"Come on, Ned!" he cried. "Whoop! Here's where we join the ship! Bang! Big guns! Blow 'em up! Hurray!" But to Herc's surprise, as he made for the inclined runway leading to the float, he was met by the menacing muzzle of a rifle. The weapon was held by a marine--"soldier and sailor too"--behind whom stood the natty middie in charge of the float. "Stand back!" ordered the marine sternly. Herc regarded the leveled rifle with some apprehension and gave way a few steps to the rear. "Don't you know enough not to try to embark till the order is given?" asked Ned, as the young midshipman scowled at the red-headed youth as if the latter had committed some heinous crime. "Why, the boats are made to get into, aren't they?" protested Herc. "And who is that fellow in the funny uniform, anyhow?" "That's a marine," laughed Ned. "He's on sentry duty." "Oh, so he's a marine, eh?" rejoined Herc, regarding the sentry with much disapproval. "One of those sea soldiers--a sort of half-and-half fellow." Further comment on Herc's part was cut short by the outpouring of the laughing, shouting jackies who were coming ashore on leave. They poured up the narrow gangway in a seemingly never-ending stream. "There'll be no one left to man the ships," gasped Herc, as the ranks of light-hearted shore-leave men poured past. Some of them carried suitcases, and were evidently going ashore to bid a last good-by to their friends. Others, whose folks probably resided in distant cities, were going ashore for a last look at New York. "Those fellows will all have to be on board by midnight," explained old Tom to the boys. "They're going to crowd all they can into the few hours they'll have ashore." "Then we are to sail soon?" inquired Ned, his heart beating high and his eyes sparkling. "Before eight bells to-morrow morning we'll be in the Narrows," rejoined the old bluejacket. "That's the stuff!" cried Ned, gazing at the ranks of bronzed, healthy faces which were still passing by. "Want action, eh?" laughed old Tom. "Well, lads, you'll get it before you are many hours older; and remember, my lad, that it isn't all fun aboard a man-o'-war, and always bear in mind one thing--do what you're told without grumbling. Tee-total abstinence, when it comes to making remarks about what you are told to do in Uncle Sam's navy." "Say, Ned," whispered Herc. "What?" asked Ned, still engrossed in the animated scene before him, and in the formidable background formed by the motionless war machines. "Well, did you hear what he said?" "Yes, why?" "Oh, nothing; only it looks as if we had bitten off more than we could chew, that's all." "What do you mean?" "That I didn't like that part about 'not grumbling whatever we are told to do.' It looks as if we might have some pretty tough chores set us."