There was no time to say more, for the small boat was now once more beside the flagship. The craft was attached to the davit-ropes and swung up and in, and a moment later Larry and Striker stood upon the main deck, confronted by Commodore Dewey and Captain Gridley. Finding themselves in the presence of the two commanders, Striker immediately saluted in true naval style, and Larry followed suit, not a little awed by finding himself confronted by so much marine pomp, for the commodore believed in thoroughness in naval appearance as well as in efficacy. On looking at the Yankee, the commodore's face showed a slight trace of surprise.
"Hullo, my man! I think I've seen you before," he said.
"That you have, commodore," replied the Yankee tar, much pleased at even a partial recognition. "I was sayin' to myself, in coming over in the gig, that if this was Commodore Dewey's squadron, an' the commodore himself was with the fleet, he wouldn't forget Luke Striker, as served under him on board of the Pensacola, in European waters, about twelve years ago. I was gunner's mate at that time, and when coal bunker No. 3 took fire—" Striker paused.
