“Battleship making signal of general recall, sir,” Dan informed his superior. “Return to ship,” shouted the officer through his megaphone. All boats were now turned back. The mines were to be left as they were until later in the day, or perhaps until the next day, when they would be taken up. As a general rule planted mines are left out for twenty-four hours. Good time was made on the return, for it was nearly time for the noonday mess, and every man in the outfit had a sharpened appetite after the morning’s exertions. Reaching the ship, the men piled over the side to the quarter-deck, where a number of the officers were gathered. The men were called to attention on the quarter-deck. Stepping out before them, the captain said: “You have done well, lads. If you do as well in taking up the mines, our record will stand a long time before it is beaten. I congratulate you all, and I have also sent a wireless message to the admiral telling him of your good work.” The bugle blew for dinner and all hands hurried to the mess rooms, where they were left undisturbed for the next hour. This is one of the few hours in the sailor’s day when he is never disturbed, except in case of emergency. The moment the sailors sit down to their meals the little triangular red flag mounts quickly up the signal halyard, where it is left fluttering to the breeze until the meal is finished. That, also, is one hour of the day when visitors are not welcomed aboard ship. Dinner over, the smoke lamp was lit for half an hour, when all hands lounged about decks, many smoking and telling stories. The jackies were unusually jubilant on this sunny afternoon, for they had set a mark in mine planting that would make their companions on the other ships of the service more than envious. Suddenly a bugle trilled out the strains of an order. “Mine crews take to the boats!” bellowed a boatswain’s mate. The jackies uttered a shout. In a moment the scene of quiet on the forecastle was changed into one of quick action. White-clad figures were running and leaping for the quarter-deck, whence they boarded the small boats. This was the landing place, the quarter-deck being lower than any other part of the ship. The men who had been tending the small boats trailing out astern of the battleship had quickly propelled their craft alongside and were lying in readiness to take the crews on board. The jackies piled over the sides of the ship noisily, the officers making no attempt to check their enthusiasm, well realizing that it was because the men were in great haste to get out to the mine field and get the mines up in record-breaking time. Dan Davis and Sam Hickey were well up with the first to reach the quarter-deck, though Dan was obliged to favor his lame wrist, now paining him severely. This delayed him somewhat in getting down the sea ladder, performing the feat with one free hand being rather awkward. “Hurry up, elephant feet,” shouted a voice from above.