CHAPTER IV ALL HANDS ABOARD!

On Tuesday, the twenty-third of June, the _Bright Wing_ lay in the berth assigned to her at the Navy Yard, all prepared to set sail at noon. There was a moderate breeze down the harbor, the tide was high at eleven o’clock, and all she would need would be a tow out for a mile or so to get out of the way of the shipping.

Everything was shining on board. The ship carried a new suit of sails, and her paint and bright work were all gleaming in the sunlight. At the fore topmasthead the Boy Scout flag was rippling, and at the main truck the long pennant was waving gracefully. The ensign did not catch the wind so well, being under the lee of a big battleship docked close by. Everything looked as if the _Bright Wing_ were chuckling to herself in anticipation of her coming venture.

The three Northbridge boys had come up by the early train, accompanied by Mr. Sheffield and Tom’s sister Eleanor, and Chippie had immediately gone below to hunt up his locker, where he was putting the contents of his sea bag in order. The other two boys remained on the dock, taking in the scene before them with pride and pleasure; Dick talked with Mr. Sheffield about different points of special interest, while Tom’s beaming face spoke more eloquently than words as he and Eleanor listened to the conversation.

“She’s like a duck in the sunshine!” said Dick.

“Yes, right after her morning dip,” said Tom.

Presently Mr. Sheffield and Eleanor bade the boys good-by and Tom and Dick jumped on to the deck.

Some of the other boys had come on board the night before and had already put their lockers in order and got into their white uniforms. Dick and Tom received their individual “station billets” upon which they found all the information as to their bunks, lockers, divisions, sections, and special duties in the different emergency drills, written out clearly, so that they could set to work at once to find out where they belonged, what was expected of them, and how to make themselves comfortable.

At a quarter to eleven the boatswain’s pipe was heard, loud and clear, and the order “all hands aboard” rang out. The few scouts who were left on the wharf cut their good-bys short and quietly clambered down the ratlines or jumped on to the deck. Then the gangway was hauled up, the hawsers released, and the _Bright Wing_ sat, like a gull, free in the water. In the meantime the Government tugboat had backed up within easy distance and thrown her line on board; and, as the vessel drifted into the channel, the tug got under way, the line tightened, and the _Bright Wing_ followed in her wake.

The regular watch were at their posts on deck as a matter of course,--the lookout in the bow, the boatswain’s mate with his quartermaster and other seamen just in front of the quarter-deck, while the rest of the boys climbed up the rigging, shaking their hats in final farewell to their friends ashore.

It was not long, however, before they were far enough out in the channel for the tug to leave them. Jack Perkins was in the bow in charge of the line; the Captain was at the wheel; Jack was waiting for the order to “let her go”, and, as soon as the words reached his ears, he cast off the line which slipped into the water and left the _Bright Wing_ to her own resources. The Captain of the tug waved his hand in salutation, the sails filled, and a sense of living motion was felt by all on board as the _Bright Wing_ rolled over slightly and began cleaving the water under the pressure of her sails.

Tom and Dick were standing near the rail, well forward on the windward side. “Gee!” cried Dick, “what a difference there is between sailing and being towed.”

“You bet,” said Tom, “something like being alive or dead!”

Soon after they had parted from the tug, the bugle sounded for mess inspection, and the scout master passed up and down the line. After that, all hands waited “at ease” until the cabin boy came up on deck and announced dinner to the ranking officer. The boys then marched aft by twos, followed by the officers, and stood at their places at the tables until after grace.

Dick, Tom, and Chippie, much to their disappointment, found themselves in different sections, so that they did not sit together at meals; but Dick sat next to his boatswain’s mate, who was Clarence Ellsworth.

“Say,” said Dick, when he got a chance to speak, “why do the boys go down to dinner before the officers? You’d think the officers would march down first.”

“Well, you see,” said Ellsworth, “those who go down first have to wait for the others, and the officers come down when everything is ready to pitch into the food. Something like getting into a boat,--we have to go down first to get things ready. (Law Number 5.) It’s the same for Sea Scouts and for all sailors everywhere.”

“Oh, I understand,” said Dick.

