The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service. Goldfrap John Henry

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СКАЧАТЬ I don't mind telling you I've got some money out on myself. Enough to swamp a good deal of my pay, in fact. I've got to win."

      "About the same thing here," grinned Chance; "if I lose, it's all up with me financially. I'm in pretty deep."

      "Tell you what," said Merritt suddenly, "I hear that there will be extra pay and bonuses attaching to this aero duty. Let's send in applications, and then if we get trimmed in the races and jumps we will have a chance to get some extra coin."

      "That's a good idea," agreed Chance. But as they started to carry out their intention, the same bugle calls that had hastened the steps of Ned and Herc recalled them to duty.

      Stephen Wynn arose with a sigh, and thrust his book inside his loose blouse. "Ben Franklin" disliked to leave his studies for duty. But he was a smart sailor, and formed one of Ned's gun crew. Merritt and Chance were on one of the after turrets.

      "Those fellows took care to sink their voices after they found out I'd overheard them," said Wynn to himself, as he fell in with the rest of the blue-jackets. "I'll bet that they were plotting some mischief to Strong and Taylor. At any rate, I'll put them on their guard at the first opportunity I get."

      At three-thirty, or seven bells, the gun drills and calisthenic exercises were over, and a brief space of leisure ensued. Wynn, according to his determination, sought out Ned and Herc. He lost no time in communicating his suspicions to them. But, somewhat to his astonishment, neither of the lads seemed much impressed.

      "A fellow who plots and backbites in dark corners is not one to be scared of," said Ned. "But just the same, Ben Franklin, I'm obliged to you. I guess we'll keep our eyes on our two friends, eh, Herc?"

      "Not worth bothering with," observed Herc, "as the car conductor said when the fellow offered him a plugged dime. If they can win fair and square, we won't grudge it to them."

      "Well, I've warned you," said "Ben Franklin." "By the way, what makes those fellows so sore at you?"

      "Oh, Merritt, so I've heard, was a friend of Bill Kennell. He was the fellow, you know, who kidnapped Mr. Varian in Cuba. He naturally dislikes us for the part we played in apprehending Kennell. As for Chance, he was in my gun crew up to a few weeks ago. I had to have him up 'at the stick' for insubordination once or twice, and I guess it's stuck in his craw."

      "If it hadn't been for you, Ned, he'd have gone to the brig," put in Herc.

      "Oh, well, I thought that a taste of the brig would be too severe," said Ned. "I hoped a good wigging by the 'old man' (the captain) would be sufficient, but it wasn't. Then Chance sulked and played sick. He took in the doctor for a while, but it didn't last. He was punished and restored to duty with an after gun crew following that."

      "And blames you for all his troubles," said Herc indignantly, "and I guess I come in for a share of his dislike."

      "Oh, life's too short to worry about Merritt and Chance," said Ned, breaking off the conversation. "It looks as if we'd have a glorious day to-morrow," he went on, adroitly turning the topic of talk. The ruse succeeded. The three shipmates fell to discussing the coming games. Others joined them, and the time passed rapidly till five-thirty, – three bells – when all hands were piped to supper, a plain but substantial meal. For the benefit of our non-seafaring reader, we will tell him that on this particular night it consisted of: – hot roast-beef hash, cold boiled ham, canned peaches, bread, butter and tea or coffee. Thus, it will be seen that Uncle Sam does not starve his blue-jackets.

      Supper was in full swing when Ned, who was at the head of the table which seated his "mess," was the recipient of a surprising testimonial.

      It came in the shape of a hot baked potato, flung with accuracy and speed. It struck the Dreadnought Boy in the eye, and burst, spreading its pasty contents over his features. Herc, who sat by Ned, leaped to his feet in a flash, while Ned hastily pawed the mass out of his eyes.

      "I saw who threw that," cried Herc, his face aflame, the freckles looming up like spots on the sun; "if he's a man, he'll stand up."

      A stir ran through the forecastle. Herc's finger pointed to a distant table and rested on the form of Merritt. Chance sat by him. Both had been laughing an instant before, but as Merritt saw that he had been found out his face assumed a rather sickly grin.

      "Sit down, Herc," ordered Ned rather sternly, "I'll attend to this. Am I to understand that you threw that potato?" he demanded, fixing his gaze straight on Merritt's face.

      The other's eyes sank. He looked disturbed and a bit scared. Ned's voice had held no uncertain ring.

      "It – it was just a joke," he said. "You don't need to get huffy about it."

      "Rather a strenuous joke, wasn't it?" asked Ned in a firm, calm voice, while the eyes of every man in the place were fixed on him in breathless attention.

      "I – I didn't mean to hit you," went on Merritt. "I just wanted to give you a jump. It was just a joke – that's all."

      "That being the case," resumed Ned, "I shall have to ask you to remove the consequences of your joke."

      So saying, he deliberately threw the remains of the potato on the deck.

      "Now, come here and pick that up and carry it back," he said, with a flash in his eyes. "We'll carry this joke through to its conclusion."

      Merritt turned pale and hesitated. Then he caught Ned's eye. A certain glint in it seemed to galvanize him into action. Amid a roar of laughter from the entire assemblage, Merritt, red and white by turns, crossed to Ned's table and carefully picked up every scrap of the débris.

      "What are you laughing at?" he glared at Herc, as he made his way back to his own place.

      "At your joke," sputtered Herc, affecting a spasm of amusement. "Ho! ho! ho! That's one of the best jokes I've ever seen."

      "It is, is it?" glowered Merritt.

      "Yes, but it isn't as big a joke as it would have been if you hadn't done as Ned told you. Ho! ho! ho! It isn't every puppy that will fetch and carry at the first lesson."

      The shout of laughter was taken up by the rest of the blue-jackets. Amid this storm of merriment, Merritt made his way to his seat. He reached it just as the officer of the deck entered.

      "Merritt, what are you out of your place for?" demanded this dignitary, who was noted as a strict disciplinarian.

      "I – I dropped a potato, sir, and was picking it up," stammered Merritt, trembling with rage and mortification.

       CHAPTER III

      FOR THE TROPHY OF THE FLEET

      As Ned had prophesied, the next day was bright and clear. There was just enough of the coolness of early summer to give a crisp tang to the air. It stirred the blood like martial music. It was a day which challenged every athlete in the squadron to do his best. That is, so far as external conditions were concerned.

      The ground selected for the trying out of the championship of the squadron was a flat field, some five acres in extent, not far from the shore. It stood on slightly rising ground. Trees, fresh and green, stood in a thick mass on one side. Seaward the ground sloped gently, and beyond could be seen the grim sea-fighters, swinging at anchor; from some of the smoke-stacks vapor curled lazily. The basket-like fighting masts resembled the work of some geometrically inclined spider.

      Cheering СКАЧАТЬ