“Not yet,” March replied. “Skipper opens orders ten hours out.”
“Well, wherever we’re going,” Scott said, “I’m sure glad we’re goin’ with you, sir. And the whole gang feels the same way. You see, we sort of liked the way you handled the pigboats back there in New London.”
“Thanks, Scotty,” March said. “And you don’t know how good it made me feel to find you boys here. Bigelow and I felt right at home from then on.”
March turned and found the Skipper at the door, smiling.
“Come on in for a cup of coffee,” Gray said.
“Thanks,” March replied, sliding down behind the little table in the wardroom with Gray.
“Jimmy just brought the pot of coffee,” Gray said, filling March’s cup. “It’s hot. Jimmy’s the messboy, by the way—nice kid.”
March smiled to himself. Jimmy the messboy was only about one year younger than Gray.
“Those men you knew in New London,” Gray said, “seem to like you.”
“We got to know each other pretty well,” March said. “We went through the whole business together. There are some swell men among them.”