"Aye, aye, sir."

"Call a general muster on the quarter-deck to-night and read my commendation of Seaman Davis' heroic conduct."

"Aye, aye, sir,"

"But, Davis, I am sorry to say that your racing ambitions will not be gratified this fall."

Dan's face showed his disappointment, but he said no word.

"The first torpedo, one of the unlucky ones, fell on Boatswain's Mate Harper as it was being hoisted aboard, and broke a leg. Some one was to blame for the accident. I do not know who, but I shall know."

"Oh, that is too bad!" breathed Dan, turning away to his disappointment.

"It's all off, Sam," he said when a few minutes later he joined his chum.

"What's off!"

"The race we were to row day after to-morrow."

"On account of Joe Harper?"

"Yes, have you seen him?"

"No; I guess they won't let anybody see him to-day."

The boys went about their work for the rest of the day with downcast countenances. The entire crew was in the doldrums. All their hopes, pinned to the "Long Island's" racing crew, had been suddenly dashed. A race now seemed out of the question. There was neither laughter nor song in the forecastle that night. All hands went to bed surly and disgusted.

On the following morning the captain's orderly called Dan Davis from his gun station, with the information that the captain directed Seaman Davis to proceed to the sick bay to see Boatswain's Mate Harper.

Dan obeyed the order, wondering at its having come to him through the source it did.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Harper," said the lad as he entered the sick bay, and the boatswain's mate extended a hand to him. "I'm sorry for the race, and I am sorry for you. It's too bad."

"Yes; I've got a bad knockout. I don't believe my leg ever will be right. I guess they will retire me, all right. But that isn't what I sent for you to talk about. I want to talk about the race."

"The race? Why, there won't be any race now--that is, so far as we are concerned. Some of the other ships will carry off the cup now."

Harper smiled wanly.

"There must be. The crew must run the race just the same."

"But it will not be possible without you."

"Perhaps there is no one on board who understands the racing game quite as well as I do. I have run many of these gig races, Davis. But there is one man on board in whom I have great confidence. He has the pluck.

He knows rowing. Even if he doesn't win, which could hardly be expected of him, he'll make some of the other fellows work for their laurels."

Dan's eyes were glowing.

"I--I am so glad to hear you say that, Mr. Harper. That is good news, indeed. Then we will have the race after all?"

"Yes; the race will be run. They shall not have an opportunity to say that the battleship 'Long Island' got cold feet at the last minute."

"They'd better not say it before me," answered Dan in a low voice.

"That's the talk!"

"May I ask who the man is who will act as c.o.xswain of the racing gig in to-morrow's race, sir?"

"Yes, you may. You will be surprised when I tell you. The man who is going to run the 'Long Island's' boat is named Daniel Davis."

"Da--Da--I--I am to be c.o.xswain to-morrow?" gasped the boy.

"Yes, you, Dan. And you're going to do yourself and every man on this great ship proud."

Dan sat down in a chair rather suddenly. His face was pale and his eyes seemed larger than usual.

"I--I am to race the crew?"

"You are to race the crew. I have asked that you be released from duty to-day. Go off somewhere by yourself and think it over. Get your balance; then come back here and we will talk it over."

Dan walked out of the sick bay without a word. His emotions were so great that he could not talk.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The jackies of the battleship set up a great cheer.

c.o.xswain Davis and the eleven men of his racing crew were lined up on the quarterdeck of the "Long Island." On the decks of a dozen other ships in the bay a similar spectacle might have been seen.

The great race for the silver cup was about to be run. But, now that Joe Harper was unable to guide the boat of the "Long Island," the other ships feared none save the racing crew of the "Georgia."

"Never mind if you don't win, Dynamite. You've got the pluck; you've got the sand. It won't be your fault. But make 'em hump. Make 'em work for what they get," shouted a jackie.

Dan smiled faintly. There was little color in his face, but no one was able to find a trace of nervousness there.

"If that boy had the experience, I should expect to see him win,"

confided an officer to his companion.

"I don't know. This putting green men in a racing boat is bad business. I hear he has put his friend Sam Hickey in as stroke oar."

"Yes."

The officer shook his head.

"All aboard," commanded Dan. The boy had received detailed instructions from Joe Harper; yet, for all of that, all depended upon Dan and his crew. No one could coach them to the winning point from a sick bed.