The dealer brought these side-arms at once. The naval sword is a handsome one, vastly more natty than the infantry side-arm of a junior officer. What a thrill each submarine boy felt as he was shown how to adjust his sword to the belt! "They're really nonsensical jewelry in these civilized days," declared Ensign McGrath, dryly. "But the regulations call for swords at some times. Now, gentlemen, you will need to get your uniforms off as quickly as you can, and the tailor's helpers will pack them in your suit cases. You travel in citizen's clothes, and don your uniforms as soon as you get aboard the gunboat." Ten minutes later each proud submarine boy picked up his suit case and sword, the latter, in each instance, being inside of a chamois-skin carrying case. In single file they made their way to the street. "Now, for the last leg of the race in Washington," announced Ensign McGrath, as they entered the automobile once more. "I wonder if it will happen on the way, or at the station?" laughed Jack, as the government gas-wagon whirled them down Pennsylvania Avenue. "Will what happen?" inquired McGrath. "Why," laughed Benson again, "I know we've got to wake up out of this trance, but I can't figure when it's going to happen." "I suppose all of you do feel excited," nodded Ensign McGrath, understandingly. "Not excited," declared Jack. "I'm just simply unprepared to believe that any part of this has really happened." At the railway station they were met by a messenger from the chief clerk's office, who handed each of the submarine boys a small parcel. "Copy of the Regulations, sir" stated the messenger. "It is required that each officer of the Navy possess a copy." "You'll want to scan the book good and hard most of the way down to Norfolk," advised Ensign McGrath. "You'll find much between the covers that you'll need to know right at the first jump-off. And now, for the tickets." These McGrath bought, including parlor car seats. The ensign then saw them safely to their seats. "Now, you've got enough to do, reading your new books," laughed the ensign, "So I'm not going to waste your time by staying here to talk to you. It's ten minutes, yet, to the time of your departure. Good-bye, gentlemen--_and good luck!_" When McGrath had gone Jack leaned across the aisle to whisper: "Eph, can you get at your sword handily--to draw it, I mean?" "What's up?" said Eph, suspiciously. "I want you to stick about a sixteenth of an inch of the point of your sword into me, so I can judge how long I've been dreaming." "What's the matter with using your own sword?" demanded Eph, a trifle gruffly. "That's just the trouble," smiled Benson, plaintively. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and find I haven't any." Hal was leaning back in his parlor car chair, his eyes closed. He was dreaming delicious daydreams. CHAPTER XIII COMMANDER OF A U.S. GUNBOAT! "Lieutenant Benson, sir?" inquired a coxswain, saluting.