The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service

  CHAPTER II.

  "IF HE'S A MAN, HE'LL STAND UP."

  The passage of Ned and Herc from the foredeck in quest of theirditty-boxes had not gone unnoted by two men lounging at ease under theshadow of the great 13-inch guns projecting from the forward turret.The big circular steel structure acted as a wind-break, and the pairlay here smoking and talking in low tones.

  "I'd give fifty dollars to know Ned Strong's secret," observed oneof them, flicking the ashes from a cigar upon the spotless decks, adeliberate infraction of the ship's laws. Selden Merritt was one of thefew "before the mast" men on board who smoked cigars. A pipe and a plugof black, rank tobacco usually does for your jackie, but Merritt was anexception to the rule.

  "It would be worth it," agreed his companion, a heavily-set chap ofabout nineteen. His cap was off, and his black, bristly hair, cutpompadour, stood straight up from his rather low forehead.

  Merritt was a man of about twenty-four, blonde, thin and "race-horsey"in build. He had the reputation of having been a college man andchampion runner, until, losing prestige and reputation throughdissipation, he had been forced to enlist. It had proved the best thinghe ever did. Four years in the navy had given him a pink, clear skin, abright eye and an erect carriage. But it had not taken a furtive sneerout of his expression, nor altered his disposition, which was mean andcrafty. His bearing, however, was rather distinguished, with a certainswagger, and his talk showed that he was an educated man.

  "Did you have much to do with them on their first cruise?" inquiredMerritt's companion, Ray Chance.

  "No, they were both enlisted men. But they managed to give a blackeye, in a figurative way, to a good friend of mine."

  "You mean Bill Kennell?"

  "Yes. I hear that he's been pardoned from prison--political pull. Butthat doesn't alter the fact that they accomplished his downfall."

  "Well, I never liked either of them. I heard about them by reputationbefore I came to the _Manhattan_ from the _Dixie_. I like them stillless from what I've seen of them on board here. I think this fellowStrong is a big faker."

  "Yes. I'm sick and disgusted with him and the airs he gives himself.His dear chum and inseparable is almost as bad. I'd like to take a fallout of both of them."

  "You'll get your chance to-morrow in the squadron's games. You can beatNed Strong running the best day he ever stepped on a track."

  "I ought to be able to, and I mean to do it, too. I don't like bluffs,and this chap Strong is a false alarm if ever there was one."

  "Say, you fellows," suddenly interpolated a voice, "if you thinkStrong is such a bluff, why don't you tell him so?"

  The interruption came from a short, stocky, little blue-jacket,lounging nearby. He had been reading a book on gunnery, but the raisedvoices of the Dreadnought Boy's detractors had aroused his attention.His blue eyes twinkled rather humorously, as he eyed the agile,long-limbed Merritt and his sallow, dark-haired companion.

  "Hullo, Benjamin Franklin; were you rubbering on our conversation?"said Merritt, assuming an indignant expression.

  "Ben Franklin" was the nickname given to the studious tar whose rightname was Stephen Wynn.

  "It didn't take any 'rubbering,' as you call it, to overhear you," saidWynn quietly; "if you take my advice, when you want to say mean thingsabout Ned Strong or his chum, you'll lower your voice aboard this ship.They've got quite a few friends."

  "Just the same," maintained Merritt, "the chap isn't all he sets up tobe. He's got some secret, like all such fellows."

  "I guess his secret is hard work and attention to duty," said Wynnrather shortly, returning to his reading.

  "You don't seriously think that there is any chance of Strong's givingyou a tussle for the first place?" asked Ray Chance.

  "Frankly, I don't. But there is always a possibility of mistaking one'sman. I'm wise enough to know that."

  "But you have arranged in some way to make success certain?"

  Merritt gave Chance a quizzical look.

  "You know me," he said, with a knowing wink, "Chalmers of the old_Luzzy_ (sailor slang for the _Louisiana_) is an old friend of mine. Hedislikes Strong as much as I do. He's the next best man in the race. Ifthings go wrong, we've got a little system arranged to pocket friendStrong. But how about you? You are pitted against Taylor in the polevault, aren't you?"

  "Yes, and I ain't worrying, you bet."

  Merritt still retained a good choice of diction, a relic of his collegedays, but Chance's talk was was more uncouth and less polished.

  "Good! I don't mind telling you I've got some money out on myself.Enough to swamp a good deal of my pay, in fact. I've got to win."

  "About the same thing here," grinned Chance; "if I lose, it's all upwith me financially. I'm in pretty deep."

  "Tell you what," said Merritt suddenly, "I hear that there will beextra pay and bonuses attaching to this aero duty. Let's send inapplications, and then if we get trimmed in the races and jumps we willhave a chance to get some extra coin."

  "That's a good idea," agreed Chance. But as they started to carry outtheir intention, the same bugle calls that had hastened the steps ofNed and Herc recalled them to duty.

  Stephen Wynn arose with a sigh, and thrust his book inside his looseblouse. "Ben Franklin" disliked to leave his studies for duty. Buthe was a smart sailor, and formed one of Ned's gun crew. Merritt andChance were on one of the after turrets.

