The gig was swinging over the side in a sling, being lowered by a big crane.

"Stand by," commanded the boatswain's mate, who was the c.o.xswain of the gig.

The crew of the gig lined up at the rail.

"All over!"

They piled down the sea ladder, taking their places in the small boat.

"Toss!" The oars were raised upright. "Out oars!"

The oars were placed in the rowlocks.

"Cast off!"

The gig was shoved clear of the ship.

"Give way together!"

Eleven l.u.s.ty sailors put their strength into the oars and the racing gig shot away from the side of the battleship, sending up a shower of white spray as it plunged into a rising swell.

CHAPTER XXI

IN THE RACING GIG

Sam Hickey had been given the place nearest to the c.o.xswain, with Dan just behind him. Some of the others were inclined to grumble at that, for Sam was next to the stroke oar, a position of honor.

Joe Harper, however, had his own ideas. He wanted the Battleship Boys near him, so that he might watch their work more closely.

"A little quicker on the recovery, there, Hickey. That's better.

Davis, you're doing well. You pull like an old-timer. Number one, there, you're lagging. Swing your body from the hips and come forward as if you were going to throw yourself on your face. That's it! Now get in time as I count. When I say one, every man have his blade in the water and begin to pull. Now, one! one! one! one! one! one! Keep it up!"

The gig danced over the water at increasing speed.

All at once Sam Hickey uttered a yell. In attempting to turn his head to wink at Dan he had turned the blade of his oar forward. Of course he caught a crab. The boat was moving so swiftly that the force of the blow that Hickey got from the oar doubled him up, knocking him clear back into Dan's lap.

"O-u-u-u-ch!" yelled Sam, holding his stomach, his face working convulsively in his effort to control himself.

"Hurt you?" questioned Dan.

"I--I think it turned me around inside."

"You lubber, what did you do that for?" demanded the c.o.xswain.

"Wha--what did I do--it for! Do you think I did that for fun? Do you think I did it on purpose?" Sam groaned again.

"You were looking around; you weren't attending to your business."

"I was not looking around. I was just trying to look around. If I'd been looking around I wouldn't have fallen on my back, would I?"

The men had ceased rowing, at command of the c.o.xswain. Some of them were laughing at Hickey's predicament, while others were grumbling.

"Nice kind of a lubber to put aboard the gig!" growled a voice.

"Silence!" commanded the c.o.xswain. "I'm commanding this boat just now.

Hickey, sit up there!"

Sam did so, at the same time making a wry face.

"Are you able to go on? If not, we'll return to the ship and get a man who is."

Sam straightened up instantly.

"I'm all right, sir. I'll never go fishing for crabs in a gig again, sir."

The crew roared with laughter, but the red-headed boy was as solemn as an owl.

Once more they fell to their oars. Hickey redeemed himself during the rest of the practice. He caught no more crabs, but pulled a steady, quick stroke that brought nods of approval from the c.o.xswain.

As for Seaman Davis, he never missed a stroke, and as the boat shot on he seemed to pick up in strength like a powerful gasoline motor under low speed on a steep hill. His oar swung with the precision of a piece of automatic machinery.

By this time the gig had gotten so far away that she could be made out from the ship only by the gla.s.ses of the officers. Finally they rounded a point of land, and the c.o.xswain steered his boat into still water.

"Toss oars!" he commanded.

Eleven oars were raised upright, standing in two even rows.

"Well done, lads. Out oars!"

The oars struck the water with a single splash.

"I'd like to see any boat crew beat that for drill," announced the c.o.xswain. "Lads, if you do as well when we get in an actual race as you have done to-day, barring Hickey's crab-fishing, you may not get the flag, but you will be well up toward the head of the line, and that's no joke. When in a race you should row just as if you were out for practice. Never get excited. Never mind what the other fellow is doing. The c.o.xswain is supposed to attend to that. If he wants you to know he will tell you. Put every other thought out of your mind except your rowing. At every stroke keep your eyes on your stroke oar. We will now take a sprint, when I shall give you no commands. Rely wholly on your stroke oar."

At command the men began pulling. They did remarkably well, only two of them getting out of time during the entire run, which was a mile straight away.

"Very well done," announced the c.o.xswain in an approving voice.

"Davis, will you take the stroke-oar seat?"

"Yes, sir; if you wish."

"I want to see how you will hold the seat."

Dan and the stroke oar changed places.

"I want you all to be familiar with the work in every part of the boat.