BILTMORE OSWALD

_THE DIARY OF A HAPLESS RECRUIT_

BY

J. THORNE SMITH, JR. U. S. N. R. F. 

_WITH 31 ILLUSTRATIONS IN BLACK-AND-WHITE_

BY

RICHARD DORGAN("_Dick Dorgan_")U. S. N. R. F. 

[Illustration]

NEW YORK

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

_Copyright, 1918, by_

_Frederick A. Stokes Company__All Rights Reserved_

_Reprinted from_THE BROADSIDEA JOURNAL FORTHE NAVAL RESERVE FORCE

DEDICATION

To my buddies, an unscrupulous, clamorous crew of pirates, as loyaland generous a lot as ever returned a borrowed dress jumper with dirtytapes; to numerous jimmy-legs and P. O. 's whose cantankerous tempershave furnished me with much material for this book; and also to a dog, an admirable dog whom I choose to call Mr. Fogerty, with apologies tothis dog if in these pages his slave has unwittingly maligned hischaracter or in any way cast suspicion upon his moral integrity. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 "Biltmore Oswald" _Frontispiece_

 "'Do you enlist for foreign service?' he snapped. 'Sure, ' I replied, 'it will all be foreign to me'" 2

 "The departure was moist" 3

 "Hospital apprentice treated me to a shot of Pelham 'hop'" 4

 "I feel like a masquerade" 5

 "This, I thought, was adding insult to injury" 6

 "Mother kept screaming through the wire about my underwear" 7

 "A bill from a restaurant for $18. 00 worth of past luncheons" 8

 "He missed the dirty whites, but I will never be the same" 9

 "Fire drill" 10

 "This is designed to give us physical poise" 11

 "Liberty Party" 14

 "Of course I played the game no more" 20

 "She was greatly delighted with the Y. M. C. A. " 21

 "I wasn't so very wrong--just the slight difference between port and present arms" 24

 "The first thing he did was to mix poor dear grandfather a drink" 25

 "I was tempted to shoot the cartridge out just to make it lighter" 28

 "One fourth of the entire Pelham field artillery passed over my body" 29

 "The procedure, of course, did not go unnoticed" 32

 "This war is going to put a lot of Chinamen out of business" 44

 "I stood side-ways, thus decreasing the possible area of danger" 45

 "I'm a God-fearing sailor man who is doing the best he can to keep clean" 48

 "I took him around and introduced him to the rest of the dogs and several of the better sort of goats" 49

 "I resumed my slumber, but not with much comfort" 52

 "I lost completely something in the neighborhood of 10, 000 men" 53

 "Fogerty came bearing down on me in a cloud of dust" 58

 "For the most part, however, he sat quietly on my lap and sniffed" 59

 "I carried all the flour to-day that was raised last year in the southern section of the State of Montana" 76

 "'Oh, ' said Tony, 'I thought this was a restaurant'" 77

 "'I would still remain in a dense fog, ' I gasped in a low voice" 82

 "'Buddy' I came in and 'Buddy' I go out" 83

BILTMORE OSWALD

_The Diary of A Hapless Recruit_

_Feb. 23d. _ "And what, " asked the enlisting officer, regarding me asif I had insulted him, his family and his live stock, "leads you tobelieve that you are remotely qualified to join the Navy?"

At this I almost dropped my cane, which in the stress of my patrioticpreoccupation I had forgotten to leave home. 

"Nothing, " I replied, making a hasty calculation of my numeroususeless accomplishments, "nothing at all, sir, that is, nothing tospeak of. Of course I've passed a couple of seasons at BarHarbor--perhaps that--"

"Bar Harbor!" exploded the officer. "Bar! bah! bah--dammit, " he brokeoff, "I'm bleating. "

"Yes, sir, " said I with becoming humility. His hostility increased. 

"Do you enlist for foreign service?" he snapped. 

"Sure, " I replied. "It will all be foreign to me. "

The long line of expectant recruits began to close in upon us until athirsty, ingratiating semi-circle was formed around the officer'sdesk. Upon the multitude he glared bitterly. 

"Orderly! why can't you keep this line in some sort of shape?"

"Yes, give the old tosh some air, " breathed a worthy in my ear as heretreated to his proper place. 

"What did you do at Bar Harbor?" asked the officer, fixing me with hisgaze. 

"Oh, " I replied easily, "I occasionally yachted. "

"On what kind of a boat?" he urged. 

"Now for the life of me, sir, I can't quite recall, " I replied. "Itwas a splendid boat though, a perfect beauty, handsomely fitted up andall--I think they called her the 'Black Wing. '"

These few little remarks seemed to leave the officer flat. He regardedme with a pitiful expression. There was pain in his eyes. 

"You mean to say, " he whispered, "that you don't know what kind of aboat it was?"

"Unfortunately no, sir, " I replied, feeling really sorry for thewounded man. 

"Do you recall what was the nature of your activities aboard thismysterious craft?" he continued. 

"Oh, indeed I do, sir, " I replied. "I tended the jib-sheet. "

"Ah, " said he thoughtfully, "sort of specialized on the jib-sheet?"

"That's it, sir, " said I, feeling things taking a turn for the better. "I specialized on the jib-sheet. "

"What did you do to this jib-sheet?" he continued. 

"I clewed it, " said I promptly, dimly recalling the impassionedinstructions an enthusiastic friend of mine had shunted at methroughout the course of one long, hot, horrible, confused afternoonof the past summer--my first, and, as I had hoped at the time, finalsailing experience. 

The officer seemed to be lost in reflection. He was probably weighingmy last answer. Then with a heavy sigh he took my paper and wrotesomething mysterious upon it. 

"I'm going to make an experiment of you, " he said, holding the paperto me. "You are going to be a sort of a test case. You're the worstapplicant I have ever had. If the Navy can make a sailor out of you itcan make a sailor out of anybody"; he paused for a moment, then addedemphatically, "without exception. "

"Thank you, sir, " I replied humbly. 

"Report here Monday for physical examination, " he continued, waving mythanks aside. "And now go away. "

[Illustration: "'DO YOU ENLIST FOR FOREIGN SERVICE?' HE SNAPPED. 'SURE, ' I REPLIED, 'IT WILL ALL BE FOREIGN TO ME'"]

I accordingly went, but as I did so I fancied I caught the reflectionof a smile lurking guiltily under his mustache. It was the sort of asmile, I imagined at the time, that might flicker across the grimvisage of a lion in the act of anticipating an approaching trip to aprosperous native village. 

_Feb. 25th. _ I never fully appreciated what a truly democratic nationthe United States was until I beheld it naked, that is, until I behelda number of her sons in that condition. Nakedness is the mostdemocratic of all institutions. Knock-knees, warts and chilblains, bowlegs, boils and bay-windows are respecters of no caste or creed, but visit us all alike. These profound reflections came to me as Istood with a large gathering of my fellow creatures in the offices ofthe physical examiner. 

"Never have I seen a more unpromising candidate in all my pastexperience, " said the doctor moodily when I presented myself beforehim, and thereupon he proceeded to punch me in the ribs with a vigorthat seemed to be more personal than professional. When thoroughlyexhausted from this he gave up and led me to the eye charts, which Iread with infinite ease through long practise in following the WorldSeries in front of newspaper buildings. 

"Eyes all right, " he said in a disappointed voice. "It must be yourfeet. "

These proved to be faultless, as were my ears and teeth. 

"You baffle me, " said the doctor at last, thoroughly discouraged. "Apparently you are sound all over, yet, looking at you, I fail to seehow it is possible. "

I wondered vaguely if he was paid by the rejection. Then for noparticular reason he suddenly tired of me and left me with all mygolden youth and glory standing unnoticed in a corner. From here Iobserved an applicant being put through his ear test. This game isplayed as follows: a hospital apprentice thrusts one finger into thevictim's ear while the doctor hurries down to the end of the room andwhispers tragically words that the applicant must repeat. It's a goodgame, but this fellow I was watching evidently didn't know the rulesand he was taking no chances. 

"Now repeat what I say, " said the doctor. 

"'Now repeat what I say, '" quoted the recruit. 

"No, no, not now, " cried the doctor. "Wait till I whisper. "

"'No, no, not now. Wait till I whisper, '" answered the recruit, faithfully accurate. 

"Wait till I whisper, you blockhead, " shouted the doctor. 

"'Wait till I whisper, you blockhead, '" shouted the recruit with equalheat. 

"Oh, God!" cried the doctor despairingly. 

"'Oh, God!'" repeated the recruit in a mournful voice. 

This little drama of cross purposes might have continued indefinitelyhad not the hospital apprentice begun to punch the guy in the ribs, shouting as he did so:

"Wait a minute, can't you?"

At which the recruit, a great hulk of a fellow, delivered the hospitalapprentice a resounding blow in the stomach and turned indignantly tothe doctor. 

"That man's interfering, " he said in an injured voice. "Now that ain'tfair, is it, doc?"

"You pass, " said the doctor briefly, producing his handkerchief andmopping his brow. 

"Well, what are you standing around for?" he said a moment later, spying me in my corner. 

"Oh, doctor, " I cried, delighted, "I thought you had forgotten me. "

"No, " said the doctor, "I'll never forget you. You pass. Take yourpapers and clear out. "

I can now feel with a certain degree of security that I am in theNavy. 

_Feb. 26th. _ I broke the news to mother to-day and she took it like alittle gentleman, only crying on twelve different occasions. I hadestimated it much higher than that. 

After dinner she read me a list of the things I was to take with me tocamp, among which were several sorts of life preservers, an electricbed warmer and a pair of dancing pumps. 

"Why not include spurs?" I asked, referring to the pumps. "I'd lookvery crisp in spurs, and they would help me in climbing the rigging. "

"But some officer might ask you to a dance, " protested mother. 

"Mother, " I replied firmly, "I have decided to decline all socialengagements during my first few weeks in camp. You can send the pumpswhen I write for them. "

A card came to-day ordering me to report on March 1st. Consequently Iam not quite myself. 

_Feb. 27th. _ Mother hurried into my room this morning and started topack my trunk. She had gotten five sweaters, three helmets and twodozen pairs of socks into it before I could stop her. When I explainedto her that I wasn't going to take a trunk she almost broke down. 

"But at least, " she said, brightening up, "I can go along with you andsee that you are nice and comfortable in your room. "

"You seem to think that I am going to some swell boarding school, mother, " I replied from the bed. "You see, we don't have rooms toourselves. I understand that we sleep in bays. "

"Don't jest, " cried mother. "It's too horrible!"

Then I explained to her that a bay was a compartment of a barracks inwhich eight human beings and one petty officer, not quite so human, were supposed to dwell in intimacy and, as far as possible, concord. 

This distressed poor mother dreadfully. "But what are you going totake?" she cried. 

"I'm going to take a nap, " said I, turning over on my pillow. "It willbe the last one in a bed for a long, long time. "

At this mother stuffed a pair of socks in her mouth and left the roomhastily. 

Polly came in to-night and I kissed her on and off throughout theevening on the strength of my departure. This infuriated father, butmother thought it was very pretty. However, before going to bed hegave me a handsome wrist watch, and grandfather, pointing to his gameleg, said:

"Remember the Mexican War, my boy. I fought and bled honorably in thatwar, by gad, sir!"

I know for a fact that the dear old gentleman has never been furtherwest than the Mississippi River. 

_Feb. 28th (on the train). _ I have just gone through my suit-case andtaken out some of mother's last little gifts such as toilet water, apadded coat hanger, one hot water bottle, some cough syrup, two pairsof ear-bobs, a paper vest and a blue pokerdotted silk muffler. She putthem in when I wasn't looking. I have hidden them under the seat. Maythe Lord forgive me for a faithless son. 

The departure was moist, but I managed to swim through. I am tooexcited to read the paper and too rattle-brained to think except interrified snatches. I wonder if I look different. People seem to beregarding me sympathetically. I recognize two faces on this train. Onebelongs to Tony, the iceman on our block; the other belongs to onenamed Tim, a barkeep, if I recall rightly, in a hotel I havefrequently graced with my presence. I hope their past friendship wasnot due to professional reasons. It would be nice to talk over oldtimes with them in camp, for I have frequently met the one in themorning after coming home from the other. 