  "Those fellows took care to sink their voices after they found out I'doverheard them," said Wynn to himself, as he fell in with the rest ofthe blue-jackets. "I'll bet that they were plotting some mischief toStrong and Taylor. At any rate, I'll put them on their guard at thefirst opportunity I get."

  At three-thirty, or seven bells, the gun drills and calisthenicexercises were over, and a brief space of leisure ensued. Wynn,according to his determination, sought out Ned and Herc. He lost notime in communicating his suspicions to them. But, somewhat to hisastonishment, neither of the lads seemed much impressed.

  "A fellow who plots and backbites in dark corners is not one to bescared of," said Ned. "But just the same, Ben Franklin, I'm obliged toyou. I guess we'll keep our eyes on our two friends, eh, Herc?"

  "Not worth bothering with," observed Herc, "as the car conductor saidwhen the fellow offered him a plugged dime. If they can win fair andsquare, we won't grudge it to them."

  "Well, I've warned you," said "Ben Franklin." "By the way, what makesthose fellows so sore at you?"

  "Oh, Merritt, so I've heard, was a friend of Bill Kennell. He wasthe fellow, you know, who kidnapped Mr. Varian in Cuba. He naturallydislikes us for the part we played in apprehending Kennell. As forChance, he was in my gun crew up to a few weeks ago. I had to have himup 'at the stick' for insubordination once or twice, and I guess it'sstuck in his craw."

  "If it hadn't been for you, Ned, he'd have gone to the brig," put inHerc.

  "Oh, well, I thought that a taste of the brig would be too severe,"said Ned. "I hoped a good wigging by the 'old man' (the captain) wouldbe sufficient, but it wasn't. Then Chance sulked and played sick. Hetook in the doctor for a while, but it didn't last. He was punished andrestored to duty with an after gun crew following that."

  "And blames you for all his troubles," said Herc indignantly, "and Iguess I come in for a share of his dislike."

  "Oh, life's too short to worry about Merritt and Chance," said Ned,breaking off the conversation. "It looks as if we'd have a gloriousday to-morrow," he went on, adroitly turning the topic of talk.The ruse succeeded. The three shipmates fell to discussing thecoming games. Others joined them, and the time passed rapidly tillfive-thirty,--three bells--when all hands were piped to supper, a plainbut substantial meal. For the benefit of our non-seafaring reader,we will tell him that on this particular night it consisted of:--hotroast-beef hash, cold boiled ham, canned peaches, bread, butter and teaor coffee. Thus, it will be seen that Uncle Sam does not starve hisblue-jackets.

  Supper was in full swing when Ned, who was at the head of the tablewhich s
eated his "mess," was the recipient of a surprising testimonial.

  It came in the shape of a hot baked potato, flung with accuracy andspeed. It struck the Dreadnought Boy in the eye, and burst, spreadingits pasty contents over his features. Herc, who sat by Ned, leaped tohis feet in a flash, while Ned hastily pawed the mass out of his eyes.

  "I saw who threw that," cried Herc, his face aflame, the freckleslooming up like spots on the sun; "if he's a man, he'll stand up."

  A stir ran through the forecastle. Herc's finger pointed to a distanttable and rested on the form of Merritt. Chance sat by him. Both hadbeen laughing an instant before, but as Merritt saw that he had beenfound out his face assumed a rather sickly grin.

  "Sit down, Herc," ordered Ned rather sternly, "I'll attend to this. AmI to understand that you threw that potato?" he demanded, fixing hisgaze straight on Merritt's face.

  The other's eyes sank. He looked disturbed and a bit scared. Ned'svoice had held no uncertain ring.

  "It--it was just a joke," he said. "You don't need to get huffy aboutit."

  "Rather a strenuous joke, wasn't it?" asked Ned in a firm, calmvoice, while the eyes of every man in the place were fixed on him inbreathless attention.

  "I--I didn't mean to hit you," went on Merritt. "I just wanted to giveyou a jump. It was just a joke--that's all."

  "That being the case," resumed Ned, "I shall have to ask you to removethe consequences of your _joke_."

  So saying, he deliberately threw the remains of the potato on the deck.

  "Now, come here and pick that up and carry it back," he said, with aflash in his eyes. "We'll carry this joke through to its conclusion."

  Merritt turned pale and hesitated. Then he caught Ned's eye. A certainglint in it seemed to galvanize him into action. Amid a roar oflaughter from the entire assemblage, Merritt, red and white by turns,crossed to Ned's table and carefully picked up every scrap of thed?bris.

  "What are you laughing at?" he glared at Herc, as he made his way backto his own place.

  "At your joke," sputtered Herc, affecting a spasm of amusement. "Ho!ho! ho! That's one of the best jokes I've ever seen."

  "It is, is it?" glowered Merritt.

  "Yes, but it isn't as big a joke as it would have been if you hadn'tdone as Ned told you. Ho! ho! ho! It isn't every puppy that will fetchand carry at the first lesson."

  The shout of laughter was taken up by the rest of the blue-jackets.Amid this storm of merriment, Merritt made his way to his seat. Hereached it just as the officer of the deck entered.

  "Merritt, what are you out of your place for?" demanded thisdignitary, who was noted as a strict disciplinarian.

  "I--I dropped a potato, sir, and was picking it up," stammered Merritt,trembling with rage and mortification.