- ing," Ashley explains. "What's up? My trial-trip assignment
isn't until 3, is it?"
"The start was set for 3, but it has been pushed forward to 1 o'clock," says Ricker.
"It is about noon now. I may as well start for Brooklyn at once. Good, snappy day for a run down the bay."
"Thunder!" says Ashley, when he reaches the street. "I had forgotten that I was booked for a consolatory lunch with Miss Hathaway at 1. I must send my regrets. Hang it, that will look as if I was on to the arrest and was afraid to show up."
But he sends the note, nevertheless, and feels better in mind. "If that cold-blooded Barker only handles the matter properly," he thinks.
Even as he reaches the Government dock Jack sees the pennant of Capt. Meade run up to the main truck of the cruiser whose initial trial in commission he is to report; he is none too soon for the gang-plank is being withdrawn by half a score of blue-clad sailors as he makes a flying leap and lands upon the deck of the newest and fastest acquisition to Uncle Sam's navy, the cruiser America.
Ere Jack has fully recovered his footing a youthful-appearing midshipman brusquely demands his business.
It takes sometime before Jack is permitted to tread the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck.
Capt. Meade is for the time being on the bridge, and, before making the acquaintance of the commander, Jack proceeds to look about the vessel.
The America has an air of being a ship made for getting there; an up-to-date cruiser, without frills and furbelows, but distinctively with an aspect of power. In the bright sunlight her snowy hull gleams like polished marble. Her four great smokestacks relieve in a measure the glaring effect of her big white bulk, while the polished brass and steel with which all the decks are gird-ironed suggest, without the presence of the murderous rapid-fire and revolving cannon stationed about the decks, that the vessel is designed for war.
Ashley is soon engaged in the collection of information
