Chapter I: Dave Makes an Enemy and Finds a Friend

“Hello, sonny; who let you on board?”

The tall, stoop-shouldered sailor with the thin face grinned malignantly. His right sleeve bore a seaman gunner’s mark and a single enlistment stripe adorned the other. He was a dark-visaged man of nearly thirty, with deeply-set and crafty eyes under thick, scraggly brows. The boy who, at the challenge, had paused at the foot of the fo’c’sle companion, decided then and there that he didn’t like the man, but he replied quietly and amiably:

“The quartermaster. Do you know which of these bunks are empty?”

“Why, say, you ain’t thinkin’ of bunkin’ for’ard! Cabin boys always live aft, sonny.”

“If you mean me, I happen to be a seaman.” David Garson moved across the narrow fo’c’sle and laid his canvas bag on a bunk that showed no evidence of occupancy. He was seventeen, but scarcely looked it, for he was not over tall for that age, and had a very boyish face. But his lack of stature appeared to be atoned for by a compact, well-proportioned body, and there was capability and self-reliance behind the youthfulness of his countenance. He was a nice-looking chap, although you wouldn’t have called him handsome, with brown hair and eyes, and a well-tanned skin showing above the low neck of his navy shirt.

“A what!” exclaimed the other, assuming deep incredulity. “My, ain’t it awful what war does? Snatches the babes right out o’ their cradles, don’t it? Where’d you leave your nurse, sonny?”

“Where you left your manners,” was the quiet reply.

“Is that so?” sneered the sailor. “Smart, ain’t you? Sort o’ precocious, eh? Bet your ma felt terrible about losin’ you. Bet you was the sunshine of the old home, wasn’t you?”

“What have you got against me?” asked Dave, puzzled.

“Not a thing! Not a thing! Only you’re too fresh, see? And I’m tipping you off that you want to talk civil, or something painful might happen to you.”

“I see,” responded the boy, dryly. “Some one might mistake me for you.”

“Aw, cut it!” growled the other. “For two cents I’d hand you a wallop, you smart Alick! ‘Seaman,’ says you! I’ve swabbed deck with fellers twice your size, and I’ll do it again if you give me any of your lip!”

“Why don’t you let me alone if you don’t like my ways?” asked Dave. “I didn’t start anything.”

“You’d better not try to.” The gunner, who had followed across the fo’c’sle, stretched forth a big hand and gave the boy’s head an ungentle push that, while it did not hurt, sent the blood pouring into the tanned cheeks. Dave sprang from the edge of the bunk with blazing eyes.

“Keep your dirty hands off me!” he said in a voice that trembled in spite of his efforts to keep it steady. “I haven’t bothered you, and you’ve no call to bully me. Now let up!”

“Is that so?” asked the other, thrusting a grinning face closer. “Suppose I don’t? What would you do, you cute little thing? For two cents――”

“Lay off the kid, Chuck!” interrupted a peremptory voice.

Unheard by them, a short, squarely-built, tow-headed youth of about nineteen had descended the companion. He had a round, freckled face, pale blue eyes, a short, button-like nose, and square jaws that were just now rhythmically busy with a piece of gum. He came across the fo’c’sle with a sort of cocky swing of his broad shoulders and a wide smile. But the smile didn’t deceive either Dave or his tormentor. “Some day, Chuck,” went on the newcomer, “you’ll make a mistake an’ light on a guy that’s ’most half your size.”

“What’s it to you, Rooney?” demanded the gunner. “You mind your own business, or I’ll hand you something, too!”

“You an’ who else?” inquired the other. “Say, Chuck, you ain’t got enough up your sleeve to make a motion. The only thing you ever licked was a stamp, and that didn’t stick. Go on! Fade away! Beat it!”

“Maybe you can make me!” growled the gunner. But he was already making a slow retreat. “This baby-face got fresh with me, and I was telling him something for his own good. If he don’t look out he’s going to run into something hard, see? And that goes double for you, Rooney!”

“Yeah, I know,” replied Rooney, sarcastically. “I been hearin’ that dope for a week. You’re just bluff, Chuck. You ain’t got nothin’ but talk.”

“I got enough to put you to sleep, you Bowery tough!”

“Tough’s the word, matey! Tough enough for you any old day.”

“Is that so?” The gunner edged with exaggerated nonchalance to the foot of the companion. “I’ll get you, just the same, believe me!”

“Sure you will――if my back’s turned,” was the untroubled reply. “But it ain’t goin’ to be turned, Chuck.”

“You think you’re smart, don’t you? I’ll fix you some time.” He climbed the companion, still muttering, and disappeared through the fo’c’sle hatch. The tow-haired one turned to Dave, chuckling.

“Ain’t he amusin’?” he asked. “What was he ridin’ you for?”

“I don’t know. He started it. Much obliged for――for――”

“Buttin’ in?” laughed Rooney. “That’s all right, kid. Me an’ Chuck’s been yappin’ at each other ever since this boat left Norfolk. But nothin’ ain’t happened yet. Some time I’ll paste him one just to end the――the expense.”

