The Battleship Boys at Sea

Chapter 8

Sam took his seat at the mess table mechanically. As a matter of fact he felt dazed. He had expected a rebuke and he had received a promotion instead.

He was aroused from his abstraction by the voice of his chum.

Good boy! breathed Dan. I am proud of you. Fine! I knew you would show them the material you are made of when you got the chance. Were you really struck by lightning?

I dont know. I think it must have been the thunder clap that hit me, though I didnt hear it. But wasnt that gun a sight? Nearly tore the clothes off my back in the bargain.

Burn you anywhere?

I guess not. Sam turned his palms up mechanically and opened his eyes in amazement. They had been burned by the electric fluid until they were black to the finger tips.

Waugh! he exclaimed. Good thing it didnt do that to my face, or Id look just like the Pennsylvania Dutchman.

Sam, having his liberty, made a trip to the town that afternoon. It was his first trip there since arriving at the Training School. First, however, he procured his new rating badge and, after consulting with a petty officer, sewed it on his sleeve. Sam strutted around for some time after that, holding up his arm so that he might feast his eyes on the red-lined rating mark. He felt very proud of it, and his companion, Dan Davis, was no less proud of him.

In the town Sam found many other apprentices on liberty, and at their invitation he joined them, spending the rest of the afternoon in wandering about. They made him tell about his experiences in being struck by lightning that morning, which Sam did with more or less relish.

I imagine it was almost like being in a battle, fellows, he said.

If you got a clip like that in battle, I reckon you wouldnt be bragging about it afterwards, suggested one.

Im not bragging about it, protested Hickey indignantly. Whats the matter with you? Besides, Im an officer, now, and officers dont have to brag. They do things that speak for themselves.

Hear him talk! Hes got a swelled head already, jeered one of the party. Youll have a chance, to-morrow, to see whether you are any good or not.

What do you mean?

Can you shoot?

Sam grinned.

Dont make me laugh. I can shoot the eyes out of a spud as far as I can see it.

Whats a spud? piped a voice.

You a sailor, and dont know what a spud is? scoffed Sam. A spud is a spud, otherwise known as a potato. I am surprised at your ignorance.

Louis Flink says hes going to clean up the whole crowd of us, to-morrow, when we get to shooting.

Shooting?

Yes.

Shooting at what?

Targets.

Are we going to do that?

Sure, and the ones who make the best scores will be promoted, I understand. The officers always do that. They are going to try out the apprentices, to see who is good enough to qualify for the sharpshooting record of the station.

Hickeys eyes glowed. As soon as possible thereafter he excused himself. Boarding a street car, he returned to the station.

What do you think, Dan? questioned Sam, as soon as he had gotten his chum off away from the others.

Well, what is it? Been getting into more trouble, young man?

Not I. Its news, and youll say its real news when you hear it.

Well, I am listening, smiled Dan good-naturedly.

Sams face was flushed with excitement, for this had been an eventful day for him.

Tell me all about it?

We are going to shoot to-morrow, whispered Sam in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard a dozen yards away.

Shoot what?

Target work.

You dont say?

Yes, chuckled Hickey. We wont do a thing to the targets, will we?

I dont know about you, but as for myself I never thought I was much of a marksman. Of course, I have done some shooting, but there are boys here who have done much more, I guess. Whats the range?

I havent heard. But, being an officer, perhaps I might ask some one.

Do not presume too much on your promotion, warned Dan. You are only a very little officer. You may lose that rating if you are not careful.

Then Ill get struck by lightning again, and get another one, answered Sam confidently.

That night the boys swung themselves up into their hammocks, full of anticipation of what lay before them on the following day. It seemed as if they had no sooner gotten to sleep than the bugle sounded the reveille.

They were up and at their shower baths, laughing and chatting, a few minutes later. A happier, more care-free lot of hardy, brown-faced young fellows it would be difficult to find.

The early morning duties were quickly disposed of, for the word had been passed along that they were to take their first turn at the targets that day. Some of the boys who had never handled a gun before were more curious than those who had. The latter, however, were no less anxious to be at it. When the command, Fall in for target practice, was given, all hands felt like setting up a shout of joy. They restrained themselves, knowing full well that such a demonstration would bring swift and sure punishment.

After they had lined up, the officer in charge ordered certain of the men to fall out, they being wanted for other work. There were disappointed ones among these, but these were told they would be given their chance later in the week, as very many men could not be accommodated at one time. The target practice was to last nearly a week, two hours a day being devoted to it during this time.

All preparations having been made, the men were marched to the armory where they were equipped with their rifles and ammunition for the day.

The apprentices were to fire five rounds apiece, each day, only the average for the week to count.

Keep your nerves steady, and dont try to do anything fancy, just because you are an officer, warned Dan.

You squint through your own sights; Ill look after mine, retorted Sam.

Immediately after arriving at the range, the shooting began, one man taking a shot, then giving place to another.

Dan took his place and fired. He missed. Sam followed, a few numbers later, and he also missed. But when it came the turn of Louis Flink he made a bulls-eye the first shot. Flink favored the two boys with a sarcastic grin as he stepped aside to give the next man a chance.

