PUTTING THE ENEMY OUT
By this time every officer and man on the battleship "Long Island" knew Dan Davis and Sam Hickey by name as well as by sight. But the lads bore their honors well. Neither of the boys sought to take advantage of the favor he had gained. If anything, the boys toiled harder than ever. They worked with the formidable seven-inch gun during all the hours that were allotted to this work.
During the rest hour Dan and his companion would ordinarily be found in the turret, examining the gun and its carriage, quizzing each other to test their knowledge, committing to memory the name and use of every part of these complicated instruments of war.
Late one afternoon, when the men were supposed to be at play on the forward deck, the captain was passing through on his way to his quarters, when he heard voices in the turret and peered in there.
He saw Dan and Sam stripped to their undershirts, working the big gun and going through with their own examination. Dan was trying to explain to his companion the theory and practice of range-finding—learning the distance and location of the enemy. From that they drifted into the question of sighting the big guns, elevation and other technical subjects beyond their years and experience.
The ship's commander smiled proudly. After a few moments of listening, he stepped inside.
"Well, lads, do you never rest?" he questioned, in a kindly tone, for the commanding officer of the "Long Island" was a humane man, one who had the interests of his men at heart to a degree possessed by few commanding officers in the service.
The lads saluted but made no reply, as an answer was not expected to the question.
"Are you studying—I mean in books?"
"Yes, sir," replied Dan.