“Bet your life!” exclaimed Chippie, “I’d like to hear that story over again about ‘After you, pilot’, and the fellow that went down the manhole. I say, Tom, I think we ought to write that out and keep it in a secret and safe place in the shack. I’m thinking we may like to remind ourselves of that story once in a while. You see this time it was Dick that made a break, and I guess it was because he forgot all about his oath in the excitement of the game. But maybe next time it would be you or me, Tom, that would be tempted in some such way. We might as well be prepared for the worst, and then the enemy can never catch us asleep.”
“You’re a good one, Chip,” cried Dick, and gave his comrade a thump on the back. “That makes me feel that we’re working together, and that the Club is a real live thing. Before you said that, I had a sneaking feeling that nobody could be as bad as I was, and that makes a fellow feel kind of washed out and discouraged.”
“Now it’s time to go on deck, for the fellows will be coming down to prayers in a few minutes,” said Tom. “We’ll write that story out carefully with ink in the shack to-morrow afternoon”; and, as they approached the companionway, Chippie gave Dick a shove up ahead of them and whispered in his ear: “After you, pilot!”
There were only a few minutes to wait on deck before prayers, and Dick felt relieved and refreshed, first, because the load of unacknowledged guilt had rolled off him and had seemed to sink to the bottom of the sea; and secondly, because he felt the respect and sympathy of his brothers-in-arms. Dick Number 1 was in the saddle, and ready for action.
They came to anchor at Northbridge at about nine o’clock that evening, and the next morning all hands landed and went to church. The Northbridge boys then joined their families for dinner, while the others returned on board and landed again in the afternoon to take a hike through the surrounding country. Tom, Dick, and Chippie met, according to their agreement, at the shack on Duck Island at four o’clock.
“You call the meeting to order, Tom,” said Chippie, “that’s your business; and, as Dick’s brother was the one who told us the story, I vote Dick had better tell it to us the best he knows how, only slowly—and I’ll write it down, and you can tell us when you think we’re off the track.”
“Chip’s a pretty good manager, eh, Dick?” said Tom. “Here he orders me to call the meeting to order and then goes on and tries to run it himself! What do you think of that, sonny?”
“All right, Tom, it’s your show,” said Chippie, “only for goodness’ sake, begin.”
“This meeting will now come to order,” said Tom solemnly. “Does everybody agree to what Chippie has said? If so, get your pen and paper ready, Chip, and you, Dick, begin the story.”
There was a pause, and then Dick asked: “What was the name of the ship?”