"I should say at least sixty pounds--that means all your equipment, and it is about the weight you would carry on a regular hike, counting arms and ammunition and all that. Now when you boys come to leave ship and go to a shore station, you will be surprised to find how much more junk you will have to send ashore than you took on board. It’s always the way. Things accumulate, and you never seem to know where they all come from. Many a souvenir and trinket I’ve left behind or lost in my time which I’d like to have right now. If you are able to, take my advice and send all your little keepsakes back to your home people. The day will come when you will have a heap of fun looking them over and living again the pleasure you experienced in acquiring them." Word having been passed for the detachment to "fall in" for the O.D.’s final inspection, Dick and Henry struggled into their harness. Canteens and haversacks were slung by their leather straps over opposite shoulders and the galling heavy knapsacks adjusted as comfortably as possible. Besides these impedimenta each boy was armed with a web belt from which hung a forty-five calibre Colt’s revolver in a fair leather holster, tightly strapped to the right leg to prevent swinging. Dick was also loaded down with his drum and sticks, and Henry carried his trumpet with the red trumpet cord attached. The other men of the detachment carried their Springfields--among the best military rifles in the world--and bayonets in leather scabbards. The trip to Philadelphia and its Navy Yard, where the _Denver_ was lying, occupied a little over three hours, so that the men from the Washington Barracks reported on board their future home in time for evening mess call. First Sergeant Stephen Douglass, commanding the Marine Detachment of the U.S.S. _Denver_, a gray-haired, clean-shaven, wiry little man, was known throughout the service as a "sea-going marine." Never, if he could prevent it, would he serve at a barracks, and his length of service and known ability generally secured a respect for his wishes from his superiors. The meal having been quickly disposed of by the new arrivals, he called them to his tiny office to assign them their stations. "Here is where we begin our web-footed existence," whispered Dick to Henry as they stood waiting their turn outside the door. "It is a little bit of a boat, isn’t it?" irrelevantly answered Henry. "Don’t say ’boat,’" cautioned Dick, "for in the Navy everything big enough to fly a commissioned officer’s pennant is dignified by being called a ship." "What is a ’commissioned officer’s pennant’?" inquired Henry. "It is a long narrow flag tapering to a point, with the wide part near the hoist, where it is attached, you know--blue with thirteen white stars in the field, and the rest is divided in half lengthwise with a red and a white stripe. Vessels commanded by a commissioned officer of the Navy only are entitled to fly it at the truck of the mainmast."