"Here, sir," answered both boys, producing their precious certificates from the training school.
The master-at-arms glanced over them.
"You seem to have good records," he remarked, "but don't presume on them. You have a lot to learn. Messenger!"
The messenger sprang to attention and saluted, and the boys, not to be outdone in politeness, did likewise.
"Sir!"
"Take these two recruits to the ship's writer, and have him enter them in the ship's records."
Once more the threading of the metal labyrinth began, and the boys felt almost ready to drop as they were ushered into another cabin, where sat a man not unlike the master-at-arms in appearance, but who wore spectacles perched on his nose.
He took the boys' papers without a word and filed them away in a pigeonhole. He then produced two varnished ditty boxes, with their keys, which he handed to the boys.
"These are your ditty boxes," he remarked, handing over the caskets, which were about a foot and a half square, neatly varnished and finished, and each of which bore a number.