Mr. Keegan, chief boatswain’s mate of the Denver, and his friend, Jimmy Legs,[1] the master-at-arms, sat on the weather side of the forecastle, under the forward eight-inch turret, with the collars of their pea-coats turned well up over their ears, taking a morning smoke. Mr. Keegan had a keen eye for the beautiful, and it was his wont on such occasions to sit in silence for as much as an hour at a time. The master-at-arms, being a ’tween-decks man, delighted in watching the seas break over the bows, although this amusement not infrequently cost him a wetting and a pipeful of tobacco.
[1] The name given to the master-at-arms aboard ship.
Mr. Keegan was a young man with reddish hair and small, expressionless blue eyes, and his Christian name was Dennis. He had a round, full face, abnormally so on one side because of the large piece of navy plug which invariably distended it. I have said that he was chief boatswain’s mate of the Denver, for the reason that he was so known at the department, and drew his pay as such. But, as a matter of fact, Mr. Keegan’s status, and the scope of his influence on board that ship, would be as hard to define as the duties of the captain set forth in the new regulations. His friend the master-at-arms consulted him on all matters of importance; the junior officers of the ship never interfered with anything he might be doing; and the seniors showed unwonted deference to his opinions.
As the Denver drew more and more under the lee of the land the whitecaps subsided into lateral swells, and the wind was no longer felt. On board active preparations were being made for coming to anchor, but with that noticeable absence of noise and bustle which is so characteristic of a modern man-of-war. Boat crews were clearing their boats for hoisting out, the lashings were being taken off the gangways, and the booms were ready to drop with the anchor. The master-at-arms shook the ashes out of his pipe, and broke the silence.
“I hate to see that young feller go, Dennis,” he said.
Mr. Keegan evidently understood clearly who the young person alluded to in this somewhat indefinite regret was, for he answered:—
“He’s the finest young fellow in the navy, Chimmy; you can put that down.”
“I hear the navigator say,” the master-at-arms went on, “there ain’t no doubt but what he gets his orders for home when we strikes in here.”
Mr. Keegan fell into reminiscence.
“There’s two cadet cruises I took with him,—him and Mr. Morgan,—and wild cruises they was, too. There ain’t much I wouldn’t do for both of them young fellers; they’re two of a kind, and then they ain’t.” But before Mr. Keegan could explain this apparent contradiction he was called upon to pipe all hands to breakfast. He watched the men reflectively as they filed below.