tham!

Then we have the first lieutenant, the executive officer of the ship
and the skipper's right-hand man. He is the go-between betwixt
officers and men, is responsible for the ship's interior economy,
cleanliness, and organisation, and has to be pretty shrewd and
levelheaded. Energetic as well, for though a destroyer is a small
vessel and carries under a hundred men all told, there is always
something going on. In addition to his other duties, too, he takes
turns in keeping watch at sea with the sub-lieutenant and gunner.

Next the sub-lieutenant. He is the veteran of our little party so far
as this war is concerned, for before he came to us he was in a
battleship in the Dardanelles. He is now the custodian of the charts,
and has to keep them up to date, no easy matter in these strenuous
times of Hun minefields. He also runs the ship's football team, which
goes ashore and disports itself in green jerseys whenever it gets the
opportunity. This, in itself, entails some work and an infinite amount
of tact, particularly as fully half the ship's company wish to play.

Next the gunner (T), responsible for the torpedo armament, electrical
fittings, and the actual mechanism and mountings of the guns. He is a
very busy man, for his torpedoes, like children, always seem to have
something the matter with their insides.

Then comes the surgeon probationer. He is not a fully qualified
medical man, but a student from one of the large London hospitals
temporarily enrolled in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. He gives
hygiene lectures to the ship's company, attends to their cuts,
contusions, and minor ailments, and packs them off to hospital or to
the mother ship if necessary. After an action he would be more useful
still.

Lastly the "Snotty" of the Royal Naval Reserve, who does odd jobs of
all kinds and generally assists the first lieutenant and the sub.

"Cuthbert," our dog, is a Sealyham terrier. He lives either in the
wardroom or the skipper's cabin. He has bad dreams sometimes, and
makes strange noises in his sleep, but is the only member of our
community who is really cheerful in bad weather, and is always ready
for his food.

"Bo," or "Hobo," to give him his full name--somebody was reading Jack
London's "The Road" when he came aboard as a tiny kitten--is a
black-and-white tom-cat of plebeian origin. He is an honorary member
of our mess and occasionally pays us visits at meal-times, and after
nourishm