The gunboat was now lying to, some seven
hundred yards off the mouth of the little harbor. Hastings bent lustily to
the oars, sending the boat over the rocking water until he was within a
hundred yards of the steam craft's bridge.
"Gun boat ahoy!" roared Hal, between his hands. Then, by a slip of the
tongue, and wholly innocent of any intentional offense, he bellowed:
"Is that the 'Dad' boat?"
"What's that?" came a sharp retort from the gunboat's bridge. "Don't try
to be funny, young man!"
"Beg your pardon, sir. That was a slip of the tongue," Hal replied,
meekly, as he colored. "Are you the gunboat 'Hudson?'"
"No; I'm her commanding officer, young man! Who in blazes are you?"
"I'm the goat, it seems," muttered Hastings, under his breath. But, aloud,
he replied:
"I have the pilot you requested."
"Then why don't you bring him on board?" came the sharp question. "Did you
think I only wanted to look at a pilot?"
"All right, sir. Shall I make fast to your starboard side gangway?" Hal
called.
"In a hurry, young man!"
"That's the naval style, I guess," murmured Jack to his chum. "No fooling
in the talk. I wonder if that fellow eats pie? Or is his temper due to
coffee?"
Answering only with a quiet grin, Hal rowed alongside the starboard side
gangway.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40