The Battleship Boys at Sea

OR

Two Apprentices in Uncle Sam’s Navy

By

FRANK GEE PATCHIN

Author of The Battleship Boys’ First Step Upward,

The Pony Rider Boys Series, Etc.

Illustrated

PHILADELPHIA

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY

CONTENTS

The Battleship Boys at Sea

CHAPTER I—THE LURE OF THE BATTLESHIP

“That must be the place over there, Sam.”

“Where?”

“Just across the street on the next block. I see something in front of the building that looks like the picture we saw in the post office at home.”

Dan Davis turned to a passing policeman and, respectfully touching his hat, asked:

“Will you tell us, sir, where we may find the United States Navy recruiting station?”

The policeman pointed to the building in front of which Dan’s eyes had caught sight of a highly colored lithograph.

“Thank you, sir. Come on, Sam; I was right. That is the place we are looking for. See that flag up there in the third story window? That’s the flag you and I are going to serve under if we are lucky enough to be accepted.”

Sam Hickey nodded and started after his companion across the street. A moment later the lads stood before the picture that had attracted their attention. In the foreground of the picture stood a sailor clad in the uniform of a seaman in Uncle Sam’s Navy, while on beyond him, in the distant background, lay a white battleship, the Stars and Stripes floating from her after staff, a line of signal flags fluttering from the signal halyard just aft of the battleship’s navigating bridge. Palm trees and similar foliage showed it to be a tropical scene.

For several moments the lads stood gazing on the picture with fascinated interest. Each seemed unable to withdraw his gaze from it. At last, with a deep sigh, Dan turned his shining eyes upon his young companion.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Sam?” he breathed.

“What, the sailor?”

“I was not thinking of the sailor; I was thinking of the ship—the battleship—and that Flag floating there, the most beautiful Flag in the world. At least I guess it must be. I’ve never seen any of the other flags, except in pictures, but that one is handsome enough for me. Shall we go upstairs to the recruiting office now?”

“Don’t be in a hurry,” objected Sam. “I want to look at the picture some more.”

“We can do that afterwards. The first thing is to see whether we shall be able to enlist. This letter that I got from the station says we have to be examined, though I don’t know just what sort of examination they will give us.”

Sam Hickey still lingered.

“Are you coming, Sam?”

“No.”

“Not coming?”

“No; I’ve changed my mind.”

“I don’t understand,” rejoined Dan, a puzzled expression in his eyes.

“I guess I do not want to enlist. I think I shall go back home to Piedmont.”

“Look here, Sam Hickey, you will do nothing of the sort! We came down here to enlist in the Navy and that is exactly what we are going to do, providing they will have us. You say you are going back home. How do you expect to get there?”

“The way we came—on a train, of course.”

Dan smiled grimly.

“I guess not. You forget that we have no money left—that is, not more than enough with which to buy one more meal.”

“I can walk,” grumbled Sam.

“No, you cannot. We are three hundred miles from Piedmont. Why do you wish to back out at this late hour? You were so anxious to enlist, and now you are talking the other way. Why?”

“I’ve changed my mind; that’s all.”

Dan grasped his companion firmly by the arm.

“You come along with me! You have changed your mind too late this time.”

Sam hesitated, then reluctantly accompanied his companion up the stairs. A few moments later, they were knocking at the door of the recruiting office.

Sam Hickey felt a strong inclination to bolt, and no doubt he would have done so had it not been for the firm grip on his arm. He ran one hand nervously through his shock of red hair, shifted his weight from one foot to the other and muttered something that was unintelligible to his companion.

But Dan’s ears were keenly alert for the response to his summons, and he straightened up ever so little as he heard footsteps approaching the door.

It had been the dream of these two young American boys for many months to join the Navy. They had talked and talked of the day when they should have arrived at the age that permitted them to make application for admission to the service. A few weeks before reaching the legal age, which is seventeen, each had received a letter from a recruiting station in New York City pointing out the advantages that the service offers to young Americans.

Correspondence had been immediately opened with the recruiting office, with the result that the lads made their preparations to go directly to New York City and present themselves at the recruiting station.

Dan, who lived with his widowed mother, was a clerk in the general store in his home town; while Sam, an orphan, had been serving an apprenticeship in a small machine shop. It had been therefore no small effort for the boys to get together enough money for their expenses to the metropolis; and, as already stated, they were now practically at the end of their resources. But this did not discourage them.

“If we are rejected we shall be able to find something to do in New York that will let us earn enough money to take us back home,” Dan had declared resolutely, his pale face lighting up, his eyes sparkling with purpose and determination.

“Yes; I had just as lief work in New York as in Piedmont,” agreed Sam.

“I hope, Sam, we shall have to do neither.”

The door was thrown open abruptly, and the boys found themselves confronted by a middle-aged man clad in a blue suit. On the right sleeve he wore three bright red chevrons enclosing a white pilot wheel, surmounted by a white eagle, showing that he was a quartermaster in the United States Navy.

“Well, what is it?” he demanded rather brusquely.

“We wish to join the Navy, sir,” answered Dan firmly.

The quartermaster surveyed the lads keenly.

“Come inside,” he said.

The boys entered the waiting room, where they were directed to seat themselves at a table. A printed blank form was placed before each.

“Fill out those applications,” directed the petty officer who had admitted them. “If your answers to the questions are satisfactory you will be asked some further questions; then we shall have you examined.”

Having spent three years in high school, after finishing at the grammar school, the boys found themselves well able to fill out the application blanks without having to ask questions of the quartermaster. This they did with much care, giving such facts about themselves as the application blank demanded.

Sam nudged his companion.

“See that man sitting over there to the left of you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I think he must be a general or something of the sort.”

“Humph! There’s only one general in the Navy, and he is in the Marine Corps,” answered Dan reprovingly. “I know what that officer is.”

“What is he, then, if you know so much?”

“He is a commander.”

“How do you know?”

“I know by the three gold stripes on his sleeve. If he had two and a half stripes there he would be a lieutenant-commander. If he had four he would be a captain.”

Sam looked incredulous.

“How do you happen to know all about that?”

“I read about it in a dictionary. They were all pictured out there. I know a lot more of them, too, only I’m too busy to tell you about them now. Have you finished filling out your blank?”

“Not quite.”

“Then you had better get busy. If we take too much time it may count against us. I don’t know about it for sure.”

For several minutes thereafter the lads wrote industriously. Dan was the first to lay down his pen, waiting in silence for his companion to finish, which Sam did shortly afterwards.

“What shall we do now?” questioned Sam, glancing up into the face of his friend.

“I do not know. Give me your paper and I will hand both to the officer over there.”

Dan stepped to the commander’s desk, handing the applications to him.

“What’s this?” demanded the commander sharply.

“They are our applications, sir.”

“Give them to the quartermaster.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Dan respectfully, turning away. As he did so, the eyes of the commander were fixed inquiringly upon him.

“That is a likely looking lad,” muttered the officer. “In fact, they both look like excellent material—good, clean-cut American boys—just the sort of material the United States Navy is looking for.”

In the meantime Dan had stepped to the door through which he had observed the petty officer who had first greeted them, and walked towards him.

“Here are our papers, sir. What are we to do next?”

“Go back and sit down. I’ll tell you when we want you.”

The quartermaster seated himself at a desk, where he went over the applications carefully. He looked them over a second time, nodded approvingly, then glanced up quickly at the flushed, expectant faces of the two lads.

“You men come with me,” he said, rising.

“He called us ‘men.’ Did you hear it? I guess we are, all right,” whispered Sam.

The quartermaster conducted them into an adjoining room, where they were turned over to the examining surgeon, who, after scanning their applications, began asking them pointed questions about their parents and their life. In fact, he asked more questions than either lad knew how to answer, for the inquiry went back more years than they had lived.

The examination lasted fully an hour, after which the lads were directed to return to the room where they had filled out their applications.

“He knows more about me than I ever thought there was to know,” confided Sam to his companion.

Just then the surgeon came hurrying in. He laid their applications on the desk before the commander, engaging in earnest conversation with that officer.

“I think they are going to turn us out,” whispered Dan.

“I hope they do,” grumbled Sam, brushing a hand across his freckled cheek. “I don’t see why they have to go through all this rigmarole. Reminds me of the time they tried a fellow up in our place for stealing a yearling heifer.”

“It is well worth the rigmarole if we can get in,” answered Dan, ignoring the comparison. “I do not care how much they put us through. And, besides, it proves that everybody cannot get into Uncle Sam’s Navy. A fellow has got to be a real man if he wants to be a jackie these days,” added Dan somewhat proudly. “I wonder what they are talking about?”

“We’ll know in a minute. There comes that quartermaster fellow,” answered Sam.

The lads rose as he stepped up to them.

“Have we passed?” questioned Dan, unable to repress his anxiety.

“Your examination has been satisfactory, but the commander desires to speak with you. That is the commander at the roll top desk yonder. Step over, but be very respectful. Remember, he is an officer in the United States Navy, and——”

“We are not likely to forget that we are young gentlemen, sir,” interrupted Dan, flushing slightly.

The lads walked over to the commander’s desk, where Dan, with heels together, made a correct military salute, raising the right hand smartly till the tip of the forefinger touched the forehead just above the right eye, then dropping the arm smartly to his side.

Sam did the same, but rather more clumsily.

Instantly the commander’s right hand went up in a return salute, while the faces of the boys flushed rosy red.

“You have had some previous military instruction?” asked the commander, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Nothing very much, sir,” replied Dan. “We belong to the village fire company at home—that is all.”

The commander smiled.

“You are a pair of very likely lads.”

“Have we passed, sir?”

“You have.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” breathed Dan, unable to conceal his delight.

“Then—then we are in the Navy?” stammered Sam.

“Not quite. You will be, very soon, providing you have fulfilled all the requirements.”

“What are we to do?”

“Have you the consent—the written consent—of your parents?”

“Yes, sir. That is, I have my mother’s consent. My friend, Sam, here, has no parents.”

“Has he a guardian?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And has his guardian given his written consent also?”

“He has, sir.”

“Let me have both of them.”

The papers were handed to the commander, who perused them carefully.

“How did you lads chance to come so well prepared?”

“We had written to find out, so that we might not be disappointed when we got here. We could not afford to make the trip back home, so we did what we could before coming on.”

“You did well. Young men, I am proud to see lads of your type entering the service. I predict for you both a rapid rise. You will, of course, meet with hardships. These are a part of the life, but it is a noble career, and if you are the lads I believe you to be you will overcome all these things. You have in you the making of splendid men, and the United States Navy will surely bring out every dormant good quality that you may possess.”

“Thank you, sir; we shall do our best,” answered Dan.

“I am sure of that.”

“What are we to do now, if it is proper to ask?”

“You will be furnished with transportation to Newport, R. I., where you will go to-night. You will enter the apprentice training school there. After a course of three months, if qualified, you will be given an assignment on one of the ships of the fleet. You understand, you will enter the training school as apprentices. While there you will receive a salary of seventeen dollars and sixty cents a month. Your board and lodging, of course, will be furnished by the government, as will your uniforms and equipment.”

“Thank you, sir,” reiterated Dan.

The commander then administered the oath of allegiance to the lads in slow, impressive tones, while they stood rigidly at attention, their eyes fixed upon his.

“You will now report to the quartermaster,” announced the commander after the lads had subscribed to the oath. “I shall expect to hear good reports from you, my lads.” He cordially extended a hand to each, much to the amazement of the quartermaster, who never had seen his commander do that to an apprentice before.

The remaining details were disposed of in a very few minutes thereafter, and the boys made their way downstairs, out into the street, light-hearted and happy.

