“It looks like rain,” decided the red-headed boy, halting long enough to gaze anxiously seaward. “I wonder whether they are going to keep me here all the rest of the day?” The storm broke with a suddenness that he had never before observed, for Hickey never had had any experience with coast storms. The lightning seemed to be everywhere, followed by peals of thunder and deafening crashes, as if the coast artillery were at work the whole length of the Atlantic seaboard. “It looks like rain,” reiterated the apprentice, shifting his rifle to the other shoulder. “I shouldn’t be surprised if that bolt struck somewhere. I should feel badly if it were to hit Blinkers, for I want to get a crack at him myself. I guess——” Sam Hickey did not finish what he was about to say. A blinding flash reflected the buildings of the station in the dark waters of the bay. When the thunder had died away in a rumbling echo Sam was not in sight. He lay in a little depression of ground, half immersed in a puddle of water. How long he lay there he did not know, but gradually he began to realize that he was very wet. He tried to open his eyes, but the rain dashing into them almost blinded him. “I must be drowned,” he decided; then he resolutely pulled himself together, struggled to his feet and began hunting about for his rifle. That weapon, when finally he found it, was a sorry-looking object. “Well, well, I wonder what happened,” muttered Sam. “I know—the thing has been struck by lightning.” The barrel of the rifle, he found, was twisted out of shape, the stock was hanging in splinters, while some parts of the weapon had entirely disappeared. Sam viewed the wreck ruefully. “I expect I’ll get about ten years in the brig when they see that,” he wailed. “They’ll have me in jail for life, first thing I know. Who’d ever think a streak of lightning could cut up such pranks as these? I remember, now, the thing did feel awfully hot before I went to sleep.” Sam considered for a moment, gazed longingly off to the roof of barracks A, faintly visible above a rise of ground. Then, shouldering his ruined rifle, he began plodding up and down again, the rain beating on him in blinding, drenching sheets. Every little while, he would glance hopefully toward the barracks, where he knew all hands were snug and dry in their white suits, perhaps having a good time. His discontent was added to when he heard the bugle blow for the midday mess. “There, I’ll lose my dinner,” complained Hickey. “I knew something serious would happen before the day was over. I wonder if they have forgotten me?” “They” had. But now the roll was being called as the apprentices formed for the mess. About that time the sun came out, and Sam discovered an officer in a rain coat rapidly approaching him. It was Lieutenant Commander Devall. The officer had his eye on the boy long before reaching him.