A SURPRISE, INDEED
"I expect you'll be getting your whole head knocked off some of these
days," growled Sam Hickey.
"It has not been knocked off yet," answered Dan with a laugh, "though
it has had a considerable list to starboard on occasions."
"I should say it had. I'm glad those niggers are in the brig.
They----"
"Don't use that word, please. I never liked it. And, besides, they
are not Africans; they are Hawaiians."
"They ought to have been shot. Anyhow, all black looks the same color
to me."
The lads were lounging on deck in the forecastle. It was Wednesday
afternoon, when all hands ordinarily take a half holiday, except those
who are on duty. The battleship "Long Island" was plowing up the
waters off the coast--"coasting," they call it on shipboard. The
officers on the bridge were taking sights at the ranges--light
houses--with their sextants, while the young midshipmen, under the
direction of the ship's navigator, were mathematically working out the
ship's position.
"I never could understand why they have to go to all that trouble,"
said Sam.
"They are figuring out our position--they are trying to find out where
we are."
"Don't we know where we are?"
"We don't. Perhaps the officers do."
"Pooh! I know where we are, and I don't have to get a sextant and a
lot of other junk to tell me, either," scoffed the red-headed boy.
"Well, where are we, Mr. Smarty, if you know so much?"
"We're off Atlantic City. That's the Absecon light off the port bow.
I could knock the top of it off with the seven-inch if I had half a
chance."
"That may be true, Sam, but suppose there were a fog, or the lights on
shore went out, or one of many things were to occur--supposing we were
hundreds of miles out at sea and--well, how would you find out where
you were, if you had no instruments with which to take your
observations, or did not know how to use those you had?"
"Hold on; that's enough. Don't put on any more trimmings. I'd do
without 'em, even if it were as bad as you say, and I'd never miss 'em,
either."
"What would you do?"
"Do? I'd just keep going by the compass."
"But supposing the compass were wrong?"
"I'd keep going, just the same, till I got somewhere--till I plumped up
against something solid; then I'd sing out, 'full speed astern, both
engines,' just like the 'Old Man' does up there, when the man in the
chains sings out 'by the mark five.' He's awful afraid the old ship
will scrape over a sand bar. Between you and me it would be good for
her. Why, don't you see, it would scrape the barnacles off her so she
wouldn't have to go into dry dock and cost the government all that
money. I know something about ships, I do."
"And what you do not know would sink all the ships in the Navy,"
answered Dan, emphasizing his reply by several nods of his head.
"Don't you believe it."
"Here comes the boatswain's mate. I think he is looking for us. Yes,
he's coming this way. I reckon we shall have to turn out for some
duty."
"I'll run and hide, then. I am not going to work this afternoon. He
can't get me interested in any of his patriotic games to-day. No,
siree!"
But Sam was destined to become greatly interested in the work that the
boatswain's mate had come to talk with them about.
"Good afternoon, boys," he greeted them. "How is your head, Davis?"
"Oh, I had almost forgotten that I had a head," laughed Dan,
instinctively laying a hand on the bandage that was bound about his
wound.
"You did pretty well the other night in overhauling that boat. Have
you done much rowing!"
"Oh, yes; considerable on the river at home. I have rowed in races
there--small rowboat races--and so has my friend Sam."
"I thought you were pretty handy about small boats. It is a good thing
for a seaman to know boats."
"I wonder what he's getting at?" muttered Sam, eyeing the boatswain's
mate suspiciously. "He isn't here for any good, I am sure of that."
The boy had noted that the boatswain's mate was eyeing them closely,
tilting his head to one side and squinting out of one eye as if he were
sighting a big gun.
"Don't shoot," laughed Sam.
"What's that?"
"Nothing, only I thought you were getting ready to shoot, the way you
were squinting at me."
"We are going to have some races ourselves in about three weeks."
"Is that so?" exclaimed Dan.
"Out here on the ocean?" demanded Sam.
"Not exactly out here, but in some bay along the coast. These races
are a big thing and arouse a lot of interest."
"Whom do you race with?" asked Dan.
"With crews from the other ships. We race for silver cups and the
rivalry is very keen. You have seen our racing gig, have you not,
boys?"
