He wanted to dance, so delighted was he to meet that vessel above all others.
"Beat to quarters!"
Then followed a rush of barefooted men along the deck.
There was no confusion; all ran in perfect order to their stations.
As the roll of drums died away the midshipmen, in boyish soprano, began calling off the quarter-bills, while the men, in gruff and deep bass voices, responded.
Every man knew his place.
The cook, as well as the captain, knew just what was expected of him.
The surgeon, with his assistants, descended to the cockpit and got ready his instruments and bandages, his splints and antiseptics.
The line of powder-passers was formed, the powder-monkeys looking serious as they thought of the business on hand.