"Very well, sir," said Ned, starting forward to where he saw a number of jackies, armed with swabs, preparing to begin the first daily task on a man-o'-war. Scrubbing and painting and cleaning brasswork are a Jackie's chief tasks at sea. "But hold on a minute--your boots." The boatswain's mate glared downward disapprovingly. "Have I lost those, too?" moaned Herc. "Take off your boots, at once. Footgear is not allowed while scrubbing decks." "Very well, sir. Come, Herc, we must go forward." Followed by Herc, Ned made his way to the fore superstructure, where swabs were being served out. After a little inquiry, he found his "station," and guided the half-dazed Herc into his place in the scrubbing line. Soon they were at work on one of those tasks which may seem menial, but which every boy who enters Uncle Sam's navy must learn to do without complaint. "I didn't leave home to scrub floors," muttered Herc indignantly, his disgust getting even the better of his sea-sickness; "is this a sailor's chore?" "Never mind, Herc; look at it from this angle--in scrubbing decks you are helping to keep your five-million-dollar home clean." "I'd give five million dollars to be ashore," groaned Herc, a fresh paroxysm sweeping over him. Suddenly the sharp cry of "Attention!" rang along the decks. The scrubbing squads straightened up stiffly, and came to the position of salute. It was the captain, making an early tour of inspection with the executive officer of the ship, Lieutenant-Commander Scott. Behind him came his orderly and a messenger. Altogether, it was quite an impressive little parade. Ned thought that the captain, whom he had last seen quelling the onrush of the crazed stokers, glanced at him with a flash of recognition. He knew enough, however, not to betray by the flicker of an eyelash that he had ever seen his commander before. As for Herc, he was fortunately, perhaps, past paying attention to anything. "Tell the men to carry on," Ned heard the captain say to the boatswain's mate in charge of his scrubbing squad, as the officers passed by. "Carry on," thought Ned; "what on earth is that?" "Come; carry on!" said boatswain's mate sharply to Ned as the boy still stood at attention, having received no order to resume work. Ned looked at him inquiringly, and the man saw the lad was puzzled. "Carry on. Go on with your work," he said, and Ned at once understood the hitherto mysterious order. Breakfast followed the swabbing-down work, and Herc, who felt somewhat revived, managed to swallow a few mouthfuls. Not enough, however, to completely restore him, and a shipmate, seeing his despondent condition, advised him to visit Pills. "What is that?" asked the astonished boy. "It isn't a 'what,' it's a 'he'," explained the man; "Pills is the doctor."