In another moment the gig was making fast at the gangway.  Then Jack Benson stepped out, and, heading his comrades, went up over the side.

At the head of the gangway a corporal and four marines stood drawn up.  At a low-voiced command from the corporal the marines presented arms, standing thus until the three new young officers, saluting, passed.

Just beyond the marines, stood an officer of the Navy.  He brought his hand to his cap in a smart salute.

“Lieutenant Benson?” inquired this officer.

“Yes.”

“I am Ensign Fullerton, executive officer of this vessel.”

They shook hands and Jack presented his comrades.

“I think I had better show you to your cabin, sir,” suggested Ensign Fullerton.

“As you please,” nodded Jack.

The way was actually led, however, by three of the marines, who, at a word from the corporal, had possessed themselves of the limited baggage of the new arrivals.

In Jack’s cabin was a broad double berth, two deep wardrobe closets, a book-case, desk and several chairs.

“I had no idea junior officers had such roomy quarters,” murmured Jack.

“They don’t, usually, sir,” smiled Fullerton.  “But it’s different, of course, in the case of the commanding officer.”

“But I’m not the commanding officer,” gasped Jack.

“For the purposes of this cruise you are,” smiled Fullerton.  “But I forget.  You haven’t received your orders.  There they are on your desk.  They arrived less than an hour ago by wire.”

Like one in a dream young Jack Benson picked up a bulky telegraph envelope and broke the seal.  There, before his eyes, danced the words of the latest order from the Secretary of the Navy.

Lieutenant Jack Benson was directed to take command of the United States gunboat, ‘Sudbury,’ until further orders.  Ensigns Hastings and Somers were directed to assume such duties aboard as were assigned to them by Lieutenant Benson.

“I didn’t expect this,” stammered Jack.  “I—­I—­we thought our temporary rank in the Navy was given us merely that we might have legal standing in making one arrest that is wanted.”

“No one ever does know just what is wanted of him, until the order comes,” laughed Ensign Fullerton.  “At least, that has been the case since Mr. Sanders became Secretary of the Navy.  He keeps all officers on the jump.  But I guess that is what a good many of them need, sir.”

As the Ensign appeared to be at least twenty-five years old that respectful “sir” struck young Benson’s ear queerly.

“Pardon me, gentlemen, but be seated,” suggested Lieutenant Jack, suddenly, as he realized that his chums and this one sure-enough naval officer were all standing.

“You have been aboard naval vessels before, sir, haven’t you?” asked Ensign Fullerton.

“Oh, yes; but never in the present way,” smiled Benson.