"I don't want anyone to knock when they come into my cabin on duty. I'm not a young woman in her boudoir." "Aye, aye, sir," said the Chief Yeoman. "Signal log, sir." * * * * * "Don't forget now," counselled the Master-at-Arms to the request-men fallen in on the starboard side of the quarter-deck. "When your names is called out, step smartly up to the table, an' keep your caps on. You salutes when you steps up to the table an' when you leaves it." The request-men, who had heard all this a good many times before, sucked their teeth in acquiescence. The Captain was walking up and down the other side of the deck talking to the Commander. They turned together and came towards the table. The Captain's Clerk opened the request-book and laid it before the Captain. "'Erbert Reynolds," intoned the Master-at-Arms in a stentorian voice. "Able seaman. Requests award of first Good Conduct Badge." The Captain put his finger on the first name at the top of the page, glanced keenly at the applicant, and nodded. "Granted." "Granted," echoed the Chief of Police, and Able Seaman Reynolds departed with authority to wear on his left arm the triangular red badge that vouched to his exemplary behaviour for the last three years. Five others followed in quick succession with similar requests, and trotted forward again at a dignified and amiable gait through the screen door. "To stop allotment." The Captain raised his head. "Who do you allot to?" "Me mother, sir." "Doesn't she want it?" The request-man was a young stoker, little more than a boy, and his eyes were troubled. "She don't deserve it," he replied; "she drinks, sir. I got letters from fr'en's----" He thrust his hand inside the breast of his jumper and produced his sad evidence--a letter from a clergyman, one or two from lay-workers in some north-country slum, and one from his mother herself, an incoherent, abusive scrawl, with liquor stains still upon the creased paper. "I send 'er my 'arf-pay reg'lar ever since I were in the Navy, sir. But she ain't goin' ter 'ave no more." He made the statement without heat or sorrow. "Stopped," said the Captain, with a nod. "Allotment stopped," repeated the Master-at-Arms, and the allotter passed forward out of sight to whatever destiny awaited him. "To be rated Leading Seaman, sir." A tall, young Able Seaman stepped forward and fixed eyes of a clear blue on the Captain's face. The Captain met his gaze, and for a moment threw all the weight of thirty years' experience of men into the scales of judgment. "There is a vacancy for a Leading Seaman's rate in the ship," he said. "The Commander has recommended you for it. You're young. Keep it." "Rated Leading Seaman. 'Bout turn."