"Who has charge of the race? Who is the captain of the crew?"

"I am. That is, I am the c.o.xswain, and have full charge of the boat and the picking of the crew."

Sam was eyeing the boatswain's mate with new interest now. This time it was Sam Hickey who was squinting out of the corner of one eye. He was trying to figure out, in his own mind, what the boatswain's mate was getting at. As yet he had not been able to decide in his own mind.

"There's a colored gentleman in the woodpile for sure," he muttered.

"He'll show his woolly head in a minute or so, or my name's not Sam Hickey."

The colored gentleman fulfilled Sam's expectations very soon after that.

"Unfortunately, two of our men have been, taken away from us. I say unfortunately, though I don't exactly mean it in that way. I'm mighty glad we are rid of them, only that it makes necessary a change of plans."

"Who are they, Mr. Harper?"

"Those two islanders, Black and White. They are a fine pair of birds, but they certainly could pull an oar. Would you boys like to come up and look over the boat?"

"Indeed we should," answered Dan enthusiastically.

They made their way to the upper deck. Two sailors had stripped the canvas from the racing gig, and were preparing to go over it with sandpaper to smooth its sides down.

"Why do you do that; to make it smoother?" asked Dan.

"That is the idea exactly," answered the boatswain's mate, patting the gig affectionately. "We shall be working over this little craft for the next few weeks on every possible occasion."

"You do not have sliding seats?"

"Oh, no. It would not be advisable in this kind of a racing craft.

You will observe, however, that the foot rests for the men's feet are made of old shoes. They slip their feet into these, which gives them a great purchase. They can release their feet at any instant, should we get upset in a heavy sea."

"Each man pulls one oar, of course?"

"One oar only," nodded the mate. "That is about all one healthy man could sit up and accomplish. None but the strongest and pluckiest can stand the kind of a race we run."

"How long a course do you cover?"

"Four miles. Two miles out to the stake boat and return. As I was saying, we have lost Black and White, and there are two vacancies on the crew at present."

"Yes, sir," answered Dan in an unusually respectful tone.

"Yes, sir," added the red-haired boy. "What about it?"

"Well, as I said, there are two vacancies," replied the mate, with a significant smile.

There followed a pause, during which Sam walked over to the rail, gazed off across the waters, apparently without being conscious of having seen them at all, then slowly returning to the gig, leaned up against it, gently smoothing the gunwale with his hand.

"It is considered a great honor to be a member of a racing crew, especially a winning crew, boys."

"Yes, sir; I should think it would be," agreed Dan.

"How would you lads like to try out for the crew?"

"We join the racing crew?" questioned Dan, his eyes opening wide in amazement. "W--we----"

"Yes. You and your friend may try for the places vacated by Black and White. They will, of course, be out before the races come off, but their punishment forfeits their right to row with us. I have been looking you two lads over, and I am sure you have good material in you.

I know you have the pluck. You have shown that you have, both of you, on more than one occasion. What do you say?"

"What do I say?" answered Dan with glowing countenance. "I say that, if I could get on the racing crew, I should be the happiest boy in Uncle Sam's Navy."

"That's me," nodded Sam in approval of his companion's sentiments. "I knew you were up here for something. The colored gentleman is out of the woodpile."

"Say, Dan," remarked Sam as the boatswain's mate walked away, "speaking of Black and White, I've got an idea. I'll bet that fellow Black threw that seven-inch tompion overboard. I'll bet also that he's the black scoundrel who plugged your ear with a marline spike."

Dan made no reply, but walked thoughtfully away.

CHAPTER XVII

AT TORPEDO TARGET PRACTICE

"h.e.l.lo, Dan."

Sam Hickey peered over the edge of his hammock in the early morning.

"What is it?" answered Davis sleepily.

"I wonder whether we have missed reveille."

"What's that?" Dan sat up very suddenly.

"I thought that would fetch you awake in a hurry," chuckled the red-headed boy, snuggling down under his bedclothes, one eye peering over at his companion.

"That's mean of you, to wake me up so early in the morning," grumbled Dan. "I was having such a fine sleep, too. I was dreaming----"

"I was dreaming. I'll bet I had a better dream than you did. I dreamed I was the captain of the 'Long Island,' with four gold stripes around my sleeve. Then I woke up. That was too fine a dream to sleep over very long at a time."

"Pipe down the guff," growled several voices from the depths of other hammocks. "What do you think this is--a pink tea?"

"No; it's a deck picnic," answered Sam, as the bugle blew the reveille, summoning all hands from their hammocks. The men in the corridor with the Battleship Boys scrambled down from their hammocks in no enviable frame of mind, for Hickey had spoiled at least five minutes of their sleep, which was of no small consequence at that hour of the morning.

Sam seized his clothes and ran for the shower bath, anxious to get his bath over before the men of his division got there. They were not in a pleasant frame of mind, and the boy considered it prudent to keep clear of them until they "got their eyes open," as he expressed it to himself.

The early morning work was finished up and then came breakfast. By this time the battleship was swinging along past Fire Island light.

The sea was fairly calm and the sun was shining brightly.

"I wonder what we are going to do up here?" questioned a jackie, as they were at their breakfast.

"Up here? Where are we headed for!" demanded Sam. "Looks to me as if we were going to b.u.t.t into a sand bank, the way the ship was headed when I came below."