"Now with an honest old seafaring man like myself," he continued, in a
confidential voice, "it's different. Why, if I should wear all the
hash marks I rate I'd look like a zebra. So I just don't wear any. You
know how it is. But when I like a girl I stick to her. Now from the
very first moment I laid eyes on you--"
Human endurance could stand no more. I threw myself between them.
"Why, here's Oswald hisself," exclaimed the reporter with masterfully
feigned surprise. "However did you get back so soon?"
"I have never been away anywhere to get back from, and you know it," I
replied coldly.
"Strange!" he said, "I could have sworn that I saw you checking out.
Can I get you some ice cream?" he added smoothly.
"What on?" I replied bitterly, knowing him always to be broke.
"Your mother must have--"
"Come," said I to Polly, "leave this degraded creature to ply his
pernicious trade alone. I have some very important words to say to
you."
"Good-by, Mr. Savanrola," said Polly.
"Until we meet again," answered the reporter, with the utmost
confidence.
_Aug. 12th._ It's all arranged. Those words I had to say to Polly were
not spoken in vain. She has promised to be my permanent sweetie. Of
course, I have had a number of transit sweeties in the past, but now
I'm going to settle down to one steady, day in and day out sweetie. I
told Tim, the barkeep, about it last night and all he said was:
"What about all those parties we'd planned to have after we were paid
off?"
This sort of set me back for the moment. The spell of Polly's eyes had
made me forget all about Tim.
"Well, Tim," I replied, "I'll have to think about that. Come on over
to the canteen and I'll feed you some of those honest, upstanding
sandwiches they have over there."
"Say," says Tim, the carnal beast, forgetting everything at the
prospect of food, "I feel as if I could cover a flock of them without
trying."
So together Tim and I had a bachelor's dinner over the sandwiches,
which were worthy of that auspicious occasion.
_Aug. 17th._ We were standing on a street corner of a neighboring
town. The party consisted of Tim the barkeep, the "Spider," an
individual who modestly acknowledged credit for having brought relief
to several over-crowded safes in the good old civilian days; Tony, who
delivered ice in my district also in those aforementioned days, and
myself. These gentlemen for some time had been allowing me to exist in
peace, and I had been showing my gratitude by buying them whatever
little dainties they desired, but such a comfortable state of affairs
could not long continue with that bunch. Suddenly, without any
previous consultation, as if drawn together as it were by some
fiendish undercurrent, they decided to make me unhappy--me, the only
guy that spoke unbroken English in the crowd. This is the way they
accomplished their low ends. When the next civilian came along they
all of them shouted at me in tones that could be heard by all
passers-by:
"Here comes a 'ciwilian,' buddy; he'll give you a quarter."
"Do you need some money, my boy?" said the old gentleman to me in a
kindly voice.
"No, sir," I stammered, getting red all over, "thank you very much,
but I really don't need any money."
Ironical laughter from my friends in the background.
"Oh, no," cries Tim sarcastically, "he don't need no money. Just watch
him when he sees the color of it."
"Don't hesitate, my son," continued the kind old man, "if you need
anything I would be glad to help you out."
"No, sir," I replied, turning away to hide my mortification,
"everything is all right."
"Poor but proud," hisses the "Spider." The old gentleman passed on,
sorely perplexed.
For some time I was a victim of this crude plot. When I tried to move
away they followed me around the streets, crying after me:
"Any 'ciwilian' will give you a quarter. Go on an' ask them."
Several ladies stopped and asked if they could be of any service to
me. I assured them that they couldn't, but all the time these low
sailors whom I had been feeding lavishly kept jeering and intimating
that I was fooling and would take any amount of money offered me from
a dime up. This shower of conflicting statements always left the
kindhearted people in a confused frame of mind and broke me up
completely. I had to chase one man all the way down the street and
hand him back the quarter he had thrust into my hand. My friends never
forgave me for this.
At length, tiring of their sport, they desisted and stood gloomily on
the curb as sailors do, looking idly at nothing.
"It don't look like we was ever going to get a hitch," said the
"Spider," after we had abandonedly offered ourselves to several
automobiles.
