"Nothing but subs to fight over here, kid, if any," the older boy said. "Stop your keening."
"Say, how do we know where the big fight will be pulled off?" demanded Frenchy excitedly.
"What big fight?" queried Whistler, unpuckering his lips.
"The one they've been talking about for months. You know, everybody's said the Huns would come out some time. They're bound to give us a chance at their Navy."
"Aw, they won't! Will they, Whistler?" asked Ikey.
"I don't really believe so myself," Torry said, shaking his head. "No such luck."
"I believe the Kennebunk has got new orders," Whistler rejoined thoughtfully. "Whether or not they are for her to sail for the other side, I don't know. I heard a hint about it when we came aboard the cutter."
"Crickey! Let 'em hit it up, then," urged Torry. "If this little old tub doesn't go fast enough I'll jump overboard and swim!"
"Oi, oi! Not me!" objected Ikey Rosenmeyer. "I've soaked in enough salt water. I don't feel as though I should really need a bath again before I get to be twenty-one yet."
"Tough on your messmates, Ikey," observed Whistler. "Do think better of such a rash decision."