“Look!” cried Dan, pointing off to the East River.

“What is it?”

“It’s a war ship. I wonder which one it is. Can you tell me, sir, what ship that is?” asked Dan of a passer-by.

“That is the United States battleship ‘Idaho,’” was the answer.

“I wonder if we ever will be placed on a ship like that,” mused Dan, gazing in fascinated interest at the slow-moving vessel as she plowed her way under the Brooklyn bridge, heading for the open sea.

Dan Davis drew a long sigh.

“Come,” he said.

“Where?”

“Somewhere where we can spend our last fifty cents for a meal. That will be the last meal we shall have until we get to Newport. Then we will look about some. We have several hours before the boat leaves. We shall probably get lost the first thing we do, but we have plenty of time in which to find ourselves,” added Dan, with a short laugh.

Naturally, the ships that lined one side of South Street, along which they were strolling, held the greatest interest for them. There were sailing ships from the four quarters of the globe, tramp steamers, coasters from southern ports, interspersed with ferry boats and tug boats of every size and class. There was such a confusion of craft that the boys could scarcely make out one from the other.

They had reached a cross street, up which they decided to turn, having learned that it would lead them to Broadway, which thoroughfare they were anxious to see, when there occurred an interruption that changed their plans entirely for the time being.

Sam had paused beside a little two-wheeled cart to purchase an apple from an old woman who had asked him to buy. He had just handed over his nickel for the apple when a crowd of firemen from a tramp steamer came rolling up the street, the grime of the stoke hole still on their faces.

Freed from the restraint of their floating prison, the men were hilarious and bent on mischief. But neither of the lads observed them, nor did they hear the shouts and songs of the stokers above the roar of the traffic in the busy street.

The first intimation the boys had that trouble was abroad was when a hulking stoker let fly a heavily booted foot at the little apple wagon.

His aim was true. Up shot the wagon, apples flying in all directions, showering over the heads of the lads and into the muddy gutter. The apple wagon itself turned bottom upward, landing fairly on the head of the aged woman, carrying her down with it, and flattening her in the gutter amid the ruin of her precious wares.

Sam wheeled like a flash. The freckles on his now pale face seemed to stand out like scars.

Without an instant’s hesitation he let go a fist.

It caught the stoker fairly on the side of the jaw. The fellow dropped as if he had been shot, his face burrowing in the mud of the gutter, where he lay motionless for a few seconds.

So astonished were his companions that for the moment they stood gaping. Then the humor of the situation seemed to strike them all at once. All hands broke out into a roar of mirth. That a slender lad should have put out one of their number was to them a huge joke.

Just as soon as he got over his bewilderment at having been so easily handled by a boy, the stoker got to his feet.

He did not immediately follow up his intention of soundly trouncing that forward youngster. This for the very simple reason that the stoker had gone down on his face in the mud. Now he held more than a mouthful of that plastic stuff. Growling, the stoker thrust two fingers of one hand into his mouth, trying to force the sticky mess out.

“Fine, isn’t it?” jeered Sam, cocking his head on one side and leering comically.

“What?” queried one of the stoker’s own mates, for the one who had just struggled to his feet could not speak.

“Mud pies, of course,” grinned Sam. “Healthful, nourishing and great food, for they make you think and work. But only a hog would gulp down a mouthful like that.”

“I’ll—whoof—make you eat some—ugh!—of that—br-r-r!—blamed—waugh!—mud pie—gr-r-r!—o’ your’n!” raged the humiliated stoker as he pawed out the last remnants of that muddy mouthful.

Of a sudden the stoker, crouching low, made a vengeful bolt forward. But he did not catch Sam Hickey unawares. That young man dodged, then landed a second and harder blow on the fellow’s jaw. This time Mr. Stoker struck the mud puddle, again face downward, with a force that made the man fairly bury his face in the ooze.

“Last call to the dining car!” yelled Sam, dancing about. “Gone back for a second helping of mud pie! Wow, but it’s good!”

This time the stoker did not regain his feet quite so soon. He had measured his full length in the gutter again, where he lay stretched out, none of his companions making an effort to assist their fallen shipmate nor to avenge the blow that had laid him low.

“Right hot off the bat,” jeered the stokers.

The fallen man was making desperate efforts to pull himself together when a policeman laid a heavy hand on Sam Hickey’s collar.

“That’s the time I caught you in the act, young man. You come with me!” commanded the officer sternly.

“You leggo of me! I’ll do nothing of the sort,” retorted the lad belligerently, struggling to free himself, surprised at his inability to throw off the officer’s grip. It was Sam’s first experience with a New York policeman.

“Yes, let the kid go,” shouted the crowd. “He’s all right. He is a winner, even if he did hand it out to a shipmate.”

Dan edged his way around in front of the policeman. He saw that Sam’s lips were set tight and knew that this meant trouble.

“Take it easy, Sam,” warned Dan in a low tone. “Officer, this boy has done nothing worse than to punish a ruffian. It is the other man whom you ought to arrest, if anyone.”

“What’s this you say? Don’t you dare interfere with an officer, young man, or in you go!”

“I am not interfering, sir.”

“You are, but you’d better not.”

“I am just trying to explain. That fellow there, picking himself up from the ground, kicked the old apple woman’s wagon into the air. See, she’s just crawling out from under it now. I should not be surprised if she were hurt. Pretty much all her wares are spoiled, as you can see for yourself.”

“He did——”

“My friend Sam punched the fellow, but the man deserved it. I should have done it myself if he had not, though I am sure I could not have done so thorough a job.”

“You—you say the stoker there kicked the old woman’s cart over?” questioned the policeman.

“Yes, sir.”

“And your friend handed him one for it?”

“Two of them.”

“And who are you fellows, anyway?”

Dan gave the officer their names and addresses.

“What are you doing here?”

“We are sailors in the United States Navy,” answered Dan proudly. “We are on our way to the training station at Newport. You had better not detain us, or there may be trouble.”

The policeman grinned broadly.

“Beat it, then,” he commanded, giving Sam a sudden shove that excited that young man’s anger somewhat. “Get out of here both of you, before I run you in for disturbing the peace. Here, you stokers, you clear out, too, and don’t you let me catch you raising any more rows on my beat or your ship will sail without you when she goes out again. Off with you!”

While all this had been happening, the old apple woman had been busily engaged in gathering her stock in trade. The loss of a few dozen apples would have been serious to her. But now she hobbled toward Hickey, resting a withered hand on his coat sleeve.

“I—I don’t know how to thank you, young man,” she quavered.

“I’m glad you don’t, ma’am,” answered Sam, uncovering as quickly as though the little old woman had been an admiral’s wife. “The thanks of the ladies always embarrass me, ma’am. But I’m glad I settled your bill against that sea-going miner.”

Now the two brand-new fighting men of the Navy edged quickly away from the crowd that was growing every instant.

“Come on, Sam,” urged Dan. “Let’s go over and take a look at Broadway,” linking his arm within that of his companion and leading him from the scene. “We have begun our fighting career rather early, it strikes me.”

“No; I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go to Broadway,” objected Sam, pulling back.

“What do you wish to do?” demanded Dan suspiciously.

“I want to hang around here and see the fun,” answered Hickey.

“Right about face! March!” commanded Dan.

Sam eyed his companion resentfully, then, turning sharply about, fell into a military stride, with his face turned toward Broadway.

CHAPTER II—IN UNCLE SAM’S NAVY

“Do you know where you are going?”

“No, but I shall find out pretty soon, Sam.”

Dan Davis paused, pointing off over the beautiful Narragansett Bay to where the cage masts of two big battleships were observable, towering high above a point of land.

“Do you see them?”

“Yes.”

“Who knows but we may be on one of those ships in three months from now. I wish we were going there to-day.”

The lads were standing on a rise of ground just in front of the executive building of the Newport, R. I., training station. A long, green lawn sloped down to the water’s edge where a fleet of cutters belonging to the station, swayed idly at their moorings. On beyond, lay the old “Constitution,” fully rigged, a handsome craft despite the fact that more than a hundred years had elapsed since she left the hands of her builders. The boys did not know her name, but they did know that she belonged to another age. To the right, lay the “Cumberland,” a full rigged sailing ship; the “Boxer,” a barkentine, and some distance from the latter they saw moored to a wharf the “Reina Mercedes,” captured during the war with Spain.

Dan’s eyes lighted up and his face glowed with pleasure.

“Beautiful!” he breathed.

“It might be if I had some breakfast inside of me,” answered Sam Hickey. “We haven’t had a thing to eat since we had that plate of ham and eggs in New York yesterday. I’m hungry enough to eat anything.”

The hour was still early, and few of the apprentices of the training school were to be seen on the grounds of the station.

“Then come along. We will see whether we can find some one to direct us.”

The lads started on again. As they came abreast of the flagstaff from which floated the Stars and Stripes, Dan halted. Coming to attention he saluted the Flag respectfully.

Sam Hickey grinned, but he did not salute.

“Why do you do that every time?” he questioned.

“Because it is the Flag of our country, Sam. Always salute the Flag whenever you see it. You will find that we shall be expected to do so from this time on.”

“You never did that to the Flag in front of the High School at home.”

“Perhaps I did not know then,” answered Dan, with a smile.

They moved on, gazing about them with the keenest interest. A moment later Dan caught sight of an officer, clad completely in white, approaching them at a brisk pace.

“I’m going to ask him where we should go,” said Sam.

“No; let me do that. I am afraid you will make a mess of it,” laughed Dan. “Officers are very particular as to how they are addressed. Perhaps I shan’t do it right, but I think I know how it ought to be done.”

Sam muttered something that his companion did not catch. In fact, Dan was not listening. His eyes were fixed on the dignified figure approaching them. When within eight or ten paces of the officer Dan halted, raising his right hand in salute as he came to attention.

The salute was answered by the officer, who, noting that the boy wished to speak to him, also halted.

“What is it, my lad?” he demanded in a sharp, incisive tone.

“We are new recruits, sir. Will you kindly direct us where to go?”

“When did you get in?”

“This morning.”

“From what station?”

“We enlisted at the recruiting office in South Street, New York, sir.”

The officer surveyed them inquiringly for a moment. His examination evidently was satisfying, for he nodded approvingly.

“You will go to the detention barracks first.”

“Will you kindly tell me where that is, sir?”

“Follow this walk. The detention barracks is the third building on your left.”

“Whom shall we ask for, sir?”

“Inquire for Chief Quartermaster Broder, if you do not see him at once. He will probably see you first, however. You had better make haste, for the men are about ready for breakfast there.”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” answered Dan, saluting and moving on.

“My, he’s so full of dignity it’s a wonder he doesn’t explode,” commented Sam, after they had gone on a few steps.

“He has a right to be dignified,” replied Dan.

“How so?”

“He is a captain in the United States Navy. I would rather be that than President of the United States.”

“Does he earn as much money as the president does?”

“Oh, no; not by a great many thousand dollars.”

“Then me for the presidency,” concluded the irrepressible Sam.

“There’s the barracks.”

A few minutes later the lads presented themselves at the door of the detention barracks. They were met by an officer wearing the insignia of a chief quartermaster.

“Are you Mr. Broder, sir?” asked Dan.

“Yes; who are you?”

“My name is Dan Davis. My companion is Sam Hickey. We enlisted in New York yesterday. We have come to report for instruction.”

“Where are your papers?”

The lad presented them.

After reading the papers, the quartermaster turned on his heel.

“Come with me,” he said.

The boys were conducted to a bathroom, where they were directed to disrobe and take a shower bath. After the bath, they were once more examined by a surgeon, who pronounced them to be in splendid physical condition.