The boys’ table ran down the whole length of the berth deck--fore and aft--on the starboard side, while the smaller officers’ table was on the port side. Jack sat at the head, or forward end, of the boys’ table as chief boatswain’s mate. The talk was very animated and rather loud, for, of course, the boys felt the pleasant excitement of new surroundings and unaccustomed conditions. Some of them were shy and a little awkward on account of the strangeness of things they had never seen before; but, under the influence of good food and good humor, they all gradually unbent, and the boys of each section soon felt at home with one another. Of course it was the business of the boatswain’s mates to help this feeling along as much as possible, so that they could get the best work out of their men; for it is a rule, both on land and sea, that the best work is done when the men who work together do it in a friendly and a happy spirit. This, you will remember, is what Mrs. Perkins had learnt from her father, the captain of the _Sally Smart_. She had taught it to Jack, and Jack had taught it to the other boatswain’s mates.

Before dinner was over, Dick noticed the new watch go on deck to relieve the old one, and the old watch come down to take their share of the good things. By the time all the boys had returned on deck, it seemed to him that they had gone about half the way to their anchorage at Hull. The remainder of the afternoon was spent principally in putting their belongings in order and in asking questions about the different parts of the ship and their uses. By half-past four they dropped anchor at Hull, and the sails were furled; and, at five o’clock, the bugle sounded for the first General Quarters of the cruise.

First, the boys were drawn up in two rows on each side facing each other, while the setting sun threw long shadows to starboard on the deck; they were then faced about toward the quarter-deck to hear the first official words addressed to them by the Chairman of the Committee. He was a tall man with gray hair and dressed in a blue suit; you could see that he was fond of his job, and Dick thought that his eyes were noticing everything that was going on. He spoke in a clear voice that you could hear all over the ship, although it was not particularly loud, and there was absolute attention on the part of the boys.

“I’m mighty glad, boys,” said he, “to welcome you on board this ship. You know, of course, that we are here for a serious purpose. The _Bright Wing_ is not a yacht, and we are not here just to enjoy ourselves, although we probably shall have a much better time than if we were. We are here to learn to apply the spirit of the scout law to the art of seamanship. I do not want to keep you long now, but I want to point out to you at the outset the fact that you have a real responsibility as the crew of this vessel.

“Men who are in the habit of facing danger look it squarely in the face and do not pretend that it does not exist. There is always a certain amount of risk in life at sea, although many sailors seem to think it is more dangerous to cross Washington Street or Broadway during business hours than to face the most adverse winds and dangerous currents; but, for the sake of those we have left at home, as well as for other good and sufficient reasons, the safety of the vessel is something we are bound in honor to ensure to the utmost of our ability.

“Now there are three things which are essential to this safety. The first is the soundness of the vessel and her tackle, and for this the Sea Scouting Committee, of which I have the honor to be the Chairman, is responsible; the second is the knowledge and skill of the Captain, and for this both he and the Committee are responsible; and the third is the handiness and good discipline of the crew, and for this YOU are responsible.

“Both the Committee and I are satisfied with the soundness of the vessel and her tackle, and also with the skill and knowledge of our Captain or Navigating Officer; it remains for you to prove that you are equal to the share of the responsibility which devolves upon you, and I heartily believe that you will prove yourselves worthy of the trust.”

After this the boys were dismissed until Mess Inspection and supper at half-past five.

“I say,” said a quiet boy, nudging Dick’s elbow, as they sat eating their baked beans, “that old Chairman seems to mean what he says all right.”

“Yep,” replied his companion, “you bet he does. And he expects us to toe the mark. Any duffer can see that!”

After supper Dick found the other two members of the Triangle Club, and they voted unanimously that the Chairman was “all right.”

Before prayers, the names on the Anchor Watch were posted by Mr. Miller, with particular instructions for the scout on duty, and the first watch was from eight to nine. This hour was always assigned to one of the youngest boys, and Chippie happened to be the one selected the first night on board. As soon as prayers were over, Mr. Miller hastened to join him to make sure that he understood just what his duties were, and to repeat to him the instructions already posted on the berth deck.