"Oh, yes; that's so. I had forgotten about the gig. It's up on the
upper deck, starboard side, isn't it?" queried Dan.
"Yes; that's the boat. She's one of the slickest boats in the service."
"Pretty heavy for racing, isn't she?" questioned Dan.
"They have to be for sea racing. You see, we frequently run into some
foul weather. No paper shells for that kind of racing. It's a man's
game, every inch of it," announced the boatswain's mate, Joe Harper by
name.
"I should think it must be. What grand sport," breathed Dan. "How
many men do you have in the boat?"
"Twelve, including the coxswain. We have some likely material on board
this season."
"Who has charge of the race? Who is the captain of the crew?"
"I am. That is, I am the coxswain, and have full charge of the boat
and the picking of the crew."
Sam was eyeing the boatswain's mate with new interest now. This time
it was Sam Hickey who was squinting out of the corner of one eye. He
was trying to figure out, in his own mind, what the boatswain's mate
was getting at. As yet he had not been able to decide in his own mind.
"There's a colored gentleman in the woodpile for sure," he muttered.
"He'll show his woolly head in a minute or so, or my name's not Sam
Hickey."
The colored gentleman fulfilled Sam's expectations very soon after that.
"Unfortunately, two of our men have been, taken away from us. I say
unfortunately, though I don't exactly mean it in that way. I'm mighty
glad we are rid of them, only that it makes necessary a change of
plans."
"Who are they, Mr. Harper?"
"Those two islanders, Black and White. They are a fine pair of birds,
but they certainly could pull an oar. Would you boys like to come up
and look over the boat?"
"Indeed we should," answered Dan enthusiastically.
They made their way to the upper deck. Two sailors had stripped the
canvas from the racing gig, and were preparing to go over it with
sandpaper to smooth its sides down.
"Why do you do that; to make it smoother?" asked Dan.
"That is the idea exactly," answered the boatswain's mate, patting the
gig affectionately. "We shall be working over this little craft for
the next few weeks on every possible occasion."
"You do not have sliding seats?"
"Oh, no. It would not be advisable in this kind of a racing craft.
You will observe, however, that the foot rests for the men's feet are
made of old shoes. They slip their feet into these, which gives them a
great purchase. They can release their feet at any instant, should we
get upset in a heavy sea."
"Each man pulls one oar, of course?"
"One oar only," nodded the mate. "That is about all one healthy man
could sit up and accomplish. None but the strongest and pluckiest can
stand the kind of a race we run."
"How long a course do you cover?"
"Four miles. Two miles out to the stake boat and return. As I was
saying, we have lost Black and White, and there are two vacancies on
the crew at present."
"Yes, sir," answered Dan in an unusually respectful tone.
"Yes, sir," added the red-haired boy. "What about it?"
"Well, as I said, there are two vacancies," replied the mate, with a
significant smile.
There followed a pause, during which Sam walked over to the rail, gazed
off across the waters, apparently without being conscious of having
seen them at all, then slowly returning to the gig, leaned up against
it, gently smoothing the gunwale with his hand.
"It is considered a great honor to be a member of a racing crew,
especially a winning crew, boys."
"Yes, sir; I should think it would be," agreed Dan.
"How would you lads like to try out for the crew?"
"We join the racing crew?" questioned Dan, his eyes opening wide in
amazement. "W--we----"
"Yes. You and your friend may try for the places vacated by Black and
White. They will, of course, be out before the races come off, but
their punishment forfeits their right to row with us. I have been
looking you two lads over, and I am sure you have good material in you.
I know you have the pluck. You have shown that you have, both of you,
on more than one occasion. What do you say?"
"What do I say?" answered Dan with glowing countenance. "I say that,
if I could get on the racing crew, I should be the happiest boy in
Uncle Sam's Navy."
"That's me," nodded Sam in approval of his companion's sentiments. "I
knew you were up here for something. The colored gentleman is out of
the woodpile."
"Say, Dan," remarked Sam as the boatswain's mate walked away, "speaking
of Black and White, I've got an idea. I'll bet that fellow Black threw
that seven-inch tompion overboard. I'll bet also that he's the black
scoundrel who plugged your ear with a marline spike."
Dan made no reply, but walked thoughtfully away.