heir cots below,
began to stroll up and have a look around decks. Some lingered near the
wireless door, and every time the messenger passed they sort of stuck
their ears up at him. He was a long-legged lad in rubber boots who took
the deck in big strides. His lips never opened, but his eyes talked. The
men turned from him with pleased expressions on their faces.

There was a little steel shelter built on to the chart house to port. It
was for the protection of the forward gun crew, who had to be ready for
action at any minute. Men standing by for action and not getting it
legitimately, try to get it in some other way. So they used to burn up
their spare energy in arguing. It did not matter what the argument was
about--the President, Roosevelt, the Kaiser, the world series--any
subject would do so long as it would grow into an argument. The rest of
the crew could hear them--threatening to bust each other's eyes out--clear
to the skid deck sometimes. But now all quiet here, and soon they were
edging out of their igloo and calling down to the fellows on the main
deck: "That right about a ship being shelled by a sub? Yes. Well!" They
went down to their shelter smiling at one another.

Ship's cooks, who rarely wander far from their cosey galley stoves,
began to show on deck; ward-room stewards came out on deck; a gang
black-painting a tank hatch--they all slipped over to the rail and,
leaning as far out as they could and not fall overboard, had long looks
ahead. And then they all turned to see what 352's smoke-stacks were
doing. There was great hope there.

The black smoke was getting blacker and heavier. They were sure feeding
the oil to her. The chief came up the engine-room ladder. An old petty
officer waylaid him. Doing well, was she, sir?--She was. Hem! About how
well, sir?--Damn' well. She was kicking out twenty-eight--twenty-eight
good--and picking up.

Twenty-eight and picking up? And the best she showed in her builders'
trial was twenty-nine-one! What d'y' know about her? Some little old
packet, hah?

It was a fine day, the one fine day of the trip, a rarely fine day for
this part of the northern ocean at this time of year. It was cloudy, but
it was calm. There was a long, easy swell on, but no sea to make her
dive or pitch. The swell, when she got going in good shape, set her to
swinging a little, but that did not hurt. A destroyer just naturally
likes to swing a little.

Swinging along she went, rolling one