It was Chippie’s business to know the name of the Sea Scout who succeeded him at nine o’clock, and also the exact position of his bunk. He was to keep a sharp lookout on all sides of the vessel and to notice if anybody hailed the ship from shore. He was to watch the riding lights fore and aft and to see that they were brightly burning. He was to give notice of any boats or other vessels approaching or hailing the ship. On noticing anything that called for attention he was immediately to report to the scout master. In case of change of weather, he was to call Mr. Wilson, the mate.

He was provided with a card called the “Rough Log” ruled off into several different headings on which, before the end of his watch, he was to note down the state of the weather, the state of the sea, the cloud formations, the direction of the wind, and the direction of the ship’s head, stating the time of his observations. This card was then passed on to his successor, so that the complete record for the night contained observations for every hour.

At five minutes of nine he was to go below and wake up his successor. Then he was to return on deck and ring the ship’s bell (two bells) at nine o’clock. After that he was to remain on duty until relieved; but, if his relief failed to put in an appearance at five minutes past nine, he was to go below and turn him out of his bunk. He was then to return on deck until relieved, and under no circumstances to leave his post before the arrival of the new watch.

“Remember,” said Mr. Miller, in conclusion, “you are responsible for the safety of the ship during your watch, and you are on your honor.”

The boys had all turned in, and taps had sounded by the time Mr. Miller had finished. Left to himself, Chippie began pacing the deck, stopping every few minutes to peer out into the darkness and to listen to every sound.

The binnacle lamp was always kept burning so that the compass could be read; and, in the light of this lamp, Chippie filled out the spaces provided on the Rough Log. He wet his thumb and held it up in the air to judge which way the wind was blowing, and was surprised to find how difficult it was to make up his mind. Finally concluding that there was no wind (a fact which in his great earnestness he had failed to notice), he put down a good big zero under the heading “Direction of the Wind.”

“Good joke,” thought Chippie; “I guess it won’t take me so long to find that out next time,” and then turned his attention to the “direction of the ship’s head”, “the state of the sea”, “the state of the sky”, etc.

Any job, when you are not accustomed to it, seems awkward, and Chippie filled out his last space with a sense of relief. Then he ran forward to look at the ship’s clock in the companionway, and found, to his surprise, that it was already one minute to nine, and he should have gone below to wake the next watch four minutes before.

But luckily the new watch had been lying awake in his bunk with his clothes on, and saved Chippie the trouble of going below by appearing at the top of the ladder just as Chippie was about to go down. So then Chippie went straight to the ship’s bell and--“ding-ding”--“two bells”--rang out into the night.

“Gee, but I’m in luck,” whispered Chippie to himself.

Then he went aft with the new watch, showed him the Rough Log and the list of directions, and finally went forward again, slipped down the companionway, and crawled into his bunk.

“I wonder if some of the other fellows will be trying to study out which way the wind is blowing!” thought Chippie as he pulled off his clothes. Then his thoughts went back to his home in Northbridge for a while; and presently the _Bright Wing_ began rocking gently in the roll of a passing steamer. He was just awake enough to notice the motion and then sailed off to the land of dreams.

At ten o’clock it was Dick’s turn on watch. The last members of the crew ashore--the carpenter and first mate--had come aboard at half-past nine, and there were no more hails to listen for. The boats were all on their davits, the boat booms and side-ladders were up, and the _Bright Wing_ was tucked up and snug for the night.

After Dick had finished his observations of the weather, etc., and had filled out the Rough Log, he watched the sky for a long time. He did not know the stars very well, but they had a great attraction for him. He looked around until he found the Great Dipper, which was the constellation he was most familiar with, and then the Pole-star by following the direction of the pointers. He noticed that the Dipper was to the right of the Pole-star and below it. Then he noticed the constellation called Cassiopeia--in the shape of a “W” to the left of the Pole-star and above it.

“Here’s my chance,” thought Dick, with a sudden inspiration, “to see if the northern stars do really turn around the pole like a wheel as they are supposed to do.” He then looked at the buildings on shore to find some landmark by which to test the turning of the stars. But his watch on deck was already half over, and he had not time enough to make his experiment properly. If he had been on land it would have been easier, but the ship was swinging at her anchor with the tide as it ran in, and there were no very prominent buildings in sight.

When the next boy came up to stand his watch, Dick tried to interest him in his astronomical observations, but he got no response, and so promised himself to begin his experiment in plenty of time at the very next opportunity.