“What do you think of that, Dan?” demanded Sam slowly, confiding to his companion the order that had just been given to him.
“I think it fine. It looks as if you had gotten into the captain’s good graces. I hope so. See that you perform your duties in a ship-shape manner. Keep your head working all the time. I should call it almost a promotion.”
“I hope I don’t get seasick,” muttered Sam doubtfully. “This rolling is awful.”
An hour later, Sam Hickey made his way down the after gangway to the captain’s quarters, clad in a spotless white uniform, his braided white knife-lanyard drooping gracefully across his chest and disappearing in the pocket of the blouse.
“I’ve come to relieve you as the captain’s orderly,” announced Sam to the marine, who was acting in that capacity.
The orderly returned the nod and hurried away, for he had not yet had his breakfast.
Sam braced himself against a wall in the corridor with his eyes fixed on the swaying curtain that shut off the room in which the captain was breakfasting at that moment. The corridor was narrow and close, and Sam soon grew restive. Espying a chair a little way from him, he helped himself to it and sat down, crossing his legs.
Just then an officer came hurrying through the corridor.
“See here, my man, what are you doing there?” he demanded.
“Captain’s orderly, sir,” answered Sam, saluting.