Upon the completion of muster the captain will be informed of the number of absentees and then this report is signaled to the flag-ship. Upon such a scene Phil gazed for the first time as an officer and thrilled to the impressive ceremony. He stood at “attention” on the right of the division. Lazar, muster-book in hand, glanced along the double line of men until his eyes rested on his midshipman. The precision in the attitude of his junior caught his eye. His glance wavered and the slightest of sneers appeared on his face. For the fraction of a second he seemed to hesitate, then words that brought the blush of shame and anger to the face of the unsuspecting boy struck harshly upon his ears: “Mr. Perry, I gave you the credit for knowing that at quarters all officers must wear sword and gloves. Go below, sir, and get yourself in proper uniform.” Phil stood motionless. He was stunned for the moment, not so much by the words as by the scorn in his voice. Almost overcome with confusion and embarrassment, he turned away and hastily descended the ladder to the deck below. Once more in his room he found his sword and gloves where he had placed them but ten minutes before the call to quarters. Then had come a call to the executive officer, and once on deck all save the scene about him was driven from his mind. His own thoughtlessness alone could be blamed, but the sneer in Lazar’s voice rankled. When he again reached the deck, the men had broken ranks and the sharp pipe of the whistles of the boatswain and his mates filled the air, followed in sonorous tones and in perfect chorus: “All hands unmoor ship.” The stout hemp lines and chains securing the battle-ship to the dock were cast off, and like writhing serpents, hauled aboard by the lusty crew. The two great propellers churned the muddy water and the war-ship glided out into the crowded waters of the East River. Two handy tugs attached themselves to this unwieldy mass of steel and slowly swung her armored bow toward the Brooklyn Bridge, spanning the river like a huge rainbow of metal. “Let go!” shouted the captain of the war-ship to his tiny helpmates; then to the attentive executive officer by his side-- “Slow speed ahead!” Quietly, the powerful engines started in motion the sixteen thousand tons of fighting material. “Half speed ahead,” ordered the captain. The Brooklyn Bridge swept by overhead. The docks and shipping melted into a confusion of masts and smoke-stacks. Through the harbor the battle-ship glided like a great giant, then turned and headed through the Narrows for the open sea. The ship was soon well out on the Atlantic, the haze of the city melted astern. The low lying coast of Long Island was dimly in sight on the port hand. The two friends spent the remainder of the day in getting their bearings in their new home, and when eight o’clock came were quite willing to seek their bunks.