CHAPTER XII--IN THE DECK DIVISION

"Deck division turn out to swab down decks!" bellowed the boatswain's mate.

The ship had poked her nose out into the open sea by this time, the "Long Island" rising and falling gracefully on an easy swell.

"What did he say?" questioned Sam.

"I'll confess that I did not understand a word of it," answered Dan. "I don't see why those mates cannot talk plain United States."

The command was followed by a bustling about the decks. Men hurriedly brought out their deck swabs, implements somewhat resembling mops. Others brought pails which they filled from the taps on deck, while still others coupled hose to pipes along the sea gutters.

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What division are you in?" demanded a gruff voice.

"The deck division, sir."

"Then what are you doing here?" said a boatswain's mate that they had not seen before, glaring at them.

"I--I don't know, sir," stammered Sam.

"Will you tell us what we are to do?" spoke up Dan. "You see, it is our first day on board."

"Do? Do?" exploded the mate. "Get a swab and go to work; that's what you are to do. What do you think this is, a liner where you can loll around and look pretty?"

"We are ready to work, if you will show us. Where will we find swabs?" questioned Dan.

The mate conducted them to a chest in which the swabs were kept.

"Take your swabs and hurry aft to the quarter-deck. That's your station," he directed.

By the time the boys reached the quarter-deck their mates were already at work, moving along swiftly, pushing their swabs ahead of them.

"Take off your shoes. What do you mean by coming here with your shoes on?" demanded the mate.

Somewhat hesitatingly Dan and Sam removed their shoes and stockings, rolled up their trousers and joined their fellows in scrubbing down the decks.

Sam was surly. He plainly did not like the assignment.

"This is a tough job," he confided to his companion. "I didn't join the Navy to make a washerwoman of myself."

"We have got to learn, old chap. We must take our turn. If we complain, we are not fit for the service. You may be an admiral some day; who knows?"

"An admiral? Huh! Nice chance I've got to become an admiral--admiral of the scrub gang, you mean."

"Pipe down the guff," commanded the mate sternly.

"What's that mean?" muttered Sam.

"I think he means we are to stop talking."

For the next hour there was a steady splash, splash as the swabs worked back and forth over the deck, the latter running rivers of water from hose and pail.

"Well, how do you like Field Day?" questioned the mate who had first instructed the lads in their duties.

It was after the mess hour and all hands were resting preparatory to taking up the duties of the afternoon.

"What's a Field Day?" asked Sam.

"When all hands turn to to clean ship. You see, ships get in rather bad condition, regarding cleanliness, after having been in port for some time."

"Do the men like to clean ship?"

"They love it. Give a jackie a deck swab, put him in bare feet, and he is happy."

"I don't see anything to get excited about in scrubbing decks," grumbled Sam.

"You will after you have been in the service longer. By the way, the smoke lamp is lighted. Fall to, lads."

"You mean----"

"Go take your smoke. Light up your pipes."

"We do not smoke, sir," replied Dan.

"No, we don't smoke," added Sam. "But we eat."

"That is all right. A great many of the boys do not smoke these days, and it is a good thing. Now, in my time, everybody smoked. But things have changed on the sea as well as elsewhere."

"Attention!" called a voice.

The boys stiffened instinctively. They did not know the reason for the command, but experience had taught them that it was well to obey that command whenever heard.

It was the captain who was approaching, on his way to the bridge.

His hand came up in salute as he glanced quickly at them.

"Carry on, lads," he said, whereat the Battleship Boys and their shipmates resumed their interrupted conversation.

"You will find the Old Man a splendid officer and very kind to you boys," said the mate. "I've been under him for ten years, and there ain't a man in the world who's got a bigger heart than he, especially for the jackies. He loves them, every one of them."

Soon after that, the boys went forward. Sitting under the shining twelve-inch guns, either of which would carry an eight hundred pound projectile twelve miles, they talked in low tones until the bugle sounded the command to scrub decks again.

Throughout the afternoon, until eight bells, that is four o'clock, the steady scrub, scrub, continued, the men now and then conversing in low tones.

"How long does this scrubbing business keep up?" asked Sam when he met the boatswain's mate later in the afternoon.

"Let's see; you enlisted for four years?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, that's it."

"What is it?"

"The scrubbing. We are always scrubbing aboard ship; that is, when we are not painting. Do you like to paint?"

"I never tried."

"You will have a chance to do so to-morrow. We shall probably anchor off the Delaware breakwater to-morrow morning; then all hands will turn to and paint ship. Next to scrubbing decks the jackie is never so happy as when he has a paint brush in his hands."

But Sam was doubtful. He decided that he would much prefer to be an officer. When the day was ended both boys had appetites that would not bear trifling with. Mess, that night, was a real meal so far as they were concerned. Sam had a third helping of everything on the bill.

"Have some more canned Willie," urged a shipmate.

"Willie? Who's he?"

"Willie is meat."

"Red-head, you keep on eating that way your first day out, and Pills will have a job putting you on your feet again," suggested another sailor.

"I'll take the chance," mumbled Sam, his mouth full of food. "It won't be the first chance I've taken in this line of duty, either. But who is Mr. Pills?"

"'Pills,'" laughed the sailor, "is the doctor."

By the time supper had been finished the breeze had freshened considerably and the "Long Island" was pitching heavily. The watch was called on duty about this time, but being raw men the two boys were not to have this duty put upon them just yet. Instead, they repaired to the forward deck, where they lay down against the big gun turret, to rest after their day's work.

The smoke lamp had been lighted, and many of their companions were stretched about on the deck, smoking, telling stories or discussing the latest news that they had heard while in port. In the lighted corridors men might be seen sitting on the floor with their ditty boxes on their knees, writing letters.

About this time, the band came out, electric lights were strung over the deck on the starboard side, where the musicians would be protected from the strong breeze, and chairs brought out for the players.

Soon the regular evening concert began. The voices of the sailors were stilled; under the spell of the music many heads drooped, many tired eyes closed for a few moments of delicious sleep.

"Isn't it glorious?" breathed Dan.

"It might be if things weren't so upside down," complained Sam.

"What's the matter? Aren't you feeling well?"

"I have felt better," answered Sam in a husky voice. "I guess I'll take a walk."

His walk did not last long. Sam took a turn once across the deck, then settled down beside his companion, holding his head between his hands.

"Why, Sam, are you really ill?" questioned Dan, his voice full of concern.

"Ill? I think I'm going to die. Ugh!" Sam stretched out on the deck flat on his back.

"Sam Hickey, I believe you are seasick," exclaimed Dan.

Sam's only answer was a long-drawn moan.