The Dreadnought Boys wheeled, and found themselves facing an elderly man, somewhat inclined to stoutness, but whose grizzled and weather-beaten face bore the true trademarks of an old man-o'-war Jack upon it. "Why, you're from the _Manhattan_!" cried Ned, as his eyes fell on the other's name band, on which the name of the new Dreadnought was embroidered in gilt thread. "Aye, aye, my hearties," was the rejoinder in a voice cracked with much shouting in heavy weather in all climes, "and you are a pair of rookies--land-lubbers, eh?" "Well, I guess you might call us that," responded Ned, not best pleased at this free and easy mode of address, but judging it best to be as amiable as possible. "Can you tell us how to get aboard the _Manhattan_? We've just left the Naval Training School and are appointed to her." "Get your rating?" "Sure--ordinary seamen." "That's good. Come on with me, boys, and I'll put you aboard ship shape and comfortable. It's a cold day when old Tom Marlin can't look out for a pair of greenies." Piloted by their companion, the two boys soon arrived at the landing place, which was already crowded with sailors whose shore leave had expired. "Which is the _Manhattan_?" asked Sam, gazing with eyes that were still awestruck at the immense vessels that lay out in the river and appeared several sizes too large for their mooring places. "Right yonder, Bricktop," rejoined old Tom, pointing off to a vessel which, large as were the other battleships, seemed by her huge size almost to dwarf them. "That's the old hooker. The last output of your old Uncle Sam. Right in the next berth to her is the _Idaho_." "What's that red flag, with a black ball in the center, floating from the _Idaho's_ main?" inquired Ned, much interested. "That? Oh, that's the meat-ball!" laughed old Tom. "The meat-ball?" echoed the boys, much astonished. "A sort of dinner flag, I suppose?" asked Herc, who was beginning to feel hungry. "Not much, my lad," laughed the old sailor. "That's the gunnery pennant for the vessel making the best score at the targets. The _Idaho_ won that off the Virginia capes on our last battle practice cruise. All the fleet's after it now, but if we have our way, the old _Manhattan_ will be flying it after we get through peppering the marks off Guantanamo." Each of the Dreadnought Boys found himself making up his mind, as old Tom spoke, that if it depended on them, the _Manhattan_ would be the battleship to fly the coveted "meat-ball" when next the fleet made port. CHAPTER VIII. HERC TAKES A COLD BATH. A few minutes after the boys' arrival at the landing, a launch with a lead-covered hood was seen approaching, towing three large ship's boats behind it. The latter were crowded with jackies coming ashore. A gilt "M." on the bow of the launch proclaimed it to be from the _Manhattan_, and Herc made a dive for the float as the "steamer" puffed up to the landing stage.