Sam’s face wore a smile. It was all highly amusing to him, but when the quartermaster finally conducted them to another room, where several uniforms were laid out on a table, the boy began to feel a keener interest.

The petty officer glanced over the display of clothes, then picking out two suits, handed them to the lads.

“Put these on,” he said, “then report to me.”

It did not take the boys long to get into their new white uniforms.

“I wish I had a looking glass,” grumbled Sam.

“What for? I can tell you how you look.”

“How do I look?”

“Well, barring the freckles, you look as if you might be a jackie some day. But don’t stand there with your shoulders slouched forward. Stand up and act as if you were proud of the uniform you are wearing. Here, we haven’t put on our leggins yet.”

“Leggins? Do we wear those things?”

“Yes. Otherwise we shall be dressed just like the sailors on the war ships.”

At that moment the quartermaster entered. He stood surveying them critically.

“What shall we do with our citizen clothes?” asked Dan.

“Leave them. I will have them taken care of. Do you wish them sent to your homes?”

“No, sir; it is not necessary. I presume we shall be permitted to take them aboard ship with us when we leave here?”

“That depends upon what ship you join.”

“What are we to do now, sir?”

“In the first place I will instruct you about your clothing. These bags here will answer for your trunks. All your belongings will be kept in them,” said the quartermaster, exhibiting two canvas bags, about three feet long, and on which the names of the boys had been stamped with a stencil. “Each piece of clothing must be folded neatly, rolled up tightly and secured with a white cotton stop two inches from the end of the roll.”

Sam measured off what he thought to be two inches with his fingers.

“The clothes are to be stowed in the bags in layers of three pieces, each layer at right angles to the one below it.”

“What’s all that for? Why not stuff them in till the bag’s full?” interrupted Sam.

The petty officer fixed him with a stern eye.

“Don’t ask unnecessary questions, young man,” rebuked the officer, whereat Sam subsided.

“Is there any system, other than what you have spoken of, for stowing the clothes, sir?” questioned Dan respectfully.

“Yes. I’ll explain. Place the blue clothes and cap in the bottom of the bag, white clothes and hats next, small bags, socks and other articles on top. Secure the bag with two turns of the lanyard as close down on the contents as possible—this way. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

“That will be all for the present. Have you had your breakfast?”

“No, sir, and we’re half starved,” spoke up Sam Hickey quickly. “I could eat a horse.”

“No comments, please. Remember, men, you are now full fledged rookies. You are in the service of the United States Government and you must remember to conduct yourselves accordingly. I will see that you get further instruction after breakfast.”

The bugle was blowing the breakfast call at that moment. The quartermaster conducted the lads outside the building and around into another apartment where a group of white-uniformed young fellows were standing about waiting for the command to seat themselves at the tables.

“Fall to!” commanded the officer.

There followed a rattling of dishes and a scraping of feet as the apprentices seated themselves at the long table, each with a keen zest for his morning meal.

CHAPTER III—WHO THREW THE PIE?

The breakfast consisted of creamed chipped beef, potatoes and hot corn bread, topped off with apple pie.

“This looks good to me,” muttered Sam Hickey in a low tone, because out of the corners of his eyes he saw the quartermaster observing him attentively.

After they were well started on the meal, the officer left the room in order that the new boys might get acquainted, which would not be likely as long as he was in the room.

“Hullo, red-head!” greeted an apprentice across the table from Sam. “What might be your name?”

“It might be ‘most anything, only it isn’t. I’m Sam Hickey; who are you?”

“Louis Flink. Where you from?”

“Piedmont. Where do you live when you are at home?”

“Pennsylvania.”

“Then you must be a Pennsylvania Dutchman. I’ve heard of that kind before, but you’re the first one I ever saw.”

There was a titter at this, and Flink’s dark face flushed.

“Sam, you shouldn’t have said that,” warned Dan. “It was not very courteous.”

“Neither is he. I don’t like him.”

“I’ll lick you for that when we get outside,” growled Flink. “You’re too fresh.”

Sam was about to make a retort when Dan pinched him sharply.

“Keep still. You will get into trouble.”

Sam’s freckles were standing out again and his shock of red hair seemed to be rising higher.

“He—he threatened me—he gave me a dare. I’ll make him wish he were back in Pennsylvania,” protested Sam belligerently.

“Take my advice and do nothing of the sort. You forget that everything we do now will count for or against us. It won’t do to start in on our career with bad conduct marks against us.”

“I don’t care; I——”

Dan’s hand closed firmly over the arm of his companion. Sam twisted angrily, but gradually he regained control of himself. He did not look toward the scowling face of Flink, not daring to trust himself to do so.

Dan’s grip relaxed. The two lads bent over their plates and resumed their interrupted meal.

“Look out!” sang out a voice.

Dan’s head was inclined slightly toward that of his companion, he being about to make some remark to Sam. Both lads glanced up quickly their ears caught the warning.

“Duck it!” came the second warning. But the warning was too late.

Smack!

Something hit Dan Davis squarely in the face, filling mouth, eyes and nostrils. He could not see a thing.

Sam Hickey started to his feet with an angry growl.

Smack!

Something smote him on the face with the same result.

A piece of pie had been hurled at Sam, but the first piece had missed him, Dan catching the full force of it. The second shot had been delivered with better aim, and Sam that time got the pie that was intended for him.

“Who did that?” demanded Dan, wiping the sticky stuff from his eyes and glaring about.

About that time Sam had succeeded in freeing his own eyes. His face was pale and the patches of freckles stood out in bold relief.

“You threw that pie, Flink.”

“Yes; he threw the pie,” answered a chorus of voices.

“Never mind; you need not tell me about it, fellows. I’ll take care of Mr. Flink. I’ll hand him back as good as he sent, and it will not be pie either.”

Sam, whom Dan had pulled back into his chair, started to rise again.

“Look out! Here comes an officer,” warned a boy sitting on the other side of him.

Sam sank back into his chair and began mopping the remnants of the pie from his face, while Dan was doing the same for himself.

“Not a word,” whispered Dan warningly.

The quartermaster was standing in the doorway, eyeing the group of rookies sternly.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

No one answered. All hands bent over their plates.

“Attention!”

The lads, after an instant’s hesitation, straggled to their feet. That is, all did save Sam Hickey. Sam coolly helped himself to another chunk of hot corn bread, which he proceeded to eat.

“Attention!”

The eyes of the quartermaster were fixed upon him, but Sam did not move.

The officer walked over and touched the lad on the shoulder. Sam looked up in well-feigned surprise.

“Did you not hear my command?”

“Oh, talking to me, were you?” questioned the boy innocently.

“Do you understand the meaning of ‘Attention’?”

“I suppose it means to pay attention.”

“It means that you are to come to attention. If you are sitting, when the command is given, you are to rise instantly and come to attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a broad grin on the faces of all the apprentices, save that of the dark-faced Louis Flink. His head was slouched forward and he was peering up at the officer, a resentful scowl on his face.

“Attention!”

This time Sam Hickey got to his feet, wiped his face and mouth with his handkerchief, and slowly came to attention.

“Next time you will be put on extra duty,” announced the officer. “I will excuse you this time, as you do not understand the regulations thoroughly. Now what has been going on here?”

There was silence in the mess hall.

“Something has been thrown—some one has been throwing food. I see remnants of it on the floor there,” the officer added, pointing accusingly.

Sam turned, looking at the spot indicated as if in surprise.

“Attention! Keep your eyes to the front. If I am not——”

“It was pie,” piped a voice at the lower end of the table.

“Pie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Some one threw it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“At whom?”

The lad, a very young recruit, pointed to Sam and Dan. There were traces of pie on Dan’s cheeks still.

Dan had given the young recruit a warning glance, whereat the lad checked himself and volunteered no further information.

“Davis, is this true?” demanded the quartermaster sternly.

“Yes, sir.”

“One of these men threw a piece of pie at you?”

“A piece of pie hit me in the face. There were two pieces thrown.”

“Both at you?”

“I think not.”

“At whom, then?”

“One struck me in the face and the other hit my friend Sam, sir.”

“You know who threw the pie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Name him.”

Dan was silent.

“Point out the man who did it.”

“Sir, I would rather not,” answered Dan, eyeing the officer steadily, but with nothing of disrespect in his gaze.

“I repeat, point out the man.”

“Sir, I have no wish to inform on one of my shipmates. I wish you would not press the question, sir. I wish to obey orders strictly, but I cannot be a sneak. Perhaps the pie was thrown in a spirit of fun. I am sure the man who threw it is sorry for his act now, and then there was no harm done, except that my uniform is slightly soiled.”

The quartermaster turned to Sam Hickey. For a moment he eyed the freckled-faced boy steadily. Sam did not quail. He returned the quartermaster’s gaze steadily.

“You were hit also?”

“Yes, sir.”

“With the same piece?”

“No, sir; with a second piece.”

“Then the first one must have been intended for you,” decided the officer shrewdly.

“I think it was, sir, but it was not a good shot. I could beat that myself.”

“Silence!”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you know who threw the pie?”

“I could guess, though I didn’t see much of anything when the pie hit me. I got a mouthful, too.”

“Who threw it?”

Sam hesitated, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, twisting about as if seeking some means of escape from his present position.

“I can’t tell you, sir,” he said in a low, determined voice.

“You mean you will not?”

“I mean, sir, that I would rather not. If you will excuse me I’ll take care of the fellow who struck me with the apple pie, all in good time. He won’t use my face for a target another time, after I get through with him.”

The apprentices, forgetful of discipline, burst out into a roar of laughter.

CHAPTER IV—PIPING UP HAMMOCKS

The quartermaster eyed the two boys sternly for a moment. He did not ask any of the other men who had thrown the pie.

“Carry on!” he commanded, the suspicion of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. But he hid the smile from them by passing a hand over his mouth.

No one moved in obedience to his command.

“When I say ‘Carry on,’ it means that you are to resume whatever you were doing at the time attention was commanded. In this instance you were at your breakfasts. Continue it. Carry on!”

The boys sat down to finish their breakfasts which now proceeded without further interruption.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Sam informed his companion in a low tone.

“How so?”

“I am going to quit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be a jackie.”

“You already are one—that is you are a rookie, which is practically the same thing. We shall be jackies in twelve weeks if we have good luck.”

“I won’t. I won’t be here then.”

“Where will you be?”

“Back in Piedmont.”

“Look here, Sam Hickey, what do you propose to do?” demanded Dan.

“Go home; that’s what I propose to do.”

“Do you know what would happen to you were you to do a thing like that?”

“Nothing very much, I guess.”

“Were you to leave now, you would be a deserter. You would be arrested and sent to prison. And that is not all.”

“Go on; what else?”

“You would be disgraced for life. Why do you even think of doing a thing like that?”

“Well, I reckoned I’d like to lick that Pennsylvania Dutchman and then go back home. They’d probably make a fuss about it here, if I give him what he deserves,” replied Sam slowly.

“I should say they would. Forget it. Do your duty. Have too much respect for the Flag under which you are serving, to disgrace it by doing any such foolish thing as you propose. There goes a bugle. It must be some sort of command for us.”

It was.

“Attention!” commanded the officer.

The men rose from their seats.

“Those whose names I call will fall in with bags and equipment and march to barracks A.”

He then called off the names of the apprentices who were to leave the detention barracks, Sam and Dan’s names being among them. This done, the boys gathered their bags and falling into line started off across the grounds, led by the officer.

Barracks A was to be their quarters for the next three weeks. Here, they were turned over to another quartermaster, who proceeded to instruct them in their duties.

To each man he assigned a billet, that is a place where he should sling his hammock each night before he turned in, for the lads were to live just as they would when aboard ship.

