blue. As Tom watched, a young fellow in a sailor's
suit hurried by, working his way among the throng of soldiers.
Presently, Frenchy strolled past talking volubly to another soldier, and
waving his cigarette gracefully in accompaniment. A naval quartermaster
leaned against the rail, chatting with a red-faced man with
spectacles--the chief engineer, Tom thought.

Who were Secret Service men and who were not? thought Tom. Who was a spy
and who was not? Perhaps some one who brushed past him carried in his
pockets (or more likely in the soles of his shoes) the designs of the
Liberty Motor. Perhaps some one had the same thought about _him_. What a
dreadful thing to be suspected of! A spy!

That puzzling phrase came into his mind again: _Sure, I could tend to
the other matter too--it's the same idea as a periscope._ What did that
mean? So the _Montauk_ was the _Christopher Colon_....

He was roused out of his abstraction by the fervid, jerky voice of
Frenchy, talking about Alsace. Alsace was a part of Germany, whatever
Frenchy might say.... Again Tom bethought him of Mr. Conne's very wise
advice, and he went to the main saloon and posted the weather
prediction.

That same day something happened which shocked him and gave him an
unpleasant feeling of loneliness. Mr. Wessel, the steward, died suddenly
of heart failure. He was Tom's immediate superior and in a way his
friend. He, and he alone, had received Tom's recommendation from Mr.
Conne, and knew something of him. He had given Tom that enviable place
as captain's boy, and throughout these few days had treated him with a
kind of pleasant familiarity.

He stood by as the army chaplain read the simple burial service, while
four soldiers held the rough, weighted casket upon the rail; and he saw
it go down with a splash and disappear in the mysterious, fathomless
ocean. It affected him more than the loss of a life by torpedoing or
drowning could have done and left him solemn and thoughtful and with a
deep sense of loss.

Just before dark they semaphored over from the _Dorrilton_ that they
could spare the second steward for duty on the _Montauk_. Tom mentioned
this to one of the deck stewards, and to his surprise and
consternation, an officer came to him a little later and asked him how
he knew it.

"I can read semaphoring," said Tom. "I used to be in the Boy Scouts."

The officer looked at him sharply and said, "Well, you'd better learn to
keep your mouth shut. This is