[Illustration: "THE DEPARTURE WAS MOIST"]

_March 1st. _ Subjected myself to the intimate scrutiny of anotherdoctor this morning. I used my very best Turkish bath manners. Theyfailed to impress him. Hospital apprentice treated me to a shot ofPelham "hop. " It is taken in the customary manner, through thearm--very stimulating. A large sailor held me by the hand for fullyfifteen minutes. Very embarrassing! He made pictures of my fingers andcompletely demolished my manicure. From there I passed on to anotherroom. Here a number of men threw clothes at me from all directions. The man with the shoes was a splendid shot. I am now a sailor--atleast, superficially. My trousers were built for Charlie Chaplin. Ifeel like a masquerade. 

[Illustration: "HOSPITAL APPRENTICE TREATED ME TO A SHOT OF PELHAM'HOP'"]

[Illustration: "I FEEL LIKE A MASQUERADE"]

A gang of recruits shouted "twenty-one days" at me as I was being ledto Mess Hall No. 1. The poor simps had just come in the day before andhad not even washed their leggings yet. I shall shout at otherrecruits to-morrow, though, the same thing that they shouted at meto-day. 

Our P. O. Is a very terrifying character. He is a stern but just man, Itake it. 

He can tie knots and box the compass and say "pipe down" andeverything. Gee, it must be nice to be a real sailor!

[Illustration: "THIS, I THOUGHT, WAS ADDING INSULT TO INJURY"]

_March 2d. _ Fell out of my hammock last night and momentarilyinterrupted the snoring contest holding sway. I was told to "pipedown" in Irish, Yiddish, Third Avenue and Bronx. This, I thought, wasadding insult to injury, but could not make any one take the same viewof it. I hope the thing does not become a habit with me. I form habitsso readily. In connection with snoring I have written the followingsong which I am going to send home to Polly. I wrote it in theY. M. C. A. Hut this afternoon while crouching between the feet of twoembattled checker players. I'm going to call it "The Rhyme of theSnoring Sailor. " It goes like this:

 I

 The mother thinks of her sailor son As clutched in the arms of war, But mother should listen, as I have done, To this same little, innocent sailor son Sprawl in his hammock and snore. 

 Oh, the sailor man is a rugged man, The master of wind and wave, And poets sing till the tea-rooms ring Of his picturesque, deep sea grave, And they likewise write of the "Storm at Night" When the numerous north winds roar, But more profound is the dismal sound Of a sea-going sailor's snore. 

 II

 Oh, mothers knit for their sailor sons Socks for their nautical toes, But mothers should list to the frightful noise Made by their innocent sailor boys By the wind they blow through their nose. 

 Oh, life at sea is wild and free And greatly to be admired, But I would sleep both sound and deep At night when I'm feeling tired. 

 So here we go with a yo! ho! ho! While the waves and the tempests soar, An artist can paint a shrew as a saint, But not camouflage on a snore. 

 III

 Oh, mothers, write to your sons at sea; Write to them, I implore, A letter as earnest as it can be, Containing a delicate, motherly plea, A plea for them not to snore. 

 Oh, I take much pride in my trousers wide, The ladies all think them sweet, And I must admit that I love to sit In a chair and relieve my feet. Avast! Belay! and we're bound away With our hearts lashed fast to the fore, But when mermaids sleep In their bowers deep, Do you think that the sweet things snore?

Our company commander spoke to us this morning in no uncertain terms. He seems to be such a serious man. There is a peculiar quality in hisvoice, not unlike the tone of a French 75 mm. Gun. You can easily heareverything he says--miles away. We rested this afternoon. 

_March 3d. _ Sunday--a day of rest, for which I gave, in the words ofour indefatigable Chaplain, "three good, rollicking cheers. " Somefolks are coming up to see me this afternoon. I hear I must moothrough the fence at them like a cow. (Later. ) The folks have justleft. Mother kept screaming through the wire about my underwear. Sheseemed to have it on her brain. There were several young girlsstanding right next to her. I really felt I was no longer a bachelor. Why do mothers lay such tremendous stress on underwear? They seem tobelieve that a son's sole duty to his parents consists in publiclyannouncing that he is clad in winter flannels. 

[Illustration: "MOTHER KEPT SCREAMING THROUGH THE WIRE ABOUT MYUNDERWEAR"]

Polly drove up for a moment with Joe Henderson. I hope the draftgets hold of that bird. They were going to have tea at the Biltmorewhen they got back to the city. I almost bit the end off of a sentry'sbayonet when I heard this woeful piece of news. Liberty looks a longway off. 

I made an attempt to write some letters in the Y. M. C. A. This eveningbut gave up before the combined assault of a phonograph, a piano, anda flanking detachment of checker players. Several benches fell on meand I went to the mat feeling very sorry for myself. 

_March 4th. _ The morning broke badly. I lashed my hand to my hammockand was forced to call on the P. O. To extricate me. He remarked, withill-disguised bitterness, that I could think of more ineffectualthings to do than any rookie it had been his misfortune to meet. Itold him that I didn't have to think of them, they just camenaturally. 

Last night I was nearly frightened out of my hammock by awakening andgazing into the malevolent eye of my high-powered, twin-six wristwatch. I thought for a moment that the Woolworth tower had crawledinto bed with me. It gave me such a start. I must get used to my wristwatch--also wearing a handkerchief up my sleeve. I feel like the sweetkid himself now. 

Drill all day. My belt fell off and tripped me up. Why do such thingsalways happen to me? Somebody told us to do squads left and it lookedas if we were playing Ring Around Rosie. Then we performed a fiendishand complicated little quadrille called a "company square. " I foundmyself, much to my horror, on the inside of the contraption walkingdirectly behind the company commander. It was a very delicatesituation for a while. I walked on my tip-toes so that he wouldn'thear me. Had he looked around I know I'd have dropped my gun and litout for home and mother. 

Forgot to take my hat off in the mess room. I was reminded, though, byseveral hundred thoughtful people. 

_March 5th. _ Stood for half an hour in the mail line. Got one letter. A bill from a restaurant for eighteen dollars' worth of pastluncheons. I haven't the heart to write more. 

[Illustration: "A BILL FROM A RESTAURANT FOR $18. 00 WORTH OF PASTLUNCHEONS"]

_March 6th. _ Bag inspection. I almost put my eye out at right handsalute. However, my bag looked very cute indeed, and although hedidn't say anything, I feel sure the inspecting officer thought minewas the best. I had a beautiful embroidered handkerchief holder, prominently displayed, which I am sure must have knocked him cold. Hemissed the dirty white, but I will never be the same. 

[Illustration: "HE MISSED THE DIRTY WHITES, BUT I WILL NEVER BE THESAME"]

Fire drill! My hammock came unlashed right in front of a C. P. O. And heasked me if I was going to sleep in it on the spot. It was a veryinspiring scene. Particularly thrilling was the picture I caught of avery heavy sailor picking on a poor innocent looking little fireextinguisher. He ran the thing right over my foot. I apologized, asusual. I discovered that I have been putting half instead of marlinhitches in my hammock, but not before the inspecting officer did. Heseemed very upset about it. When he asked me why I only put sixhitches in my hammock instead of seven, I replied that my rope wasshort. His reply still burns in my memory. What eloquence! Whatearnestness! What a day!

[Illustration: "FIRE DRILL"]

_March 7th. _ Second jab to-morrow. I am too nervous to write to-day. More anon. 

_March 16th. _ Life in the Navy is just one round of engagements tokeep. Simply splendid! All we have to do is to get up at 6 o'clock inthe morning when it is nice and dark and play around with the cutestlittle hammock imaginable. When you have arrived at the mostinteresting part of this game, the four hitch period, and you arewondering whether you are going to beat your previous record and getsix instead of five, the bugle blows and immediately throws you into astate of great indecision. The problem is whether to finish thehammock and be reported late for muster or to attend muster and bereported for not having finished your hammock. The time spent inconsidering this problem usually results in your trying to do both andin failing to accomplish either, getting reported on two counts. Anyenlisted man is entitled to play this game and he is sure of making ascore. After running around innumerable miles of early morning campscenery and losing several buttons from your new trousers, you comeback and do Greek dances for a man who aspires to become a secondMordkin or a Mr. Isadora Duncan. This is all very sweet and I am surethe boys play prettily together. First he dances, then we dance; thenhe interprets a bird and we all flutter back at him. This being doneto his apparent satisfaction, we proceed to crawl and grind and weaveand wave in a most extraordinary manner. This is designed to give usphysical poise to enable us to go aloft in a graceful and pleasingmanner. After this dancing in the dew you return for a few more roundswith your hammock, clean up your bay and stand in line for breakfast. After breakfast we muster again and a gentleman talks to us in a voicethat would lead you to believe that he thought we were all in hidingsomewhere in New Rochelle. Then there are any number of things to doto divert our minds--scrub hammocks, pick up cigarettes, drill, hikeand attend lectures. As a rule we do all of these things. From 5 p. M. Until 8:45 p. M. If we are unfortunate enough not to have a lectureparty we are free to give ourselves over to the riotous joy of themoment, which consists of listening to a phonograph swear bitterly ata piano long past its prime. The final act of the drama of the day isperformed on the hammock--an animated little sketch of arms and legsconducted along the lines of Houdini getting into a strait-jacket, ordoes he get out of them? I don't know, perhaps both. Anyway, you getwhat I mean. 

[Illustration: "THIS IS DESIGNED TO GIVE US PHYSICAL POISE"]

_March 17th. _ This spring weather is bringing the birds out in greatquantities. They bloomed along the fence today like a Ziegfeld choruson an outing. One girl carried on a coherent conversation with sixdifferent fellows at once and left each of them feeling that he alonehad been singled out for her particular favor. As a matter of fact Iwas flirting with her all the time and I could tell by the very wayshe looked that she would have much rather been talking to me. Lastweek I had to convince mother that I was wearing my flannels; thisweek I had to convince her I still had them on. The only way tosatisfy her, I suppose, is to appear before her publicly in them. Poor, dear mother, she told me she had written the doctor up hereasking him not to squirt my arm full of those horrid little germs anymore. She said I came from a good, clean family, and had been bathedonce a week all my life, except the time when I had the measles andthen it wasn't advisable. I am sure this must have cheered the doctorup tremendously. She also asked him to be sure to see that I got mymeals regularly. I can see him now taking me by the hand and leadingme to the mess-hall. When I suggested to mother that she writePresident Wilson asking him to be sure to see that my blankets didn'tfall off at night, she said that I was a sarcastic, ungrateful boy. 

_March 18th. _ There is something decidedly wrong with me as a sailor. I got my pictures to-day. Try as I may, I am unable to locate thetrouble. There seems to be some item left out. Not enough salt in themixture, perhaps. I don't know exactly what it is but I seem to be alittle too, may I say, handsome or, perhaps, polished would be thebetter word. I'm afraid to send the pictures away because no one willbelieve them. They will think I borrowed the clothes. 

_March 19th. _ A funny thing happened last Sunday that I forgot torecord. A girl had her foot on the fence and when she took it downevery one yelled, "As you were. " Sailors have such a delicate sense ofhumor. Well, that's about enough for to-day. 

_March 20th. _ We had a lecture on boats to-day. The only thing I don'tknow now is how to tell a bilge from a painter. The oar was easy. Itis divided into three parts, the stem, the lead and the muzzle. I mustremember this, it is very important. The men are getting so used toinoculations around here that they complain when they don't getenough. We're shaping up into a fine body of men, our companycommander told us this morning, and added, that if we continue to pickup cigarette butts several more weeks we'll be able to stack armswithout dropping our guns. Eli, the goat, seems unwell to-day. Iattribute his unfortunate condition to his constant and unrelentingefforts to keep the canteen clear of paper. It is my belief thatgoats are not healthy because of the fact that they eat paper, but inspite of it, and I feel sure that if all goats got together anddecided to cut out paper for a while and live on a regular diet, theywould be a much more robust race. The movies were great to-night. Isaw Sidney Drew's left ear and a mole on the neck of the man in frontof me. 

