Sam got himself out from the wreckage, and slowly rose to his feet, ruefully surveying the scene before him. He did not speak. There were no words that would probably express his feelings at that moment.
The captain pressed a button, whereupon his colored steward hurried in. The steward’s eyes opened as he caught sight of the ruined china and glassware.
“Steward, clear this rubbish away and be quick about it,” the captain directed in a calm voice. “Is this the way you usually respond to an officer’s summons?” fixing his eyes upon the culprit. There was a quiver about the lips of the commanding officer of the battleship “Long Island,” but Sam was too much upset to observe it.
“N—n—no, sir.”
“I approve of your prompt attention to duty, lad, but you will have to learn to control yourself.”
“I—I am very sorry, sir.”
“Never mind, lad; you will learn. This is the first time you ever acted as orderly, is it not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I will instruct you in your duties, for you no doubt will be called upon to perform this duty many times during your service.”
The captain’s kindly tone went straight to the heart of the Battleship Boy.