“How about you, Hickey?”
“Maybe I could do it, now that I’ve seen you go through the motions, sir, but I couldn’t tell a fellow how to do it to save my life.”
The apprentices grinned broadly.
“Attention! Now, in the morning, to lash the hammocks, you place the mattress squarely in it, fold the blanket, placing it in lengthwise and roll it up taut. Lash with seven marline turns. Turn the hammock over several times to twist the clews, unhook one end at a time and tuck the clews under the lashing and haul them taut. When the reveille is sounded hammocks must be stowed within fifteen minutes. Is that clear, Hickey?”
“Clear as mud—sir,” added Sam, flushing hotly as he realized a moment later that he had said something that might bring a rebuke upon him.
It did. The quartermaster read him a stern lecture on the necessity for speaking in a respectful manner at all times. Sam was told that a direct question called for a direct answer, “without any trimmings.”
“I seem to be getting all that’s coming to me,” whispered the boy to his companion.
“You talk too much; that’s your worst fault, and the one that is likely to get you into trouble if you don’t look out.”
“I didn’t talk when the other officer was trying to make me tell who smashed me with the pie, did I?”
“No; you showed yourself to be a man in that case, Sam. Sh-h-h! He’s speaking to you.”