_March 21st. _ A fellow in our bay asked last night how much anadmiral's pay was a month and when we told him he yawned, turned overon his side and said, "Not enough. " He added that he could pick upthat much at a first-class parade any time. We all tightened our wristwatches. Been blinking at the blinker all evening. Can't make muchsense out of it. The bloomin' thing is always two blinks ahead of me. It's all very nice, I dare say, but I'd much rather get my messages onscented paper. I got one to-day. She called me her "Great, big, cutelittle sailor boy. " Those were her exact words. How clever she is. I'mgoing to marry her just as soon as I'm a junior lieutenant. She'llwait a year, anyway. 

_March 22d. _ I made up verses to myself in my hammock last night. Perhaps I'll send some of them to the camp paper. It would be nice tosee your stuff in print. Here's one of the poems:

 _THE UNREGENERATE SAILOR MAN_

 I

 I take my booze In my overshoes; I'm fond of the taste of rubber; I oil my hair With the grease of bear Or else with a bull whale's blubber. 

 II

 My dusky wife Was a source of strife, So I left her in Singapore And sailed away At the break of day-- Since then I have widowed four. 

 III

 Avast! Belay, And alack-a-day That I gazed in the eyes of beauty. For in devious ways Their innocent gaze Has caused me much extra duty. 

 IV

 I never get past The jolly old mast, The skipper and I are quite chummy; He knows me by sight When I'm sober or tight And calls me a "wicked old rummy. "

A sort of sweetheart-in-every-port type I intend to make him--aseafaring man of the old school such as I suppose some of thesix-stripers around here were. I don't imagine it was very difficultto get a good conduct record in the old days, because from all thetales I've heard from this source and that, a sailor-man who did nottoo openly boast of being a bigamist and who limited his homicidicalinclinations to half a dozen foreigners when on shore leave, wasconsidered a highly respectable character. Perhaps this is not at alltrue and I for one can hardly believe it when I look at the virtuousand impeccable exteriors of the few remaining representatives withwhom I have come in contact. However, any one has my permission to askthem if it is true or not, should they care to find out forthemselves. I refuse to be held responsible though. I think I shallsend this poem to the paper soon. 

It must be wonderful to get your poems in print. All my friends wouldbe so proud to know me. I wonder if the editors are well disposed, God-fearing men. 

[Illustration: "LIBERTY PARTY"]

From all I hear they must be a hard lot. Probably they'll be nice tome because of my connections. I know so many bartenders. Next week Irate liberty! Ah, little book, I wonder what these pages will containwhen I come back. I hate to think. New York, you know, is such aninteresting place. 

_March 25th. _ Man! Man! How I suffer! I'm so weary I could sleep on mycompany commander's breast, and to bring oneself to that one must beconsiderably fatigued, so to speak. Who invented liberty, anyway? It'sa greatly over-rated pastime as far as I can make out, consisting ofcoming and going with the middle part omitted. 

One man whispered to me at muster this morning that all he couldremember of his liberty was checking out and checking in. He lookedunwell. My old pal, "Spike" Kelly, I hear was also out of luck. Hisgirl was the skipper of a Fourteenth Street crosstown car, so he wasforced to spend most of his time riding, between the two rivers. Henickeled himself to death in doing it. He said if Mr. Shonts playsgolf, as no doubt he does, he has "Spike" Kelly to thank for a nice, new box of golf balls. And while on the subject, "Spike" observes thatone of those engaging car signs should read:

"Is it Gallantry, or the Advent of Woman Suffrage, or the Presence ofthe Conductorette that Causes So Many Sailors to Wear Out Their SeatsRiding Back and Forth, and So Many Unnecessary Fares to Be Rung Up inSo Doing?"

His conversation with "Mame, " his light-o'-love, was conducted alongthis line:

"Say, Mame. "

"Yes, George, dear (fare, please, madam). What does tweetums want?"

"You look swell in your new uniform. "

"Oh, Georgie, do you think it fits? (Yes, madam, positively, the carwas brushed this morning, your baby will be perfectly safe inside. )"

"Mame. "

"George! (Step forward, please. ) Go on, dear. "

"Mame, it's doggon hard to talk to you here. " "Isn't it just! (Whatis it lady? Cabbage? Oh, baggage! No, no, you can't check baggagehere; this isn't a regular train. ) George, stop holding my hand! Ican't make change!"

"Aw, Mame, who do you love?"

"Why, tweetums, I love--(plenty of room up forward! Don't jam up thedoor) you, of course. (Fare, please! Fare, please! Have your changeready!)"

"Can't we get a moment alone, Mame?"

"Yes, dear; wait until twelve-thirty, and we'll drive to the car barnthen. (Transfers! Transfers!)"

"Spike" says that his liberty was his first actual touch with thehorrors of war. 

Another bird that lived in some remote corner of New York State toldme in pitiful tones that all he had time to do was to walk down thestreet of his home town, shake hands with the Postmaster, lean overthe fence and kiss his girl (it had to go two ways, Hello andGood-by), take a package of clean underwear from his mother as hepassed by and catch the outbound train on the dead run. All he coulddo was to wave to the seven other inhabitants. He thought the GrandCentral Terminal was a swell dump, though. He said: "There was quite alot of it, " which is true. 

As for myself, I think it best to pass lightly over most of theincidents of my own personal liberty. The best part of a diary is thatone can show up one's friends to the exclusion of oneself. Anyway, whyput down the happenings of the past forty-three hours? They areindelibly stamped on my memory. One sight I vividly recall, "Ardy"Muggins, the multi-son of Muggins who makes the automatic clotheswranglers. He was sitting in a full-blooded roadster in front of theBiltmore, and the dear boy was dressed this wise ("Ardy" is a sailor, too, I forgot to mention): There was a white hat on his head; coveringand completely obliterating his liberty blues was a huge bearskincoat, which when pulled up disclosed his leggins neatly strapped overpatent leather dancing pumps. It was an astounding sight. One thatfilled me with profound emotion. 

"Aren't you a trifle out of uniform, Ardy?" I asked him. One has to beso delicate with Ardy, he's that sensitive. "Why, I thought I mightas well embellish myself a bit, " says Ardy. 

"You've done all of that, " says I, "but for heaven's sake, dear, dokeep away from Fourteenth Street; there are numerous sea-going sailorsdown there who might embellish you still further. "

"My God!" cries Ardy, striving to crush the wind out of the horn, "Inever slum. "

"Don't, " says I, passing inside to shake hands with several of myfriends behind the mahogany. Shake hands, alas, was all I did. 

_March 26th. _ I must speak about the examinations before I forget it. What a clubby time we had of it. I got in a trifle wrong at the starton account of my sociable nature. You know, I thought it was a sort ofa farewell reception given by the officers and the C. P. O. 's to the mendeparting after their twenty-one days in Probation, so the first thingI did when I went in was to shake hands with an Ensign, who I thoughtwas receiving. He got rid of my hand with the same briskness that oneremoves a live coal from one's person. The whole proceeding struck meas being a sort of charity bazaar. People were wandering around frombooth to booth, in a pleasant sociable manner, passing a word here andsitting down there in the easiest-going way imaginable. Leaving theEnsign rather abruptly, I attached myself to the throng and started insearch of ice cream and cake. This brought me up at a table wherethere was a very pleasant looking C. P. O. Holding sway, and with him Ithought I would hold a few words. What was my horror on hearing himsnap out in a very crusty manner:

"How often do you change your socks?"

This is a question I allow no man to ask me. It is particularlyobjectionable. "Why, sir, " I replied, "don't you think you areslightly overstepping the bounds of good taste? One does not even jestabout such totally personal matters, ye know. " Then rising, I wasabout to walk away without even waiting for his reply, but he calledme back and handed me my paper, on which he had written "Impossible"and underlined it. 

The next booth I visited seemed to be a little more hospitable, so Isat down with the rest of the fellows and prepared to talk of theevents of the past twenty-one days. 

"How many Articles are there?" suddenly asked a C. P. O. Who hithertohad escaped my attention. 

"Twelve, " I replied promptly, thinking I might just as well play thegame, too. 

"What are they based on?" he almost hissed, but not quite. 

"The Constitution of these United States, " I cried in a loud, public-spirited voice, at which the C. P. O. Choked and turneddangerously red. It seems that not only was I not quite right, butthat I couldn't have been more wrong. 

"Go, " he gasped, "before I do you some injury. " A very peculiar man, Ithought, but, nevertheless, his heart seemed so set on my going that Ithought it would be best for us to part. 

"I am sure I do not wish to force myself upon you, " I said icily as Ileft. The poor man appeared to be on the verge of having a fit. 

"Do you want to tie some knots?" asked a kind-voiced P. O. At the nextbooth. 

"Crazy about it, " says I, easy like. 

"Then tie some, " says he. So I tied a very pretty little knot I hadlearned at the kindergarten some years ago and showed it to him. 

"What's that?" says he. 

"That, " replies I coyly. "Why, that is simply a True Lover's knot. Doyou like it?"

"Orderly, " he screamed. "Orderly, remove this. " And hands were laidupon me and I was hurled into the arms of a small, but ever sosea-going appearing chap, who was engaged in balancing his hat on thebridge of his nose and wig-wagging at the same time. After beating meover the head several times with the flags, he said I could play withhim, and he began to send me messages with lightning-like rapidity. "What is it?" he asked. 

"Really, " I replied, "I lost interest in your message before youfinished. "

After this my paper looked like a million dollars with the one knockedoff. 

"What's a hackamatack?" asked the next guy. Thinking he was eitherkidding me or given to using baby talk, I replied:

"Why, it's a mixture between a thingamabob and a nibleck. "

His treatment of me after this answer so unnerved me that I dropped mygun at the next booth and became completely demoralized. The greatestdisappointment awaited me at "Monkey Drill, " or setting up exercises, however. I thought I was going to kill this. I felt sure I was goingto outstrip all competitors. But in the middle of it all the examineryelled out in one of those sarcastic voices that all rookies learn tofear: "Are you trying to flirt with me or do you think you're abloomin' angel?"

This so sickened me at heart that I left the place without furtherado, whatever that might be. Pink teas in the Navy are not unmixedvirtues. 

_March 27th. _ My birthday, and, oh, how I do miss my cake. It's thefirst birthday I ever had without a cake except two and then I had abottle. Oh, how well I remember my last party (birthday party)!

There was father and the cake all lit up in the center of the table; Imean the cake, not father, of course. And there was Gladys (I alwayscalled her "Glad"). She'd been coming to my birthday parties for yearsand years. She always came first and left last and ate the most andgot the sickest of all the girls I knew. It was appalling how thatgirl could eat. 

But, as I was saying, there was father and the cake, and there wasmother and "Glad" and all the little candles were twinkling, lightingup my presents clustered around, among them being half a dozen maroonsilk socks, a box of striped neck ties, all perfect joys; spats, alounging gown, ever so many gloves and the snappiest little cane inall the world. And what have I around me now? A swab on one side, abucket on the other, a broom draped over my shoulder, C. P. O. 's infront of me, P. O. 's behind me and work all around me--oh, what ahelluvabirthday! I told my company commander last night that the nextday was going to be my birthday, hoping he would do the handsome thingand let me sleep a little later in the morning, but did he? No, theBrute, he said I should get up earlier so as to enjoy it longer. Asfar as I can find out, the Camp remains totally unmoved by the factthat I am one year older to-day--and what a hubbub they used to raiseat home. I think the very least they could do up here would be to askme to eat with the officers. 

_March 28th. _ These new barracks over in the main camp are too large;not nearly so nice as our cosey little bays. I'm really homesick forProbation and the sound of our old company commander's dulcet voice. Imet Eli on the street to-day and I almost broke down on his neck andcried. He was the first familiar thing I had seen since I came over tothe main camp. 

_March 29th. _ This place is just like the Probation Camp, only moreso. Life is one continual lecture trimmed with drills and hikes--oh, when will I ever be an Ensign, with a cute little Submarine Chaser allmy own?

