"No mine drill to-day," sang out a boatswain's mate, as he passed along
the forecastle. "Water too rough. If the weather quiets down, however,
there may be something else doing."
Instead of a day in the small boats laying mines, as had been planned,
the men were to have another field day, painting ship, after the decks
had been scrubbed down. Gun crews got out their pots and brushes, then
crawled through the narrow openings into the gun-turrets, first having
thrown open the hatches on top of the turrets, to let in enough light to
enable them to see where to paint.
Walls were painted white, floors red, jackies both red and white. Dan
and Sam--the latter having been released from the brig after serving his
sentence--not belonging to a gun crew, were put to work in a corridor on
this occasion. They were in great good humor, having gained the
distinction of being ordered to report for wig-wag signal duty during
the mine practice, both being experts with the signal flag. The boys
were talking over their good fortune when the captain came hurrying
through. Instantly the boys came to attention.
"Good morning, lads," greeted the commanding officer.
"Fresh paint beside you, sir," warned Dan.
"Very careless of me not to have observed it. I see I have gathered
quite a quantity of it already," he added, examining his trim braided
blouse that was now streaked with white.
"May I speak, sir?" asked Dan.
"Certainly, my lad. What is it?"
"Let me rub the paint off while it is still fresh?"
"How?"
"This way, sir."
Dan examined the sleeve of his jacket critically. Having found a clean
place he approached the captain and began rubbing his own sleeve over
the soiled spot on the sleeve of the commanding officer. This done he
went at the left side of the blouse where there was a larger blotch of
white. In a few moments he had so thoroughly cleaned the blue blouse, by
rubbing it violently with the goods of his jacket, that all traces of
the white paint had disappeared.
Dan stepped back, saluting respectfully.
"Why, you have taken it all off, but you will have the trouble of
cleaning your own jacket."
"I shall have to do that anyway, sir."
"Thank you, my lad."
The captain saluted and passed on.
"That boy is as graceful and self-possessed as if he had spent years in
the service. I must keep my eye on him. I predict that he will be doing
something worth while some of these days."
Dan's face was flushed. He was pleased with himself. Sam glanced over at
him and winked gravely.
"I wish I knew how to do things the way you do," he said. "Somehow my
feet and hands don't fit the rest of my anatomy. I'm a thickhead and a
landlubber, all in one."
"You are all right, if you would only think so," replied Dan.
After the noonday mess the boys were resting on the forward deck when
Sam called the attention of his companion to a group of sailors on the
port side, leaning against the rail engaged in earnest conversation. The
spokesman was no other than Bill Kester. Bill was gesticulating. A
sailor appeared to be opposing him in something.
"I wonder what's up?" mused Dan.
"Quarreling again, I guess," decided Sam, rising and strolling forward
where he leaned over the bow of the ship, gazing thoughtfully down into
the turbulent sea. Now and then a thin shower of spray would mount high
in the air and dash over him, the anchored ship having swung about until
its bow was headed into the half-gale that was blowing up the coast.
After a time two jackies strolled over to where Dan was sitting, and
leaned indolently against the forward twelve-inch turret.
"How's the shipmate to-day?" inquired one.
"Very well, thank you."
"Feeling fit as a fiddle, eh?"
"Never better, though I do feel as if I had been eating paint all my
life. I'm all red on the outside and white on the inside. My walls do
not need any more dressing," laughed Dan.
"Then we've got a proposition to make to you."
"A what?"
"Proposition."
"What is it?"
"It's usual on shipboard, when one party gets a grouch on against
another, to meet according to rules and fight it out."
"Well, what of it?"
"How'd you like to fight, matey?"
"No, thank you," Dan replied, with considerable emphasis, the memory of
his previous trouble still being fresh in mind. "Whom do you want me to
fight?"
"We haven't said we wanted you to fight anybody. We ain't very strong on
having you fight somebody. Somebody wants to fight you, and we've been
appointed a committee to come over and consult with you."
"Some one wishes to fight me, is that it?" questioned Dan.
"That's about it, shipmate."
Dan gazed at them inquiringly.
"Who?"
"Bill Kester."
"I might have known it."
"It's only fair to tell you, Mr. Dynamite, that he's about the
scrappiest scrapper on board the 'Long Island.' We've been thinking of
getting one of the men from aboard the 'Michigan' to come over and whale
the daylights out of him some of these days. He's got to get it before
he'll quit picking trouble with other folks. You're under-size and
lighter than Bill, even if you did lay him out the other day. But
because of your size you've got a right to refuse, if you want to,"
continued the sailor.
It was plain, however, that he secretly hoped Dan would accept the
challenge to do battle with the ship's bully.
"No, boys, I have had one fight, though it wasn't much of a fight after
all. You know what happened? I was called before the mast and let go
with a warning. Next time they would put me ashore and tell me to go
home. I wish to stay in the service. When I fight, let it be under the
Flag I serve."
"Nothing of the sort. Bill will be telling, all over the ship, that you
are afraid to meet him, and maybe he'll call you a coward. Of course we
fellows know you ain't, Dynie." ("Dynie," since Dan's first outburst
with Kester, had become a favorite nickname for the boy.)
"He had better not," Dan made answer in a low, tense voice, a dull flush
suffusing his cheeks. "If he does that, I may be tempted to use a
marline spike on him."
