It scarcely seemed possible that the raid should have been accomplished and done so much damage ashore three hours before. The harbor lay peacefully enough now in the last light of the setting sun. The ships of the merchant fleet, all camouflaged most fantastically, lay swinging at their moorings. There were several gray cruisers and a number of destroyers, for this was a busy port. Both foodstuffs and troops were landed here. The destroyers were all so painted that one could scarcely be distinguished from another. Only the four Navy Boys knew just where the _Colodia_ was anchored. The party arrived at the admiral’s station and were stopped by the sentinel at the gate. The admiral was not at his desk, for he was out viewing the damage the bombs had done, and to interview the prisoners brought in. But there was an officer who heard the boys’ report and thanked them for what they had tried to do. George Belding gave a complete description of the daring spy who had landed from the Zeppelin. It was pretty sure that he and Whistler Morgan would know the fellow if they ever came face-to-face with him again. The ex-coster would have to face punishment when he got aboard his ship. “Hit’s me for the dungeon,” was the way he expressed his expectation of spending some time in the ship’s brig. “Good-bye, lads,” he said on parting from the Americans. “Yuh’re a bloomin’ bunch o’ sports, that’s wot’ yuh his. There’s no manner o’ doubt you Hamericans is hall right.” “And you are all right, Bill, when you are sober,” George Belding said rather grumpily. “I hope I’ll never meet you again when you have been indulging in liquor.” He said this with feeling; but Big Bill only grinned. “You’ll ’ave to visit me haboard ship, lad,” he said, shaking his head. “Wot’s bred hin the bone his bloomin’ ’ard to change, hand don’t yuh forget hit!” George Belding merely grunted. He was in no pleasant mood because of the “hick” costume, as Frenchy called it, which he was obliged to wear aboard ship. The ridiculous garments and shoes occasioned much hilarity when they reached the _Colodia’s_ launch. “Hey! what you got there? Going to bring a cow along for him to milk?” was the jocular demand. Isa Bopp, who would never be anything but a greenhorn himself, no matter how long he was at sea, demanded: “Where did you fellers pick up that farmer?” “Farmer yourself!” whispered Ikey behind the sharp of his hand. “It’s the port admiral in disguise. He’s going aboard to see Commander Lang on a secret mission. Something big’s coming off, Isa.” “There’ll be something big come off when he shucks them shoes,” chuckled Bopp. Meanwhile Phil Morgan was explaining to the petty officer in charge of the launch just who George Belding was, and how he came to be without a uniform. Belding would otherwise have had trouble getting aboard the _Colodia_, without his papers that the spy had run away with.