_April 6th. _ The events of the past few days have so unnerved me thatI have fallen behind in my diary. I must try to catch up, for whatwould posterity do should the record of my inspiring career in theservice not be faithfully recorded for them to read with reverence andamazement in days to come?

One of the unfortunate events arose from scraping a too intimateacquaintance with that horrid old push ball. How did it ever get intocamp anyway, and who ever heard of a ball being so large? It doesn'tseem somehow right to me--out of taste, if you get what I mean. Thereis a certain lack of restraint and conservatism about it which allgames played among gentlemen most positively should possess. But thechap who pushed that great big beast of a push ball violently upon myunsuspecting nose was certainly no gentleman. Golly, what a resoundingwhack! This fellow (I suspect him of being a German spy, basing mysuspicions upon his seeming disposition for atrocities) was standingby, looking morosely at this small size planet when I blows gently upand says playfully in my most engaging voice:

"I say, old dear, you push it to me and I'll push it toyou--softly, though, chappy, softly. " And with that he flunghimself upon the ball and hurled it full upon my nose, completelydemolishing it. Now I have always been a little partial to my nose. Myeyes, I'll admit, are not quite as soulful as those liquid orbs ofFrancis X. Bushman's, but my nose has been frequently admired andenvied in the best drawing rooms in New York. But it won't be enviedany more, I fear--pitied rather. 

Of course I played the game no more. I was nauseated by pain and thesight of blood. My would-be assassin was actually forced to sit down, he was so weak from brutal laughter. I wonder if I can ever be anEnsign with a nose like this?

[Illustration: "OF COURSE I PLAYED THE GAME NO MORE"]

_April 7th. _ On the way back from a little outing the other day mycompanion, Tim, who in civil life had been a barkeeper and a good oneat that, ingratiated himself in the good graces of a passingautomobile party and we consequently were asked in. There were twogirls, sisters, I fancy, and a father and mother aboard. 

"And where do you come from, young gentlemen?" asked the old man. 

"Me pal comes from San Diego, " pipes up my unscrupulous friend, "andmy home town is San Francisco. "

I knew for a fact that he had never been farther from home than thePolo Grounds, and as for me I had only the sketchiest idea of where myhome town was supposed to be. 

"Ah, Westerners!" exclaimed the old lady. "I come from the Westmyself. My family goes back there every year. "

"Yes, " chimed in the girls, "we just love San Diego!"

"In what section of the town did you live?" asked the gentleman, andmy friend whom I was inwardly cursing, seeing my perplexity, quicklyput in for me:

"Oh, you would never know it, sir, " and then lowering his voice in aconfidential way, he added, "he kept a barroom in the Mexican part ofthe town. "

"A barroom!" exclaimed the old lady. "Fancy that!" She looked at mewith great, innocent interest. 

"Yes, " continued this lost soul, "my father, who is a State senator, sent him to boarding school and tried to do everything for him, but hedrifted back into the old life just as soon as he could. It gets a holdon them, you know. "

"Yes, I know, " said the old lady, sadly, "my cook had a son that wentthe same way. "

"He isn't really vicious, though, " added my false friend with feignedloyalty--"merely reckless. "

"Well, my poor boy, " put in the old gentleman with cheeryconsideration, "I am sure you must find that navy life does you aworld of good--regular hours, temperate living and all that. "

"Right you are, sport, " says I bitterly, assuming my enforced role, "Ihaven't slit a Greaser's throat since I enlisted. "

"We must all make sacrifices these days, " sighed the old lady. 

"And perhaps you will be able to exercise your--er--er rather robustinclinations on the Germans when you meet them on the high seas, "remarked the old man, who evidently thought to comfort me. 

"If I can only keep him out of the brig, " said this low-down friend ofmine, "I think they might make a first-rate mess hand out of him, " atwhich remark both of the girls, who up to this moment had beenstudying me silently, exploded into loud peals of mirth and then Iknew where I had met them before--at Kitty Van Tassel's coming outparty, and I distinctly recalled having spilled some punch on theprettier one's white satin slipper. 

"We get out here, " I said, hoarsely, choking with rage. 

"But!" exclaimed the old lady, "it's the loneliest part of the road. "

"However that may be, " I replied with fine firmness, "I mustnevertheless alight here. I have a great many things to do before Ireturn to camp and lonely roads are well suited to my purposes. Myhomicidal leanings are completely over-powering me. "

"Watch him closely, " said the old lady to my companion, as the carcame to a stop. 

"He will have to, " I replied grimly, as I prepared to alight. 

"Perhaps Mr. Oswald will mix us a cocktail some day, " said one of thesisters, leaning over the side of the car. "I have heard that hesupported many bars at one time, but I never knew he really ownedone. "

"What, " I heard the old lady exclaiming as the car pulled away, "hereally isn't a bartender at all--well, fancy that!"

There were a couple of pairs of rather dusty liberty blues in campthat night. 

_April 8th. _ Yesterday mother paid a visit to camp and insisted uponme breaking out my hammock in order for her to see if I had coversenough. 

"I can never permit you to sleep in that, my dear, " she said afterpounding and prodding it for a few numbers; "never--and I am sure theCommander will agree with me after I have explained to him howdelicate you have always been. "

Later in the afternoon she became a trifle mollified when I told herthat the master-at-arms came around every night and distributed extrablankets to every one that felt cold. "Be sure to see that he givesyou enough coverings, " she said severely, "or else put him on report, "which I faithfully promised to do. 

She was greatly delighted with the Y. M. C. A. And the Hostess Committee. Here I stood her up for several bricks of ice cream and a largequantity of cake. My fourth attempt she refused, however, saying byway of explanation to a very pretty girl standing by, "It wouldn't begood for him, my dear; my son has always had such a weak stomach. Theleast little thing upsets him. "

[Illustration: "SHE WAS GREATLY DELIGHTED WITH THE Y. M. C. A. "]

"I believe you, " replied the young lady, sympathetically, as she gazedat me. I certainly looked upset at the moment. This was worse than theunderwear. 

"So that's an Ensign!" she exclaimed later in an obviouslydisappointed tone of voice; "well, I'm not so sure that I want you tobecome one now. " The passing ensign couldn't help but hear her, as shehad practically screamed in his ear. He turned and studied my facecarefully. I think he was making sure that he could remember it. 

"Now take me to your physician, " commanded mother, resolutely. "I wantto be sure that he sees that you take your spring tonic regularly. "

"Mother, " I pleaded, "don't you think it is time you were going? Ihave a private lesson in sale embroidery in ten minutes that Iwouldn't miss for the world--the sweetest man teaches it!"

"Well, under the circumstances I won't keep you, " said mother, "butI'll write to the doctor just the same. "

"Yes, do, " I urged, "send it care of me so that he'll be sure to getit. "

Mother is not a restful creature in camp. 

_April 9th. _ "Say, there, you with the nose, " cried my P. O. Companycommander to-day, "are you with us or are you playing a little game ofyour own?"

I wasn't so very wrong--just the slight difference between port andpresent arms. 

"With you, heart and soul, " I replied, hoping to make a favorableimpression by a smart retort. 

"That don't work in the manual, " he replied; "use your brain andears. "

Unnecessarily rough he was, but I don't know but what he wasn't right. 

[Illustration: "I WASN'T SO VERY WRONG--JUST THE SLIGHT DIFFERENCEBETWEEN PORT AND PRESENT ARMS"]

_April 10th. _ I hear that I am going to be put on the mess crew. Godpity me, poor wretch! How shall I ever keep my hands from becomingred? What a terrible war it is!

_April 11th. _ Saw a basket ball game the other night. Never knew itwas so rough. I used to play it with the girls and we had such sport. There seemed to be some reason for it then. There are a couple ofqueer looking brothers on our team who seem to try utterly to demolishtheir opponents. They remind me of a couple of tough gentlemen fromScranton I heard about in a story once. 

_April 12th. _ The price of fags (gee! I'm getting rough) has gone upagain. This war is rapidly cramping my style. 

_April 14th. _ I have been too sick at heart to write up my diary--Eliis dead! "Pop, " the Jimmy-legs, found the body and has been promotedto Chief Master-at-arms. It's an ill wind that blows no good. Idon't know whether it was because he found Eli or because he runs oneof the most modernly managed mess halls in camp or because his workingparties are always well attended that "Pop" received his appointment, but whatever it was it does my heart good to see a real seagoing oldsalt, one of our few remaining ex-apprentice boys, receive recognitionthat is so well merited. However, I was on much more intimate termswith Eli when I was over in Probation Camp than I was with "Pop. " Healmost had me in his clutches once for late hammocks, me and eightother poor victims I had led into the trouble, and he had ourwheelbarrows all picked out for us, and a nice large pile of sand forus to play with when fate interceded in our behalf. The poor mannearly cried out of sheer anguish of soul, and I can't justly blamehim. It's hard lines to have a nice fat extra duty party go dead onyour hands. 

But with Eli it was different. When I was a homeless rookie he took mein and I fed him--cigarette butts--and I'll honestly say that heshowed more genuine appreciation than many a flapper I have plied withcostly viands. He was a good goat, Eli. Not a refined goat, to besure, but a good, honest, whole-souled goat just the same. He did hisshare in policing the grounds, never shirked a cigar end or a bit ofpaper and amused many a mess gear line. He was loyal to his friends, tolerant with new recruits and a credit to the service in general. Considering the environment in which he lived, I think he deportedhimself with much dignity and moderation. I for one shall miss Eli. Some of the happier memories of my rookie days die with him. He issurvived by numerous dogs. 

_April 25th. _ Yesterday I wandered around Probation Camp in a verypatronizing manner and finally stopped to shed a tear on the humblegrave of Eli. 

"Poor sinful goat, " I thought sadly, "here you lie at last in yourfinal resting place, but your phantom, I wonder, does it go coursingmadly down the Milky Way, butting the stars aside with itsbattle-scarred head and sending swift gleams of light through theheavens as its hoofs strike against an upturned planet? Your horns, are they tipped with fire and your beard gloriously aflame, or has thegreat evil spirit of Wayward Goats descended upon you and borne youaway to a place where there is never anything to butt saveunsatisfactorily yielding walls of padded cotton? Many changes havetaken place, Eli, since you were with us, much adversity has befallenme, but the world in the large is very much the same. Bill and Mikehave been shipped to sea and strange enough to say, old Spike Kellyhas made the Quartermasters School. I alone of all the gang remainunspoken for--nobody seems anxious to avail themselves of my services. My tapes are dirtier and my white hat grows less "sea-going" every dayand even you, Eli, are being forgotten. The company commander stillcarols sweetly in the morning about "barrackses" and fire"distinguishers, " rookies still continue to rook about the camp intheir timid, mild-eyed way, while week-old sailors with unwashedleggins delight their simple souls with cries of 'twenty-one days. 'New goats have sprung up to take your place in the life of the campand belittle your past achievements, but to me, O unregenerate goat, you shall ever remain a refreshing memory. Good butting, O excellentruminant, wherever thou should chance to be. I salute you. "

This soliloquy brought me to the verge of an emotional break-down. Ideparted the spot in silence. On my way back through Probation Ichanced upon a group of rookies studying for their examinations andwas surprised to remember how much I had contrived to forget. Nevertheless I stopped one of the students and asked him what a"hakamaback" was and found to my relief that he didn't know. 

"Back to your manual, " said I gloomily, "I fear you will never be asailor. "

Having thus made heavy the heart of another, I continued on my wayfeeling somehow greatly cheered only to find upon entering my barracksthat my blankets were in the lucky bag. How did I ever forget to placethem in my hammock? It was a natural omission though, I fancy, for themaster-at-arms so terrifies me in the morning with his great shouts of"Hit the deck, sailor! Shake a leg--rise an' shine" that I am unnervedfor the remainder of the day. 

_April 29th. _ Life seems to be composed of just one parade afteranother. I am weary of the plaudits and acclamation of the multitudeand long for some sequestered spot on a mountain peak in Thibet. Everytime I see a street I instinctively start to walk down the middle ofit. Last week I was one of the many thousands of Pelham men whomarched along Fifth Avenue in the Liberty Loan parade. I thought I wasdoing particularly well and would have made a perfect score if one ofmy leggins hadn't come off right in front of the reviewing stand muchto the annoyance of the guy behind me because he tripped on it andalmost dropped his gun. For the remainder of the parade I wassubjected to a running fire of abuse that fairly made my flesh crawl. 

