. I've no linen in my bag."

"Yes, sir."

Claude and Fanning got on deck as quickly as possible and found
scores of their comrades already there, pointing to dark smudges
of smoke along the clear horizon. They knew that these vessels
had come from unknown ports, some of them far away, steaming
thither under orders known only to their commanders. They would
all arrive within a few hours of each other at a given spot on
the surface of the ocean. There they would fall into place,
flanked by their destroyers, and would proceed in orderly
formation, without changing their relative positions. Their
escort would not leave them until they were joined by gunboats
and destroyers off whatever coast they were bound for,--what that
coast was, not even their own officers knew as yet.

Later in the morning this meeting was actually accomplished.
There were ten troop ships, some of them very large boats, and
six destroyers. The men stood about the whole morning, gazing
spellbound at their sister transports, trying to find out their
names, guessing at their capacity. Tanned as they already were,
their lips and noses began to blister under the fiery sunlight.
After long months of intensive training, the sudden drop into an
idle, soothing existence was grateful to them. Though their pasts
were neither long or varied, most of them, like Claude Wheeler,
felt a sense of relief at being rid of all they had ever been
before and facing something absolutely new. Said Tod Fanning, as
he lounged against the rail, "Whoever likes it can run for a
train every morning, and grind his days out in a Westinghouse
works; but not for me any more!"

The Virginian joined them. "That Englishman ain't got out of bed
yet. I reckon he's been liquouring up pretty steady. The place
smells like a bar. The room steward was just coming out, and he
winked at me. He was slipping something in his pocket, looked
like a banknote."

Claude was curious, and went down to the cabin. As he entered,
the air-man, lying half-dressed in his upper berth, raised
himself on one elbow and looked down at him. His blue eyes were
contracted and hard, his curly hair disordered, but his cheeks
were as pink as a girl's, and the little yellow humming-bird
moustache on his upper lip was twisted sharp.

"You're missing fine weather," said Claude affably.

"Oh, there'll be a great deal of weather before we get over, and
damned little of anything else!" He drew a bottle from under his