The midshipman who had been on duty at the float was relieved by another of his rank, and the first then took his place in the "steamer" which was to tow the boats full of jackies. As he sat in the stern sheets of the power craft, he could not see readily what was going on in the boats, and perhaps made it a point not to be too observant. Ned and Herc found themselves in the second boat, and as they had become separated from old Tom in the rush to board the craft, they had now no mentor to advise them, and felt curiously alone among the laughing, joking bluejackets that crowded the boats to the gunwales. "I see the old man's ordered his winter's supply of kindling!" came in a loud stage whisper from the boat in which the two lads were seated. The "old man" always refers to the commander of a man-of-war, in the parlance of the jackies. "Say, Bill, your thatch is on fire!" laughed another. Poor Herc felt his cheeks turn as red as his unlucky hair under the running fire of banter which, there was no room to doubt, was intended for him. "Might be a good thing to call fire stations," grinned another. "I don't much like the idea of sailing on a battleship with so much combustible stuff aboard." "Like being shipmates with a red-hot stove," put in another before-the-mast humorist. "Keep cool, Herc," whispered Ned, who was beginning to dread an outburst on the part of his impulsive companion. Unfortunately his whisper was overheard, and a shout went up from those nearest the two boys. "That's right! 'Keep cool, Herc!'" they mimicked. "Don't get afire, mate, or we may have to duck you." "I reckon he must have belonged to the village fire department," put in another. "I'll bet they practiced putting out fires on his head," came another voice. It was more than flesh and blood could bear. Herc arose angrily to his feet, and was beginning a speech full of hot resentment, when the boat, which was by this time under way, gave a sudden lurch. Herc had been unmindful of the fact that a fresh wind blowing up the North River kicks up quite a sea, and in a second he was sprawling on the bottom of the boat, with a perfect tempest of laughter ringing in his burning ears. But, as he fell, Herc's heavy form careened against a seaman who was standing upright, scanning the vessel they were approaching. Down crashed the two, with Herc on top. When they rose the nose of the seaman who had fallen under Here's bulky person was bloody, and his eyes inflamed with rage. "You hayseed-eating swab," he growled, "look here--blood all over my blouse. Now I've got to clean it or get a call down." "I'm very sorry," said Herc penitently, "I didn't do it on purpose." "You're a liar, and I'll trim you for it before long." Herc recollected Ned's advice, and bottled his rage. In a cutting voice, however, he rejoined: "At the Training School they told us that most sailors were gentlemen. I guess they were dead wrong."