The Battleship Boys at Sea Part 2

"Nothing very much, sir," replied Dan. "We belong to the village fire company at home-that is all."

The commander smiled.

"You are a pair of very likely lads."

"Have we pa.s.sed, sir?"

"You have."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" breathed Dan, unable to conceal his delight.

"Then-then we are in the Navy?" stammered Sam.

"Not quite. You will be, very soon, providing you have fulfilled all the requirements."

"What are we to do?"

"Have you the consent-the written consent-of your parents?"

"Yes, sir. That is, I have my mother's consent. My friend, Sam, here, has no parents."

"Has he a guardian?"

"Yes, sir."

"And has his guardian given his written consent also?"

"He has, sir."

"Let me have both of them."

The papers were handed to the commander, who perused them carefully.

"How did you lads chance to come so well prepared?"

"We had written to find out, so that we might not be disappointed when we got here. We could not afford to make the trip back home, so we did what we could before coming on."

"You did well. Young men, I am proud to see lads of your type entering the service. I predict for you both a rapid rise. You will, of course, meet with hards.h.i.+ps. These are a part of the life, but it is a n.o.ble career, and if you are the lads I believe you to be you will overcome all these things. You have in you the making of splendid men, and the United States Navy will surely bring out every dormant good quality that you may possess."

"Thank you, sir; we shall do our best," answered Dan.

"I am sure of that."

"What are we to do now, if it is proper to ask?"

"You will be furnished with transportation to Newport, R. I., where you will go to-night. You will enter the apprentice training school there.

After a course of three months, if qualified, you will be given an a.s.signment on one of the s.h.i.+ps of the fleet. You understand, you will enter the training school as apprentices. While there you will receive a salary of seventeen dollars and sixty cents a month. Your board and lodging, of course, will be furnished by the government, as will your uniforms and equipment."

"Thank you, sir," reiterated Dan.

The commander then administered the oath of allegiance to the lads in slow, impressive tones, while they stood rigidly at attention, their eyes fixed upon his.

"You will now report to the quartermaster," announced the commander after the lads had subscribed to the oath. "I shall expect to hear good reports from you, my lads." He cordially extended a hand to each, much to the amazement of the quartermaster, who never had seen his commander do that to an apprentice before.

The remaining details were disposed of in a very few minutes thereafter, and the boys made their way downstairs, out into the street, light-hearted and happy.

"Look!" cried Dan, pointing off to the East River.

"What is it?"

"It's a war s.h.i.+p. I wonder which one it is. Can you tell me, sir, what s.h.i.+p that is?" asked Dan of a pa.s.ser-by.

"That is the United States battles.h.i.+p 'Idaho,'" was the answer.

"I wonder if we ever will be placed on a s.h.i.+p like that," mused Dan, gazing in fascinated interest at the slow-moving vessel as she plowed her way under the Brooklyn bridge, heading for the open sea.

Dan Davis drew a long sigh.

"Come," he said.

"Where?"

"Somewhere where we can spend our last fifty cents for a meal. That will be the last meal we shall have until we get to Newport. Then we will look about some. We have several hours before the boat leaves. We shall probably get lost the first thing we do, but we have plenty of time in which to find ourselves," added Dan, with a short laugh.

Naturally, the s.h.i.+ps that lined one side of South Street, along which they were strolling, held the greatest interest for them. There were sailing s.h.i.+ps from the four quarters of the globe, tramp steamers, coasters from southern ports, interspersed with ferry boats and tug boats of every size and cla.s.s. There was such a confusion of craft that the boys could scarcely make out one from the other.

They had reached a cross street, up which they decided to turn, having learned that it would lead them to Broadway, which thoroughfare they were anxious to see, when there occurred an interruption that changed their plans entirely for the time being.

Sam had paused beside a little two-wheeled cart to purchase an apple from an old woman who had asked him to buy. He had just handed over his nickel for the apple when a crowd of firemen from a tramp steamer came rolling up the street, the grime of the stoke hole still on their faces.

Freed from the restraint of their floating prison, the men were hilarious and bent on mischief. But neither of the lads observed them, nor did they hear the shouts and songs of the stokers above the roar of the traffic in the busy street.

The first intimation the boys had that trouble was abroad was when a hulking stoker let fly a heavily booted foot at the little apple wagon.

His aim was true. Up shot the wagon, apples flying in all directions, showering over the heads of the lads and into the muddy gutter. The apple wagon itself turned bottom upward, landing fairly on the head of the aged woman, carrying her down with it, and flattening her in the gutter amid the ruin of her precious wares.

Sam wheeled like a flash. The freckles on his now pale face seemed to stand out like scars.

Without an instant's hesitation he let go a fist.

It caught the stoker fairly on the side of the jaw. The fellow dropped as if he had been shot, his face burrowing in the mud of the gutter, where he lay motionless for a few seconds.

So astonished were his companions that for the moment they stood gaping.

Then the humor of the situation seemed to strike them all at once. All hands broke out into a roar of mirth. That a slender lad should have put out one of their number was to them a huge joke.

Just as soon as he got over his bewilderment at having been so easily handled by a boy, the stoker got to his feet.

He did not immediately follow up his intention of soundly trouncing that forward youngster. This for the very simple reason that the stoker had gone down on his face in the mud. Now he held more than a mouthful of that plastic stuff. Growling, the stoker thrust two fingers of one hand into his mouth, trying to force the sticky mess out.