The hammocks were made of canvas, and were suspended from hooks in the ceiling, so high up that a person could walk under the hammocks by stooping slightly.

“Each of you,” said the instructor, “will be expected to sling his hammock every night and lash it in the morning. If you will observe me I will show you how it is done.”

The apprentices gathered about.

“You first hook the ring of the clews to the hammock hook; then pass each outer nettle from out inwards through the eyelet on its own side of the hammock. Square the two nettles and take a half hitch with each. Pass the remaining nettles in the same manner, extending the end of each through the hitch, following it toward the center. Sling the other end in the same manner. Is that clear?”

“Yes, I think so,” answered Dan rather doubtfully.

“How about you, Hickey?”

“Maybe I could do it, now that I’ve seen you go through the motions, sir, but I couldn’t tell a fellow how to do it to save my life.”

The apprentices grinned broadly.

“Attention! Now, in the morning, to lash the hammocks, you place the mattress squarely in it, fold the blanket, placing it in lengthwise and roll it up taut. Lash with seven marline turns. Turn the hammock over several times to twist the clews, unhook one end at a time and tuck the clews under the lashing and haul them taut. When the reveille is sounded hammocks must be stowed within fifteen minutes. Is that clear, Hickey?”

“Clear as mud—sir,” added Sam, flushing hotly as he realized a moment later that he had said something that might bring a rebuke upon him.

It did. The quartermaster read him a stern lecture on the necessity for speaking in a respectful manner at all times. Sam was told that a direct question called for a direct answer, “without any trimmings.”

“I seem to be getting all that’s coming to me,” whispered the boy to his companion.

“You talk too much; that’s your worst fault, and the one that is likely to get you into trouble if you don’t look out.”

“I didn’t talk when the other officer was trying to make me tell who smashed me with the pie, did I?”

“No; you showed yourself to be a man in that case, Sam. Sh-h-h! He’s speaking to you.”

“Sir?”

“You will now try the hammock.”

“How do you mean, sir?” questioned Sam.

“Get in it.”

“Yes, sir; where’s the ladder?”

“Ladder?” exploded the quartermaster.

“Sure! You don’t think I can get into that thing without using a ladder, do you?”

“We do not use ladders. Watch carefully. I will show you how it is done. This is the way you will have to turn in all the time that you are in the Navy.”

The officer reached up, grasping the rope that held the hammock to the hooks above. With an ease born of long experience he lifted himself clear of the floor, curled his body upward and placed himself on his back in the hammock without the least apparent effort. The officer got out of the hammock by a reverse movement and with the same ease.

“Did you see how it was done?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Think you can get in now?”

“I can make a bluff at it—sir.”

“Answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ sir.”

“No, sir.”

“Try it.”

Sam took hold of the rope as he had seen his instructor do, glanced up at the spot where he was expected to place himself, then set his teeth tightly together. He sought to draw himself up slowly, after the manner that he had been shown, but somehow, strong as he was, his feet refused to leave the floor.

Sam let go, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and gripped the rope again. This time he made a leap. His head hit the ceiling and he sat down on the floor heavily.

“Ouch!” howled Sam, bringing a laugh from his companions and a smile to the face of the instructor.

“Attention! You will get the knack after a little. Did you hurt your head?”

“No—sir,” answered Sam, “but I think I made a dent in the roof.”

“Carry on again.”

The apprentice gripped the rope rather more cautiously this time, measured his distance, and with head well inclined forward, so that he might not hit the ceiling again, he gave a mighty leap.

Sam did not stop when he reached the hammock, however. He kept right on. The hammock turned over, spilling the bedding and mattress out. But this was not all that had happened. Hickey had lost his grip on the rope. The result was that he struck the floor on the other side, flat on his back.

The floor was of cement, and the shock of the fall was severe. Sam managed to save his head, however, and sat up rubbing himself, red of face and thoroughly disgusted.

“Clumsy!” complained the officer.

“Yes, sir; but you see I’ve never had to go to bed that way before.”

“Try it again.”

“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I think I should prefer to sleep on the floor.”

This reply brought another sharp reprimand from the officer. But their instruction in slinging hammocks was over and they turned to other matters.

CHAPTER V—TRYING OUT THEIR GRIT

Sam’s billet was next to that of Louis Flink. The former was not aware of this until that night, when the lads turned in at the sound of the bugle. So close were their hammocks that either boy might have reached out and touched the other. Sam had turned in after several disastrous attempts and much quiet grumbling. Dan caught the knack of it more quickly, and so did Flink.

“Say, freckles, you’re a thickhead,” jeered Flink.

“I’d rather be a thickhead than a Pennsylvania Dutchman, any day,” retorted the freckle-faced boy. “There’s some hope for a thickhead, but there isn’t any for you.”

“I’ll settle with you some other time,” sneered Flink. Both were speaking in low tones, knowing that they would get at least a rebuke, were any of the officers to overhear them.

“Yes, that’s your measure all right. I didn’t give you away this morning. Neither did my friend, but it wasn’t because we loved you. No, Blinkers, it was because we wanted to wait for the proper moment to give you the worst thrashing you ever had in your life. Don’t bother me now; I want to go to sleep.”

The first night of their stay at the training station passed uneventfully. At the sound of the bugle, on the following morning, all hands started up suddenly. Sam Hickey muttered drowsily and turned over.

“Get up, thickhead!” jeered Flink, giving the lad a vicious dig with his fist.

“Wha—wha——” demanded Sam sleepily.

“Turn out, old chap,” called Dan. “Didn’t you hear the bugle?”

Sam suddenly bethought himself of his duty, but he did not give thought to the fact that he was in a hammock. He thought he was in bed. Without opening his eyes he started to get out in the usual way.

The result was inevitable. Sam once more flattened himself upon the hard cement floor underneath his billet. He was awake without further urging.

“Say, Dan, how long did we enlist for?” he demanded.

“Four years.”

“Oh, help!” moaned Sam, pulling himself together and starting for the shower bath with his clothes under his arm. At the door of the bathroom he paused long enough to shake his fist at Flink.

“Blinkers, I remember now, something hit me this morning before I got my eyes open. Much obliged. That’s another score you’ll have to answer for when the day of reckoning comes around.”

Flink grinned sarcastically, as he climbed down from his hammock and prepared to follow to the bathroom.

Breakfast that morning was more interesting. There were all of fifty boys in the mess of barracks A, all of whom marched across the grounds to the mess hall, the newcomers bringing up the rear in a straggling line.

“I guess we are not making much of a showing,” grinned Dan. “Our fire company at home could beat the alignment of this bunch. But see how those boys up ahead are marching.”

“Yes; nobody would think they were going to breakfast,” replied Sam, with a hand slyly laid upon his stomach. “I have a goneness here that nothing except a hot breakfast will satisfy.”

Practically the first duty of the day was drill. The apprentices were instructed in the rudiments of company drill. Led by a drum and bugle corps, they marched back and forth across the field in the sunlight, with the sparkling waters of the bay almost at their feet. Dan Davis had had some experience in drilling, and he proved himself an apt pupil.

After the drill the boys were marched to the drill hall, where they were given guns and instructed in the manual of arms.

“This is something like,” grinned Sam, who was thoroughly at home with a gun in his hand. “I’d like to take this piece out and hunt woodchucks with it. I’ll bet it’s a dandy for chucks.”

“Wouldn’t it be likely to blow them off the face of the earth?” questioned Dan, with a smile.

“It might that.”

“Attention!” commanded the officer, who had caught the faint sound of voices. “No talking in the ranks.”

The lads subsided instantly.

“We will now have a little physical drill, and after that a cock-fight,” announced the officer.

Dan and Sam glanced at each other in surprise.

“Going to have a rooster fight?” whispered Sam. “They’re real sports up here, after all.”

“Sh-h-h,” warned Dan. “I think it must be something else. They wouldn’t have rooster fights here.”

The officer was explaining to them the various movements in the physical drill, calculated to give the boys a powerful physique as well as great suppleness. He described the movements as “full sweeps,” “body circles” and “side stoop,” which latter Sam characterized as the back porch movement. These, after being executed, were followed by a hurdle race.

When the announcement was made that this would be next on the program the boys could scarcely repress a cheer. But the hurdle race was not to be the harum-scarum, go-as-you-please contest that they had been in the habit of playing. Instead, it was an orderly, systematic race in which the line formation was supposed to be kept throughout.

However, the lads went at it with a will. The variety of the work kept them constantly interested. There was not a dull or tiresome moment in all that morning’s work, the instructor leading them from one thing to another until the faces of the apprentices glowed and their eyes sparkled with excitement and pleasure.

“Halt!”

The movements had come to an end for the day.

“Next will be a cock-fight. You young apprentices may not understand the game, so we will let the older men go through a brief battle while you look on.”

The plan of the game was for the boys to form in two lines some ten paces apart and at the command “hop,” they were to hop forward on the left or right foot as the case might be and attempt to bowl their adversaries over.

“I’ve played that game,” whispered Sam. “Let me get into it and I’ll show them a cock-fight that will make the fellows green with envy.”

“Fall in, apprentices!” came the command.

The lads obeyed with alacrity.

“Do you see the Pennsylvania Dutchman over there on the other side?” whispered Sam.

“Yes.”

“Well you watch Pennsy. I’m going to pluck that rooster’s tail feathers, or my name isn’t Sam Hickey.”

“Be careful that you do not do anything that will bring a reproof. You will get a mark against you, if you do.”

“Don’t you worry. The marks will be on Blinkers, not on me.”

“Attention!”

The boys straightened. There was a grin on the face of Sam Hickey, and had one been an observer, he would have noticed another on the face of Louis Flink.

“Right foot, hop!”

Fifty apprentices began hopping across the floor, some losing their balance and measuring their length upon the drill floor at the first jump.

Sam did not appear to be noticing the adversary he had picked out. Neither did Flink seem to have Sam in mind. However, all at once both boys made a sudden turn. They lunged toward each other like two human projectiles.

The impact of their bodies when they came together, was heard all over the drill room and the lads bounded back, hopping in a circle, for several seconds, to catch their balance.

Once more they came together, followed by a rebound of greater force than before.

“Too much for you, eh?” laughed Dan, as he hopped by his companion.

“He’s tougher than I thought, but I can stay on my feet as long as he can, though my hopper weighs a ton at this minute.”

The men were falling out rapidly now, here and there one toppling over, another touching the floor with his free foot or grasping a pillar for support. All such were ruled out of the game.

After five minutes the battle had narrowed down to Sam Hickey and Louis Flink.

“I’ve got you now, Blinkers,” announced Sam, with a grin.

“No talking,” commanded the officer. “Hands at sides and keep fighting until one of you is down.”

“Look out, I’m coming,” warned Flink in a low tone.

“Thank you; so am I,” returned Sam.

Neither boy swerved, but, as they neared each other, they turned so that their shoulders met, sending them far apart again. By this time, the officers and assembled apprentices had become deeply interested. They realized that this cock-fight was different from anything they ever had seen. Two gladiators of the pit were before them, and, providing there was no interference from the officers, there was excitement ahead.

The petty officers in charge so far lost themselves in the unusual battle as to overlook the fact that the apprentices were not only talking, but urging on the contestants and giving them suggestions.

It was noticeable, however, that the sympathy of the crowd was with the red-headed, freckle-faced boy, Sam Hickey. Sam’s face wore a broad grin. No matter how hard a rap he might get the grin remained. If he was the least bit angry he kept the fact well hidden.

