"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the racing gig. Didn't you know Dan and myself were members of the racing crew now?"
"No; I didn't know anything of the sort. You kids on the crew? That's a joke. If we fellows who have been in the service a year or two get on the crew we think we're lucky."
"Is that right, Davis?" spoke up one of the men further down the table.
"Partly, Bob. We have been chosen for a tryout. We may make such a miserable failure of it that they will put us out of the boat after the first practice spin."
"I'm not so sure about the red-head, but I'll risk your making a mess of anything that you try," answered the jackie addressed as Bob. "I won't say you're lucky, for the good things generally go to them that deserve them," continued the sailor wisely. "Leastwise, that's been my observation. I notice not many of them have ever come my way, though. What oars are you going to pull?"
"I can't say, Bob. That depends upon Mr. Harper."
Envious glances were directed upon the Battleship Boys from all parts of the mess.
"I know how they happened to get in for a try-out," announced a member of the mess. "Black and White were to row in the crew. Instead, they'll be holding down the deck of the brig for the next thirty days."
"I was in there once," said Sam, with a grin that brought a shout of laughter.