The Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties came down into the Wardroom and sank into the one remaining arm-chair. "I must say," he ejaculated, "the sailor is a cheerful animal. Umpteen days steaming on end without seeing any enemy--just trailing the tail of our coat about the North Sea--we come into harbour and we invite the matelots to lie on their backs on the upper-deck (minus cap and jumper) and wave their legs in the air by way of recreation. They comply with the utmost good humour. They don't believe that it does them the smallest good, but they know I get half-a-crown a day for watching them do it, and they go through with it like a lot of portly gentlemen playing 'bears' to amuse their nephews." The Indiarubber Man broke off and surveyed his messmates with a whimsical grey eye. The majority were assimilating the contents of illustrated weeklies over a fortnight old; two in opposite corners of the settee were asleep with their caps tilted over their noses, sleeping the sleep of profound exhaustion. One member of the mess was amusing himself with a dice-box at the table, murmuring to himself as he rattled and threw. The Indiarubber Man, in no wise irritated at the general lack of interest in his conversation, wriggled lower in his arm-chair till he appeared to be resting on the flat of his shoulder-blades, with his chin buried in the lappels of his monkey-jacket. "I maintain," his amiable monologue continued, "that there's something rather touching about the way they flap their arms about and hop backwards and forwards, and 'span-bend' and agonise themselves with such unfailing good humour--don't you think so, Pills?" The Young Doctor gathered the dice again, knitting his brows. ". . . Seventy-seven, seventy-eight--that's seventy-eight times I've thrown these infernal dice without five aces turning up. And twenty-three times before breakfast. How much is seventy-eight and twenty-three? Three and eight's eleven, put down one and carry one--I beg pardon, I wasn't listening to you. Did you ask me a question?" "I was telling you about the sailors chucking stunts on the quarter-deck." "I don't want to hear about the sailors: they make me tired. There isn't a sick man on board except one I've persuaded to malinger to keep me out of mischief. They're the healthiest collection of human beings I've ever met in my life." "That's me," retorted the Indiarubber Man modestly. "_I_ am responsible for their glowing health. They haven't been ashore for--how long is it?" "Ten years it feels like," said someone who was examining the pictorial advertisements of an illustrated paper with absorbed interest.