Flink, on the other hand, was getting more and more angry as the minutes passed. He had reckoned on making short work of his opponent, but found that the raw-boned country boy was as hard as nails, and not to be downed except by superior strength, nor to be frightened by a bluff.

Back and forth the two boys hopped, smashing together, bounding apart, dancing about each other in circles, sparring for an opening as it were. Thus far each had proved himself too wary for the other.

Hickey, either through design or accident, had been crowding his opponent toward the broad doorway on the west side of the drill room. But, if there was a motive in the action, no one appeared to understand it. Now, Sam was hopping about his adversary so rapidly that Flink was forced to keep spinning until he was giving a very good imitation of a top. So ludicrous were his movements that the apprentices shouted with laughter. At the same time Sam was darting in and out, but not landing on Flink at all. His sole purpose now appeared to be to confuse the other man.

Flink was growing weary. The onlookers noticed that his movements were becoming slower and slower. Sam had observed this already, and his eyes lighted triumphantly.

The dark-faced apprentice had spun himself about until he was just opposite the open doorway, a few paces from it, when Hickey uttered a loud grunt and hurled himself upon his opponent.

At that moment, Flink’s back chanced to be toward Hickey. Sam landed in the small of the other’s back with irresistible force.

Flink shot toward the door, the apprentices setting up a howl, followed by a cheer. But their merriment died on their lips. Lieutenant Commander Devall, the executive officer of the station, attracted by the noise in the drill hall, had hurried down the walk to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. His trim, white-clad figure appeared in the doorway, just as Louis Flink was making his flight.

Flink hit the executive officer with great violence, the two landing on the cement walk outside, with the apprentice on top.

Beyond the narrow walk was a steep bank leading down almost to the water’s edge. On over the bank rolled the apprentice and the lieutenant commander, each making desperate efforts to save himself.

It was a most undignified position for a lieutenant commander to find himself in, to say nothing of the unpleasantness of going over a bank with a raw apprentice on top of one.

“They’re over!” shouted a voice.

Dan sprang forward to the quartermaster, saluting.

“May I go over and help them, sir?”

“Yes. Make haste.”

Dan sprang out through the doorway and down the bank.

CHAPTER VI—IN THE MIDST OF THE BATTLE

“A nice mix-up. There’ll be an awful row about this,” muttered Dan, as he slid down the steep bank on his feet.

When he reached the bottom, Flink, the apprentice, still bore the greater part of his weight upon the officer.

“Here’s my chance,” decided Dan. Springing to his feet, he grabbed Flink by the collar with both hands. Giving him a violent tug, Flink came away, Dan hurling him to one side with surprising strength.

“May I help you, sir?” he asked courteously.

The officer did not answer, but there was an angry gleam in his eyes.

Dan proceeded to brush him off, using the sleeves of his own jacket for the purpose, while the officer stood still until the brushing was finished. He then stepped back and saluted.

“Thank you, my lad. Are you the one who is responsible for this?”

“No, sir.”

“Who is?”

“The men were holding a cock-fight under orders, sir.”

“Ah, I see. Who is that apprentice?”

“I believe his name is Flink, sir.”

“Who threw him out?”

“My friend, Hickey, sir.”

“Very well; you may go.”

Dan made his way around the base of the embankment, and a few moments later joined his companions in the drill hall, where he saluted his superior, fell in and began his practice work once more.

Sam’s face was as solemn as he could make it. Flink, on the contrary, when he rejoined the squad, was scowling angrily. He was dust-covered, his face smeared and altogether he presented a most ludicrous sight.

They were once more being put through the manual of arms when a messenger approached the quartermaster. A brief conversation ensued.

The quartermaster ran his eyes down the line.

“Hickey, fall out!” he commanded.

The red-haired boy did so.

“Do not lose your temper. You are going to be called down. Be respectful and use your head,” warned Dan in a whisper, as Sam stepped back from the line.

“Report to the executive officer in the chief yeoman’s office on the balcony above,” commanded the quartermaster.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Sam, with a salute.

He made his way up the stairs, and at the door of the office gave the orderly his name. After a moment the orderly reappeared, motioning Sam to follow him.

The lad walked into the private office of the executive officer, where he stood twisting his hat in his hands awkwardly. The executive officer eyed him disapprovingly.

“What’s your name?”

“Samuel Hickey, sir.”

“How long have you been here?”

“One day, sir.”

“You are the man who threw the man Flink against me, are you not?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Sam, making a great effort to suppress the grin that curled the corners of his mouth.

“Tell me how it happened?”

“We were having a cock-fight, sir.”

“Yes; go on.”

“They were all down except the fellow Flink and myself. We were fighting it out. He was a pretty tough proposition, and I had a hard time of it.”

“You employed no unnecessary roughness?”

“I was not very gentle about it, sir,” answered Sam truthfully. “I was trying to bump him over.”

“And you did not care particularly how hard you hit him?”

“I hit him as hard as I could every time, sir.”

“There is bad blood between you and this man, is there not?”

Sam looked surprised. He was not aware that the executive officer knew anything about that.

“I don’t like him, sir, if that is what you mean.”

“Why not?”

“I would rather not say, sir.”

“Has he done anything to you?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

“You mean you will not?”

“I would rather not, sir.”

“Young man, you are new here, else I should be inclined to treat you with great severity. I am satisfied that you threw the man Flink out of the drill hall with malicious intent. That, of itself, is sufficient to merit calling you before the mast for examination and sentence. I do not wish to do that, in view of the fact that you do not fully understand the ways of the school. But discipline must be maintained. I will see to it that no marks are laid against you in this instance. However, as soon as you have finished your routine, you will take an extra duty tour of two hours, carrying a rifle. You will so report to your commanding officer.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Sam meekly. “What do I do with the gun?”

“Carry it. You will receive your instructions from the quartermaster. Return to your company.”

Sam saluted and walked back to the drill hall. He did not feel particularly humiliated, well knowing that, while he was to blame in a way, the other fellow was more so.

“What happened?” whispered Dan as Sam fell into line once more.

“I got mine.”

“Punishment?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“Extra duty tour—with a gun. I’m glad he told me to carry a gun. I can amuse myself with the gun. I wish he had told me to load it and go woodchuck hunting.”

Dan looked a bit troubled, but Sam took his punishment good-naturedly.

An hour later, found him tramping up and down the drill ground in the hot sun, with a rifle slung over his shoulders. He had not been there long before he saw Louis Flink approaching him, the latter having been sent to quarters on some mission or other.

Sam pretended not to see him until Flink halted before him with a stealthy glance to the rear to make sure that he was not observed.

“Hullo, red-head. Got what’s coming to you, didn’t you!” sneered Flink.

“That’s where you’ve got the best of me Blinkers. You haven’t got what is coming to you yet, so you have something to look forward to. Go on about your business before I put down this gun and thrash you. Go on!”

Sam made a move toward his tormentor, whereat Flink made haste to get out of the way. From a safe distance he taunted Sam until he saw a blue-coated figure approaching. Flink hurried on about his business, Sam taking up his steady march.

The figure, which proved to be that of a lieutenant whom Sam had not seen before, came on, but the boy did not appear to see him. He was too busy marching apparently, to heed even an officer. But Sam was suddenly called to his duty by a sharp command.

“Halt!”

Instinctively the lad stiffened.

“Attention! Young man, do you not understand what ‘attention’ means?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then what is that gun doing on your shoulder?”

“I—I don’t know, sir.”

“Don’t you know that you should come to present arms when an officer passes?”

“No, sir. No one ever told me that before.”

“Don’t you study your Handy Books?”

“Yes, sir, but I have been here only a day.”

“Present arms!”

Sam came to a present.

“Carry on!” came the sharp command, after which Hickey again shouldered his weapon and began his measured pacing back and forth. The lieutenant passed on, Sam gazing after him with a scowl upon his face.

“I hope to get to be an officer some of these days. Won’t I make the rest of the bunch step around lively? I don’t seem to be able to do anything to suit anybody.”

For the next two hours the lad continued his extra duty tour, this time, however, keeping a sharp lookout for approaching officers. No officers showed themselves in his vicinity. Now and then a group of apprentices would pass with the invariable greeting, “Hullo, red-head!”

To this Sam made no response. He was determined to take his medicine and show himself to be a man, even if he was being punished.

At last the sky became overcast. Dark clouds began sweeping in from the sea, swirling and tumbling riotously.

“It looks like rain,” decided the red-headed boy, halting long enough to gaze anxiously seaward. “I wonder whether they are going to keep me here all the rest of the day?”

The storm broke with a suddenness that he had never before observed, for Hickey never had had any experience with coast storms. The lightning seemed to be everywhere, followed by peals of thunder and deafening crashes, as if the coast artillery were at work the whole length of the Atlantic seaboard.

“It looks like rain,” reiterated the apprentice, shifting his rifle to the other shoulder. “I shouldn’t be surprised if that bolt struck somewhere. I should feel badly if it were to hit Blinkers, for I want to get a crack at him myself. I guess——”

Sam Hickey did not finish what he was about to say. A blinding flash reflected the buildings of the station in the dark waters of the bay. When the thunder had died away in a rumbling echo Sam was not in sight. He lay in a little depression of ground, half immersed in a puddle of water.

How long he lay there he did not know, but gradually he began to realize that he was very wet. He tried to open his eyes, but the rain dashing into them almost blinded him.

“I must be drowned,” he decided; then he resolutely pulled himself together, struggled to his feet and began hunting about for his rifle. That weapon, when finally he found it, was a sorry-looking object.

“Well, well, I wonder what happened,” muttered Sam. “I know—the thing has been struck by lightning.”

The barrel of the rifle, he found, was twisted out of shape, the stock was hanging in splinters, while some parts of the weapon had entirely disappeared.

Sam viewed the wreck ruefully.

“I expect I’ll get about ten years in the brig when they see that,” he wailed. “They’ll have me in jail for life, first thing I know. Who’d ever think a streak of lightning could cut up such pranks as these? I remember, now, the thing did feel awfully hot before I went to sleep.”

Sam considered for a moment, gazed longingly off to the roof of barracks A, faintly visible above a rise of ground. Then, shouldering his ruined rifle, he began plodding up and down again, the rain beating on him in blinding, drenching sheets.

Every little while, he would glance hopefully toward the barracks, where he knew all hands were snug and dry in their white suits, perhaps having a good time. His discontent was added to when he heard the bugle blow for the midday mess.

“There, I’ll lose my dinner,” complained Hickey. “I knew something serious would happen before the day was over. I wonder if they have forgotten me?”

“They” had. But now the roll was being called as the apprentices formed for the mess. About that time the sun came out, and Sam discovered an officer in a rain coat rapidly approaching him. It was Lieutenant Commander Devall. The officer had his eye on the boy long before reaching him.

“What does this mean?” he demanded, gazing with surprise at the mud-covered, torn uniform and the twisted, ruined rifle on the shoulder of the plodding figure of Sam Hickey.

“My rifle was struck by lightning, sir,” answered the lad, coming to a present arms.

CHAPTER VII—THE RED-HEADED BOY’S SURPRISE

“I should say it had!” exclaimed the amazed officer. “Let me see the rifle.”

He examined the weapon critically, Sam standing at attention, expecting every moment to be severely rebuked.

“When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago, sir.”

“You were hurt?”

“I don’t know. I was laid out. I guess I would have drowned if I hadn’t come to when I did,” answered the lad, forgetting to add the “sir.” The lieutenant commander appeared not to observe the slip.

“You regained consciousness, and have been on your extra duty tour ever since?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me.”

Sam wonderingly followed his superior officer to barracks A. The officer led the way right into the mess hall. Looks of surprise greeted the appearance of the couple, which soon gave place to broad grins, for Sam Hickey at that moment was the most disreputable figure possible to imagine.

