Several of the sailors began counting. There was much turning round, a deal of whispered estimations. Every one appeared to be looking at everybody else. Finally a deep voice from a corner said:
"Thirty-five."
"Any one down for leave?"
Some half dozen members of a gun crew just home from a long journey, called out that leave had been given them.
"Anybody on sick list?"
There was no answer. In the ensuing silence, the bosun checked off the answers on his list.
"I suppose you all want to go out."
"Sure!"
"Get in line." The bosun backed away, and looked with an official eye at the sturdy group.
"All here, pack up and stand by. At eleven o'clock have all your baggage at the drill office. I'll send a man up to get the mail."