"Had enough?" asked Sampson, triumphantly. "Had enough, you imitation of
an ash cat? Oh, I guess you have. Think it out."

He turned and met Jenkins, who had run aft from the bridge.

"Now, Sampson, this'll be enough of this."

"What have _you_ got to say about it?" inquired Sampson, irately.

"Plenty to say," answered Jenkins, calmly.

"Not much, you haven't. You keep away from the engine room and the
engine-room affairs. I can 'tend to my department. You 'tend to yours."

"I can attend to yours as well when the time comes. There's work ahead
for--"

"Well, attend to me now. You've sweated me all day like a stoker at your
work; now go on and finish it up. I'll take a fall out o' you, Jenkins,
right here."

"No, you won't! Wait until the work's done, and I'll accommodate you."

Jenkins went forward; and Sampson, after a few moments of scarcely
audible grumbling, followed to the forecastle. Then Riley got up, looked
after him, and shook his fist.

"I'll git even wi' you for this," he declared, with lurid profanity.
"I'll have yer life for this, Sampson."

Then he went down the hatch, while Forsythe on the bridge, who had
watched the whole affair with an evil grin, turned away from Jenkins
when the latter joined him. Perhaps he enjoyed the sight of some one
beside himself being knocked down.

"It looks rather bad, Florrie," said Denman, dubiously; "all this
quarreling among themselves. Whatever job they have on hand they must
hold together, or we'll get the worst of it. I don't like to see Jenkins
and Sampson at it, though the two cooks are only a joke."

But there was no more open quarreling for the present. As the days wore
on, a little gun and torpedo drill was carried out; while, with steam
up, the boat made occasional darts to the north or south to avoid too
close contact with passing craft, and gradually--by fits and
starts--crept more to the westward. And Jenkins recovered complete
control of his voice and movements, while Munson, the wireless man,
grew haggard and thin.

At last, at nine o'clock one evening, just before Denman went down,
Munson ran up with a sheet of paper, shouting to the bridge:

"Caught on--with the United--night shift."

Then, having delivered the sheet to Jenkins, he went back, and the
rasping sound of his sending instrument kept up through the night.

But when Denman sought the deck after breakfast, it had stopped; and he
saw Munson, still haggard of face, talking to