At the end of the march I ran into a rather nebulous, middle-aged sortof a gentleman soldier who was sitting on the curb looking moodily ata manhole as if he would like to jump in it. 

"Hello, stranger, " says I in a blustery, seafaring voice, "you look asif you'd been cursed at about as much as I have. What sort of anoutfit do you belong to?"

He scrutinized one of his buttons with great care and then told me allabout himself. 

"I'm a home guard, you know, " he added bitterly, "all we do is toescort people. I've escorted the Blue Devils, the Poilus, theAustralians, mothers of enlisted men, mothers of men who would haveenlisted if they could, Boy Scouts and loan workers until my dogs arejolly well near broken down on me. Golly, I wish I was young enough toenjoy a quiet night's sleep in the trenches for a change. "

Later I saw him gloomily surveying the world from the window of apassing cab. He was evidently through for the time being at least. 

_April 30th. _ I took my bar-keeping pal home over the last week-endliberty. It was a mistake. He admits it himself. Mother will neverhave him in the house again. Mother could never get him in the houseagain. He fears her. The first thing he did was to mix poor deargrandfather a drink that caused the old gentleman to forget his gameleg which had been damaged in battles, ranging anywhere from theMexican to the Spanish wars, according to grandfather's mood at thetime he is telling the story, but which I believe, according to aprivate theory of mine, was really caught in a folding bed. However itwas, grandfather forgot all about this leg of his entirely andinsisted on dancing with Nora, our new maid. Mother, of course, washorrified. But not content with that, this friend of mine concoctedsome strange beverage for the pater which so delighted him that heloaned my so-called pal the ten spot I had been intending to borrow. The three of them sat up until all hours of the night playing cardsand telling ribald stories. As mother took me upstairs to bed shegazed down on her father-in-law and her husband in the clutches ofthis demon and remarked bitterly to me:

"Like father, like son, " and I knew that she was thoroughly determinedto make both of them pay dearly for their pleasant interlude. Breakfast the next morning was a rather trying ordeal. Grandfatheronce more resorted to his game leg with renewed vigor, referringseveral times to the defense of the Alamo, so I knew he was pretty lowin his mind. Father withdrew at the sight of bacon. Mother laughedscornfully as he departed. My friend ate a hearty breakfast and kept asort of a happy-go-lucky monologue throughout its entire course. Itook him out walking afterward and forgot to bring him back. 

[Illustration: "THE FIRST THING HE DID WAS TO MIX POOR DEARGRANDFATHER A DRINK"]

_April 31st. _ Have just come off guard duty and feel quite exhausted. The guns are altogether too heavy. I can think of about five differentthings I could remove from them without greatly decreasing theirutility. The first would be the barrel. The artist who drew thepicture in the last camp paper of Dawn appearing in the form of abeautiful woman must have had more luck than I have ever had. I thinkhe would have been closer to the truth if he had put her in a speedingautomobile on its way home from a road house. It surely is a proof ofdiscipline to hear the mocking, silver-toned laughter of women ringout in the night only ten feet away and not drop your gun and followit right through the barbed wire. After the war, I am going to buylots of barbed wire and cut it up into little bits just to relieve myfeelings. 

Last night I had the fright of my life. Some one was fooling aroundthe fence in the darkness. 

"Who's there?" I cried. 

"Why, I'm Kaiser William, " came the answer in a subdued voice. 

"Well, I wish you'd go away, Kaiser William, " said I nervously, "you're busting the lights out of rule number six. "

"What's that?" asks the voice. 

"Not to commit a nuisance with any one except in a military manner, " Ireplied, becoming slightly involved. 

"That's not such a wonderful rule, " came back the voice in complainingtones. "I could make up a rule better than that. "

"Don't try to to-night, " I pleaded. 

There was silence for a moment, then the voice continued seriously, "Say, I'm not Kaiser William really. Honest I'm not. "

"Well, who are you?" I asked impatiently. 

"Why, I'm Tucks, " the voice replied. "Folks call me that because Itake so many of them in my trousers. "

"Well, Tucks, " I replied, "you'd better be moving on. I don't knowwhat might happen with this gun. I'm tempted to shoot the cartridgeout of it just to make it lighter. "

"Oh, you can't shoot me, " cried Tucks, "I'm crazy. I bet you didn'tknow that, did you?"

"I wasn't sure, " I answered. 

"Oh, I'm awfully crazy, " continued Tucks, "everybody says so, and Ilook it, too, in the daylight. "

"You must, " I replied. 

"Well, good night, " said Tucks in the same subdued voice. "If you finda flock of pink Liberty Bonds around here, remember I lost them. " Hedeparted in the direction of City Island. 

[Illustration: "I WAS TEMPTED TO SHOOT THE CARTRIDGE OUT JUST TO MAKEIT LIGHTER"]

_May 1st. _ I visited the office of the camp paper to-day and found itto be an extremely hectic place. In the course of a conversation withthe Chief I chanced to look up and caught two shining eyes staringmalevolently at me from a darkened corner of the room. This creatureblinked at me several times very rapidly, wiggled its mustache andsuddenly disappeared into the thick shadows. 

"Who is that?" I cried, startled. 

"That's our mad photographer, " said the Chief. "What do you think ofhim?"

"Do you keep him in there?" I asked, pointing to the coal-blackcupboard-like room into which this strange creature had disappeared. 

"Yes, " said the Chief, "and he likes it. Often he stays there for daysat a time, only coming out for air. " At this juncture there came fromthe dark room the sounds of breaking glass, which was immediatelyfollowed by strange animal-like sounds as the mad photographer burstout of his den and proclaimed to all the world that nothing meant verymuch in his life and that it would be absolutely immaterial to him ifthe paper and its entire staff should suddenly be visited with flood, fire and famine. After this gracious and purely gratuitous piece ofinformation he again withdrew, but strange mutterings still continuedto issue forth from his lair. While I was sitting in the office theeditor happened to drift in from the adjacent room crisply attired ina pair of ragged, disreputable trousers and a sleeveless gray sweaterwhich was raveling in numerous places. It was the shock of my life. 

"Where's our yeoman?" he grumbled, at which the yeoman, who somehowreminded me of some character from one of Dickens's novels, edged outof the door, but he was too late. Spying him, the editor launchedforth on a violent denunciation, in which for no particular reason thecartoonist and sporting editor joined. There they stood, the three ofthem, abusing this poor simple yeoman in the most unnecessary manneras far as I could make out. Three harder cut-throats I have neverencountered. While in the office, I came upon a rather elderly artistcrouched over in a corner writhing as if he was in great pain. He wasin the throes of composition, I was told, and he looked it. Poorwretch, he seemed to have something on his mind. The only man I sawwho seemed to have anything like a balanced mind was the financialshark, a little ferret-eyed, onery-looking cuss whom I wouldn't havetrusted out of my sight. He was sitting with his nose thrust in somedusty volume totally oblivious of the pandemonium that reigned aroundhim. He either has a great mind or none at all--probably the latter. Ifear I would never make an editor. The atmosphere is simplyaltogether too strenuous for me. 

_May 4th. _ There seems to be no place in the service for me; I cannotdecide what rating to select. To be a quartermaster one must know howto signal, and signaling always tires my arms. One must know how toblow a horrid shrill little whistle in order to become a boatswainmate, and my ears could never stand this. To be a yeoman, it isnecessary to know how to rattle papers in an important manner anddisseminate misinformation with a straight face, and this I couldnever do. I fear the only thing left for me is to try for acommission. I'm sure I would be a valuable addition to any wardroom. 

_May 6th. _ "Man the drags! Hey, there, you flannel-footed camel, stopgalloping! What are you doing, anyway--playing horses?"

"Don't be ridiculous, " I cried out, hot with rage and humiliation;"you know perfectly well I'm not playing horse. I realize as well asyou do that this is a serious--"

At this juncture of my brave retort a gun barrel stove in the back ofmy head, some one kicked me on the shin and in some indescribablemanner the butt of a rifle became entangled between my feet, and downI went in a cloud of dust and oaths. One-fourth of the entire Pelhamfield artillery passed over my body, together with its crew, whilethrough the roar and confusion raised by this horrible cataclysm Icould hear innumerable C. P. O. 's howling and blackguarding me infrenzied tones, and I dimly distinguished their forms dancing in rageamid descending billows of dust. The parade ground swirled dizzilyaround me, but I had no desire to arise and begin life anew. It wouldnot be worth while. I felt that I had at the most only a short time tolive, and that that was too long. The world offered nothing but themost horrifying possibilities to me. "What is the Biltmore to a man inuniform, anyway?" I remember thinking to myself as I lay there with mynose pressed flat to an ant hill, "all the best parts of it are ariddistricts, waste places, limitless Saharas to him. Death, where is thysting?" I continued, as an outraged ant assaulted my nose. The worldcame throbbing back. I felt myself being dragged violently away frommy resting place. I was choking. Bidding farewell to the ants, Iprepared myself to swoon when gradually, as if from a great distance, I heard the voice of my P. O. He was almost crying. 

"Take him out, " he pleaded; "for Gord sake, take him out. He's hurtin'our gun. "

[Illustration: "ONE FOURTH OF THE ENTIRE PELHAM FIELD ARTILLERY PASSEDOVER MY BODY"]

This remark gave me the strength to rise, but not gracefully. Myintention was to address a few handpicked words to this P. O. Of mine, but fortunately for my future peace of mind I was beyond utterance. Weakly I tottered in the direction of the gun, hoping to supportmyself upon it. 

"Hey, come away from that gun!" howled the P. O. "Don't let him touchit, fellers, " he pleaded. "Don't let him even go near it. He'll spoilit. He'll completely destroy it. "

"Say, Buddy, " said the Chief to me, and how I hated the ignominy ofthe word, "I guess I'll take you out of the game for to-day. I'mresponsible for Government property, and you are altogether too big arisk. "

"What shall I do?" I asked, huskily. "Where shall I go?"

"Do?" he repeated, in a thoughtful voice. "Go? Well, here's where youcan go, " and he told me, "and this is what you can do when you getthere, " and as I departed rather hastily he told me this also. Theentire parade ground heard him. How shall I ever be able to hold up myhead again in Camp? I departed the spot, but only under one boiler;however, I made fair speed. Like a soldier returning from a week inthe trenches, I sought the comfort and seclusion of the Y. M. C. A. HereI witnessed a checker contest of a low order between two unscrupulousbrothers. They had a peculiar technique completely their own. Itconsisted of arts and dodges and an extravagant use of thoseadjectives one is commonly supposed to shun. 

"Say, there's a queen down at the end of the room, " one of them wouldsuddenly exclaim, and while the other brother was gazing eagerly inthat direction he would deliberately remove several of his men fromthe board. But the other brother, who was not so balmy as helooked, would occasionally discover this slight irregularity andproceed to express his opinion of it by word of mouth, which for sheerforce of expression was in the nature of a revelation to me. It wasappalling to sit there and watch those two young men, who hadevidently at one time come from a good home, sit in God's brightsunshine and cheat each other throughout the course of an afternoonand lie out of it in the most obvious manner. The game was finallydiscontinued, owing to a shortage of checkermen which they hadsecreted in their pockets, a fact which each one stoutly denied withmany weird and rather indelicate vows. I left them engaged in thepleasant game of recrimination, which had to do with stolen golfballs, the holding out of change and kindred sordid subjects. In myweakened condition this display of fraternal depravity so offended myinstinctive sense of honor that I was forced to retire behind theprotecting pages of a 1913 issue of "The Farmer's Wife IndispensableCompanion, " where I managed to lose myself for the time in a rathercomplicated exposition of how to tell which chicken laid what egg ifany or something to that effect, an article that utterly demolishedthe moral character of the average hen, leaving her hardly a leg toroost on. 