“Attention!” called the petty officer in charge of the mess when he saw the lieutenant commander entering.

Dan saw at once that something had happened, yet he could not understand it at all, unless Sam had been in a fight. That was the first thing that occurred to Davis.

All hands had risen to their feet, and had come to attention at command.

“Mr. Coda,” said the lieutenant commander sharply, “you assigned this man to extra duty, did you not?”

“Yes, sir,” answered the quartermaster. “Acting on your command, as delivered to me by the man himself.”

“Exactly. How long did he tell you he was to remain on duty?”

“Two hours, sir. I was to give him his orders when the tour of extra duty was ended, sir.”

“Do you know how long he has been on duty?”

“About four hours, I think, sir.”

“Exactly,” answered the line officer dryly.

“The storm came on and I lost sight of this man. There were three other extra duty squads out in different parts of the grounds. These I rounded up, but I will confess that I entirely forgot the man Hickey, sir,” continued the quartermaster, saluting as he spoke.

“After mess, report to my office. I have something to say to these men now.”

“Are they to carry on, sir?”

“By no means until I direct them to do so. What I have to say should be heard standing.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Men,” began the lieutenant commander, running his eyes over the brown faces of the apprentices, “I am very glad to be able to give you an object lesson. I hope every man of you will keep it in mind for the rest of his career in the Navy.”

The officer paused, glancing at the attentive faces before him.

“It is in reference to this young man, Hickey. He was assigned to extra duty for a slight offense. The offense, I am now satisfied, was without intent to violate any rule of discipline, and the punishment was intended more to point a moral than otherwise. Hickey was told to patrol his tour until relieved by the quartermaster. Those were your orders, Mr. Quartermaster, were they not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hickey walked his tour over his time. A severe storm came up, but still he walked. He was obeying orders. Thunder and lightning even could not swerve him from doing that. Then Hickey was struck down by a bolt of lightning. You see his rifle, or what is left of it.”

The lieutenant commander took Sam’s gun from him, and, stepping over toward the others, held it out for their inspection. The boys looked at the twisted weapon, then at Sam Hickey. Amazement was written on their faces.

“Hickey was struck as well, as that mark on the left cheek will prove to you. He fell in a puddle of water, where he lay half-drowned, until finally he regained consciousness. I wonder how many of you here would not have started for cover as fast as he could run? I hope none of you would have done so. Hickey did not run, either. Instead, he straightened out his broken, ruined weapon as best he could, came to a right shoulder arms and began his tour of duty once again. I have not the least doubt that he would have continued all night had he not been relieved. He was obeying orders. As I have said before, not even lightning could swerve him from that. Young men, that is the kind of man the United States Navy wants—men who will obey orders, who will carry them out, no matter what may happen; who will do their full duty as long as there is a breath left in them. Quartermaster, are there any marks against this boy?”

The petty officer consulted the records.

“No, sir. He has been here a very short time, sir, hardly long enough to get any.”

“Very good. You will see to it that his name is placed on record and read out in General Orders. Hickey, you will be appointed apprentice gunner’s mate, your promotion to take effect immediately. It will not, however, continue after you go aboard a ship on a regular detail. The appointment is for the Training Station alone. It carries with it a slight increase in pay. You have made a good beginning, and I shall look for you to continue. Do so, and your rise in the United States Navy will be rapid. You are relieved from duty for the rest of the day. Carry on, men!”

Mess being over, the quartermaster, as directed, repaired to the office of the lieutenant commander to receive the reprimand that he supposed was in store for him. He was right. The lieutenant commander was very severe upon the quartermaster for the latter’s failure to relieve Hickey at the proper time. The quartermaster, in his turn, had nothing but words of regret and apology, and was dismissed with a word of caution for the future.

CHAPTER VIII—ON THE RIFLE RANGE

Sam took his seat at the mess table mechanically. As a matter of fact he felt dazed. He had expected a rebuke and he had received a promotion instead.

He was aroused from his abstraction by the voice of his chum.

“Good boy!” breathed Dan. “I am proud of you. Fine! I knew you would show them the material you are made of when you got the chance. Were you really struck by lightning?”

“I don’t know. I think it must have been the thunder clap that hit me, though I didn’t hear it. But wasn’t that gun a sight? Nearly tore the clothes off my back in the bargain.”

“Burn you anywhere?”

“I guess not.” Sam turned his palms up mechanically and opened his eyes in amazement. They had been burned by the electric fluid until they were black to the finger tips.

“Waugh!” he exclaimed. “Good thing it didn’t do that to my face, or I’d look just like the Pennsylvania Dutchman.”

Sam, having his liberty, made a trip to the town that afternoon. It was his first trip there since arriving at the Training School. First, however, he procured his new rating badge and, after consulting with a petty officer, sewed it on his sleeve. Sam strutted around for some time after that, holding up his arm so that he might feast his eyes on the red-lined rating mark. He felt very proud of it, and his companion, Dan Davis, was no less proud of him.

In the town Sam found many other apprentices on liberty, and at their invitation he joined them, spending the rest of the afternoon in wandering about. They made him tell about his experiences in being struck by lightning that morning, which Sam did with more or less relish.

“I imagine it was almost like being in a battle, fellows,” he said.

“If you got a clip like that in battle, I reckon you wouldn’t be bragging about it afterwards,” suggested one.

“I’m not bragging about it,” protested Hickey indignantly. “What’s the matter with you? Besides, I’m an officer, now, and officers don’t have to brag. They do things that speak for themselves.”

“Hear him talk! He’s got a swelled head already,” jeered one of the party. “You’ll have a chance, to-morrow, to see whether you are any good or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you shoot?”

Sam grinned.

“Don’t make me laugh. I can shoot the eyes out of a spud as far as I can see it.”

“What’s a spud?” piped a voice.

“You a sailor, and don’t know what a spud is?” scoffed Sam. “A spud is a spud, otherwise known as a potato. I am surprised at your ignorance.”

“Louis Flink says he’s going to clean up the whole crowd of us, to-morrow, when we get to shooting.”

“Shooting?”

“Yes.”

“Shooting at what?”

“Targets.”

“Are we going to do that?”

“Sure, and the ones who make the best scores will be promoted, I understand. The officers always do that. They are going to try out the apprentices, to see who is good enough to qualify for the sharpshooting record of the station.”

Hickey’s eyes glowed. As soon as possible thereafter he excused himself. Boarding a street car, he returned to the station.

“What do you think, Dan?” questioned Sam, as soon as he had gotten his chum off away from the others.

“Well, what is it? Been getting into more trouble, young man?”

“Not I. It’s news, and you’ll say it’s real news when you hear it.”

“Well, I am listening,” smiled Dan good-naturedly.

Sam’s face was flushed with excitement, for this had been an eventful day for him.

“Tell me all about it?”

“We are going to shoot to-morrow,” whispered Sam in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard a dozen yards away.

“Shoot what?”

“Target work.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yes,” chuckled Hickey. “We won’t do a thing to the targets, will we?”

“I don’t know about you, but as for myself I never thought I was much of a marksman. Of course, I have done some shooting, but there are boys here who have done much more, I guess. What’s the range?”

“I haven’t heard. But, being an officer, perhaps I might ask some one.”

“Do not presume too much on your promotion,” warned Dan. “You are only a very little officer. You may lose that rating if you are not careful.”

“Then I’ll get struck by lightning again, and get another one,” answered Sam confidently.

That night the boys swung themselves up into their hammocks, full of anticipation of what lay before them on the following day. It seemed as if they had no sooner gotten to sleep than the bugle sounded the reveille.

They were up and at their shower baths, laughing and chatting, a few minutes later. A happier, more care-free lot of hardy, brown-faced young fellows it would be difficult to find.

The early morning duties were quickly disposed of, for the word had been passed along that they were to take their first turn at the targets that day. Some of the boys who had never handled a gun before were more curious than those who had. The latter, however, were no less anxious to be at it. When the command, “Fall in for target practice,” was given, all hands felt like setting up a shout of joy. They restrained themselves, knowing full well that such a demonstration would bring swift and sure punishment.

After they had lined up, the officer in charge ordered certain of the men to fall out, they being wanted for other work. There were disappointed ones among these, but these were told they would be given their chance later in the week, as very many men could not be accommodated at one time. The target practice was to last nearly a week, two hours a day being devoted to it during this time.

All preparations having been made, the men were marched to the armory where they were equipped with their rifles and ammunition for the day.

The apprentices were to fire five rounds apiece, each day, only the average for the week to count.

“Keep your nerves steady, and don’t try to do anything fancy, just because you are an officer,” warned Dan.

“You squint through your own sights; I’ll look after mine,” retorted Sam.

Immediately after arriving at the range, the shooting began, one man taking a shot, then giving place to another.

Dan took his place and fired. He missed. Sam followed, a few numbers later, and he also missed. But when it came the turn of Louis Flink he made a bull’s-eye the first shot. Flink favored the two boys with a sarcastic grin as he stepped aside to give the next man a chance.

The Battleship Boys had adjusted their sights in the meantime, and with their next shots they, too, each made a bull’s-eye. When the five rounds had been fired it was found that Flink was one point ahead of them.

The lads were disgusted with themselves. On the following day the score was the same; that is, each of the two boys made center every time and so did Flink. Their only hope now was that he might make a miss, but this he evidently had no intention of doing, for he shot with rare judgment and coolness.

“I’ve got a good notion to break him up by saying something to him to-morrow,” Sam confided to his companion that night.

“I should be ashamed of you, if you did,” rebuked Dan.

“Ashamed of me? Why?”

“Because it would be an unsportsmanlike and a cowardly trick. If we cannot outshoot Blinkers, as you call him, we shall take our medicine like men. It seems he’s the better man at the butts.”

The last day of the target practice arrived. It was Saturday morning when the boys started out for the shooting grounds. The targets stood out strong and clear in the morning sunlight, against the big mound of earth before which they had been placed. By this time the shooting of the three boys had aroused no little interest among the others of the apprentices, and even the officers began to feel more than ordinary interest, for such shooting was not usual among the rookies in their early days.

The range had now been extended to three hundred yards. It was safe to predict that the story of the week would be changed at this range.

The firing began almost at once, the men with lower scores competing first, it having been decided to let the three leaders take their turns at the butts after the others had finished.

“Keep your eyes open,” suggested Dan. “Get your range well, for we mustn’t miss a shot to-day.”

“We’re beaten anyway,” complained Sam.

“Stop it. You’re a fine sailor, you are. We are not beaten. We are never beaten until the last shot has been fired, and even then we won’t run up any white flag. See that Flag over there?”

“What flag?”

“The one on the staff—the Stars and Stripes.”

“Sure.”

“Well just imagine you are under that, and that those targets over against the hill are enemies shooting at the Flag. What would you do to them?”

“You know what I would do to them if I could—I’d put them every one out of business.”

“That’s the talk! Well, they are enemies—our enemies. You must put them out of business.”

“All right; I’m it. I’ll drill them in the eyes. You watch me when I go to bat.”

The firing, which had been going on for the past hour, suddenly ceased.

“Leaders shoot off scores,” came the command.

“It’s our turn,” nodded Dan. “Keep cool.”

“I’m as cool as the hot sun will allow me to be, but I wish they would let me take off my jacket. I’ll ask them.”

“No, no, no,” protested Dan.

“Flink take your place.”

The dark-faced Pennsylvanian, a confident smile on his face, took his place toeing the mark. He took careful aim, pulled the trigger and lowered his weapon to his waist line.

“Bull’s-eye,” wig-wagged the signal man at the butts.

