For a moment silence followed Frank's startling announcement. Then the
officer asked:
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, sir," replied Frank, "that the ropes of my brother's hammock
were partly cut through, so that when his weight came on them they gave
way. That is how it happened."
"Are you sure?"
"You may look for yourself, sir."
In the gleam of the incandescent deck lights Frank held out the end of
the hammock where the ropes were joined to the canvas. Ned had limped to
one side and sat down, for his leg pained him.
"You are right," said the officer, after a quick inspection. "Who cut
those ropes?" he asked, sternly.
Of course no one answered. Probably the officer did not expect that any
one would. He looked about at the circle of jackies, some of whom were
grinning broadly. Frank looked angry--Ned had a pained look on his face.
"If I find out who did this," went on the officer, "I'll make him smart
for it. Turn in, all of you! I'll have another hammock assigned to you,"
he remarked to Ned. "Do you need medical assistance?"
"No, sir. Thank you. I think I'll be all right."
The officer wheeled about and marched off, and a little later one of the
sailors, who had charge of the store room, came and told Ned where he
could get a hammock.
"I'll get it," offered Frank. "You take it easy."
"Oh, I'm not so badly off as all that."
"Well, save yourself all you can. I'll get the hammock." And Frank did.
As he came back with it he heard Hank saying to some one:
"Well it happened all right, didn't it?"
"What happened?" asked Frank, quickly, a suspicion growing rapidly in
his mind.
"None of your business! I wasn't talking to you," was the sharp retort.
"I'll make it my business," said Frank, as he slung Ned's hammock for
him.
"Here you! Quiet down back there!" came the orders from a petty officer,
as he heard the talking.
Ned limped as he made his way across the deck to his new hammock, and
Frank had to help him up into it.
"Queer sort of game," murmured the younger lad, as he settled himself
comfortably on the mattress. "Who do you suppose cut those ropes?"
"Don't you know?" asked Frank.
"I can't imagine."
"It was that bully, Hank, of course. I saw him monkeying near your
lashings when I made up, but I didn't think, then, that he was up to any
tricks. But I'll pay him out all right."
"Say, don't get into trouble on my account," begged his brother.
"Oh, I won't get into any trouble, don't worry," was the answer. "But
I'll pay him back all right," Frank murmured as he leaped up into his
swinging bed.
Neither Frank nor Ned rested well that night. Ned on account of the pain
in his hip, and Frank because he was wondering why Hank, or any one, for
that matter, should have such a grudge against him or his brother as to
cut the hammock ropes.
"I guess Hank, who did it, just wanted to play a mean trick," thought
Frank. "But I'll have it out with him just the same. He needs a lesson!"
Ned groaned as he tried to get out of his hammock the next morning.
"Stiff?" asked Frank, who tumbled out at reveille.
"Dead lame, I'm afraid. I'll have to report sick, I guess."
"Well, maybe you'd better. No use taking any chances."
"It's tough luck," said Ned. "And I wanted to be in for target practice,
too," for it had become known that the day would be given over to that
drill.
"Never mind," Frank consoled him. "You'll have your chance later."
So while Frank, with the others, went through the early morning duties,
Ned did not. Of course his absence was noted by the officer in charge of
his division, who each day inspected the men under his charge and made a
report to the executive. In turn Ned's name reached the captain as not
being at his post, but that was merely a matter of routine.
At 8:30 each day, aboard the battleships, there is what is known as
sick-call. At that time all who are not well must consult the medical
officer. But Ned could not do this as he could only limp, so he was
taken on a stretcher and it was found that he was suffering from a
severe bruise. He was sent to the hospital, where he was told he would
have to stay in bed for two or three days.
And so Ned missed the first target practice, which was with three-inch
guns. Frank told him about it afterward.
"Oh, well, that isn't so bad, if it was only three-inch guns," remarked
the invalided lad. "I was afraid I'd miss the big ones."
"They come later," Frank remarked.
"Say, Frank," whispered Tom Dawson, one of the recruits from Norfolk, to
Ned's brother a little later, "do you know who it was cut the ropes of
the hammock?"
"I have my suspicions," was the answer.
"Well, I can tell you for sure. It was that sneak, Hank Dell. He's
boasting of it now!"