_May 8th. _ "Give away, " said the coxswain to-day, when we werestruggling to get our cutter off from the pier, and I gave away tosuch an extent, in fact, that I suddenly found myself balancedcleverly on the back of my neck in the bottom of the boat, so that Iexperienced the rather odd sensation of feeling the hot sun on thesoles of my feet. This procedure, of course, did not go unnoticed. Nothing I do goes unnoticed, save the good things. The coxswain made afew comments which showed him to be a thoroughly ill-bred person, butfurther than this I was not persecuted. After we had rowedinterminable distances through leagues upon leagues of doggedlyresisting water a man in the bow remarked casually that he had severalfriends in Florida we might call upon if we kept it up a littlelonger, but the coxswain comfortably ensconced upon the hackamatack, was so deeply engrossed in the perusal of a vest pocket edition of the"Merchant of Venice" that he failed to grasp the full meaning of theremark. I lifted my rapidly glazing eyes with no little effort fromthe keelson and discovered to my horror that we had hardly passed morethan half a mile of shore-line at the most. What we had been doing allthe time I was unable to figure out. I thought we had been rowing. Icould have sworn we had been rowing, but apparently we had not. Ilooked up from my meditation in time to catch the ironical gaze of thecoxswain upon me, and I involuntarily braced myself to the assault. 

[Illustration: "THE PROCEDURE, OF COURSE, DID NOT GO UNNOTICED"]

"Say, there, sailor, " said he, with a slow, unpleasant drawl, "you'renot rowing; you're weaving. It's fancy work you're doing, blast yereyes!"

All who had sufficient strength left in them laughed jeeringly at thiswise observation, but I retained a dignified silence--that is, so faras a man panting from exhaustion can be silent. At this moment wepassed a small boat being rowed briskly along by a not unattractivegirl. 

"Now, watch her, " said the coxswain, helpfully, to me; "study the waythat poor fragile girl, that mere child, pulls the oars, and try to dolikewise. "

I observed in shamed silence. My hands ached. A motor boat slidswiftly by and I distinctly saw a man drinking beer from the bottle. "Hell isn't dark and smoky, " thought I to myself; "hell is bright andsunny, and there is lots of sparkling water in it and on the sparklingwater are innumerable boats and in these boats are huddled the poorlost mortals who are forced to listen through eternity to the wisecracks of cloven-hoofed, spike-tailed coxswains. That's what hell is, "thought I, "and I am in my probation period right now. "

"Feather your oars!" suddenly screamed our master at the strainingcrew. 

"Feather me eye!" yelled back a courageous Irishman. "What do youthink these oars are, anyway--a flock of humming birds? Whoever heardof feathering a hundred-ton weight? Feather Pike's Peak, say I; it'sjust as easy. "

Somehow we got back to the pier, but I was almost delirious by thistime. The last part of the trip was all one drab, dull nightmare tome. This evening my hands were so swollen I was forced to theextremity of bribing a friend to hold the telephone receiver for mewhen I called up mother. 

"What have you been doing?" she asked. 

"Rowing, " came my short answer. 

"What a splendid outing!" she exclaimed. "You had such a lovely dayfor it, didn't you, dear?"

"Hang up that receiver!" I shouted to my friend; "hang it up, or mymother shall hear from the lips of her son words she should only hearfrom her husband. "

_May 9th. _ I am just after having been killed in a sham battle, and soconsequently I feel rather ghastly to-day. I don't exactly knowwhether I was a Red or a Blue, because I did a deal of fighting onboth sides, but always with the same result. I was killed instantlyand completely. People got sick of putting me out of my misery after awhile and I was allowed to wander around at large in a state of greatmystification and excitement, shooting my blank bullets into the faceof nature in an aimless sort of manner whenever the battle began topall upon me. 

Most of the time I passed pleasantly on the soft, fresh flank of ahill where for a while I slept until a cow breathed heavily in my faceand reminded me that it was war after all. My instructions were tokeep away from the guns, and get killed as soon as possible. As theseinstructions were not difficult to follow, I carried them out to theletter. I stayed away from the guns and I permitted myself to bekilled several times in order to make sure it would take. After that Ibecame a sort of composite camp follower, deserter and straggler. 

In my wandering I chanced upon an ancient enemy of many pastencounters. 

"Are you Red or Blue?" I asked, preparing to die for the fifth time. 

"No, " he answered, sarcastically, "I'm what you might call elephantear gray. "

"Are you the guy the reporter for the camp paper was referring to inhis last story?" I asked him. 

"Yes, " he replied, "the slandering blackguard. "

"You hit me on the nose with a push-ball, " said I. 

"I'll do it again, " said he. 

"That reporter, evidently a man of some observation, said you didn'twash your neck and that you had the habits of a camel. "

"But I do wash my neck, " he said, stubbornly, "and I don't knowanything about the habits of a camel, but whatever they might happento be, I haven't got 'em. "

"Yes, " I replied, as if to myself, "you certainly should wash yourneck. That's the very least you could do. "

"But I tell you, " he cried, desperately, "I keep telling you that I dowash my neck. Why do you go on talking about it as if I didn't! I tellyou now, once for all time, that I do wash my neck, and that ends it. Don't talk any more. I want to think. "

We sat in silence for a space, then I remarked casually, almostinaudibly, "and you certainly shouldn't have the habits of a camel. "

The depraved creature stirred uneasily. "I ain't got 'em, " he said. 

"Good, " I cried heartily. "We understand each other perfectly. In thefuture you will try to wash your neck and cease from having the habitsof a camel. No compromise is necessary. I know you will keep yourword. "

"Go away quickly, " he gasped, searching around for a stone to hurl atme, and discarding several because of their small size. "Go away tosomewhere else. I'm telling you now, go away or else a special detailwill find your lifeless body here in the bushes some time to-morrow. "

"I've already been thoroughly killed several times to-day, " I said, putting a tree between us, "but don't forget about the camel, and forheaven's sake do try to keep your neck--"

A stone hit the tree with a resounding crack, and I increased thedistance. 

"Damn the torpedoes!" I shouted back as I disappeared into thepleasant security of the sun-warmed woods. 

_May 11th. _ "What navy do you belong to?" asked an Ensign, stopping meto-day, "the Chinese?"

"Why do you ask, sir?" I replied, saluting gracefully. "Of course Idon't belong to the Chinese Navy. "

"What's your rating?" he snapped. "Show girl first class attached tothe good ship Biff! Bang! sir, " came my prompt retort. 

"Well, put a watch mark on your arm, sailor, and put it there pronto, or you'll be needing an understudy to pinch hit for you. "

As a matter of fact I have never put my watch mark on, for the simplereason that I have been rather expecting a rating at any moment, butit seems as if my expectations were doomed to disappointment. 

Nothing matters much, anyway, now, however, for I have been selectedfrom among all the men in the station to play the part of a Show Girlin the coming magnificent Pelham production, "Biff! Bang!" At last Ihave found the occupation to which by training and inclination I amnaturally adapted. The Grand Moguls that are running this show camearound the barracks the other day looking for material, and when theygazed upon me I felt sure that their search had not been in vain. 

"Why don't you write a 'nut' part for him?" asked one of them of theplaywright as they surveyed me critically as if I was some rarespecimen of bug life. 

"That would never do, " he answered. "Real 'nuts' can never play thepart on the stage. You've got to have a man of intelligence. "

"Look here, " I broke in. "You've got to stop talking about me beforemy face as if I wasn't really present. Nuts I may be, but I can stillunderstand English, even when badly spoken, and resent it. Lay offthat stuff or I'll be constrained to introduce you to a new brand of'Biff! Bang!'"

Saying this, I struck an heroic attitude, but it seemed to produce nostartling change in their calm, deliberate examination of me. 

"He'll do, I think, as a Show Girl, " the dance-master mused dreamily. "Like a cabbage, every one of his features is bad, but the wholeeffect is not revolting. Strange, isn't it, how such things happen. "At this point the musician broke in. 

"He ain't agoing to dance to my music if I know it. He'll ruin it. " Atwhich remark I executed a few rather simple but nevertheless neatsteps I had learned at the last charity Bazaar to which I hadcontributed my services, and these few steps were sufficient to closethe deal. I was signed up on the spot. As they were leaving thebarracks one excited young person ran up and halted the arrogantThespians. "If I get the doctor to remove my Adam's Apple, " he pleadedwistfully, "do you think you could take me on as a pony?"

"No, " said one of them, not without a certain show of kindness. "Ifear not. It would be necessary for him to remove the greater part ofyour map and graft a couple of pounds on to your sadly unendowedlimbs. "

From that day on my life has become one of unremitting toil. Togetherwith the rest of the Show Girls I vamp and slouch my way around theclock with ever increasing seductiveness. We are really doingsplendidly. The ponies come leaping lightly across the floor wavingtheir freckled, muscular arms from side to side and looking veryunattractive indeed in their B. V. D. 's, high shoes and sock supporters. "I can see it all, " says the Director, in an enthusiastic voice, andif he can I'll admit he has some robust quality of imagination that Ifail to possess. 

Us Show Girls, of course, have to be a little more modest than theponies, so we retain our white trousers. These are rolled up, however, in order to afford the mosquitoes, who are covering the show mostconscientiously, room to roost on. And sad to relate, the life isbeginning to affect the boys. Only yesterday I saw one of our toughestponies vamping up the aisle of Mess Hall No. 2 with his tray held overhis head in the manner of a Persian slave girl. The Jimmy-legs, witnessing this strange sight, dropped his jaw and forgot to lift itup again. "Sweet attar of roses, " he muttered. "What ever has happenedto our poor, long-suffering navy?" At the door of the Mess Hall thepony bowed low to the deck and withdrew with a coy backward flirt ofhis foot. 

I can't express in words the remarkable appearance made by some of ourseagoing chorus girls when they attempt to assume the light and airygraces of the real article. Some of the men have so deeply enteredinto their parts that they have attained absolute self-forgetfulness, with the result that they leap and preen about in a manner quitestartling to the dispassionate spectator. My career so far has notbeen a personal triumph. In the middle of a number, the other night, the dancing master clapped his hands violently together, a signal heuses when he wants all motion to cease. 

"Take 'em down to the end of the room, boys, " he said. "I can tellthree minutes ahead of time when things are going to go wrong. Thatman on the end didn't have a thought in his head. He would havesmeared the entire number. " I was the man on the end. 

_May 23d. _ This has not been a particularly agreeable day, although toa woman no doubt it would have been laden with moments of exquisiteecstasy. Feminine apparel for me has lost for ever the charm ofmystery that formerly touched it with enchantment. There is nothing Ido not know now. Its innermost secret has been revealed and itsrevelation has brought with it its full burden of woe. All knowledgeis pain and vice versa. I have always admired women; whether soprofoundly as they have admired me I know not; however that may be, Ihave always admired them collectively and individually in the past, but after today's experience my admiration is tinged with pity. Thesource of these reflections lies in no less an article than a corset. As a Show Girl, it has been my lot to be provided with one of thesefiendish devices of medieval days. It is too much. The corset must go. No woman could have experienced the pain and discomfort I have beensubjected to this day without feeling entitled to the vote. Yet I daresay there are women who would gladly be poured into a new corset everyday of their lives. They can have mine for the asking. Life at itsbest presents a narrow enough outlook without resorting to cunninglywrought devices such as corsets in order further to confine one'spoint of view or abdomen, which amounts to the same thing. The whaleis a noble animal, it was a very good idea, the whale, and I loveevery bone in its body, so long as it keeps them there. So tightly wasmy body clutched in the embrace of this vicious contraption that Ifound it impossible to inhale my much needed cigarette. The smokewould descend no further than my throat. The rest of me was a closedport, a roadway blocked to traffic. I have suffered. 

But there were also other devices, other soft, seductive understrappings. I know them all to their last most intimate detail. Ifeel that now I could join a woman's sewing circle and talk with asmuch authority and wisdom as the most veteraned corset wearer present. My views would be radical perhaps but at least they would have thevirtue of being refreshing. 

