CHAPTER VIII--ON THE RIFLE RANGE
Sam took his seat at the mess table mechanically. As a matter of fact hefelt dazed. He had expected a rebuke and he had received a promotioninstead.
He was aroused from his abstraction by the voice of his chum.
"Good boy!" breathed Dan. "I am proud of you. Fine! I knew you wouldshow them the material you are made of when you got the chance. Were youreally struck by lightning?"
"I don't know. I think it must have been the thunder clap that hit me,though I didn't hear it. But wasn't that gun a sight? Nearly tore theclothes off my back in the bargain."
"Burn you anywhere?"
"I guess not." Sam turned his palms up mechanically and opened his eyesin amazement. They had been burned by the electric fluid until they wereblack to the finger tips.
"Waugh!" he exclaimed. "Good thing it didn't do that to my face, or I'dlook just like the Pennsylvania Dutchman."
Sam, having his liberty, made a trip to the town that afternoon. It washis first trip there since arriving at the Training School. First,however, he procured his new rating badge and, after consulting with apetty officer, sewed it on his sleeve. Sam strutted around for some timeafter that, holding up his arm so that he might feast his eyes on thered-lined rating mark. He felt very proud of it, and his companion, DanDavis, was no less proud of him.
In the town Sam found many other apprentices on liberty, and at theirinvitation he joined them, spending the rest of the afternoon inwandering about. They made him tell about his experiences in beingstruck by lightning that morning, which Sam did with more or lessrelish.
"I imagine it was almost like being in a battle, fellows," he said.
"If you got a clip like that in battle, I reckon you wouldn't bebragging about it afterwards," suggested one.
"I'm not bragging about it," protested Hickey indignantly. "What's thematter with you? Besides, I'm an officer, now, and officers don't haveto brag. They do things that speak for themselves."
"Hear him talk! He's got a swelled head already," jeered one of theparty. "You'll have a chance, to-morrow, to see whether you are any goodor not."
"What do you mean?"
"Can you shoot?"
Sam grinned.
"Don't make me laugh. I can shoot the eyes out of a spud as far as I cansee it."
"What's a spud?" piped a voice.
"You a sailor, and don't know what a spud is?" scoffed Sam. "A spud is aspud, otherwise known as a potato. I am surprised at your ignorance."
"Louis Flink says he's going to clean up the whole crowd of us,to-morrow, when we get to shooting."
"Shooting?"
"Yes."
"Shooting at what?"
"Targets."
"Are we going to do that?"
"Sure, and the ones who make the best scores will be promoted, Iunderstand. The officers always do that. They are going to try out theapprentices, to see who is good enough to qualify for the sharpshootingrecord of the station."
Hickey's eyes glowed. As soon as possible thereafter he excused himself.Boarding a street car, he returned to the station.
"What do you think, Dan?" questioned Sam, as soon as he had gotten hischum off away from the others.
"Well, what is it? Been getting into more trouble, young man?"
"Not I. It's news, and you'll say it's real news when you hear it."
"Well, I am listening," smiled Dan good-naturedly.
Sam's face was flushed with excitement, for this had been an eventfulday for him.
"Tell me all about it?"
"We are going to shoot to-morrow," whispered Sam in a stage whisper loudenough to be heard a dozen yards away.
"Shoot what?"
"Target work."
"You don't say?"
"Yes," chuckled Hickey. "We won't do a thing to the targets, will we?"
"I don't know about you, but as for myself I never thought I was much ofa marksman. Of course, I have done some shooting, but there are boyshere who have done much more, I guess. What's the range?"
"I haven't heard. But, being an officer, perhaps I might ask some one."
"Do not presume too much on your promotion," warned Dan. "You are only avery little officer. You may lose that rating if you are not careful."
"Then I'll get struck by lightning again, and get another one," answeredSam confidently.
That night the boys swung themselves up into their hammocks, full ofanticipation of what lay before them on the following day. It seemed asif they had no sooner gotten to sleep than the bugle sounded thereveille.
They were up and at their shower baths, laughing and chatting, a fewminutes later. A happier, more care-free lot of hardy, brown-faced youngfellows it would be difficult to find.
The early morning duties were quickly disposed of, for the word had beenpassed along that they were to take their first turn at the targets thatday. Some of the boys who had never handled a gun before were morecurious than those who had. The latter, however, were no less anxious tobe at it. When the command, "Fall in for target practice," was given,all hands felt like setting up a shout of joy. They restrainedthemselves, knowing full well that such a demonstration would bringswift and sure punishment.
After they had lined up, the officer in charge ordered certain of themen to fall out, they being wanted for other work. There weredisappointed ones among these, but these were told they would be giventheir chance later in the week, as very many men could not beaccommodated at one time. The target practice was to last nearly a week,two hours a day being devoted to it during this time.
All preparations having been made, the men were marched to the armorywhere they were equipped with their rifles and ammunition for the day.
The apprentices were to fire five rounds apiece, each day, only theaverage for the week to count.
"Keep your nerves steady, and don't try to do anything fancy, justbecause you are an officer," warned Dan.
"You squint through your own sights; I'll look after mine," retortedSam.
Immediately after arriving at the range, the shooting began, one mantaking a shot, then giving place to another.
