap" that appeared imminent.

But those nearest to the pair saw that Herc[Pg 7] Taylor's large, freckled fist had closed on the wrist of the other's investigating hand, so that, for the present at any rate, the latter was not able to attempt retaliation except verbally.

Herc was neatly but quietly dressed in a gray-mixture suit. His seat-mate, the one who had made the ugly accusation, wore clothes that appeared to have been rather neglected recently. They were crumpled and stained and the whole air of the fellow, despite his healthy-looking tan, was slouchy and shiftless.

Herc glared straight into the other's eyes for possibly the space of a minute or so. Before his direct glance the slouchy-looking youth's eyes fell.

"Aw, leggo my hand, will yer?" he muttered.

"Sure, it's no pleasure to me to hold it," rejoined Herc, relaxing his grip. Where he had held the other, a white bracelet of skin appeared, showing that Herc possessed a mighty set of muscles.

[Pg 8]

"I'd advise you to keep your hand where it belongs in the future," added Herc.

A third young fellow, who had been seated behind the quarreling pair, leaned forward. He had been reading a naval-service periodical. But now his attention was distracted, and he tapped the red-headed youth on the shoulder.

"What appears to be the trouble, Herc?"

"Oh, it's all right, Ned," rejoined the younger of the Dreadnought Boys, turning to his cousin, Ned Strong. "This fellow just suffered from a severe case of wandering hand, that's all."

A smile came over Ned Strong's clean-cut, bronzed features. His blue eyes twinkled as he directed a glance to the floor of the section in front of him.

"What's that lying on the floor right there by your feet, my friend?" he asked of Herc's seat-mate.

"Gosh! if it isn't my wallet!" exclaimed the stranger.

[Pg 9]

He stooped and picked it up, looking rather sheepish and foolish as he encountered Ned's smile.

"You see, it isn't a good plan to go up in the air before you make quite sure you won't have to come down again with a hard bump," said the Dreadnought Boy quietly, but with a good-natured intonation.

"Aw, stow that," growled the other. "I didn't do no harm."

"No, but if I hadn't been a young person of marked coolness and restraint, I might have done you some," grinned Herc.

Here the incident appeared to be terminated for the time being. Soon after, the disgruntled neighbor of Herc Taylor arose and sought a seat in another part of the car. The smiling looks of the passengers in the vicinity of the little ruction had proved too much for his sensibilities.

As he rose from his seat, he carried with him[Pg 10] his suit-case. After he was beyond ear-shot, Ned turned to Herc.

"That fellow may be one of our shipmates," he said in low tones.

"How do you make that out?"

"I saw the name 'Dilworth Rankin' and the letters 'U.S.N.' after it," was Ned's rejoinder.

"Can't say that I'm much impressed with what I've seen of young Mr. Rankin," retorted Herc, carelessly. "At any rate we are under special commissions now, so that if he gets gay or anything like that, I'll have him put in the brig in short order. I always said, after I had that little session of mine in the brig, that if I ever got a chance I'd see how it felt to slap somebody else in there; and if he gets fresh it might just as well be Rankin as anyone else."

"You'll do no such thing," retorted Ned seriously. "Just because we're holding little temporary commissions as junior officers, you can't show off your authority like that."

[Pg 11]

"Huh! what's the use of being officers, then?"

"To teach us something. To get some new ideas and experiences into that red head of yours."

"See here, now that I'm an officer, I'll thank you to refer to my locks as auburn," muttered Herc. "I'll feel like using my new sword on anybody who calls attention to the color of my sky-piece hereafter."

"All right," laughed Ned, "I'll call it any color you like. But, hullo! there's blue water. We must be getting near to Miller's Haven. I wonder if the Seneca has arrived yet?"

"Hope so," rejoined Herc. "I want to be boss just as quickly and just as long as possible. I wish some of the old boys on the Manhattan could see us when we start out to sea. Have you opened your orders yet?"

"Not yet. As you know, they are sealed and not to be opened till we have coaled and proceeded to sea. The first thing we must do when[Pg 12] we reach Miller's Haven is to report to Ensign Summerville, at present in command of the Seneca, and hand him his orders."

"His walking papers," interpolated Herc. "I wonder if we'll get orders to join the Red fleet right off?"

"That's impossible to say," replied Ned. "As I understand it, we are to do duty as a scout cruiser, depending largely on our wireless for keeping in touch with the Red fleet and informing them of every move of the Blues."

"Then we may not be with the fleet at all?"

"Not necessarily. But I guess our work as scouts will keep us so busy that we won't notice the lack of company."

"I'd rather be back with the fleet," muttered Herc.

"I wouldn't," rejoined Ned, his eyes flashing and his cheeks flushing under the tan. "Why, Herc, boy, we've got the biggest chance of our lives! To my mind this detail to which we have[Pg 13] been assigned will prove the most interesting work we have ever tackled."

"Miller's Haven!"

The voices of the trainmen rang raucously through the car. The boys arose and made their way to the forward door. As Ned had surmised, they were indeed on the threshold of some of the most interesting experiences they had ever encountered.