The Battleship Boys had adjusted their sights in the meantime, and with their next shots they, too, each made a bulls-eye. When the five rounds had been fired it was found that Flink was one point ahead of them.

The lads were disgusted with themselves. On the following day the score was the same; that is, each of the two boys made center every time and so did Flink. Their only hope now was that he might make a miss, but this he evidently had no intention of doing, for he shot with rare judgment and coolness.

Ive got a good notion to break him up by saying something to him to-morrow, Sam confided to his companion that night.

I should be ashamed of you, if you did, rebuked Dan.

Ashamed of me? Why?

Because it would be an unsportsmanlike and a cowardly trick. If we cannot outshoot Blinkers, as you call him, we shall take our medicine like men. It seems hes the better man at the butts.

The last day of the target practice arrived. It was Saturday morning when the boys started out for the shooting grounds. The targets stood out strong and clear in the morning sunlight, against the big mound of earth before which they had been placed. By this time the shooting of the three boys had aroused no little interest among the others of the apprentices, and even the officers began to feel more than ordinary interest, for such shooting was not usual among the rookies in their early days.

The range had now been extended to three hundred yards. It was safe to predict that the story of the week would be changed at this range.

The firing began almost at once, the men with lower scores competing first, it having been decided to let the three leaders take their turns at the butts after the others had finished.

Keep your eyes open, suggested Dan. Get your range well, for we mustnt miss a shot to-day.

Were beaten anyway, complained Sam.

Stop it. Youre a fine sailor, you are. We are not beaten. We are never beaten until the last shot has been fired, and even then we wont run up any white flag. See that Flag over there?

What flag?

The one on the staffthe Stars and Stripes.

Sure.

Well just imagine you are under that, and that those targets over against the hill are enemies shooting at the Flag. What would you do to them?

You know what I would do to them if I couldId put them every one out of business.

Thats the talk! Well, they are enemiesour enemies. You must put them out of business.

All right; Im it. Ill drill them in the eyes. You watch me when I go to bat.

The firing, which had been going on for the past hour, suddenly ceased.

Leaders shoot off scores, came the command.

Its our turn, nodded Dan. Keep cool.

Im as cool as the hot sun will allow me to be, but I wish they would let me take off my jacket. Ill ask them.

No, no, no, protested Dan.

Flink take your place.

The dark-faced Pennsylvanian, a confident smile on his face, took his place toeing the mark. He took careful aim, pulled the trigger and lowered his weapon to his waist line.

Bulls-eye, wig-wagged the signal man at the butts.

Davis! called the officer in charge.

Dan stepped to the mark, stood for a moment gazing off at the range. Then, raising his gun, he took aim and fired without loss of time. The onlookers thought he had missed, for his shot was apparently carelessly executed.

Bulls-eye, came back the wig-wag signal.

A number of officers of the post had gathered to see the shooting, and a murmur of comment ran over the little throng.

Hickey!

To the bat! muttered Sam under his breath, taking his place. Hickey took long and careful aim, lowered his gun for a free look at the target then raised the weapon again. At last he fired.

He too, made a bulls-eye.

One round had been fired and without a single miss on the part of any one of the three contestants. This was continued for three more rounds with no change in the result.

Excitement ran high. Nearly every apprentice on the grounds was hoping that either the red-haired boy or his companion might win. Flink had few admirers, though all gave him full credit for what he had accomplished so far in the contest.

This time Dan was called to the mark first, the officer in charge varying the routine for some reason of his own.

Dan scored a bulls-eye.

Flink came next. This time he shot with less caution than before, and missed. Sam, however, made a bulls-eye.

Tied, sir. Shall they shoot it off? asked the quartermaster, saluting the commandant of the station.

Shoot it off, was the reply.

Aye, aye, sir. Leaders take their places for another round.

Flink was called to the mark first. He was plainly nervous. Perhaps his nervousness was not lessened by the glimpse he caught of Sam Hickeys face. Sam was grinning broadly, but he could not be accused of attempting to interfere with Flink, because he was not looking at him. Sam was looking at Dan at that particular moment.

Flink took his sight, then pulled the trigger with a nervous finger.

Miss, came the wig-wag signal.

Dan took his place and fired. He made a bulls-eye.

Sam came next. As before he took a great deal of time in preparation.

Hes posing, muttered Dan. He might better attend to his business.

However, Sam Hickey knew what he was about. If he missed, he would have the satisfaction of knowing that it was not through carelessness.

At last he seemed satisfied as to his position, arriving at which decision, he lost no time in bringing the rifle to his shoulder and pulling the trigger.

Bulls-eye!

A great shout went up from the apprentices. Discipline, for the moment, was swept aside. Even the officers smiled approvingly as their young charges threw hats high in the air, yelling lustily, shouting the names of their champions. Dan Davis and red-haired Sam had outshot them all. As it had grown late, there was no time for the two friends to shoot it off. Between them, it was a tie.