"You should worry," laughed Walters. "They all have to stand for that."
When Tom got back to the wireless room, Cattell, the operator, looked at the badge with a knowing smile.
"Stung, eh?" said he. "I thought you were on to Archer by this time."
"It's always easy to jolly me," said Tom.
"That's an old trick," said Cattell. "Don't you know we won't be in the danger zone until Monday?"
"I never thought about that," said Tom.
"You're easy," laughed Cattell. "When we get into the Zone, you'll know it."
And so Tom found, for early Monday morning, as he went along the deck on his way to breakfast, he noticed several persons wearing life preservers. They looked clumsy and ridiculous, and if the occasion had been less serious even Tom's soberness must have yielded at their funny appearance.
As he passed along he noticed members of the crew in the life-boats removing the canvas covers, and as these were taken off he could see that the boats were already stocked, each with a cask and a good-sized wooden case. A member of the crew patrolled the rope rail which shut off the guncrew's little domain, and no one could trespass there now. From a distance Tom could see Billy Sunday fully revealed without any vestige of canvas cover, and the boys in khaki scanning the waters in every direction with their glasses. All day long this continued, and once or twice when he met them hurrying along the deck they hardly recognized him.
Cattell, calm as usual, sat all day at the instrument shelf with the receivers on, and ate his luncheon there. Tom forsook his berth, where he was wont to spend his spare time reading, and remained close to the telephone where open connection was kept with the bridge.