Part 25 (1/2)
”Don't bother about that, please. I shall have to run over to the island when I come back from The Crags, to prepare the way. Take a taxicab and be at the Navy Landing--no, that would n't be wise; some one might see you. Go to the New York Yacht Club station and I, or Johnson, my second, will be there in the _D'Estang_'s launch. We are the outer boat in the slips and you can come aboard over the stern without any one seeing you. Don't be a minute later than seven-thirty o'clock--that is,” he added, ”if you are serious about making the trip.”
”Serious!” exclaimed Sara.
”Oh, we are serious,” said Anne, ”and Mr. Armitage--you 're awfully good!”
A tall, grave, young ensign met the two excited girls at the hour designated and shot them across the bay to the torpedo boat slips in silence.
”He 's a nice-looking boy,” whispered Sara. ”But I wonder,--he does n't seem altogether to approve.”
Anne, who had been studying the officer, smiled easily.
”That isn't it; he's embarra.s.sed. For heaven's sake, Sara, don't try to make me feel _de trop_ at this stage.”
The young man _was_ embarra.s.sed; Anne had diagnosed correctly. And it was with great relief that he turned them over to Armitage, who led them to a hatch and thence down a straight iron ladder to the wardroom.
Anne watched the precise steward adjusting a centrepiece of flowers upon the mess table and then glanced around the apartment, which was lined with rifles, cutla.s.ses, and revolvers in holsters.
”How interesting, Mr. Armitage,” she said. ”Do you recall the last time we were in a cabin together?” smiling. ”How absurd it was!”
”Wasn't it,” laughed Armitage. He left the wardroom and returned in a few minutes with two officers' long, blue overcoats and caps.
”These are your disguises. I 'll send an orderly down to take you up to the bridge when we get well under way--”
”Do we really have to wear these?” Sara viewed the overcoats with mock concern.
”Must,” laughed Armitage. ”It is going to be cold and it looks like rain. I 'd tuck my hair up under the caps as much as possible if I were you. Damp salt air is bad for hair.”
”You mean you wish us to look like men,” a.s.serted Sara.
”I merely want you to be appropriate to the picture.”
Sara looked at him mischievously.
”Why not the entire uniform, then?”
”Sara!” cried Anne, as Jack ducked out of the door.
”Anne,” Sara placed her hand on Anne's arm, ”are you interested in Jack Armitage?”
The girl looked at the dark burning cheeks of the handsome full-blooming young woman in front of her.
”Don't be silly, Sara.”
”I 'm not silly,” said Mrs. Van Valkenberg, half humorously. ”I really want to know.”
”Why?”
”Why, because if you 're not, I want you to keep in the background.
For I think I 'd--rather like to--enlist in the Navy.”