Soon after that, the boys went forward. Sitting under the shining twelve-inch guns, either of which would carry an eight hundred pound projectile twelve miles, they talked in low tones until the bugle sounded the command to scrub decks again.
Throughout the afternoon, until eight bells, that is four o’clock, the steady scrub, scrub, continued, the men now and then conversing in low tones.
“How long does this scrubbing business keep up?” asked Sam when he met the boatswain’s mate later in the afternoon.
“Let’s see; you enlisted for four years?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, that’s it.”
“What is it?”
“The scrubbing. We are always scrubbing aboard ship; that is, when we are not painting. Do you like to paint?”
“I never tried.”
“You will have a chance to do so to-morrow. We shall probably anchor off the Delaware breakwater to-morrow morning; then all hands will turn to and paint ship. Next to scrubbing decks the jackie is never so happy as when he has a paint brush in his hands.”