Dan took his place and fired. He missed. Sam followed, a few numberslater, and he also missed. But when it came the turn of Louis Flink hemade a bull's-eye the first shot. Flink favored the two boys with asarcastic grin as he stepped aside to give the next man a chance.
The Battleship Boys had adjusted their sights in the meantime, and withtheir next shots they, too, each made a bull's-eye. When the five roundshad been fired it was found that Flink was one point ahead of them.
The lads were disgusted with themselves. On the following day the scorewas the same; that is, each of the two boys made center every time andso did Flink. Their only hope now was that he might make a miss, butthis he evidently had no intention of doing, for he shot with rarejudgment and coolness.
"I've got a good notion to break him up by saying something to himto-morrow," Sam confided to his companion that night.
"I should be ashamed of you, if you did," rebuked Dan.
"Ashamed of me? Why?"
"Because it would be an unsportsmanlike and a cowardly trick. If wecannot outshoot Blinkers, as you call him, we shall take our medicinelike men. It seems he's the better man at the butts."
The last day of the target practice arrived. It was Saturday morningwhen the boys started out for the shooting grounds. The targets stoodout strong and clear in the morning sunlight, against the big mound ofearth before which they had been placed. By this time the shooting ofthe three boys had aroused no little interest among the others of theapprentices, and even the officers began to feel more than ordinaryinterest, for such shooting was not usual among the rookies in theirearly days.
The range had now been extended to three hundred yards. It was safe topredict that the story of the week would be changed at this range.
The firing began almost at once, the men with lower scores competingfirst, it having been decided to let the three leade
rs take their turnsat the butts after the others had finished.
"Keep your eyes open," suggested Dan. "Get your range well, for wemustn't miss a shot to-day."
"We're beaten anyway," complained Sam.
"Stop it. You're a fine sailor, you are. We are not beaten. We are neverbeaten until the last shot has been fired, and even then we won't run upany white flag. See that Flag over there?"
"What flag?"
"The one on the staff--the Stars and Stripes."
"Sure."
"Well just imagine you are under that, and that those targets overagainst the hill are enemies shooting at the Flag. What would you do tothem?"
"You know what I would do to them if I could--I'd put them every one outof business."
"That's the talk! Well, they are enemies--our enemies. You must put themout of business."
"All right; I'm it. I'll drill them in the eyes. You watch me when I goto bat."
The firing, which had been going on for the past hour, suddenly ceased.
"Leaders shoot off scores," came the command.
"It's our turn," nodded Dan. "Keep cool."
"I'm as cool as the hot sun will allow me to be, but I wish they wouldlet me take off my jacket. I'll ask them."
"No, no, no," protested Dan.
"Flink take your place."
The dark-faced Pennsylvanian, a confident smile on his face, took hisplace toeing the mark. He took careful aim, pulled the trigger andlowered his weapon to his waist line.
"Bull's-eye," wig-wagged the signal man at the butts.
"Davis!" called the officer in charge.
Dan stepped to the mark, stood for a moment gazing off at the range.Then, raising his gun, he took aim and fired without loss of time. Theonlookers thought he had missed, for his shot was apparently carelesslyexecuted.
"Bull's-eye," came back the wig-wag signal.
A number of officers of the post had gathered to see the shooting, and amurmur of comment ran over the little throng.
"Hickey!"
"To the bat!" muttered Sam under his breath, taking his place. Hickeytook long and careful aim, lowered his gun for a free look at the targetthen raised the weapon again. At last he fired.
He too, made a bull's-eye.
One round had been fired and without a single miss on the part of anyone of the three contestants. This was continued for three more roundswith no change in the result.
Excitement ran high. Nearly every apprentice on the grounds was hopingthat either the red-haired boy or his companion might win. Flink had fewadmirers, though all gave him full credit for what he had accomplishedso far in the contest.
This time Dan was called to the mark first, the officer in chargevarying the routine for some reason of his own.
Dan scored a bull's-eye.
Flink came next. This time he shot with less caution than before, andmissed. Sam, however, made a bull's-eye.
"Tied, sir. Shall they shoot it off?" asked the quartermaster, salutingthe commandant of the station.
"Shoot it off," was the reply.
"Aye, aye, sir. Leaders take their places for another round."
Flink was called to the mark first. He was plainly nervous. Perhaps hisnervousness was not lessened by the glimpse he caught of Sam Hickey'sface. Sam was grinning broadly, but he could not be accused ofattempting to interfere with Flink, because he was not looking at him.Sam was looking at Dan at that particular moment.
Flink took his sight, then pulled the trigger with a nervous finger.
"Miss," came the wig-wag signal.
Dan took his place and fired. He made a bull's-eye.
Sam came next. As before he took a great deal of time in preparation.
"He's posing," muttered Dan. "He might better attend to his business."
However, Sam Hickey knew what he was about. If he missed, he would havethe satisfaction of knowing that it was not through carelessness.
At last he seemed satisfied as to his position, arriving at whichdecision, he lost no time in bringing the rifle to his shoulder andpulling the trigger.
"Bull's-eye!"
A great shout went up from the apprentices. Discipline, for the moment,was swept aside. Even the officers smiled approvingly as their youngcharges threw hats high in the air, yelling lustily, shouting the namesof their champions. Dan Davis and red-haired Sam had outshot them all.As it had grown late, there was no time for the two friends to shoot itoff. Between them, it was a tie.