CHAPTER XIX--THE WORK OF AN ENEMY

"Get up, lad!" commanded the captain, himself removing the table from his unfortunate orderly.

Sam got himself out from the wreckage, and slowly rose to his feet, ruefully surveying the scene before him. He did not speak. There were no words that would probably express his feelings at that moment.

The captain pressed a button, whereupon his colored steward hurried in. The steward's eyes opened as he caught sight of the ruined china and glassware.

"Steward, clear this rubbish away and be quick about it," the captain directed in a calm voice. "Is this the way you usually respond to an officer's summons?" fixing his eyes upon the culprit. There was a quiver about the lips of the commanding officer of the battleship "Long Island," but Sam was too much upset to observe it.

"N--n--no, sir."

"I approve of your prompt attention to duty, lad, but you will have to learn to control yourself."

"I--I am very sorry, sir."

"Never mind, lad; you will learn. This is the first time you ever acted as orderly, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I will instruct you in your duties, for you no doubt will be called upon to perform this duty many times during your service."

The captain's kindly tone went straight to the heart of the Battleship Boy.

"In the first place, when you come to the door bearing a message for me you should halt outside and rap, saying, 'orderly, sir'; then wait for the summons to enter. When I call you to give you some directions, you need not rap. Say nothing, but enter and come to attention. Do you understand!"

"Yes, sir."

"I am sure you will do better next time. You will now go to the officer of the deck, and say that I wish to see Mr. Coates, the executive officer, at his early convenience."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Sam, backing away. He bethought himself of the door sill just in time to prevent another tumble, this time out into the corridor.

Sam delivered his message and returned to his station, where he pondered deeply over what had befallen him.

"I hope the boys don't hear about that," he muttered. "They'd make this ship so warm for me that I should have to jump overboard. I--I couldn't stand it; that's all."

Shortly after that, the captain decided to make an inspection of the ship. It was a long and tiresome journey. For the next two hours Sam Hickey was climbing down and up ladders, crawling through narrow spaces, his head swimming, his face red and perspiring.

"This orderly business isn't all it is supposed to be," he complained to himself, when once more they had emerged upon the quarter-deck, Sam following obediently behind the ship's commander. From there, they went to the bridge.

"How are you headed?" questioned the captain of the man at the wheel.

"South, southeast one half," came the answer.

"Mr. Coates, the storm appears to be abating. I think we may safely turn about and steam slowly back toward our anchorage now."

They were out of sight of land by this time. The big ship was turned about and headed back over the reverse course. At noon, eight bells again, Hickey was relieved from his duty, another man taking his place.

The boy heaved a deep sigh of relief and hurried forward to hunt up Dan, to whom he confided his experiences of the morning. Dan laughed until he could laugh no more.

"Don't--don't tell any of the fellows, please," begged Sam.

"It's too--it's too good to keep," gasped Dan between laughs.

"Dan Davis, if you tell a human being about that I'll thrash you worse than either of us thrashed Bill Kester. Now tell about it, if you want to."

Dan sobered.

"Very well; if you feel that badly about it I won't say a word."

"You had better not," growled Sam.

The rest of the afternoon was devoted to routine duties aboard ship, Sam having gotten into his old clothes for the work before him. Painting ship was continued. Corridors and gun decks showed the result of the work that already had been done, and the smell of fresh paint was everywhere.

Night came on with the ship nearing her former anchorage.

"We shall have good weather to-morrow," announced the ship's navigator.

"I hope so," answered the captain. "We want to lay out that mine field and get to work. We are going to try to beat the record of the 'Georgia' this time, providing we have no accidents. That is the main reason why I am so anxious about the weather."

At last they reached a sheltered spot, anchors were let go and the battleship swung about, facing into the rolling sea.

That night the Battleship Boys lost no time in turning in after taps had been sounded. The ship was rolling more gently now, just enough to lull them into a sound sleep, their hammocks swaying slightly under the battleship's motion.

How long they had been asleep they did not know. All of a sudden Dan uttered a shout and Sam sprang up, as did many others in the corridor.

"Pipe down the racket," growled several voices.

"What's the matter? Is that you, Dan!" called Sam, observing, in the faint light, that his companion was not near him.

"Yes," answered a muffled voice from below.

"What's the trouble, did you fall out of bed?"

"I don't know. I guess I did."

"Hurt you any?"

"Hurt me? Every bone in my body is broken."

"Will you rookies shut up and let the rest of us go to sleep, or must we come down there and thump you?" demanded a shipmate from his hammock.

"We are not rookies," protested Sam indignantly. "We are ordinary seamen."

"My hammock is down," complained Dan.

"Then why don't you use more care in putting it up? Hurry and get it in place before any of the sentries pass here. We, or rather you, will get on the report if they discover you with your hammock down."

"I can't put it up?"

"Why not?"

"I'm hurt."

Sam was down out of his hammock instantly.

"Where are you hurt?"

"My wrist. I think I have broken it. I must have twisted it under me when I fell."

"Then go to the surgeon at once."

"No; not until morning."

The wrist hung limp and Dan seemed unable to use it at all.

"That's too bad," exclaimed Sam, his voice full of concern. "You wait until I fix your hammock; then I will help you up."

"No, I can't do it, Sam. I never could get up there," complained the lad, holding his wrist, which was paining him dreadfully.

Dan dragged himself to where his hammock was hanging by one end, the other end lying on the deck.

"It's curious. I can't understand it at all."

"What is?"

"I know I triced that up properly last night. I cannot understand how it ever came down."

Dan stooped over, picking up the ends of the rope that had secured the hammock to its hooks. He examined the ends as closely as possible with one hand injured.

"Look here, Sam," he said, with a trace of excitement in his tone.

"What is it!"

"Just examine this rope and see what you make of it?"

Sam did so.

"It has been broken, that is all I can discover."

"Then your eyesight must have gone back on you. There is more to it than that. Don't you see anything else wrong with those lashings?"

"I do not."

"Well, I do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that my hammock lashings have been cut. See those strands there? Well, they have been half severed with a knife. It was intended that they should not give way at once, but that they should let me down some time in the night."

"You--you don't mean it? Yes, you are right. They have been cut. Who could have done such a dastardly thing? Why, you might have killed yourself."

Hickey uttered a low growl.

"I don't know who did it," muttered Davis, "but if I do find out there will be a real fight on board this ship, and that without the formality of a referee."

"Dan this must be reported at once to the proper person."

"I shall report to no----"

"You must report to the sentry on duty outside without delay. If you do not, I'll do it myself. There will be an investigation over this, and there ought to be."

"There'll be something more than an investigation, I reckon," muttered Seaman Davis, moving toward the deck, still holding his injured wrist.