"Yes, yes, I remember you now, Striker. You took the place of the hoseman who was off duty, and crawled into the bunker at the risk of your life. I haven't forgotten that brave deed, and I'm glad, at this late day, to do you a service," and the commodore took the tar's hand and shook it heartily. "So you've been wrecked, and this lad with you? You both look worn, and those wet clothes are not as comfortable as dry ones will be." The commodore turned to Captain Gridley: "Captain, will you have them taken care of? and then I'll talk to them in my cabin. We will resume our course," and the commodore turned away.
In a minute more Larry and Striker had been turned over to a sergeant of marines, who took them below to the clothing lockers, and managed to fit them out in the uniforms of ordinary seamen. While this was going on, word was passed to the big galley, and by the time the pair were ready for it a steaming dinner awaited them in the mess-room. It is doubtless unnecessary to say that to the repast thus afforded, the boy and his down-east friend did ample justice. Indeed, Striker declared that never had victuals tasted better, and ate so much of the rice pudding and drank such a quantity of the black
