The Battleship Boys at Sea Part 10

"Sh-h-h," warned Dan. "I think it must be something else. They wouldn't have rooster fights here."

The officer was explaining to them the various movements in the physical drill, calculated to give the boys a powerful physique as well as great suppleness. He described the movements as "full sweeps," "body circles"

and "side stoop," which latter Sam characterized as the back porch movement. These, after being executed, were followed by a hurdle race.

When the announcement was made that this would be next on the program the boys could scarcely repress a cheer. But the hurdle race was not to be the harum-scarum, go-as-you-please contest that they had been in the habit of playing. Instead, it was an orderly, systematic race in which the line formation was supposed to be kept throughout.

However, the lads went at it with a will. The variety of the work kept them constantly interested. There was not a dull or tiresome moment in all that morning's work, the instructor leading them from one thing to another until the faces of the apprentices glowed and their eyes sparkled with excitement and pleasure.

"Halt!"

The movements had come to an end for the day.

"Next will be a c.o.c.k-fight. You young apprentices may not understand the game, so we will let the older men go through a brief battle while you look on."

The plan of the game was for the boys to form in two lines some ten paces apart and at the command "hop," they were to hop forward on the left or right foot as the case might be and attempt to bowl their adversaries over.

"I've played that game," whispered Sam. "Let me get into it and I'll show them a c.o.c.k-fight that will make the fellows green with envy."

"Fall in, apprentices!" came the command.

The lads obeyed with alacrity.

"Do you see the Pennsylvania Dutchman over there on the other side?"

whispered Sam.

"Yes."

"Well you watch Pennsy. I'm going to pluck that rooster's tail feathers, or my name isn't Sam Hickey."

"Be careful that you do not do anything that will bring a reproof. You will get a mark against you, if you do."

"Don't you worry. The marks will be on Blinkers, not on me."

"Attention!"

The boys straightened. There was a grin on the face of Sam Hickey, and had one been an observer, he would have noticed another on the face of Louis Flink.

"Right foot, hop!"

Fifty apprentices began hopping across the floor, some losing their balance and measuring their length upon the drill floor at the first jump.

Sam did not appear to be noticing the adversary he had picked out.

Neither did Flink seem to have Sam in mind. However, all at once both boys made a sudden turn. They lunged toward each other like two human projectiles.

The impact of their bodies when they came together, was heard all over the drill room and the lads bounded back, hopping in a circle, for several seconds, to catch their balance.

Once more they came together, followed by a rebound of greater force than before.

"Too much for you, eh?" laughed Dan, as he hopped by his companion.

"He's tougher than I thought, but I can stay on my feet as long as he can, though my hopper weighs a ton at this minute."

The men were falling out rapidly now, here and there one toppling over, another touching the floor with his free foot or grasping a pillar for support. All such were ruled out of the game.

After five minutes the battle had narrowed down to Sam Hickey and Louis Flink.

"I've got you now, Blinkers," announced Sam, with a grin.

"No talking," commanded the officer. "Hands at sides and keep fighting until one of you is down."

"Look out, I'm coming," warned Flink in a low tone.

"Thank you; so am I," returned Sam.

Neither boy swerved, but, as they neared each other, they turned so that their shoulders met, sending them far apart again. By this time, the officers and a.s.sembled apprentices had become deeply interested. They realized that this c.o.c.k-fight was different from anything they ever had seen. Two gladiators of the pit were before them, and, providing there was no interference from the officers, there was excitement ahead.

The petty officers in charge so far lost themselves in the unusual battle as to overlook the fact that the apprentices were not only talking, but urging on the contestants and giving them suggestions.

It was noticeable, however, that the sympathy of the crowd was with the red-headed, freckle-faced boy, Sam Hickey. Sam's face wore a broad grin.

No matter how hard a rap he might get the grin remained. If he was the least bit angry he kept the fact well hidden.

Flink, on the other hand, was getting more and more angry as the minutes pa.s.sed. He had reckoned on making short work of his opponent, but found that the raw-boned country boy was as hard as nails, and not to be downed except by superior strength, nor to be frightened by a bluff.

Back and forth the two boys hopped, smas.h.i.+ng together, bounding apart, dancing about each other in circles, sparring for an opening as it were.

Thus far each had proved himself too wary for the other.

Hickey, either through design or accident, had been crowding his opponent toward the broad doorway on the west side of the drill room.

But, if there was a motive in the action, no one appeared to understand it. Now, Sam was hopping about his adversary so rapidly that Flink was forced to keep spinning until he was giving a very good imitation of a top. So ludicrous were his movements that the apprentices shouted with laughter. At the same time Sam was darting in and out, but not landing on Flink at all. His sole purpose now appeared to be to confuse the other man.

Flink was growing weary. The onlookers noticed that his movements were becoming slower and slower. Sam had observed this already, and his eyes lighted triumphantly.

The dark-faced apprentice had spun himself about until he was just opposite the open doorway, a few paces from it, when Hickey uttered a loud grunt and hurled himself upon his opponent.

At that moment, Flink's back chanced to be toward Hickey. Sam landed in the small of the other's back with irresistible force.

Flink shot toward the door, the apprentices setting up a howl, followed by a cheer. But their merriment died on their lips. Lieutenant Commander Devall, the executive officer of the station, attracted by the noise in the drill hall, had hurried down the walk to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. His trim, white-clad figure appeared in the doorway, just as Louis Flink was making his flight.

Flink hit the executive officer with great violence, the two landing on the cement walk outside, with the apprentice on top.

Beyond the narrow walk was a steep bank leading down almost to the water's edge. On over the bank rolled the apprentice and the lieutenant commander, each making desperate efforts to save himself.

It was a most undignified position for a lieutenant commander to find himself in, to say nothing of the unpleasantness of going over a bank with a raw apprentice on top of one.

"They're over!" shouted a voice.

Dan sprang forward to the quartermaster, saluting.

"May I go over and help them, sir?"