“Davis!” called the officer in charge.

Dan stepped to the mark, stood for a moment gazing off at the range. Then, raising his gun, he took aim and fired without loss of time. The onlookers thought he had missed, for his shot was apparently carelessly executed.

“Bull’s-eye,” came back the wig-wag signal.

A number of officers of the post had gathered to see the shooting, and a murmur of comment ran over the little throng.

“Hickey!”

“To the bat!” muttered Sam under his breath, taking his place. Hickey took long and careful aim, lowered his gun for a free look at the target then raised the weapon again. At last he fired.

He too, made a bull’s-eye.

One round had been fired and without a single miss on the part of any one of the three contestants. This was continued for three more rounds with no change in the result.

Excitement ran high. Nearly every apprentice on the grounds was hoping that either the red-haired boy or his companion might win. Flink had few admirers, though all gave him full credit for what he had accomplished so far in the contest.

This time Dan was called to the mark first, the officer in charge varying the routine for some reason of his own.

Dan scored a bull’s-eye.

Flink came next. This time he shot with less caution than before, and missed. Sam, however, made a bull’s-eye.

“Tied, sir. Shall they shoot it off?” asked the quartermaster, saluting the commandant of the station.

“Shoot it off,” was the reply.

“Aye, aye, sir. Leaders take their places for another round.”

Flink was called to the mark first. He was plainly nervous. Perhaps his nervousness was not lessened by the glimpse he caught of Sam Hickey’s face. Sam was grinning broadly, but he could not be accused of attempting to interfere with Flink, because he was not looking at him. Sam was looking at Dan at that particular moment.

Flink took his sight, then pulled the trigger with a nervous finger.

“Miss,” came the wig-wag signal.

Dan took his place and fired. He made a bull’s-eye.

Sam came next. As before he took a great deal of time in preparation.

“He’s posing,” muttered Dan. “He might better attend to his business.”

However, Sam Hickey knew what he was about. If he missed, he would have the satisfaction of knowing that it was not through carelessness.

At last he seemed satisfied as to his position, arriving at which decision, he lost no time in bringing the rifle to his shoulder and pulling the trigger.

“Bull’s-eye!”

A great shout went up from the apprentices. Discipline, for the moment, was swept aside. Even the officers smiled approvingly as their young charges threw hats high in the air, yelling lustily, shouting the names of their champions. Dan Davis and red-haired Sam had outshot them all. As it had grown late, there was no time for the two friends to shoot it off. Between them, it was a tie.

CHAPTER IX—BETRAYED BY A STREAK OF RED

Dan got his promotion on the following day, with an increase of pay, so that the two boys now had the same rating in the school.

Flink, however, had grown very surly. As the days wore on he became more and more ugly so far as the boys were concerned, but the latter gave little heed to him.

In the meantime, Sam and Dan had been progressing rapidly. They had learned many things. First, they had perfected themselves in signaling, splicing, knot-tying and seamanship, so far as was possible in the limited time at their disposal. The Battleship Boys by their application, hard work and keen minds, had won the respect of their officers as well as of their own associates. The frequent cruises about the bay and down Long Island Sound of the “Boxer” had given them practical experience and agility; for by this time Sam and Dan were able to cling to a yard arm in a rolling sea with out being in the least disturbed. They were as agile aloft as if they had been at sea in sailing ships for years.

And now they were just completing their course. A week remained for them to put the finishing touches to it. Already they were looking forward with keen anticipation to the day when they should receive their summons to join a ship. This might not come for some time, but on account of their high standing they were reasonably certain that they would be chosen with the first detail of their class that went out.

During all this time, however, the Battleship Boys had been subjected to petty annoyances that both troubled and mystified them. Perhaps they may have had some slight suspicion as to the cause of their troubles, but if so, there was no definite clue on which to base their suspicions.

First, something was found wrong with the mechanism of Hickey’s rifle. Then next, Dan’s Krag rifle was discovered at inspection to be in a sad state of neglect. The inspection officer said it was quite evident that the gun had not been cleaned in weeks.

For both these offenses the lads were disciplined, not seriously, but enough so that the lesson might be impressed upon their minds.

Dan and Sam held many quiet talks over these incidents. Sam was for going to one of their superior officers and voicing their suspicions, but of this Dan would not hear.

“We have got to prove ourselves men, no matter if we do get some bad conduct marks by so doing. And, besides, these things that have happened to us may be the result of a mistake. For instance, you remember that rifle on account of which I was ordered to do extra duty?”

“Yes,” nodded Hickey.

“Well, that wasn’t my gun at all. It was some one else’s Krag.”

“Then some one else took yours?” questioned Sam, with rising color.

“Yes, but I think perhaps that was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t any mistake at all,” snapped Sam, “and I’m going to keep my eyes open. I’ll get even with the fellow who is trying to get us into trouble—I’ll get even with him before we leave the station, if I lose my job doing it.”

That afternoon there was to be a battalion drill, and, after the morning’s work, all hands hurried to quarters to get into their bright, clean white uniforms. It was the one time in the week when the apprentices were given an opportunity to show themselves at their best. Many people came out from town for this regular Thursday afternoon drill, when every apprentice at the station appeared on parade, with flags waving, bands playing, the sunlight glistening on polished weapons.

“This will be our last drill here, I hope,” glowed Dan, as all preparations having been made, the lads hurried out and falling in, started for the drill ground, marching by fours.

All went well until the company in which the two boys were marching had swung into line. Then there came a sudden command:

“Halt!”

The petty officers in command ran their eyes over the line in some surprise. They did not understand what it meant. They knew, however, that something had gone wrong.

The executive officer was standing to the rear of the line, at some distance, while the battalion was going through its evolutions. His observant eyes had suddenly caught sight of something that filled him with amazement and indignation.

Quickly striding down to the line, the men facing away from him, he called the chief quartermaster to him.

“Take those men out of line.”

“Which ones, sir?”

The executive officer, pointed, and then the petty officer saw that which also amazed him. A moment more and he had tapped both Dan and Sam on the shoulder.

“Fall out!” he commanded.

They obeyed promptly, but wonderingly.

“Report to your quarters, and remain there in detention.”

The boys saluted and moved away.

“Now, will you tell me what this means?” demanded Dan.

“That’s what I was trying to find out. We haven’t done anything.”

They had reached their quarters when, all at once, Dan uttered an exclamation.

“What is it?” demanded Sam.

“Look at yourself.”

“What’s wrong with me?” growled the freckle-faced boy.

“Take off your jacket and you’ll see.”

“You had better take off your own while you are about it,” replied Sam, opening his eyes wide as he gazed at his companion.

With one accord they stripped off their jackets, uttering exclamations of anger as they did so.

The backs of the jackets were streaked with bright red until they resembled the bars of the American Flag, which they no doubt had been intended by the perpetrator of the outrage to represent.

Sam examined his jacket critically; then, glancing up, he met the eyes of his companion.

“Red ink,” nodded Sam. “I’ll bet the eagle will scream now.”

“Who could have done it?”

“The question is not who could have done it, but who did do it.”

“We shall be held responsible, in any event. I see ourselves losing our ratings and perhaps missing our detail to a ship. Come, let’s get into some decent clothes before one of the officers gets here.”

They quickly changed their uniforms, laying out the ruined ones, backs upward ready for the inspection that they felt sure would soon follow.

In this surmise they were right. The drill over, the quartermaster, accompanied by the executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Devall, appeared at the boys’ quarters.

Dan and Sam came to attention as the officers entered.

The latter fixed their eyes upon the garments laid out on the floor of the quarters. Lieutenant Commander Devall picked up one of the jackets, examining it closely.

“How did this happen?” he demanded, eyeing Sam sternly.

“I do not know, sir.”

“The garment has plainly been inked. How does it happen that you did not notice this when you put on your uniform?”

“We dressed in a great hurry, sir,” spoke up Dan. “As you will observe, it is quite dark in here. It seems as if we ought to have noticed that something was wrong, but we did not.”

Lieutenant Commander Devall pondered for a moment.

“You have no idea who could have done this thing, men?”

They did not answer.

“Search the quarters, quartermaster.”

The lads stood looking on with troubled faces as the petty officer began his search. The Battleship Boys did not know what the lieutenant commander expected to find, and as a matter of fact he probably had no definite idea himself.

Sam moved over to where his bag stood, having observed that it was open. As he drew the cord down tightly he chanced to glance at the bag standing beside it. Hickey uttered a smothered exclamation. What he had seen was a smear of red at the mouth of the canvas bag.

“May I open this bag, sir?” he asked, saluting.

“For what?”

Sam pointed to the streak of red.

“Open it!”

One by one the lad drew out the neatly folded garments from the sea bag, the officers scrutinizing these keenly as they were withdrawn and placed on the floor.

At the very bottom of the bag Sam came upon an object which he quickly drew out, holding it to the light, with a triumphant grin on his face. He nodded to Dan as he did so.

The object was a towel. It was streaked with red, as if some one had wiped his hands upon it. In fact, finger marks were plainly visible all over it.

The executive officer snatched the cloth from the boy’s hands.

“Whose bag is this?” he demanded sharply.

“I’ll look up the number, sir,” answered the quartermaster.

At that moment a figure darkened the doorway. It was Flink. The instant he saw the officers in the quarters his hand mechanically came up in salute.

A ray of sunlight slanted across the hand as he stood there. Sam caught his breath sharply, then an eager look overspread his face. He hesitated a moment; then, springing over to where Flink was standing, Sam grabbed the hand, jerking it sharply down, examining it briefly in the few seconds that elapsed ere Flink could resist.

“Attention!” commanded Lieutenant Commander Devall. “What does this mean?”

“If you will examine this man’s hand, I think you will understand, sir,” answered Sam, saluting.

The lieutenant commander stepped over to Flink.

“Let me see your hands. Palms up!”

The palms were smeared with red.

“Is that your sea bag yonder?”

Flink nodded.

“So, you are the man who is responsible for this, are you? What have you to say for yourself?”

The apprentice hung his head, making no reply.

“You are released from quarters, Davis and Hickey. I begin to understand a few of the things that have happened here. Quartermaster, place this man under arrest. Turn him over to the master-at-arms with instructions to lock him in the brig.”

CHAPTER X—THEIR FIRST DETAIL

Summary court-martial met on the following afternoon. Louis Flink was found guilty, the recommendation of the court being that he be dismissed from the service.

At a general muster the findings of the court-martial, approved by the commandant of the station, were read out by the executive officer. It was an impressive scene to the Battleship Boys—one that they never forgot, showing as it did that the United States Navy is no place for a man guilty of a dishonorable act.

Louis Flink was read out of the service and driven from the grounds of the Training Station, a disgraced man.

“I’m sorry for the poor fellow, though I have no sympathy for him,” murmured Dan.

“What’s the difference?” demanded Sam.

“Difference between what?”

“The difference between feeling sorry for a man and having sympathy for him? I, for one, am mighty glad to see him go, but I’m sorry I did not get a chance at him first. I’ll never get over that.”

“He must have been the one who was the cause of our other trouble, Sam.”

“Of course he was, beginning with the pie he threw at us. But what are we going to do with the marks against us? We were no more to blame for the things we were disciplined for than we are for having our jackets ruined.”

“We shall have to take our medicine; that is all,” answered Dan ruefully.

Two days later, the boys were summoned to the office of the executive officer. They went rather apprehensively, wondering what could be the reason for the unusual summons.

Arriving at the executive office the lads stated their business to the sentry, and were admitted after a little delay, coming to a halt and saluting as they reached Lieutenant Commander Devall’s desk.

The salute was quickly answered, after which the boys stood at attention, hats in hands.

