“Do? Do?” exploded the mate. “Get a swab and go to work; that’s what you are to do. What do you think this is, a liner where you can loll around and look pretty?” “We are ready to work, if you will show us. Where will we find swabs?” questioned Dan. The mate conducted them to a chest in which the swabs were kept. “Take your swabs and hurry aft to the quarter-deck. That’s your station,” he directed. By the time the boys reached the quarter-deck their mates were already at work, moving along swiftly, pushing their swabs ahead of them. “Take off your shoes. What do you mean by coming here with your shoes on?” demanded the mate. Somewhat hesitatingly Dan and Sam removed their shoes and stockings, rolled up their trousers and joined their fellows in scrubbing down the decks. Sam was surly. He plainly did not like the assignment. “This is a tough job,” he confided to his companion. “I didn’t join the Navy to make a washerwoman of myself.” “We have got to learn, old chap. We must take our turn. If we complain, we are not fit for the service. You may be an admiral some day; who knows?” “An admiral? Huh! Nice chance I’ve got to become an admiral—admiral of the scrub gang, you mean.” “Pipe down the guff,” commanded the mate sternly. “What’s that mean?” muttered Sam. “I think he means we are to stop talking.” For the next hour there was a steady splash, splash as the swabs worked back and forth over the deck, the latter running rivers of water from hose and pail. “Well, how do you like Field Day?” questioned the mate who had first instructed the lads in their duties. It was after the mess hour and all hands were resting preparatory to taking up the duties of the afternoon. “What’s a Field Day?” asked Sam. “When all hands turn to to clean ship. You see, ships get in rather bad condition, regarding cleanliness, after having been in port for some time.” “Do the men like to clean ship?” “They love it. Give a jackie a deck swab, put him in bare feet, and he is happy.” “I don’t see anything to get excited about in scrubbing decks,” grumbled Sam. “You will after you have been in the service longer. By the way, the smoke lamp is lighted. Fall to, lads.” “You mean——” “Go take your smoke. Light up your pipes.” “We do not smoke, sir,” replied Dan. “No, we don’t smoke,” added Sam. “But we eat.” “That is all right. A great many of the boys do not smoke these days, and it is a good thing. Now, in my time, everybody smoked. But things have changed on the sea as well as elsewhere.” “Attention!” called a voice. The boys stiffened instinctively. They did not know the reason for the command, but experience had taught them that it was well to obey that command whenever heard. It was the captain who was approaching, on his way to the bridge. His hand came up in salute as he glanced quickly at them. “Carry on, lads,” he said, whereat the Battleship Boys and their shipmates resumed their interrupted conversation.