"Tell the men to carry on," Ned heard the captain say to the boatswain's mate in charge of his scrubbing squad, as the officers passed by.
"Carry on," thought Ned; "what on earth is that?"
"Come; carry on!" said boatswain's mate sharply to Ned as the boy still stood at attention, having received no order to resume work.
Ned looked at him inquiringly, and the man saw the lad was puzzled.
"Carry on. Go on with your work," he said, and Ned at once understood the hitherto mysterious order.
Breakfast followed the swabbing-down work, and Herc, who felt somewhat revived, managed to swallow a few mouthfuls. Not enough, however, to completely restore him, and a shipmate, seeing his despondent condition, advised him to visit Pills.
"What is that?" asked the astonished boy.
"It isn't a 'what,' it's a 'he'," explained the man; "Pills is the doctor."
"Well, if there's a doctor on board, I certainly want to see him," agreed Herc; and, at seven-thirty, together with several other men, suffering from real or imaginary ills, he sought out the ship's doctor, who gave him some remedies, which soon made the boy feel all right. In fact, an hour later Herc and Ned found themselves consigned to a painting squad, working, side by side, on the big forward turret which housed the twelve-inch guns.