Having duly reported himself, Dick was informed that he was to be in charge of the gun-room--the cradle of budding Nelsons, for the _Hammerer_ carried twelve midshipmen in addition to a clerk and two assistant clerks. For the next three days the Sub had hardly a minute to call his own. It was a hasty, yet complete, commissioning, nothing being overlooked in the matter of detail; and during those three days the ship's company did a normal week's work. Meals had to be hurriedly snatched. Even the usual formal dinner had to be scrambled through, with grave danger to the digestions of the youthful officers. What with coaling, shipping ammunition and stores, and generally "shaking down", Dick was glad to tumble into his bunk and sleep the sleep of healthy exhaustion, until aroused by his servant announcing that it was time to begin another day's arduous duty. At length the _Hammerer_ was ready to sail to her unknown destination; for it was an understood thing that she was to proceed under sealed orders. The Captain and most of the officers on duty were on the fore-bridge. Aft mustered the marine guard and the band, while the stanchion rails and gun-ports were packed with seamen in their white working-rig. On the jetty were the dockyard Staff-captain's men, ready at the word of command to slip "springs" and hawsers; but the usual setting of the picture of a departing man-of-war was absent. No throng of relatives and friends of the crew gathered on the farewell jetty. The time of departure was a secret. In war-time the great silent navy is shown to perfection; and no crowd of civilians is permitted to see what may prove to be the last of a leviathan going forth to do her duty in the North Sea. A signalman, holding the halyard in his hand, awaited a glance from the Captain. It came at last. Up fluttered a hoist of bunting--the formal asking for permission to proceed. "Permission, sir!" reported the signalman, as an answering string of colour announced that the Commander-in-Chief of the port had graciously condescended to order the _Hammerer_ to do what had been previously ordered. "Stand clear!" To the accompaniment of the shrill trill of the bos'n's mates' pipes, the working parties surged hither and thither in apparently utter confusion; then almost imperceptibly, as the powerful tug in attendance began to pull the ship's bows clear of the jetty, the _Hammerer_ started on her voyage into the great unknown. A bugle-call--and every officer and man stood to attention, the marines presenting arms as the battleship glided past the old _Victory_. Another call, and the men relaxed their attitude of rigidity. The last compliment had been paid to the authorities of the home port--the _Hammerer_ was outward bound. "Any idea of the rendezvous?" asked Jack Sefton, one of the midshipmen, as the lads forgathered in the gun-room to "stand easy", almost for the first time since commissioning.