"Then you'd sure get out of the service," replied the sailor.
"You tell him to keep away and let me alone. If he doesn't I'll defend
myself, as I did before, that is, if I can. I am not looking for
trouble, but I'll face it if it comes."
"Shall we tell him that?"
"Tell him by all means, if you think best. He does not interest me at
all."
"You think it over, Dynie. We'll talk with you later. We'll tell Bill
something to satisfy him till you make up your mind."
"I have made up my mind. I won't fight."
The committee returned to the group, where they talked for some moments,
Dan observing that Kester was scowling more ferociously than usual and
his voice rising higher.
"He's a quitter! He's a coward!" exclaimed Bill.
Dan rose hastily and walked away.
"Trouble seems to be getting right in my way. If I don't try to push it
out of the way I fall over it. What's a fellow to do?"
"What's wrong, Dan?" questioned Sam, overtaking his companion at that
moment. He had observed Dan's troubled face.
"Oh, nothing much. They want me to fight that fellow Kester."
"Have they told you so?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Just now. Two of the boys came to me to ask if I would fight him."
"What did you say?"
"I told them I wouldn't do it, unless he forced me to do so in
self-defense, and that then I'd use a marline spike on him."
Sam shook his head thoughtfully.
"It doesn't seem to surprise you any," complained Dan.
"No, I can't say that it does. I had suspected something of the sort was
in the wind. Are you afraid of him, Dan?"
"Afraid of him?"
"Yes."
"No, I am not afraid of him," answered the lad in a quiet voice. "But I
have had my little lesson through your fate, you know. Bread and water
don't agree with my digestive organs. Why, what do you think would
happen to me were I to get mixed up in that sort of a row?"
"Nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"I hear that when men on board these ships have a misunderstanding, they
are permitted to fight it out under proper conditions."
"They do?"
"Yes. But the battles, I have heard, don't amount to much. The fighters
are provided with boxing gloves and the fight is more of a boxing match
than a battle. When it has gone far enough it is stopped, the winner
being the one who has scored the most points. One of the men was telling
me about it. It isn't very different from the boxing matches you used to
take part in when we were in the High School, is it?" suggested Sam.
"No," answered Dan somewhat doubtfully. "But this Kester is a loafer,
and I do not like to trust him. I am not timid, but I want to win
promotion in the service."
"The others will see that you have fair play."
"You advise me to meet him then?" questioned Dan.
"Of course I do. I wish he had challenged me to fight him. I owe him
one."
"I am surprised at you, Sam. You forget you have recently been in
trouble for fighting and now you turn around and urge me to go in for a
bout with a fellow who intends to knock my head off if he is able to do
it."
"Not a fight, a boxing match, Dynie," grinned Sam.
Dan laughed.
"A nice gentlemanly, hand-shaking sort of a bout, eh? Well I'll see."
"Are you going to meet him?"
"I will let you know in a few minutes whether I shall or not."
"What are you going to do?"
"Find out where I am at first," answered Dan, turning away and hurrying
below. He went directly to the quarters of the boatswain's mate, and,
after calling out his own name at the door, was told to enter.
"What is it, my lad?"
Dan briefly related the story of the proposition that had been made to
him to fight Kester. The mate listened gravely until he had finished.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"That is what I have come to ask you, sir. You told us to consult you
when we were in doubt or needed advice."
"I certainly did."
"I am in need of advice right now--very much in need of it, sir."
"There is bad blood between you two, is there not?"
"You might call it that. I cannot say that I have any feeling either
way. You know my chum was sent to the brig for having a mix-up with
Kester. I might share the same fate."
"Tell me the details of that trouble. I have not heard the inside."
Dan did so briefly.
"The coward!" muttered the boatswain's mate, upon hearing how Kester had
knocked Sam Hickey down. "Meet him, by all means."
"But, sir, shall I not be disciplined for so doing?"
"No, lad. Fighting, it is true, is severely punished on board the ships
of the Navy, but boxing is encouraged. We are all fighting men;
therefore we should all know how to fight, under proper regulations. You
will get fair play; the men will see to that."
"I think I shall be able to take care of myself," smiled Dan. "I want to
be sure that I shall not get into disgrace, that's all."
"No danger. But I do not like to see a boy so young pitted against an
experienced man like Kester. It isn't fair. However, if you are greatly
overmatched, the bout will be promptly stopped. You will have shown your
grit."
"Thank you very much. You have relieved my mind."
Dan made his way back to the forecastle where he found Sam waiting for
him.
"Well, how about it?"
"It's all right. I will meet him if the terms are satisfactory. Will you
be my second, Sam?"
"Of course. You do not have to ask that. I'll go consult Kester's
seconds now."
Later on Sam rejoined his companion.
"How is it going to be carried off?" questioned Dan.
"The men are going to pick out a referee. You and Kester are to box with
eight ounce gloves until the referee stops you, or either of you decide
you have had enough. You will get a fair show, the boys say. They won't
stand for Bill's punishing you brutally. They admire your pluck in
meeting him. If you could thrash him, Dan Davis, I'd be willing to go to
the brig again, and feed on bread and water for a month."
"I'm lucky if I do not get there myself," grinned Dan. "When is it to
take place?"
"At seven bells this evening, half-past seven. There goes the bugle. We
must get at our painting again."