ications.

"Pardon me, sir," said Cantor, and stepped away to salute Commander
Bainbridge, who had just appeared on the quarter-deck. There
was a low-toned conversation between the two officers. Then,
as the pair exchanged salutes, and Bainbridge went on to the captain's
quarters, Lieutenant Cantor came back to his selected victim.

"Darrin, you will go below and finish the watch, loading stores
in the number four hold. I will pass the word for the petty officer
who will have charge under you, and he will show you to the hold.
If you wish you may put on dungarees, for it is rough work down
there."

"My baggage has not come aboard, sir," Dave replied. "This is
the only uniform I have."

In his perturbed state of mind, it did not occur to the young
ensign that he could draw dungarees---the brown overall suit that
is worn by officers and crew alike when doing rough work about
the ship, from the stores, nor did Cantor appear to notice his
reply.

The messenger came, and brought Riley, the coxswain of one of
the gigs.

"Coxswain, Ensign Darrin will take charge of the shipping of the
stores in number four hold," Cantor announced. "Show him the
way to the hold and receive his instructions."

Dave was speedily engaged between decks, in charge of tire work
of some twenty men of the crew. At the hatch above, a boatswain's
mate had charge of the lowering of the stores.

"It would be a pity to spoil your uniform, sir," declared Coxswain
Riley. "If you'll allow me, sir, I'll spare you all of the dirtiest
work."

"To shirk my duty would be a bad beginning of my service on this
ship," smiled Darrin. "Thank you, Coxswain, but I'll take my
share of the rough work."

The hold was close and stifling. Although a cool breeze was blowing
on deck, there was little air in number two hold. In ten minutes
Darrin found himself bathed in perspiration. Dust from barrels
and packing cases hung heavy in that confined space. The grime
settled on his perspiring face and stuck there.

"Look out, sir, or you'll get covered with pitch from some of these
barrels," Riley warned Dave, respectfully.

"One uniform spoiled is nothing," Dave answered with a smile.
"Do not be concerned about me."

Officer and men were suffering alike in that close atmosphere.
By the time the watch was ended Dave Darrin was truly a pitchy,
soiled, perspiration-soaked sight.

Danny Grin, who reported to relieve his chum, looked rough and
ready enou