pretended that they had not moved smartly enough, and turned down the corners of his mouth in an absurd grimace of disapproval. Over the table the electric lights beneath their yellow shades swung with the slow motion of the ship. The air was swirling and blue with tobacco smoke that clung in long wreaths to the nap of the red and black tablecloth. The temperature was high, and the atmosphere foul with the odour of food, for a threatening sea had caused the scuttles to be shut, and no one had troubled to open them again. Krame left his place and seated himself regally on a chair between the table and the door. On his right stood Elstone with a jug of water, on his left Howdray, clutching an armful of ship’s biscuits. “Now, first Wart forward. At the run!” Sentley, who was on the right of the line, hurried from his place and stood at attention before Krame. “On the knee!... ’Shun!... On the knee!” The spectators roared to see Sentley clambering from one position to the other. Howdray picked up a thick cane from the sideboard and hit Sentley as he knelt. “Come on,” he said, “get a move on. ’Shun! Now, at the order ‘Kneeling position--place,’ you’ll drop on your knees--understand?--drop, not let yourself down like an old woman.... Kneeling position--place!” Sentley went down. His knees brought up hard against the deck. He kept his body and head erect, his hands to his sides. Banford-Smith and Tintern climbed out of their places on the settee; one perched himself on the edge of the table behind Howdray, the other found a convenient seat by the piano. “The child,” said Krame, after the manner of a gunnery instructor, “will incline the ’ead forward in a reverent attitood and assoom a mournful aspect. ’E will now repeat the Warts’ Creed.” Sentley repeated that parody of the Apostles’ Creed which had been given to each junior midshipman earlier in the day. “I believe in the Sub Almighty, master of every Wart, and in Peter Krame, ’is noble ’elp, our Lord ...” and so on to the end. No senior midshipman protested against this Creed, no junior midshipman refused to repeat it. When he was silent, a ship’s biscuit, thick and tough, was beaten and beaten on Sentley’s head until the biscuit broke. Howdray was about to pour water from the jug when Banford-Smith restrained him. “Cut out the water,” he said, “it will make such a damned mess on the deck.” Each junior midshipman came forward in turn, dropped on his knees, was struck with Howdray’s stick if he dropped not fast enough, bowed his head, repeated the Creed, and had a biscuit broken upon him. John, because he stood on the left of the line, came last. When the ceremony was over, Krame glanced behind him. “Now let’s have a hymn,” he said to Tintern. “What hymn?” “Any old hymn--something to celebrate the young gentlemen’s regeneration. Lynwood will lead the singing. All Warts will support him.”