"I was pretty sure he did. What was his object?"
"I guess he wants you and your brother to shift to some other mess.
There are a couple of tough friends of his that he wants to berth
alongside of him in your places."
"Well, he's welcome to have them as far as I'm concerned," Frank said,
"but he needn't have gone that way about it. I think I'll have to take
it out on him."
"I would," advised Tom. "Some of us will stand by you. We don't like
Hank any too well. Slip down below right after afternoon drill, and
there'll be a clear place where you can see how well he can handle his
fists."
"I'll do it," agreed Frank.
Boxing is encouraged among the blue-jackets, and Frank was an adept at
it. He had seen Hank in action, and realized that he, too, could put up
a good fight.
Afternoon drill began at 1:30 o'clock, and on this occasion consisted of
a talk on projectiles, and practice in sighting the big gun, and in
firing a dummy charge. It was over at three, and Frank slipped below.
Some of those in the secret followed him.
Just how it had been brought about Frank did not know, but in a secluded
place on a lower deck he found a number of his friends, and there, also,
was Hank with a few of his cronies. Hank did not wait but swaggered up
to Frank and said:
"I understand you have been sayin' things about me."
"What things?" asked Frank, coolly.
"About slicin' the ropes of your brother's hammock."
"I said I thought you cut them--yes."
"Well, if I did, what are you going to do about it?"
Frank's answer was to strip off his middy blouse, an action followed by
Hank. The others formed a ring about them, and soon the fight was on. It
was scientific, in a way, until Frank, with a feint, caught Hank
unawares, and landed a good blow on one eye.
Then Hank lost his head and struck out wildly. He lost control of
himself, and Frank easily got through his guard, planting several
effective blows.
"I--I'll pay you for that!" spluttered Hank, as his lips swelled and one
eye partly closed. He struck out wildly, and did manage to hit Frank on
the face. It was a stinging blow, and hurt. But Frank knew he could not
hope to come off scathless.
Then it was give and take for awhile, until Frank saw his chance, and
aimed a sharp uppercut at Hank's chin. It caught the bully squarely, and
almost lifted him off his feet. He staggered back, and would have fallen
had not one of his chums caught him.
"I--I've had enough!" he muttered.
"Don't try to cut down any more hammocks," said Frank, as he went to
wash himself, for a scratch on his cheek was bleeding.
"Oh, you haven't heard the last from me--not by any means," threatened
Hank. But Frank did not worry.
The next day when Hank reported for early morning inspection his
condition, as well as that of Frank, attracted the attention of the
officer in charge of the division.
"How did you get that black eye?" he asked of Hank.
"Why, sir," was the grinning answer, "one of the fifteen-inch rifles
recoiled and struck me."
"Very good!" was the grim and understanding comment. "And you, Arden--how
about your scratches?"
"The--er--the goat mascot, sir."
"I see. A new fact in natural history--a goat with claws."
Of course, fighting was forbidden, but it went on just the same, and it
was winked at to a certain extent when not too flagrant. So the incident
was closed, as far as the ship authorities were concerned.
A few days later Ned was able to report again for his duties, and after
that Hank was transferred to another division, berthing in another part
of the ship.
"Well, I'm glad he's gone," Ned remarked. So were many others, for the
red-haired recruit was not generally liked.
When the _Georgetown_ had been at sea about a week, it was announced one
morning directly after sick-call that great gun drill would be held.
"And it's with projectiles, too!" cried Ned. "Cracky, but I'm glad.
You're in the forward turret with me, Frank."
"Yes, and I hope our ear drums don't crack. They make an awful racket,
those fifteen-inch rifles."
Preparations for the drill went on. It had been gone through with many
times before, though not always with charges of powder and projectiles,
so the men knew the routine.
Frank had been detailed on this occasion as gun-pointer, which meant
that he was to fire the gun when it was sighted at the target. Ned was
helping with the ammunition and powder, which came up into the turret on
a hoist, or elevator, from the magazine below.
"Are you all ready?" asked the officer in charge of the forward turret.
"All ready," was the answer.
"Watch yourselves, then. Try to make a record," he added.
"Aye, aye, sir!" answered Frank, who stood at the telescope sight, ready
to look for the big canvas target which would soon be towed into range.