The night after leaving Havana Frank was awakened by a violent pitching and tossing. He heard Ned, next to him, moving about restlessly, and asked:
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know, unless it’s a storm,” was the reply.
“That’s it, we’ve run into some heavy weather,” said an older sailor.
Though there was a violent pitching and tossing, which motion was imparted to the Georgetown in spite of her great size, still our two heroes were not made greatly uncomfortable. The swaying hammocks did not take all the motions through which the vessel went, though the “beds” did sway more than usual. But the recruits had gotten their sea-legs some time before, and none was made seasick. This malady had not bothered Ned and Frank at all, for they had gone through their initiation in that regard years before, on Great South Bay and the adjacent ocean.
In the morning the Georgetown was plowing her way through a stormy sea, a heavy gale was blowing and sending the salt spray across her decks.
“It’s like the time we were out in our motor boat,” remarked Ned.
“Yes,” agreed Frank, and he thought regretfully of the Ellen. “And maybe we’ll have the same pleasure some time later, if we get back the money from the revolutionists,” he added.
“Why, are you going to quit the battleship?” asked Ned.
“Oh, no, I haven’t any idea of that sort, but if we get back our money we might apply for a leave of absence. Or after our four years are up, we can take a furlough.”