At that moment a huge machine rolled heavily by.
"There goes a piece of junk," said Tim. The lady in the machine must
have heard him, for the car came to and she motioned for us to get in.
"Going our way?" she asked, smiling at us.
"Thanks, lady," replies Tim, elbowing me aside as he climbed aboard.
"Dust your feet," I whispered to Tony as he was about to climb in.
"Whatta you mean, dusta my feet?" shouted Tony wrathfully, "you go
head an' dusta your feet! I look out for my feet all right."
"What did he want yer to do, Tony?" asked Tim in a loud voice.
"Dusta my feet," answered Tony, greatly injured.
"What yer doin', Oswald?" asks Tim sarcastically, "tryin' to drag us
up?"
"I only spoke for the best," I answered, sick at heart.
"Ha! ha!" grated Tim, "guess you think we ain't never rode in one of
these wealthy wagons before."
"Arn't you rather young?" asked the lady soothingly of the "Spider,"
who by virtue of his mechanical experience in civil life had been
given a first class rating, "Arn't you rather young to have so many
things on your arm?"
"Yes," answered the "Spider" promptly, "but I kin do a lot of tricks."
The conversation languished from this point.
"We always take our boys to dinner, don't we, dear?" said the lady to
her husband a little later.
"Yes, dear," he answered meekly, just like that.
Expectant silence from the four of us.
"Have you boys had dinner?" the lady asked.
"Certainly not," we cried, with an earnestness that gave the lie to
our statement, "no dinner!"
"None at all," added Tim thoughtfully.
The automobile drew up at a 14k. plate-glass house that fairly made
the "Spider" itch.
"Gosh," he whispered to me, looking at the porch, "that wouldn't be
hard for me."
During the dinner he kept sort of lifting and weighing the silver and
then looking at me and winking in an obvious manner.
"Not many people here to-night," said Tony from behind his plate.
"Why, there is the usual number," said the husband in surprise, "my
wife and myself live alone."
"Oh," said Tony, looking around at the tremendous dining hall, "I
thought this was a restaurant."
[Illustration: "'OH,' SAID TONY, 'I THOUGHT THIS WAS A RESTAURANT'"]
Tim started laughing then, and he hasn't stopped yet. He's so proud he
didn't make the mistake himself.
The "Spider" didn't open his mouth save for the purpose of eating. He
told me he was afraid his teeth would chatter.
_Aug. 20th._ Got a letter from Polly to-day. She says that her finger
is just itching for the ring. I told the "Spider" about it and he said
that he had several unset stones he'd let me have for next to
nothing. A good burglar is one of the most valuable friends a man can
possess.
_Sept. 3d._ I had such a set-back to-day. Never was I more confounded.
This morning I received a notice to report before the examining board
for a first class rating. Of course I had been expecting some slight
recognition of my real worth for a long time, but when the blow fell I
was hardly prepared for it. Hurrying to "My Blue Jacket's Manual," I
succeeded by the aid of a picture in getting firmly in my mind the
port and starboard side of a ship and then I presented myself before
the examiners--three doughty and unsmiling officers. There were about
twelve of us up for examination. Seating ourselves before the three
gentlemen, we gazed upon them with ill-concealed trepidation. One of
them called the roll in a languid manner, and then without further
preliminaries the battle began, and I received the first shock of the
assault. I don't quite remember the question that man asked me, it was
all too ghastly at the time, but I think it was something like this:
"What would you do if you were at the wheel in a dense fog and you
heard three whistles on your port beam, four whistles off the
starboard bow, and a prolonged toot dead ahead?"
"I would still remain in a dense fog," I gasped in a low voice.
"Speak up!" snapped the officer.
"Full speed ahead and jumps," whispered a guy next to me. It sounded
reasonable. I seized upon it eagerly.
"I'd put full steam ahead and jump, sir," I replied.
"Are you mad?" shouted the amazed officer.
"No, sir," I hastened to assure him, "only profoundly perplexed. I
think, sir, that I would go into a conference, under the
circumstances."
The officer seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown.
"What's your name?" asked another officer suddenly.