"Over this way," directed the petty officer as he led the squad of
recruits into the well-kept grounds, Ned and Frank following the others,
and, like them, looking curiously about.
"What are those buildings?" asked one of the young fellows, pointing to
a row of buildings, at the upper windows of which could be seen a number
of faces of men and youths in blue uniforms.
"The barracks--where you sleep," replied the petty officer.
"Sleep in barracks!" cried one. "Why, I thought we'd be put on board a
battleship! That's what I enlisted for. I can sleep on land in a
building, any night."
The petty officer smiled. Doubtless he was used to hearing that.
"You'll only sleep in barracks while you're training here," he answered.
"You have to be shown something about a battleship and other naval
matters before you're qualified to go on board. Don't worry, you'll have
all the sleeping aboard a ship that you want. It will all come in time."
"That's good news," said Ned to Frank.
"Oh, I knew this was only temporary," was the answer.
"It takes about four months," the petty officer said, overhearing
Frank's remark.
"Thank you."
A little later the two brothers, as well as the other recruits, were led
into the presence of the medical officer and his assistants.
"Strip!" came the order, and soon the rigorous examination was under
way.
Ned and Frank need have had no fears, for they were very promptly
passed. Some of their mates, however, did not fare so well, and one or
two were rejected, having to leave the prospective service, much to
their regret. But our heroes were found physically fit, and, having
previously taken the oath of allegiance to the United States, they were
now fully qualified and admitted apprentice seamen.
"That's all," the medical officer said to them, as he motioned to them
to dress. Once more they were taken in charge by a petty officer, a
different one this time.
"What's next?" asked Frank.
"You'll have your clothing assigned to you, and will learn how to swing
your hammocks," was the answer.
"Are we going to sleep in hammocks while we're ashore, in the barracks?"
Ned wanted to know.
"That's what you are," said the guiding officer. "You'll unlash them
every night when you're piped to do so, and you'll lash them up, out of
the way, every morning, just as if you were aboard a battleship."
"It's to get used to it," suggested Frank.
"Exactly, and so with everything else done here at the training station.
We do it as nearly as it's done on board a man-o'-war as is possible."
Led by the petty officer into the store department, where the clothing
for the apprentice seamen was dealt out, Ned and Frank each received two
complete outfits--one for winter and one for summer, consisting of rubber
boots and coat, caps, sweater, overcoat, trousers, shoes, underwear--in
fact everything necessary.
"You've now each received sixty dollars' worth of clothing for your
start in a new life," commented the officer.
"I'm afraid mine are going to be too big for me," remarked one newly
enlisted lad, who was rather small, though not below the standard.
"There's a tailor right here on the premises, who'll make them fit you
like the paper on the wall," said the officer. "And that's one thing you
boys might as well learn first as last. You've got to look neat while
you're working for Uncle Sam. He'll do his part in giving you good
clothes and the means to keep them in order. The rest is up to you."
"I'm glad to hear that," remarked Frank.
"Same here," agreed his brother. "If there's anything I like, it's to be
clean and neat."
They had both been brought up that way.
If Ned and Frank had imagined that now they had received their outfit of
clothing, there was nothing more to be done for a time, they were
disappointed, for the petty officer, having arranged with the tailor to
make certain alterations in some of the garments, told the recruits they
would now be expected to mark each of their articles of wearing apparel
with a stencil, so that each one would always know which was his.
"And when that is done you'll have a few instructions in folding your
things and stowing them away in your bag."
"Fold our things!" exclaimed Ned. "Why can't we hang them up? They'll
get all wrinkled if we fold them."
"Not if you fold them the way I show you," was the reply.
The officer then led the new recruits to the barracks, where each one
was assigned to a certain hammock in the dormitory on the second floor.
There were hammock hooks on the walls, just as there are on board a
ship, and in a little while Ned, Frank and the others, after they had
stenciled their clothes, were shown how to unlash the hammocks which
were trussed up neatly out of the way.
Then they were given instructions in putting away the hammocks in
ship-shape fashion.
"I've never slept in a hammock, except to doze off on an afternoon of a
summer day under the trees," remarked Frank.
"Neither have I. I wonder how I'll like it?" returned his brother.
"Oh, there isn't any finer bed going!" exclaimed the petty officer,
enthusiastically. "You'll find them comfortable here, even in barracks,
but when you get aboard a ship, and find your hammock swaying to the
motion, why say! you'll be sorry to hear the breakfast call!"
"Not much I won't!" exclaimed a fat, jolly-looking lad who probably had
a good appetite.
Ned and Frank had noticed that the hammocks provided at the navy yard
barracks of the Norfolk training station were not like the ordinary
hammock in which magazine illustrators like to depict pretty girls with
a book and a box of candy. The sailors' hammocks were made of stout
canvas, and each one was provided with a well-made hair mattress. The
United States isn't taking any chances on his boys' going without a good
night's sleep. It makes every provision for their reasonable comfort,
though there are no "fal-de-lals," as Ned observed.
"But then, who wants them?" asked Frank.
"Certainly no one on a battleship," answered his brother.
In addition to the mattress in the hammock there were two woolen
blankets of good quality.
"You'll never be cold, especially on board ship," said the sergeant,
"and when you want to be cool, just don't use the blankets, that's all.
It's the simplest and best bed in the world."
Frank and Ned were beginning to believe this. They were already very
favorably impressed with their new life, or, rather, its beginning. Of
course they realized that hard work and plenty of it was in store for
them.
They had enlisted for a term of four years. They could not resign before
their term of enlistment was over if something did not suit them, and
they would be subject to certain specified hours. But, as the petty
officer told them, there was plenty of liberty allowed, and there were
all sorts of recreations, such as swimming, boating, fencing, football,
and other athletics. Then, too, they received free board, lodging and
medical attention, and they were paid $17.50 a month, which could all be
saved, not a penny of expense being called for except what was wanted
for extras.
"And if you show yourselves capable, and learn quickly," their friend,
the sergeant, told them, "you'll soon be earning more. Ordinary seamen
get $20.90 a month, seamen $24.60, and--"
"Say, what do gunners get?" asked impulsive Ned.
"Well, anywhere from $1,500 to $2,400 a year," he answered. "And I want
to say right now that if a lad is qualified he can get to that post, if
he works hard."
"Then I'm going to work hard!" declared Ned.
"Same here," echoed his brother.
"That's the kind of talk we like to listen to," commented the sergeant.
"Aim as high as you can, and hit the bull's-eye!"
"Huh! Some folks are trying to crow before they're out of the shell very
long," remarked a red-haired recruit, with a rather unpleasant face. He
had seemed sullen ever since arriving at the training station, and the
remarks of Frank and Ned seemed to anger him.
"What's the matter with you?" asked the sergeant. "Some one step on your
corns?"
"No, but it makes me mad to hear kids that don't know a half hitch from
a square knot talking about getting in the gunners' class!"
He glared rather vindictively at our two friends, though they did not
know of anything they had done to merit his displeasure. His name was
Henry Dell, but he called himself "Hank."
"That's the sort of lad who is looking for trouble. Steer clear of him,"
counseled the sergeant in a low tone to Frank and Ned, as he led them
toward the mess hall where they would have their meals.