CHAPTER XIII--RESENTING AN INSULT
The services of two jackies were required to boost Hickey into hishammock that night at nine o'clock, when hammocks were piped up.
At five o'clock next morning, when the bugle piped all hands out, thered-haired Jackie was in a sad state. His hair was standing up like thequill of a porcupine, fairly bristling with disorder. When Dan helpedhim down to the deck Sam fell in a heap.
"Brace up!" urged Dan. "Don't let them think you a landlubber."
"I don't care what they think. I'm a sick man."
"Never mind; you will feel better after you get some hot breakfastinside of you."
"Breakfast! Waugh!"
Dan helped his chum to the shower baths, where Sam took a cold bath thattuned him up considerably. He was still very uncertain on his feet,however, as he made his way forward for his deck swab, for the firstduty of the day was to take up his occupation of swabbing decks.
Sam's footsteps lagged that morning. He was several paces behind theother swabbers all the time.
"What's the matter, red-head?" questioned one of the jackies.
"I'm sick, that's all."
"Trying to work the list, eh?" asked another.
"I don't know what working the list may be, but I'm anything you want tocall me."
"He means getting on the binnacle list,"
"What's that?" wondered Sam.
"Being excused by the doctor for one day on account of a fit of lazinessthat makes a fellow think he's sick."
"I don't think; I know," was the lad's muttered response. However, Samresolutely stuck to his work, though every plunge of the battleshipthreatened him with a final collapse to the deck.
Somehow, he managed to pull himself through that long morning without,as he called it, "disgracing myself." When the command came, "knock offscrubbing decks," Sam broke ranks and ran for the forecastle. He did notdare trust himself to walk, for he feared he would be unable to keep onhis feet.
But his headlong course was an unsafe one through the narrow corridorsof a man-of-war, and many a jackie and marine's shins were rappedsoundly by the handle of the deck swab, during Sam's wild dash. Thejackies yelled at him, now and then one hurling something at the fleeinglad, but Sam did not stop until something finally happened to check hismad career.
Somehow his swab handle was thrust between the feet of a man standingwith his back to the lad. This occurred on the gun deck.
The man went down flat on his face, and Sam likewise tripped over thehandle of the deck swab, plunging headlong on the fallen man.
There was instant commotion. Those of the crew who chanced to bestanding about set up a roar of laughter.
"Look out, Bill. His head will set fire to your uniform," shouted one ofthem.
Sam was struggling to his feet, very red in the face and very muchashamed of his clumsiness. He started forward to help the other man up,when the latter regained his feet with a bound. The man's face wasbloody, a deep gash having appeared across his nose.
"Did the red-head do you up, Kester?" shouted several voices at once.
Bill Kester, in falling, had struck a sharp edge on the carriage of aneight-inch gun, and had sustained a painful wound. Besides this, hisface was smeared with grease that it had collected in scraping along thecarriage.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," begged Sam.
Kester was mopping the blood and grime from his face, regardless of thefact that the sleeve with which he was performing the operation wouldnot stand an inspection.
"It was an accident. Believe me, I could not help it. I was feeling sickand was hurrying to some place where I could lie down."
The injured seaman did not answer at once.
"Is there anything I can do for you? May I get you some water?"
"Go soak his head under the scuttle butt," shouted another sailor.
It was quite plain that, for some reason, all hands seemed to enjoy BillKester's unexpected downfall, for no one expressed any sympathy for him,or regret at the accident. This Sam did not observe, however. He was toomuch concerned over the result of his carelessness. In fact he forgot,for the moment, that the deck was heaving under his feet and thateverything movable about him was on the move.
"Hit him again, red-head!"
"I said it was an accident, and that I am very, very sorry. Did youunderstand?"
"You lie!"
Sam Hickey's face had been pale since the beginning of his recentinternal disturbances. But the color now surged to his cheeks, mountingto the roots of his red hair, with which it merged.
"If you were not hurt, I'd make you take back those words. I don't allowany man to apply that term to me."
"That's the talk. Hand him one for luck, anyway, red-head!"
"You lie!" This time it came out with such an accent that there was nomisunderstanding. Bill Kester's intent was plainly to goad Sam intoattacking him.
The Battleship Boy stood with tightly clenched fists at his side, histeeth grinding in his great effort to control himself. Something of thisseemed to convey itself to the jackies who, up to this moment, hadlooked upon the little scene as a delightful diversion. They saw at oncethat the red-headed, freckle-faced boy before them was holding himselfin check under circumstances that would have driven any one of them intoa blind, uncontrollable rage.
"Coward!" shouted Kester.
At the same time he sprang forward, landing a resounding slap on SamHickey's cheek.
Smack!
The Battleship Boy's right fist shot out. Sam had gone the limit inself-control. He could endure no more.
The fist landed squarely on Bill Kester's sore nose, but with a forcethat must have surprised that worthy. The man staggered backward,falling all in a heap, wedged in between the sides of the eight-inch guncarriage.
"Whoop! Now let the eagle scream!" shouted the sailors. "Pretty hotstuff for a shipmate who's on the binnacle list. Go over and give himanother on the same spot, red-head."
Sam's deck swab dropped from his hand.
"I'm sorry I did that. I ought not to have hit him, but I just couldn'thelp it."
"Don't you worry about that, lad," soothed a shipmate. "Bill got whatwas coming to him, only you ought to hit him once more in the sameplace. If you want to finish the job we'll see that you get fair play."
"I do not want to fight. I am no fighter," said Sam.
"No fighter?" the sailors laughed uproariously. "Do you know, red-head,that Bill Kester is a bully and that he's licked half the crew already?"
"I don't care if he has licked the whole fleet; he can't call me a liarand a coward. I could stand for the liar business, because maybe hedidn't mean it that way. But 'coward' I draw the line at."
By this time Kester had extricated himself from his uncomfortableposition. No one had offered to help him, and for reasons of his own,Sam had not gone to the fallen man's assistance. The lad stood calmlyawaiting the result of his act.
Bill got to his feet unsteadily, blinked his eyes, gingerly felt his nowflattened nose, then thrusting out his chin, he glared at his youngadversary.
Sam gave back the look unflinchingly.
"Shall we call it square? I'm sorry I tripped you and sorry I had to hityou," announced Hickey in a manly tone, wholly free from anger.
For an instant Kester hesitated.
"All right; shake, shipmate," he said, advancing.
Sam met him half way with a pleased smile on his face, his right handextended to complete the truce that had been declared.
"Look out, red-head!" warned a voice with a trace of excitement in it.
The warning came too late.
Quick as a flash Bill Kester planted a cowardly blow squarely betweenthe boy's eyes. Sam Hickey settled down on the gun deck, toppled overand straightened out.
For an instant there was silence. Then an angry roar burst from theindignant jackies as they made a concerted rush for Kester, who hadsought to follow up his advantage and inflict further punishment on hisvictim while in this defenseless
position.
Battleship Boys at Sea; Or, Two Apprentices in Uncle Sam's Navy Page 13
