."

The officer seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown.

"What's your name?" asked another officer suddenly.

I told him.

"Initials?"

I told him. He looked at the paper for a moment.

"That explains it," he said with a sigh of relief, "you're not the
man. There has been some mistake. Orderly, take this man away and
bring back the right one. Pronto!"

That Spanish stuff sounds awfully sea-going. I was taken away, but the
officer had not yet recovered. He regarded me with an expression of
profound disgust. Anyway I created a sensation.

[Illustration: "'I WOULD STILL REMAIN IN A DENSE FOG,' I GASPED IN A
LOW VOICE"]

_Sept. 4th._ Things have been happening with overwhelming rapidity. On
the strength of being properly engaged to Polly, my permanent sweetie,
I went to my Regimental commander this morning and applied for a
furlough. He regarded me pityingly for a moment and then carefully
scanned a list of names on the desk before him.

"I am sorry," he said finally, "but not only am I not able to grant
your request, but I have the unpleasant duty to inform you that you
are a little less than forty-eight hours from the vicinity of Ambrose
light."

"Shipped!" I gasped as the world swam around me.

"Your name is on this list," said the officer not unkindly.

"Shipped!" I repeated in a dazed voice.

"It does seem ridiculous, I'll admit," said the officer, smiling, "but
you never can tell what strange things are going to happen in the
Navy. If I were in your place I'd take advantage of this head start I
have given you and get my clothes and sea-bag in some sort of
condition. If I remember rightly, you have never been able
successfully to achieve this since you've been in the service."

"Thank you, sir," I gasped, and bolted. In my excitement I ran
violently into a flock of ensigns stalking across the parade ground.

"I'm going to be shipped," I cried by way of explanation to one of
them as he arose wrathfully.

"You're going to be damned," said he, and I was. Too frantic to write
more.

_Sept. 5th._ All preparations have been made. Tim, Tony and the Spider
are going too. I have just been listening to the most disturbing
conversation. It all arose from our speculating as to our probable
destination and the nature of our services. The Master-at-arms, who
had been sleeping on the hammock rack as only a Master-at-arms can,
permitted himself to remain awake long enough to join in.

"I wouldn't be at