soned signal quartermaster stood alternate
watches on the bridge. Doc would take a nap; the quartermaster would
take a nap; between them they were figuring to keep a sort of official
navy lookout. There were ship's crew men on the lookout too, but the
reaction from the shelling had set in. Doc used to find them asleep in
the bridge wings.

Just before dawn of the second morning Doc saw a shadow looming on their
starboard bow. He had another look. It was another steamer--a big one.
She was drawing nearer. "See that?" he called to the man at the wheel.

"See what?" sort of drowsed out the man at the wheel.

The trusty quartermaster from the 352 was getting a wink under the
bridge-rail. Doc yelled to him, at the same time grabbing up the
megaphone and roaring into the night air: "Where you-all going? Where
the devil you-all going? Can't you-all see where you're going? Keep
off--keep off."

"Can't _you_ see where you're going?--keep off yourself."

By that time the signal quartermaster was awake and bounding across the
bridge. He grabbed the wheel and began to spin it around. The ship's bow
turned. Doc saw the big hulk go by him in the dark.

"Good work," said Doc. "How'd you spot him so quick?"

"I didn't spot him, sir. I don't see him yet. I went by the sound of his
voice."

"Special little angel perched up aloft to look out for Jack when at
sea--" sang Doc. "I thought that was a nursery rhyme. Now I know it's
true. Between you and me, quartermaster, we'll get this ship to port
yet."

They finished that night and the next day without seeing anything or
having anything happen. Nothing except the argument about the forward
compartment.

Among the shells which had come aboard the steamer was one which had
punched a fine big hole in her bow. The ship's crew had put a plug there
which worked all right till the ship took to rolling, which it did this
day. The hole was just at the water-line. Before they knew anything
about it there was the plug gone and the water up to a man's knees in
the forward compartment. Doc said it should be stopped.

The old skipper wanted to know who was going to stop it. His crew? No,
sir. He wouldn't ask any of 'em to go down there--besides, they wouldn't
go. They were all used up since the battle with the U-boat. It made no
difference if the ship sank. He'd had so much trouble that trip anyway
that he wasn't too sure he wouldn't just as soon see her sink. He wasn't
too sure they wouldn