what curious structures the basketwork masts were. It seemed to Henry as though each of these ships must contain a whole village of people, for he could see sailors by the hundreds on board. Some were washing the ships’ sides, some were at work on the decks, some were up in the superstructures. Wherever he looked, he seemed to see men. And it was just like the dismissal of church or school when a party of bluejackets came ashore on leave. They poured down the gangplanks in masses, and went jauntily off toward the gate for their holiday.
There were other ships, too. One was evidently a new vessel. It was fiery red in its first coat of paint, and had peculiar lines, different from those of any ship Henry had yet seen. The superstructure appeared to be but one story high and to extend nearly the length of the vessel. It was perfectly level, with no railings about it. Henry was so astonished at the unusual appearance of the craft that he stepped up to a group of workmen and asked what the ship was.
“That’s the Whitney,’ said one of the men. “She was just launched a few days ago. She’s a submarine tender.”
“What a queer top she has,” remarked Henry.
“Yes,” agreed the workmen. “She was de-