“I think it fine. It looks as if you had gotten into the captain’s good graces. I hope so. See that you perform your duties in a ship-shape manner. Keep your head working all the time. I should call it almost a promotion.” “I hope I don’t get seasick,” muttered Sam doubtfully. “This rolling is awful.” An hour later, Sam Hickey made his way down the after gangway to the captain’s quarters, clad in a spotless white uniform, his braided white knife-lanyard drooping gracefully across his chest and disappearing in the pocket of the blouse. “I’ve come to relieve you as the captain’s orderly,” announced Sam to the marine, who was acting in that capacity. The orderly returned the nod and hurried away, for he had not yet had his breakfast. Sam braced himself against a wall in the corridor with his eyes fixed on the swaying curtain that shut off the room in which the captain was breakfasting at that moment. The corridor was narrow and close, and Sam soon grew restive. Espying a chair a little way from him, he helped himself to it and sat down, crossing his legs. Just then an officer came hurrying through the corridor. “See here, my man, what are you doing there?” he demanded. “Captain’s orderly, sir,” answered Sam, saluting. “Get up! Don’t you know an orderly is supposed to remain on his feet? Never sit down when on duty. Stand at attention when the captain comes out and remain that way until he has passed. After that, follow him.” “Aye, aye, sir.” The Battleship Boy peered after the retreating form of the officer. “Seems to me they are mighty particular. I’d like to be up where I could get some air. I wonder if I dare take a sneak to the deck for a whiff?” Sam did not get the chance just then. It was well for him that he did not, for he would have been severely punished for deserting his post had he been discovered away from it. He started as a sharp command came, from behind the curtain. “Ord’ly!” “Who’s calling, I wonder?” muttered the boy. “Ord’ly!” This time the command was given in a more imperative tone. “I’ll bet that is the captain. He’s calling me. Yes, sir! I’ll be right there,” shouted Sam, with delightful informality. He started on a run for the curtained doorway. He did not slacken his speed as he stretched out a hand to thrust the curtain aside. Sam was in so great a hurry that he entirely forgot that under each watertight door opening was an iron sill extending upward some eight inches. Sam’s toe caught the projection. Just then the battleship gave a great lurch to port. This being the direction in which the boy was traveling at that moment, it gave him added impetus. The captain opened his eyes in amazement as Hickey’s red-head shot through the curtain. The Battleship Boy covered about half the width of the cabin, barely touching the floor with his feet, his arms beating the air wildly in his fruitless effort to clutch something that was not moving. Then the crash came.