However, I can see some good coming out of my unavoidably acquiredknowledge of female attire. In future days, while my wife is outpurchasing shirts and neckties for me, I can easily employ my time toadvantage in shopping around Fifth Avenue in search of the correctthing in lingerie for her. It will be a great help to the householdand I am sure impress my wife with the depth and range of myeducation, which I will be able to tell her, thank God, was innocentlyacquired. 

_May 28th. _ I am slowly forming back into my pristine shape but onlyafter having been freed from bondage for some hours. After severalmore sodas, concoctions which up till recently I have despised asinjurious, I guess I will have filled out to my usual dimensionsaround the waist line, but when I consider the long days of womanhoodstretched out before me in the future I will admit it is with asinking not only of the waist, but also of the heart. 

More indignities have been heaped upon me. Why did I ever take up theprofession of a show girl? To-day I fell into the clutches of thebarbers. They were not gentle clutches, brutal rather; and such anoutspoken lot they were at that. 

"What's that?" asked one of them as I stood rather nervously beforehim with bared chest. 

"Why, that, " I replied, a trifle disconcerted, "that's my chest. "

He looked at me for a moment, then smiled a slow, pitying smile. "Hey, Tony, " he suddenly called to his colleague, "come over here a momentand see what this bird claims to be a chest. "

All this yelled in the faces of the entire Biff-Bang company. It wasmore inhuman and debasing than my first physical examination inpublic. The doctors on this occasion, although they had notcomplimented me, had at least been comparatively impersonal indespatching their offices, but these men were far from beingimpersonal. I perceived with horror that it was their intention to usemy chest as a means of bringing humor into their drab existences. Tonycame and surveyed me critically. 

"That, " he drawled musically, "ees not a chest. That ees the bottompart of hees neck. "

"I know it is, " replied the other, "but somehow his arms have gottenmixed up in the middle of it. "

Tony shrugged his shoulders eloquently. He assumed the appearance of aman completely baffled. 

"Honestly, now, young feller, " continued my first tormentor, "are youserious when you try to tell us that that is your chest?"

He drew attention to the highly disputed territory by poking mediligently with his thumb. 

"That's the part the doctor always listened to whenever I had a cold, "I replied as indifferently as possible. The man pondered over this fora moment. 

"Well, " he replied at length, "probably the doctor was right, but tothe impartial observer it would seem to be, as my friend Tony soaccurately observed, the bottom part of your neck. "

"It really doesn't matter much after all, " I replied, hoping to closethe conversation. "You all were not sent here to establish thelocation of the different parts of my anatomy, anyway. "

The man appeared not to have heard me. "I'd swear, " he murmuredmusingly, standing back and regarding me with tilted head, "I'd swearit was his neck if it warn't for his arms. " He suddenly discontinuedhis dreamy observations and became all business. 

"Well, sir, " he began briskly, "now that we've settled that what doyou want me to do to it?"

"Why, shave it, of course, " I replied bitterly. "That's what you'rehere for, isn't it? All us Show Girls have got to have our chestsshaved. "

"An' after I've shaved your chest, dear, " he asked in a soothingvoice, "what do you want me to do with it?"

"With what?" I replied, enraged, "with my chest?"

"No, " he answered easily, "not your chest, but that one poor littlepitiful hair that adorns it. Do you want me to send it home to yourma, all tied around with a pink ribbon?"

I saw no reason to reply to this insult, but stood uneasily and triedto maintain my dignity while he lathered me with undue elaboration. When it was time for him to produce his razor he faltered. 

"I can't do it, " he said brokenly, "I haven't the heart to cut it downin its prime. It looks so lonely and helpless there by itself. " Heswept his razor around several times with a free-handed, blood-curdling swoop of his arm. "Well, here goes, " he said, shuttinghis eyes and approaching me. Tony turned away as if unable to witnessthe scene. I was unnerved, but I stood my ground. The deed was doneand I was at last free to depart. "That's a terrible chest for a ShowGirl, " I heard him to say to Tony as I did so. 

_May 29th. _ The world has come clattering down around my ears and I amburied, crushed and bruised beneath the debris. There was a dressrehearsal to-day, and I, from the whole company, was singled out forthe wrath of the gods. 

"Who is that chorus girl on the end acting frantic?" cried out one ofthe directors in the middle of a number. My name was shouted acrossthe stage until it echoed and resounded and came bounding back in myface from every corner of the shadow-plunged theater. I knew I was infor it and drew myself up majestically although I turned pale under mywar paint. 

"Well, tell him he isn't walking on stilts, " continued the director, and although it was perfectly unnecessary, I was told that and severalother things with brutal candor. The dance went on but I knew the eyesof the director were on me. My legs seemed to lose all propercoordination. My arms became unmanageable. I lost step and could notpick it up again, yet, as in a nightmare, I struggled on desperately. Suddenly the director clapped his hands. The music ceased, and Islowed down to an uneasy shuffle. 

"Sweetheart, " said the director, addressing me personally, "you're notdancing. You're swimming, that's what you're doing. As a Persian girlyou would make a first class squaw. " He halted for a moment and thenbawled out in a great voice, "Understudy!" and I was removed from thestage in a fainting condition. This evening I was shipped back tocamp a thoroughly discredited Show Girl. I had labored long invicious, soul-squelching corsets and like Samson been shorn of mylocks, and here I am after all my sacrifices relegated back to thescrap heap. Why am I always the unfortunate one? I must have a privateplot in the sky strewn with unlucky stars. Camp routine after the freelife of the stage is unbearably irksome. My particular jimmy legs wasso glad to see me back that he almost cried as he thrust a broom and aswab into my hands. 

"Bear a hand, " he said gleefully, "get to work and stick to it. We'reshort of men, " he added, "and there is no end of things for you todo. "

I did them all and he was right. There surely is no end to the thingshe can devise for me to do. I long for the glamour and footlights ofthe gay white way, but I have been cast out and rejected as many aShow Girl has been before me. 

_June 1st. _ The morning papers say all sort of nice things aboutBiff-Bang but I can hardly believe them sincere after the treatment Ireceived. I know for a fact that the man who took my place wasknock-kneed and that the rest of his figure could not hold a candle tomine. 

I still feel convinced that Biff-Bang lost one of its mostprepossessing and talented artists when I was so unceremoniouslyremoved from the chorus. 

_June 10th. _ I was standing doing harm to no one in a vague, ratherunfortunate way I have, when all of a sudden, without word or warning, a very competent looking sailor seized me by the shoulders and, thrusting his face close to mine, cried out:

"Do you want to make a name for yourself in the service?"

I left the ground two feet below me in my fright and when I alightedthere were tears of eagerness in my eyes. 

"Yes, " I replied breathlessly, "oh, sir, yes. "

"Then pick up that, " he cried dramatically, pointing to a cigar button the parade ground. I didn't wait for the laughter. I didn't haveto. It was forthcoming immediately. Huge peals of it. Sailors are avery low tribe of vertebrate. They seem to hang around most of thetime waiting for something to laugh at--usually me. It is my beliefthat I have been the subject of more mirth since I came to camp thanany other man on the station. Whatever I do I seem to do it too muchor too little. There even seems to be something mirth-provoking in mypersonal appearance, which I have always regarded hitherto not withouta certain shade of satisfaction. Only the other day I caught the eyesof the gloomiest sailor in camp studying me with a puzzled expression. He gazed at me for such a long time that I became quite disconcerted. Slowly a smile spread over his face, then a strange, rusty laughforced itself through his lips. 

"Doggone if I can solve it, " he chuckled, turning away and shaking hishead; "it's just simply too much for me. "

He looked back once, clapped his hands over his mouth and proceededmerrily on his way. I am glad of course to be able to bring joy intothe lives of sailors, but I did not enlist for that sole purpose. Returning to the cigar butt, however, I was really quite disappointed. I do so want to make a name for myself in the service that I wouldeagerly jump at the chance of sailing up the Kiel canal in a BarnegatSneak Box were it not for the fact that sailing always makes medeathly sick. I don't know why it is, but the more I have to do withwater the more reasons I find for shunning it. The cigar butt episodebroke my heart though. I was all keyed up for some heroic deed--whatan anti-climax! I left the spot in a bitter, humiliated mood. There isonly one comforting part about the whole affair--I did not pick upthat cigar butt. He did, I'll bet, though when nobody was looking. Idon't know as I blame him--there were still several healthy drags leftin it. 

_June 11th. _ This war is going to put a lot of Chinamen out ofbusiness if it keeps up much longer. The first thing a sailor will doafter he has been paid off will be to establish a laundry, and hewon't be a slouch at the business at that. I feel sure that I amqualified right now to take in family laundry and before the end ofsummer I guess I'll be able to do fancy work. At present I am whatyou might call a first class laundryman, but I'm not a fancylaundryman yet. Since they've put us in whites I go around with thewasher-woman's complaint most of the time. Terrible shooting pains inmy back! My sympathy for the downtrodden is increasing by leaps andbounds. I can picture myself without any effort of the imaginationbending over a tub after the war doing the family washing while mywife is out running for alderman or pulling the wires to be appointedCommissioner of the Docks. The white clothes situation, however, isserious. It seems that every spare moment I have I am either washingor thinking of washing or just after having washed, and to one whopossesses as I do the uncanny faculty of being able to get dirtier inmore places in the shortest space of time than any ten street childrenpicked at random could ever equal, life presents one long vista ofsoap and suds. 

[Illustration: "THIS WAR IS GOING TO PUT A LOT OF CHINAMEN OUT OFBUSINESS"]

"You boys look so cute in your funny white uniforms, " a girl said tome the other day. "It must be so jolly wearing them. "

I didn't strike her, for she was easily ten pounds heavier than I was, but I made it easily apparent that our relations would never progressfurther than the weather vane. I used to affect white pajamas, thesame seeming to harmonize with the natural purity of my nature, butafter the war I fear I shall be forced to discontinue the practise infavor of more lurid attire. However, I still believe that a bachelorshould never wear anything other than white pajamas or at the mostlavender, but this of course is merely a personal opinion. 

_June 14th. _ I have been hard put to-day. The Lord only knows whattrials and tribulations will be visited upon me next. At present I amquite unnerved. To-day I was initiated into all the horrifying secretsand possibilities of the bayonet, European style. Never do I rememberspending a more unpleasant half an hour. The instructor was aresourceful man possessed of a most vivid imagination. Before he hadfinished with us potential delicatessen dealers were lying around asthick as flies. We were brushing them off. 

After several hair-raising exhibitions he formed us into two linesfacing each other and told us to begin. 

"Now lunge, " he said, "and look as if you meant business. "

I glanced ingratiatingly across at my adversary. He was simply glaringat me. Never have I seen an expression of greater ferocity. It was toomuch. I knew for certain that if he ever lunged at me I'd never liveto draw another yellow slip. 

"Mister Officer, " I gasped, pointing across at this blood-thirsty man, "don't you think that he's just a little too close? I'm afraid I mighthurt him by accident. "

The officer surveyed the situation with a swift, practical eye. 

"Oh, I guess he can take care of himself all right, " he replied. Thatwas just what I feared. 

The man smiled grimly. 

"But does he know that this is only practise?" I continued. "Hecertainly doesn't look as if he did. "

"That's the way you should look, " said the officer, "work your ownface up a bit. This isn't a vampire scene. Don't look as if you weregoing to lure him. Y'know you're supposed to be angry with youropponent when you meet him in battle, quite put out in fact. Andfurthermore you're supposed to look it. "

I regarded my opponent, but only terror was written on my face. Thensuddenly we lunged and either through fear or mismanagement Isucceeded only in running my bayonet deep into the ground. In somestrange manner the butt of the gun jabbed me in the stomach and I wascompletely winded. My opponent was dancing and darting around me likea local but thorough-going lightning storm. I abandoned my gun andstood sideways, thus decreasing the possible area of danger. Had theexercises continued much longer I would have had a spell of something, probably the blind staggers. 

[Illustration: "I STOOD SIDE-WAYS, THUS DECREASING THE POSSIBLE AREAOF DANGER"]

"You're not pole vaulting, " said the instructor to me, as he returnedthe gun. "In a real show you'd have looked like a pin cushion by thistime. " I felt like one. 

