The captain handed him the message. Henry folded the sheet, writing innermost. The commander smiled approval. “You may read it,” he said.
Henry opened the blank. It was addressed to the Commandant of the Boston Navy Yard and read: “Request permission to land at Navy Yard to obtain supplies from the Oneida. C. Hardwick, Commander, Iroquois.”
“Do you have to get permission to enter the Navy Yard?” exclaimed Henry.
“Yes indeed, whether you come by land or by sea.”
Henry carried the message to the radio shack, and Mr. Sharp got it off at once. Then he went to the bridge and bade the men on watch good- morning, but he had little inclination for talk. The wonderful scene that presented itself ahead fascinated him.
Already they had passed Boston Light, and the Iroquois was heading directly for a low-lying island that lay in the water like a huge, gray-brown button. It was George’s Island, and the queer-looking, mound-like eminence on it was Fort Warren. Henry learned that a moment later when he stepped into the chart-room and studied the map. He wanted to know exactly what he was seeing.
Close beside George’s Island lay Lovell’s