Kester was led away to the brig to serve his sentence. Sam heard them coming along the corridor. Stepping to the door of his cell he peered out through the grating. A grin spread over his face as he caught sight of the woebegone figure of Kester. “Hello, Bill,” he jeered. “Who have you been thumping?” The bully made no reply, and a moment later the cell door clanged behind him. CHAPTER XVI—RECEIVING A CHALLENGE “No mine drill to-day,” sang out a boatswain’s mate, as he passed along the forecastle. “Water too rough. If the weather quiets down, however, there may be something else doing.” Instead of a day in the small boats laying mines, as had been planned, the men were to have another field day, painting ship, after the decks had been scrubbed down. Gun crews got out their pots and brushes, then crawled through the narrow openings into the gun-turrets, first having thrown open the hatches on top of the turrets, to let in enough light to enable them to see where to paint. Walls were painted white, floors red, jackies both red and white. Dan and Sam—the latter having been released from the brig after serving his sentence—not belonging to a gun crew, were put to work in a corridor on this occasion. They were in great good humor, having gained the distinction of being ordered to report for wig-wag signal duty during the mine practice, both being experts with the signal flag. The boys were talking over their good fortune when the captain came hurrying through. Instantly the boys came to attention. “Good morning, lads,” greeted the commanding officer. “Fresh paint beside you, sir,” warned Dan. “Very careless of me not to have observed it. I see I have gathered quite a quantity of it already,” he added, examining his trim braided blouse that was now streaked with white. “May I speak, sir?” asked Dan. “Certainly, my lad. What is it?” “Let me rub the paint off while it is still fresh?” “How?” “This way, sir.” Dan examined the sleeve of his jacket critically. Having found a clean place he approached the captain and began rubbing his own sleeve over the soiled spot on the sleeve of the commanding officer. This done he went at the left side of the blouse where there was a larger blotch of white. In a few moments he had so thoroughly cleaned the blue blouse, by rubbing it violently with the goods of his jacket, that all traces of the white paint had disappeared. Dan stepped back, saluting respectfully. “Why, you have taken it all off, but you will have the trouble of cleaning your own jacket.” “I shall have to do that anyway, sir.” “Thank you, my lad.” The captain saluted and passed on. “That boy is as graceful and self-possessed as if he had spent years in the service. I must keep my eye on him. I predict that he will be doing something worth while some of these days.” Dan’s face was flushed. He was pleased with himself. Sam glanced over at him and winked gravely.