“I presume you would like to join a ship, would you not?” he asked.

“Join a ship? Indeed we should,” answered Dan, his eyes glowing with pleasure.

“You boys, I believe, joined from the same place?”

“Yes, sir.”

“H-m-m-m!” mused the executive officer, consulting the enlistment record of the two apprentices. “Piedmont?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You would like to be shipmates, would you not?”

“We should like it very much, indeed. If it were possible, I wish we might be placed on the same ship,” replied Dan.

“I will arrange it,” replied Lieutenant Commander Devall, consulting several papers from the mass with which his desk was littered. “Several details are being sent out to various ships to-day. I was under the impression that one ship on my list asked for two ordinary seamen. Ah, yes, here it is. Yes, that will be all right. I shall assign you, but, of course, I cannot promise that you will be retained indefinitely in that way. You may be reassigned to some other part of the service at any time, but it is not likely that this will be done for some time, yet.”

“May I ask, sir, to what ship you will assign us?”

“Yes; the battleship ‘Long Island.’”

“The ‘Long Island,’” mused Dan.

“The ‘Long Island,’” repeated Sam under his breath.

“That is the new battleship, is it not, sir?”

“The newest one in the Atlantic fleet. She has just had her trial trip, and has been accepted by the government. I am very glad to be able to give you this detail, for you are a pair of likely young men. Your record at the station has been a splendid one, and your promotion deserved.”

“Thank you, sir. You know we have some marks against us,” spoke up Dan.

“I was thinking of that. Let me see. There appears to be some doubt about those extra duty tours—I mean to say as to whether you men were wholly in the wrong. Have you any reason to suspect that others were trying to get you into trouble?”

“Yes, sir; we have had reason to suspect as much,” answered Dan after an instant’s hesitation.

“Whom did you suspect?”

“There can be no harm now, sir, in saying that we suspected the fellow Flink.”

“Yet you made no report of it?”

“How could we, sir? We had little on which to base our suspicions, and besides it did not seem the manly thing to do, to carry tales about one’s shipmates.”

“He’s the fellow, sir, who threw the pie,” spoke up Hickey.

“What’s that?”

“Threw the pie.” Sam did not heed the warning look from his companion. “The day we entered the training school.”

“I recall the incident, and I also recall that you both refused to state what you knew. Always obey the command of an officer; bear that in mind, young men. No matter if it does mean getting an associate into trouble. Your officers will never make a request of you that is not for the good of the service. You are well fitted for the duties that are before you. Be obedient, courteous and willing. Never allow soreheads—‘sea lawyers’ we call them on board ship—to make you discontented on board. Remember that there is no more honorable calling in the world than that which you have chosen. See that you do honor to it.”

“We shall try, sir.”

“And, by the way, you are entitled to a leave of absence for four weeks from this time, with a full allowance of pay. You may join your ship later, at the expiration of leave. I take it that you lads would like to go home and show yourselves in your uniforms.”

Dan hesitated.

“Of course, we should like it, sir, but I think we should prefer to join ship at once.”

“Very good, then; you will join the ‘Long Island’ to-morrow. In the meantime I shall arrange to have the marks against you canceled, so that there may be no bar to your progress. You will go aboard with a clean bill of health in every way.”

“May I ask where the ‘Long Island’ is, sir?” questioned Sam.

“New York.”

“At the Navy Yard, sir?”

“No, she is lying in the North River; I think about off Riverside Drive. Do you know where that is?”

“No, sir.”

“That is nearly opposite General Grant’s tomb. You can find the place easily. Any policeman will tell you how to get there.”

“Yes, sir; when do we go, sir?”

“On the night boat. You came up here on that, did you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will have your papers prepared and your transportation ready at five o’clock. You will call here for them. The quartermaster will instruct you as to what you are to take with you and how to proceed. My lads, I trust I shall hear good reports from you. We always feel a keen interest in the young men who have had their first instruction here at the Training School. That will be all.”

Two hands were brought to foreheads in precise salute, and, executing a right about face, the Battleship Boys, marched steadily from the room, their faces grave, their shoulders thrown well back.

Once outside, Sam turned a bronzed, freckled face toward his companion.

“We are the people—the real people—aren’t we, Dan?” he questioned, with a sly wink.

“We are,” answered Dan soberly.

The heads of the Battleship Boys were in a whirl of expectancy for the rest of the day. The afternoon hours dragged slowly along, but at last the evening mess was over, and they quickly gathered their dunnage, starting for the New York boat with light and happy hearts.

Each boy had nearly fifty dollars in his pockets as the result of his three months’ service at the Training Station. This money, however, they had decided to deposit with the paymaster of the ‘Long Island’ as soon as possible after arriving on board.

The next morning Dan and Sam were up just as the Fall River Line boat was about to pass under the Brooklyn bridge.

“Look!” cried Dan. “Do you recognize that yellow building over there?”

“Can’t say that I do. What building is it?”

“It is the recruiting station where you and I joined the service three months ago. And now, just think of it, we are jackies. Everybody knows we are jackies as soon as they look at our handsome uniforms.”

“Yes,” breathed Sam, “and there’s the very Flag under which we enlisted.”

Instinctively the Battleship Boys removed their caps and came to attention, in which position they stood until the towering Sound steamer had swept on and began rounding the Battery.

CHAPTER XI—ON BOARD A BATTLESHIP

“Small boat with two enlisted men approaching, sir,” called out the deck watch of the big battleship “Long Island.”

“What ship?” answered the officer of the deck.

“I don’t know, sir. Can’t make them out exactly.”

The small boat, manned by a perspiring boatman, was creeping nearer and nearer to the huge, drab-colored man-of-war, whose towering sides and huge masts dwarfed everything else about it.

The small boat pulled up to the starboard or right side of the ship, and drifted in.

“Boat, ahoy!” called down the quartermaster, making a megaphone of his hands. “What do you want?”

“We want to come aboard, sir?” answered Dan, rising in the fragile skiff and saluting.

“Who are you?”

“Recruits from the Newport Training Station, assigned to this ship.”

“We Want to Come Aboard, Sir!”

“Then you ought to know better than to try to board a man-o’-war on the starboard side. Get around to the port side where you belong.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Dan, touching his cap.

“How are you going to know which is the port side of these tubs?” muttered Sam, shading his eyes from the sun and gazing at the ship. “I’m blest if both ends don’t look alike to me.”

“Then you must be losing your eyesight, Sam. Don’t you see how the quarter-deck is cut away astern, while the bow stands high out of the water? Then there’s the Flag astern. You’ll never see the colors up forward.”

“I can’t see everything at once, and you must remember that this is the first time I ever saw a real battleship close enough to touch it.”

The ship was at anchor, and some distance out in the stream. A swaying rope ladder hung from the lower boom on the port side, reaching down to within some four feet of the water’s edge.

The river was choppy that morning, and the little boat bobbed perilously. The boys were used to this, however, and gave no thought to it.

“Will you please pass a line over here for our dunnage?” called Dan.

“Pass the landlubbers a clothes line,” shouted a voice from the forecastle.

A line, coiled, suddenly shot down from above. Sam chanced to be standing up in the boat at that moment. The line hit him fairly on the top of his red head, flattening him on the bottom of the skiff.

A shout went up from the forecastle.

“You lubbers!” bellowed Sam, scrambling to his feet, nearly upsetting the skiff in his efforts to get his eyes on the man who was responsible for knocking him down. “I’d duck you if I had you down here.”

“Yes, you would!” came back the prompt answer.

“Yes, I would.”

“Come up here and try it, red-head! We’ve got some shower baths up in the forecastle.”

“Don’t answer him, Sam,” cautioned Dan. “There is an officer watching us, and we do not want him to think we are a couple of rowdies.”

“Well, we aren’t, are we?” demanded Sam indignantly.

“Certainly not. All the more reason why we should act like gentlemen.”

Sam grumbled some unintelligible reply.

“Are you going first, Dan?”

“It makes no difference.”

Dan grasped the swaying rope ladder, known as a “Jacob’s ladder,” and ran up with agility.

“My, the little man must have made a voyage to Africa and taken lessons from the monkeys,” jeered a voice.

“It isn’t necessary to go to Africa to find specimens of that animal,” answered Dan, reaching the lower boom, along which he ran lightly, sprang over the rail and planted his feet on the deck. His first duty was to turn his face toward the stern of the ship and salute the Flag.

By this time Hickey was on his way up the ladder, and in a moment more he awkwardly measured his length on the deck, having caught his toe in the rope railing in scaling it.

The men of the forecastle set up a shout of approval.

“That’s the way to do it, lad! A regular human projectile. We don’t need any torpedoes when you are on board.”

Sam got up, blushing furiously. As he rose a jackie ran his fingers through the shock of red hair.

“Shipmate, you’d better keep away from the magazines with that head of hair, or there’ll be an explosion that will be heard all the way to Newport.”

“People who play with fire sometimes get burned. You’d better stand clear,” warned Hickey, whereat their was another shout, this time at the expense of the jackie who had taken the liberty with Sam’s head.

“I’ll bet the Old Man will send his orderly on a run for the barber when he sees red-head here,” vouchsafed another.

The “Old Man” aboard ship means the captain.

The lads gave no further heed to the chaffing of their new shipmates. Dan nudged his companion and motioned for the latter to follow him.

“Where?” demanded Sam. “You don’t know where you are going.”

“We must report to the officer of the deck first of all. Lieutenant Commander Devall told me to do so.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you would know enough to do it of your own accord,” was Sam’s withering reply as he turned to follow Dan.

The lads made their way over the superstructure, where they were treated to various good-natured criticisms hurled at them by jackies and marines lounging along the deck.

Descending the iron steps that led down to the quarter-deck, the Battleship Boys once more came to attention and saluted the Flag. The officer of the deck brought his right hand to the visor of his cap in acknowledgment of the salute.

The boys stepped up to him, saluting once more.

“Well, men, what is it?”

“We are recruits from the Training Station at Newport, sir. We have come to join the ship, sir.”

“Very good. Messenger!”

A sailor came to him on the run, saluting as he brought up sharply in front of the young ensign who was acting as officer of the deck.

“Take these men to the master-at-arms.”

The messenger crooked a finger; the Battleship Boys saluted the officer of the deck, and, turning, followed their guide. He led them through narrow corridors, up through the gun deck, where the butts of the great eight-inch guns lay shining in the sunlight that filtered down through open hatches.

At last he halted before a curtained doorway and rapped.

“What it is?” came a voice from inside.

“Officer of the deck directs you to receive two recruits who have just come on board, sir.”

The curtain parted and the lads saw before them a kindly faced man, whose weather-beaten features testified to many months of exposure to wind and sun on the high seas.

“Come in, lads,” he said. “Have you your papers with you?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Dan, extending their record papers.

“All clear,” said the master-at-arms after a brief glance over the documents. “The Training School gives you a special good-conduct mention, I see. That is well. Follow me.”

Once more the process of diving through narrow passageways, down iron companionways, with chains for hand rails, turning sharp corners, trumping their elbows on projections and the like, was gone through with.

“What are they trying to do with us?” whispered Sam.

“I don’t know.”

“Guess they’re trying out our wind to see whether we are any good or not. This certainly is a sprint. If they keep it up much longer I’ll change my mind again and go ashore.”

Just then the master-at-arms rapped on the casing of another door, and, at command, entered, motioning the boys to follow.

They were now standing before the ship’s writer. The writer, after looking over their papers, entered their record in a large book on his desk. Following this he asked them many questions about their past life, going over much the same ground that the recruiting officer had done when they enlisted in New York. After satisfying himself on all points, the writer said: