CHAPTER XVI--RECEIVING A CHALLENGE

"No mine drill to-day," sang out a boatswain's mate, as he passed along the forecastle. "Water too rough. If the weather quiets down, however, there may be something else doing."

Instead of a day in the small boats laying mines, as had been planned, the men were to have another field day, painting ship, after the decks had been scrubbed down. Gun crews got out their pots and brushes, then crawled through the narrow openings into the gun-turrets, first having thrown open the hatches on top of the turrets, to let in enough light to enable them to see where to paint.

Walls were painted white, floors red, jackies both red and white. Dan and Sam--the latter having been released from the brig after serving his sentence--not belonging to a gun crew, were put to work in a corridor on this occasion. They were in great good humor, having gained the distinction of being ordered to report for wig-wag signal duty during the mine practice, both being experts with the signal flag. The boys were talking over their good fortune when the captain came hurrying through. Instantly the boys came to attention.

"Good morning, lads," greeted the commanding officer.

"Fresh paint beside you, sir," warned Dan.

"Very careless of me not to have observed it. I see I have gathered quite a quantity of it already," he added, examining his trim braided blouse that was now streaked with white.

"May I speak, sir?" asked Dan.

"Certainly, my lad. What is it?"

"Let me rub the paint off while it is still fresh?"

"How?"

"This way, sir."

Dan examined the sleeve of his jacket critically. Having found a clean place he approached the captain and began rubbing his own sleeve over the soiled spot on the sleeve of the commanding officer. This done he went at the left side of the blouse where there was a larger blotch of white. In a few moments he had so thoroughly cleaned the blue blouse, by rubbing it violently with the goods of his jacket, that all traces of the white paint had disappeared.

Dan stepped back, saluting respectfully.

"Why, you have taken it all off, but you will have the trouble of cleaning your own jacket."

"I shall have to do that anyway, sir."

"Thank you, my lad."

The captain saluted and passed on.

"That boy is as graceful and self-possessed as if he had spent years in the service. I must keep my eye on him. I predict that he will be doing something worth while some of these days."

Dan's face was flushed. He was pleased with himself. Sam glanced over at him and winked gravely.

"I wish I knew how to do things the way you do," he said. "Somehow my feet and hands don't fit the rest of my anatomy. I'm a thickhead and a landlubber, all in one."

"You are all right, if you would only think so," replied Dan.

After the noonday mess the boys were resting on the forward deck when Sam called the attention of his companion to a group of sailors on the port side, leaning against the rail engaged in earnest conversation. The spokesman was no other than Bill Kester. Bill was gesticulating. A sailor appeared to be opposing him in something.

"I wonder what's up?" mused Dan.

"Quarreling again, I guess," decided Sam, rising and strolling forward where he leaned over the bow of the ship, gazing thoughtfully down into the turbulent sea. Now and then a thin shower of spray would mount high in the air and dash over him, the anchored ship having swung about until its bow was headed into the half-gale that was blowing up the coast.

After a time two jackies strolled over to where Dan was sitting, and leaned indolently against the forward twelve-inch turret.

"How's the shipmate to-day?" inquired one.

"Very well, thank you."

"Feeling fit as a fiddle, eh?"

"Never better, though I do feel as if I had been eating paint all my life. I'm all red on the outside and white on the inside. My walls do not need any more dressing," laughed Dan.

"Then we've got a proposition to make to you."

"A what?"

"Proposition."

"What is it?"

"It's usual on shipboard, when one party gets a grouch on against another, to meet according to rules and fight it out."

"Well, what of it?"

"How'd you like to fight, matey?"

"No, thank you," Dan replied, with considerable emphasis, the memory of his previous trouble still being fresh in mind. "Whom do you want me to fight?"

"We haven't said we wanted you to fight anybody. We ain't very strong on having you fight somebody. Somebody wants to fight you, and we've been appointed a committee to come over and consult with you."

"Some one wishes to fight me, is that it?" questioned Dan.

"That's about it, shipmate."

Dan gazed at them inquiringly.

"Who?"

"Bill Kester."

"I might have known it."

"It's only fair to tell you, Mr. Dynamite, that he's about the scrappiest scrapper on board the 'Long Island.' We've been thinking of getting one of the men from aboard the 'Michigan' to come over and whale the daylights out of him some of these days. He's got to get it before he'll quit picking trouble with other folks. You're under-size and lighter than Bill, even if you did lay him out the other day. But because of your size you've got a right to refuse, if you want to," continued the sailor.

It was plain, however, that he secretly hoped Dan would accept the challenge to do battle with the ship's bully.

"No, boys, I have had one fight, though it wasn't much of a fight after all. You know what happened? I was called before the mast and let go with a warning. Next time they would put me ashore and tell me to go home. I wish to stay in the service. When I fight, let it be under the Flag I serve."

"Nothing of the sort. Bill will be telling, all over the ship, that you are afraid to meet him, and maybe he'll call you a coward. Of course we fellows know you ain't, Dynie." ("Dynie," since Dan's first outburst with Kester, had become a favorite nickname for the boy.)

"He had better not," Dan made answer in a low, tense voice, a dull flush suffusing his cheeks. "If he does that, I may be tempted to use a marline spike on him."

"Then you'd sure get out of the service," replied the sailor.

"You tell him to keep away and let me alone. If he doesn't I'll defend myself, as I did before, that is, if I can. I am not looking for trouble, but I'll face it if it comes."

"Shall we tell him that?"

"Tell him by all means, if you think best. He does not interest me at all."

"You think it over, Dynie. We'll talk with you later. We'll tell Bill something to satisfy him till you make up your mind."

"I have made up my mind. I won't fight."

The committee returned to the group, where they talked for some moments, Dan observing that Kester was scowling more ferociously than usual and his voice rising higher.

"He's a quitter! He's a coward!" exclaimed Bill.

Dan rose hastily and walked away.

"Trouble seems to be getting right in my way. If I don't try to push it out of the way I fall over it. What's a fellow to do?"

"What's wrong, Dan?" questioned Sam, overtaking his companion at that moment. He had observed Dan's troubled face.

"Oh, nothing much. They want me to fight that fellow Kester."

"Have they told you so?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Just now. Two of the boys came to me to ask if I would fight him."

"What did you say?"

"I told them I wouldn't do it, unless he forced me to do so in self-defense, and that then I'd use a marline spike on him."

Sam shook his head thoughtfully.

"It doesn't seem to surprise you any," complained Dan.

"No, I can't say that it does. I had suspected something of the sort was in the wind. Are you afraid of him, Dan?"

"Afraid of him?"

"Yes."

"No, I am not afraid of him," answered the lad in a quiet voice. "But I have had my little lesson through your fate, you know. Bread and water don't agree with my digestive organs. Why, what do you think would happen to me were I to get mixed up in that sort of a row?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"I hear that when men on board these ships have a misunderstanding, they are permitted to fight it out under proper conditions."

"They do?"

"Yes. But the battles, I have heard, don't amount to much. The fighters are provided with boxing gloves and the fight is more of a boxing match than a battle. When it has gone far enough it is stopped, the winner being the one who has scored the most points. One of the men was telling me about it. It isn't very different from the boxing matches you used to take part in when we were in the High School, is it?" suggested Sam.

"No," answered Dan somewhat doubtfully. "But this Kester is a loafer, and I do not like to trust him. I am not timid, but I want to win promotion in the service."

"The others will see that you have fair play."

"You advise me to meet him then?" questioned Dan.

"Of course I do. I wish he had challenged me to fight him. I owe him one."

"I am surprised at you, Sam. You forget you have recently been in trouble for fighting and now you turn around and urge me to go in for a bout with a fellow who intends to knock my head off if he is able to do it."

"Not a fight, a boxing match, Dynie," grinned Sam.

Dan laughed.

"A nice gentlemanly, hand-shaking sort of a bout, eh? Well I'll see."

"Are you going to meet him?"

"I will let you know in a few minutes whether I shall or not."

"What are you going to do?"

"Find out where I am at first," answered Dan, turning away and hurrying below. He went directly to the quarters of the boatswain's mate, and, after calling out his own name at the door, was told to enter.

"What is it, my lad?"

Dan briefly related the story of the proposition that had been made to him to fight Kester. The mate listened gravely until he had finished.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"That is what I have come to ask you, sir. You told us to consult you when we were in doubt or needed advice."

"I certainly did."

"I am in need of advice right now--very much in need of it, sir."

"There is bad blood between you two, is there not?"

"You might call it that. I cannot say that I have any feeling either way. You know my chum was sent to the brig for having a mix-up with Kester. I might share the same fate."

"Tell me the details of that trouble. I have not heard the inside."

Dan did so briefly.

"The coward!" muttered the boatswain's mate, upon hearing how Kester had knocked Sam Hickey down. "Meet him, by all means."

"But, sir, shall I not be disciplined for so doing?"

"No, lad. Fighting, it is true, is severely punished on board the ships of the Navy, but boxing is encouraged. We are all fighting men; therefore we should all know how to fight, under proper regulations. You will get fair play; the men will see to that."

"I think I shall be able to take care of myself," smiled Dan. "I want to be sure that I shall not get into disgrace, that's all."

"No danger. But I do not like to see a boy so young pitted against an experienced man like Kester. It isn't fair. However, if you are greatly overmatched, the bout will be promptly stopped. You will have shown your grit."

"Thank you very much. You have relieved my mind."

Dan made his way back to the forecastle where he found Sam waiting for him.

"Well, how about it?"

"It's all right. I will meet him if the terms are satisfactory. Will you be my second, Sam?"

"Of course. You do not have to ask that. I'll go consult Kester's seconds now."

Later on Sam rejoined his companion.

"How is it going to be carried off?" questioned Dan.

"The men are going to pick out a referee. You and Kester are to box with eight ounce gloves until the referee stops you, or either of you decide you have had enough. You will get a fair show, the boys say. They won't stand for Bill's punishing you brutally. They admire your pluck in meeting him. If you could thrash him, Dan Davis, I'd be willing to go to the brig again, and feed on bread and water for a month."

"I'm lucky if I do not get there myself," grinned Dan. "When is it to take place?"

"At seven bells this evening, half-past seven. There goes the bugle. We must get at our painting again."