the reeling deck, draw a rag from the pocket of his "jeans," and then,
with great care and deliberation, begin to polish a patch of steel plate
that was exposed in the angle of two strips of coco-matting. "Wha' cher
holystoning deck yetawhile fer, Pete?" one of his mates shouted.
"Can'cher wait till we gets back to port? We may have to foul your
pretty work with greasy Huns any minnit." Unperturbed, Pete went right
on rubbing, testing the footing every now and then with the sole of his
boot. Only when the job, whatever it was, was done to suit his
fastidious taste did he return to his seat on the reversed water-bucket
and start peeling potatoes again. Not till a full dozen or more neatly
skinned Murphies had passed under his knife did he vouchsafe to reply to
the half-curious, half-pitying looks and remarks his mates had continued
to direct at him. Then his explanation was as crushing as complete.

"It don't look much as if you guys wants to get a Hun," he observed
finally, running a critical eye over them. "Oh, you do, do you? My
mistake. Well, then, don't try to be funny with another guy that's
doing his best to effect that same good end. Now looka here. From where
I sits to my gun-station is just six steps. Six for me, I mean; it'd be
more for most of you 'shorties.' Now I just figures that step number
four lands my foot square in the dribble of oil on that patch where
there ain't no matting; so what was more natural than for me to go and
swab it up. Last time the gong binged I hit half a preserved peach, and
sprained a wrist and ankle so bad that I woulda been dead slow on the
gun if we'd had to fire it. Keeping my eye peeled for another piece of
peach, I pipes that gob of oil, and so goes and gets rid of it. It's
painful having to explain a simple thing like that to you bone-heads,
but, now that you got it, p'raps you'll ease off on your beefing, and
peel spuds. _That_ don't take no brains."

Two or three times in the course of the morning the look-out's shout of
"Sail!" bearing this way or that, brought those in sound of it to their
feet in the expectation that it would be followed by the welcome
clanging of the alarm bell; and once or twice the wireless picked up the
S.O.S.--they do not send it out that way now, but these letters are
still the common term in use to describe the call of a ship in
distress--of a steamer that had been torpedoed. But the sails turned out
to be friends in every case, while both of t