Two Boys of the Battleship: or, For the Honor of Uncle Sam

He glared rather vindictively at our two friends, though they did not know of anything they had done to merit his displeasure. His name was Henry Dell, but he called himself “Hank.”

“That’s the sort of lad who is looking for trouble. Steer clear of him,” counseled the sergeant in a low tone to Frank and Ned, as he led them toward the mess hall where they would have their meals.

CHAPTER XI – “ALL ABOARD!”

“Say, Frank, when do you think we’ll really go on board a battleship?”

Ned asked this question of his brother, who was busy writing to his uncle, in the federal prison, telling the unfortunate man something of their new life.

“On the battleship?” repeated Frank, as he sealed the missive. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised if it were very soon now.”

“Really?” cried Ned in incredulous delight. “How do you know?”

“Oh, well, rumors have been going around that some of the more advanced of us would be given our chance soon.”

“And do they count us advanced?”

“So I understand. We’ve worked hard enough, haven’t we?”

“We sure have! But that doesn’t always count.”

“Well, I think we are slated for the Georgetown all right,” Frank said.

“What! That magnificent new battleship?” cried Ned, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“That’s the one, and it’s the very last word in battleships,” Frank went on.

This talk took place about four months after the arrival of our heroes at the training station. Those four months were so crowded with work, play, incidents, and a few accidents of minor character, so full of learning new things, that the whole book could be devoted to what happened when Ned and Frank were learning to be sailors. But there are other matters to tell of, so only a brief idea of what took place will be given. Perhaps another volume will tell more fully of life at Norfolk.

Instruction for the two boys of the battleship, as well as for their mates, went on constantly, and they fairly absorbed knowledge of nautical matters, seemingly taking it in through their skin, as well as through their eyes and ears.

In the big drill hall, where they were given setting-up exercises, as well as taught the manual of arms and how to march in certain formations, one could not help learning. On the walls were flags from every nation, and all sorts of signal flags. For a sailor must learn to talk by means of signals – lights at night, and flags or semaphore arms by day. So the flags were hung on the walls of the drill hall that the boys might have them before their eyes continually. There was also a big compass, with its thirty-two “points,” painted on one wall, thus there was no excuse for a lad’s not knowing how to box it; which means to reel off the different directions.

Some of the recruits had to be taught to swim, for this is one of the first things insisted on by those in charge of making a man-o’-warsman. But Ned and Frank were masters of this aquatic art, and their ability was soon recognized. In fact they were even detailed to help show others how to get about in the water.

And in the matter of boats, too, our heroes had the advantage over many of their mates. For their years spent on Great South Bay proved of great advantage to them, though the boats in which the drills were given at Norfolk were heavy cutters and large motor-driven skiffs, and were not so easy to maneuver as had been the Ellen.

“Do you wish you were back at Ipswhich again?” asked Ned of his brother one day, after a long boat drill.

“No, to tell you the truth, I think this life just suits us. Of course, I did love the old home, and I don’t dare think about poor Uncle Phil,” said Frank, “but this is really the life for us.”

“You’re right,” declared his brother. And if ever lads were destined for the navy Frank and Ned were.

In the model room, and in the rigging loft, the apprentice seamen, the title borne by Frank and Ned, were taught how to coil down gear, make knots and splices, as well as hitches, and how to manage sails. For though a battleship only moves by steam, there are small boats that have canvas as a motive power, and enough of real sailor knowledge is required to make it necessary that instruction be given.

In spite of his rather mean character and his bullying ways, Hank Dell showed that he knew a great deal more than the average recruit about ropes. He could tie any sort of knot.

“How’d you learn it?” asked Frank, for though he and Ned did not like the boy, they were honest enough to admire his ability.

“A sailor that lived near me showed me how,” was the answer. “He put me in the notion of coming here. But if I’d known how hard it was I wouldn’t have enlisted.”

Hank was lazy and shiftless in many ways, but he had to keep up to the mark, though this he did not like.

In due time Frank and Ned were assigned to the same battalion, and in that they went through many drills, all being designed to give the lads needed instruction. They had to learn how to send and receive messages by means of wig-wag flags, by the semaphore, which is something like a railway signal arm, and they also learned the alphabet, and to send and receive messages by means of colored lights at night.

Target practice, indoors and out, took up considerable time, for the United States requires its blue-jackets to be good shots with small arms as well as with the big guns. Ned and Frank became skillful with the revolver, also, though Ned would never be as expert as his brother. He had not the patience, but with the rifle they were both about on a par.

So well did our heroes apply themselves that both were soon promoted – that is they were made petty officers, and each received two dollars more a month.

“Say, if this keeps on we’ll be able to save enough to get Uncle Phil out on bail,” said Ned, with a laugh, one day as they drew their increase in money.

“That’s right,” admitted Frank. “But he writes that he is getting along pretty well, only he would like the chance to get out in order to go to work to clear his name.”

As a matter of fact, except for the obligation to remain within the legal confines of the federal prison, Mr. Arden was not suffering. He had a comfortable room and enough to eat. But his financial matters were in such shape that he could not get money to reopen his case, all his property, as well as that of the boys, being tied up in the South American matter.

“But when we get through here, and if we don’t want to re-enlist after our four years are up, we’ll be able to earn a good living,” Ned remarked.

“Yes,” agreed Frank, “perhaps a better one than if we had finished at college. Uncle Sam gives thorough training.”

And so their work and play went on at the training station, for there was plenty of play time. After four o’clock in the afternoon the time of Frank and Ned, as well as that of their mates, was their own. They could study if they chose, and many did, or they could play baseball or football, read, or otherwise enjoy life.

Best of all our friends liked the short cruises they were taken on from time to time to familiarize them with life aboard a ship. They learned all the details of hoisting boats, letting go the big anchors, weighing them, or hoisting them aboard again.

As Frank had said, there was a rumor going the rounds that soon some of the more advanced apprentices would be assigned to a real battleship, there to put into actual practice what they had learned.

“And that time can’t come any too soon!” exclaimed Ned.

“So you’re anxious to get out on the deep blue sea?” asked his brother.

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

“Well, I should say I am! But still it has been fine here.”

“I guess so!” exclaimed Ned, with emphasis. “Some different from the time we stood in front of the recruiting office, after we were robbed, wondering what in the world we were going to do.”

“That’s right! I wonder if we’ll ever see those two thieves again?”

“It’s hardly possible,” said Ned. But fate plays strange tricks.

Toward the close of the four months of training, the work became more difficult in a way, and yet it was not too hard. It was always interesting to Frank and Ned. They were very different lads from the rather easy-going ones to whom I introduced you in the storm on Great South Bay, when they watched the big gray battleship.

And at last the day came when our heroes were told that their training time was up, and that they, with others, were to be assigned to the Georgetown, which was then in the Brooklyn navy yard. There Frank and Ned were sent, reporting to the proper officer.

“There she is!” Frank exclaimed, as the gray shape of the very latest of the dreadnaughts loomed before them. “There she is, Ned!”

“Oh, what a beauty!” cried Ned, using the word beauty as one does toward a very homely bulldog.

“All aboard!” exclaimed Frank, as they walked up the inclined bridge to the decks of the fighting monster. “All aboard!”