“Suspense?” laughed Dave.

“That’s it.” The tow-headed youth grinned. Then: “Say, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Garson,” answered Dave.

“Mine’s Rooney; first name, Pete. I’m French.” He winked broadly. “What’s your other monicker?”

“Other――oh, David; Dave for short.”

“Sure! Like the feller in the Bible. An’ Chuck Morgan was playin’ Goliar, or whatever his name was. You come from down south, don’t you?”

“Maryland.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s the place they sing a song about. I knew you was from somewhere down yonder, because you talk different. How long you been in?”

“A little over three months. I left the Newport station a week ago Tuesday. I got up here this morning. Do you know if I can take this bunk?”

“Sure. Take any you like. If any guy kicks, send him to me. What watch you in?”

“Port,” replied the other. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Stow your duffel and let’s get out o’ here.”

“I suppose you’ve been in the navy a good while,” said Dave.

“Me? I joined a year an’ a half ago. ’Bout the time the Huns sunk the _Sussex_. That got my goat, an’ I figured we’d be goin’ into it pretty quick after that.”

“Have you been across yet?”

“No; this is my first sea duty, same as you. An’ say, kid, it’s goin’ to be some voyage, take it from Pete!”

“Is it? Why?”

“Why? ’Cause we’re goin’ over, that’s why!”

“Over! You mean this boat’s going to France?”

“Yeah, France or Paris or some place like that. They ain’t tellin’ it, but we know. We seen ’em load supplies, kid.”

“Why, that’s fine, isn’t it?” exclaimed Dave, eagerly. “But――but isn’t she awfully small to make the trip alone?”

“She won’t be alone. But she is small, all right, an’ that’s why I’m tellin’ you it’ll be some trip. Take it from Pete, kid, food ain’t goin’ to be of no interest to a lot of us guys for a long time!”

“You mean we’ll be seasick?” said the other thoughtfully. “I suppose I shall. I’ve never been to sea much. I’ve sailed a boat all my life――”

“All that time!” marveled Pete, his blue eyes atwinkle.

Dave laughed. “Well, for five or six years, then, I reckon. But I’ve never been very far from land.”

“Nor me. An’ I’m tellin’ you straight that I ain’t cheerin’ much for it, either. Sometimes I wish I was back on my old job. It had its ups and downs, but it was pretty steady at that.”

“What did you do?” Dave inquired.

“Run an elevator,” chuckled Pete. “Down to the Endicott Building, on Broad street, in little old New York. That’s my home, New York. I was born there, an’ wasn’t never out of it till I signed up with Uncle Sam. Chuck Morgan called me a Bowery tough, an’ that’s what I am, I guess. Anyway, I was till one day a guy in a silk hat tried to get himself run over by a truck, an’ I snatched him out of it. He slipped me a ten, an’ asked did I want a job. I didn’t――much――but I didn’t want to hurt his feelin’s, an’ so I told him yes. An’ first thing I knew I was workin’ steady liftin’ an elevator up with a rope. But it wasn’t much of a life for a husky guy like me. So when the war came along I ducked.”

“And do you like being in the navy?” asked Dave.

“Sure! It’s a great life. There ain’t nothin’ to do but work. Trouble is, though, there ain’t been no scrappin’. I been scrappin’ all my life, and I sort o’ miss it. But I guess it’s comin’, all right, now. Those Germans ain’t been doin’ a thing but askin’ for a wallop!”

“And they’re going to get it,” said Dave, grimly.

“There’s the truth, take it from Pete! Now, what’s your story?”

“I reckon I haven’t any,” replied Dave, smiling. “I’m here because I’ve always wanted to be in the navy, and because――well, a fellow feels as if he had to do something after the way the Germans have been going on. Of course, I couldn’t get in until I was seventeen, and I had hard work getting my mother to consent. There isn’t any one but me at home now, you see. Dad’s been dead some time, and my sister’s married and living in California. But after mother saw how much I wanted to get into this she came around. The day I was seventeen I went up to Baltimore and enlisted. They sent me to Newport, and I was there three months. Then I went home on liberty for a week, and now here I am.”

“Guess it’ll be sort o’ lonely for your ma, won’t it?” reflected Pete. “Say, if I had a ma I wouldn’t be leavin’ her to go to no war, take it from Pete.”

“Oh, yes, I reckon you would. You’d go into this one, just as I did. It will be lonely for mother, I know――but I just had to do it! She was perfectly fine about it when she realized how I felt. Mothers are kind of wonderful folks, aren’t they?”

“I guess so.” Pete scowled. “I never had any. Not that I knows of. Oh, well, that’s all right, too. There ain’t no one to worry about me if I get my fool head blown off. Guess you an’ me’d better go topside. This tub’s due to pull out pretty soon, I’m thinkin’.”