e Flag's reaching the deck, the band broke forth into
"The Star Spangled Banner." The hearts of the Battleship Boys swelled
with patriotism, and the strains of the national anthem seemed to bring
a deeper shade to the rows of tanned, manly faces lined up in solid
ranks on the quarter-deck of the battleship "Long Island."

"Attention! First division, right face! Forward march!"

The command was repeated for the other divisions. Snare drums rolled,
the band changed to a livelier tune, to which each division marched off
in steady lines, one division following the other. Soon all had
disappeared, save a group of officers who remained chatting on the
quarter-deck. These, too, soon turned and went below for the evening
mess.

The day's work was done for all except those who were to go on watch
duty for a two-hour trick.

Mess finished, Sam went out to the forward deck to growl at the jackies
who had been responsible for the pig's foot on his own right foot. The
pig's foot hurt him, and the lad limped painfully.

While Sam was forward Dan got out his ditty box, to which, by this
time, he had become as much attached as were the other sailors to
theirs. From the box he drew a recent letter from his mother, which
the Battleship Boy, sitting on the steel deck under a wall lamp in a
corridor, read over several times. It seemed a long time to Dan since
he had left her at Piedmont, and had gone on to New York to enlist in
the service of his country.

"I think I must know this letter by heart," mused Dan, folding the
letter and tenderly laying it away in the precious ditty box. Then,
fixing up his fountain pen, he began writing industriously, using his
elevated knees for a desk, on which he had laid his writing pad.

"I have written in more comfortable places than this, but I never had
more to say than I have this time," he said.

Mails were not very regular on shipboard, and sometimes it was a matter
of weeks before a single mail was put over the side.

Dan was still writing, an hour later, when Sam came along looking for
him.

"Oh, here you are, eh?"

"Yes."

"Writing a book?"

"No, I'm writing to mother. Is there any word you would like to send
to the folks at Piedmont?"

"You might say hello to Mrs. Davis for me. If they'd let a fellow
change his mind in this business, you'd see me back there to-morrow.
What are you writing to her?"

Dan smiled quizzically.

"If it were anyone else who asked me th