Then it all started over again and this time I thought I was doing alittle better, when quite unexpectedly the instructor shouted at me. 

"Stop prancing around in that silly manner, " he cried, "you're notdoing a sword dance, sonny. "

"He thinks he's still a show girl, " some one chuckled, "he's thatseductive. "

Mess gear interrupted our happy morning. The sight of a knife fairlysickened me. 

_June 24th. _ Last week I caught a liberty--a perfect Forty-three--andwent to spend it with some cliff dwelling friends of mine who, heavenhelp their wretched lot! lived on the sixth and top floor of one ofthose famous New York struggle-ups. Before shoving off there was someslight misunderstanding between the inspecting officer and myselfrelative to the exact color of my, broadly speaking, Whites. 

"Fall out, there, " he said to me. "You can't go out on liberty inBlues. "

"But these, sir, " I responded huskily, "are not Blues; they'reWhites. "

"Look like Blues to me, " he said skeptically. "Fall out anyway. You'retoo dirty. "

For the first time in my life I said nothing at the right time. I justlooked at him. There was a dumb misery in my eyes, a mute, humbleappeal such as is practised with so much success by dogs. He couldn'tresist it. Probably he was thinking of the days when he, too, stood inline waiting impatiently for the final formalities to be run throughbefore the world was his again. 

"Turn around, " he said brokenly. I did so. 

"Fall in, " he ordered, after having made a prolonged inspection of myshrinking back. "I guess you'll do, but you are only getting throughon a technicality--there's one white spot under your collar. "

Officers are people after all, although sometimes it's hard to realizeit. This one, in imagination, I anointed with oil and rare perfumes, and costly gifts I laid at his feet, while in a glad voice I calleddown the blessings of John Paul Jones upon his excellent head. Thus Ideparted with my kind and never did the odor of gasoline smell sweeterin my nose than did the fumes that were being emitted by the impatientflivver that waited without the gate. And sweet, too, was the fetidatmosphere of the subway after the clean, bracing air of Pelham, sweet was the smell of garlic belonging to a mustache that sat besideme, and sweet were the buttery fingers of a small child who keptclawing at me while their owner demanded of the whole car if I was a"weal mavy sailor boy?" I didn't look it, and I didn't feel it, but Ihad forty-three hours of freedom ahead of me, so what did I care?

All went well with me until I essayed the six flight climb-up to thecave of these cliff-dwelling people, when I found that the one-storiedexistence I had been leading in the Pelham bungalows had completelyunfitted me for mountain climbing. As I toiled upward I wondered dimlyhow these people ever managed to keep so fat after having mounted tosuch a great distance for so long a time. Somehow they had done it, not only maintained their already acquired fat but added greatlythereto. There would be no refreshing cup to quaff upon arriving, onlywater, or at best milk. This I knew and the knowledge added pounds tomy already heavy feet. 

"My, what a dirty sailor you are, to be sure, " they said to me fromthe depth of their plump complacency. 

"Quite so, " I gasped, falling into a chair, "I seem to remember havingheard the same thing once before to-day. "

_June 25th. _ Neither Saturday nor Sunday was a complete success andfor a while Saturday afternoon assumed the proportions of a disaster. After having rested from my climb, I decided to wash my Whites so thatI wouldn't be arrested as a deserter or be thrown into the brig uponchecking in. The fat people on learning of my intentions decided thatthe sight of such labor would tire them beyond endurance, so theydeparted, leaving me in solitary possession of their flat. I thereuponremoved my jumper, humped my back over the tub, scrubbed industriouslyuntil the garment was white, then hastened roofwards and arranged itprettily on the line. This accomplished, I hurried down, removed mytrousers, rehumped my back over the tub, scrubbed industriously untilthe trousers in turn were white and once more dashed roofwards. I havealways been absent minded, but never to such an appalling extent as toappear clad only in my scanty underwear in the midst of a mixed throngof ladies, gentlemen and children. This I did. Some venturous soulshad claimed the roof as their own during my absence so that when Isprang from the final step to claim my place in the sun I found myselfby no means alone. With a cry of horror I leaped to the other side ofthe clothes-line and endeavored to conceal myself behind an old lady'spetticoat or a lady's old petticoat or something of that nature. Whoever wore the thing must have been a very short person indeed, forthe garment reached scarcely down to my knees, below which my B. V. D. 'sfluttered in an intriguing manner. 

"Sir, " thundered a pompous gentleman, "have you any explanation foryour surprising conduct?"

"Several, " I replied briskly from behind my only claim onrespectability. "In the first place, I didn't expect an audience. Inthe second--"

"That will do, sir, " broke in this heavy person in a quarterdeckvoice. "Who, may I ask, are you?"

"You may, " I replied. "I'm a God-fearing sailor man who is doing thebest he can to keep nice and clean in spite of the uncalled forintervention of a red-faced oaf of a plumber person who should knowbetter than to stand around watching him. "

[Illustration: "I'M A GOD-FEARING SAILOR MAN WHO IS DOING THE BEST HECAN TO KEEP CLEAN"]

"Don't take on so, George, " said one of the women whom I suspected ofedging around in order to get a better view of me, "the poor young manis a sailor--where is your patriotism?"

"Yes, " broke in the other woman, edging around on the other side, "he's one of our sailor boys. Treat him nice. "

"Patriotic, I am, " roared George wrathfully, "but not to the extent ofcondoning and looking lightly upon such a flagrant breach of decencyas this semi-nude, so-called sailor has committed in our midst. "

"If you'd give me a couple of Thrift Stamps, " I suggested, "I might beable to come out from behind this blooming barrage. "

"Shameless, " exploded the man. 

"Not at all, " I replied, "in the olden days it was quite customary foryoung gentlemen and elderly stout ones like yourself, for instance, todrop in at the best caves with very much less on than I have withoutany one considering their conduct in any degree irregular. In fact, the ladies of this time were no better themselves, it being deemedhighly proper for them to appear in some small bit of stuff and nobodythought the worst of it at all. Take the early days of the fifteenthcentury B. C. --"

At this point in my eloquent address a young child, who had hithertoescaped my attention, took it upon herself to swing on the line withthe result that it parted with a snap and my last vestige ofprotection came fluttering to the roof. For one tense moment I stoodgazing into the dilated eyes of those before me. Then with surprisingpresence of mind, I sprang to a ladder that led to the water tank, swarmed up it with the agility of a cat and lowered myself with a gaspof despair into the cold, cold water of the tank. From this place ofsecurity I gazed down on the man who had been responsible for myunfortunate plight. I felt myself sinned against, and the longer Iremained in that water, up to my neck, the more I felt my wrongs. Igave voice to them. I said bitter, abusive things to the man. 

"Clear the quarter deck, " I shouted, "get aft, or, by gad, I'll comefluttering down there on your flat, bald head like a blooming flood. Vamoos, hombre, pronto--plenty quick and take your brood with you. "Then I said some more things as my father before me had said them, andthe man withdrew with his women. 

"He's a sailor, " he said as he did so. "Hurry, my dears, this is worsethan nakedness. "

I emerged and sat in a borrowed bathrobe the rest of the evening. Thenext morning my clothes were still damp. Now, that's what I call astupid way to spend a Saturday night on liberty. The fat peopleenjoyed it. 

_June 29th. _ I met a very pleasant dog yesterday, whom I called Mr. Fogerty because of his sober countenance and the benign but ratherpuzzled expression in his large, limpid eyes, which were almostcompletely hidden by his bangs. He was evidently a visitor in camp, soI took him around and introduced him to the rest of the dogs andseveral of the better sort of goats. In all of these he displayed afriendly but dignified interest, seeming to question them on the lifeof the camp, how they liked the Navy and what they thought were theprospects for an early peace. He refused to be separated from me, however, and even broke into the mess hall, from which he wasunceremoniously ejected, but not before he had gotten half of myration. In some strange manner he must have found out from one of theother dogs my name and address and exactly where I swung, for in themiddle of the night I awoke to hear a lonesome whining in the darknessbeneath my hammock and then the sniff, sniff of an investigating nose. As I know how it feels to be lonely in a big black barracks in thedead of night I carefully descended to the deck and collected thisanimal--it was my old friend, Mr. Fogerty, and he was quite overjoyedat having once more found me. After licking my face in gratitude hesat back on his haunches and waited for me to do something amusing. Ididn't have the heart to leave him there in the darkness. Dogs have acertain way about them that gets me every time. I lifted Mr. Fogerty, a huge hulk of a dog, with much care, and adjusting of overlappingpaws into my hammock, and received a kiss in the eye for my trouble. Then I followed Mr. Fogerty into the hammock and resumed my slumber, but not with much comfort. Mr. Fogerty is a large, sprawly dog, whoevidently has been used to sleeping in vast spaces and who sees noreason for changing a lifelong habit. Consequently he considered me inthe nature of a piece of gratifying upholstery. He slept with his hindlegs on my stomach and his front paws propped against my chin. When hescratched, as he not infrequently did, what I decided must be a flea, his hind leg beat upon the canvas and produced a noise not unlike adrum. Thus we slept, but through some miscalculation I must have sleptover, for it seems that the Master-at-arms, a very large and capableIrishman, came and shook my hammock. 

[Illustration: "I TOOK HIM AROUND AND INTRODUCED HIM TO THE REST OFTHE DOGS AND SEVERAL OF THE BETTER SORT OF GOATS"]

"Hit the deck there, sailor, " he said, "shake a leg, shake a leg. "

At this point Mr. Fogerty took it upon himself to peer over the sideof the hammock to see who this disturber of peace and quiet could be. This was just a little out of the line of duty for the jimmy legs, andI can't say as I blame him for his conduct under rather tryingcircumstances. Mr. Fogerty has a large, shaggy head, not unlike alion's, and his mouth, too, is quite large and contains some very longand sharp teeth. It seems that Mr. Fogerty, still heavy with slumber, quite naturally yawned into the horrified face of the Jimmy-legs, who, mistaking the operation for a hostile demonstration, retreated fromthe barracks with admirable rapidity for one so large, crying in adistracted voice as he did so:

"By the saints, it's a beast he's turned into during the night. Sure, it's a visitation of Providence, heaven preserve us. "

It seems I have been washing hammocks ever since. Mr. Fogerty sitsaround and wonders what it's all about. I like Fogerty, but he gets mein trouble, and in this I need no help whatsoever. 

[Illustration: "I RESUMED MY SLUMBER, BUT NOT WITH MUCH COMFORT"]

_July 1st. _ This day I almost succeeded in sinking myself for thefinal count. The fishes around about the environs of City Island weredisappointed beyond words when I came up for the fourth time andstayed up. In my delirium I imagined that school had been let out inhonor of my reception and that all the pretty little fishes weresticking around in expectant groups cheering loudly at the thought ofthe conclusion of their meatless days. Fortunately for the Navy, however, I cheated them and saved myself in order to scrub many morehammocks and white clothes, an object to which I seem to havededicated my life. 

It all come about, as do most drowning parties, in quite an unexpectedmanner. For some reason it had been arranged that I should take a swimover at one of the emporiums at City Island, and, as I interposed noobjections, I accordingly departed with my faithful Mr. Fogertytumbling along at my heels. Since Mr. Fogerty involved me in troublethe other day by barking at the Jimmy-legs he has endeavored in allpossible ways to make up for his thoughtless irregularity. Forinstance, he met me this morning with an almost brand new shoe whichin some manner he had managed to pick up in his wanderings. It fitsperfectly, and if he only succeeds in finding the mate to it I shallprobably not look for the owner. As a further proof of his good willMr. Fogerty bit, or attempted to bite, a P. O. Who spoke to meroughly regarding the picturesque way I was holding my gun. 

"Whose dog is that?" demanded the P. O. 

Silence in the ranks. Mr. Fogerty looked defiantly at him for a momentand then trotted deliberately over and sat down upon my foot. 

"Oh, so he belongs to you!" continued the P. O. In a threatening voice. 

"No, sir, " I faltered; "you see, it isn't that way at all. I belong toMr. Fogerty. "

"Who in--who in--who is Mr. Fogerty?" shouted the P. O. "And howin--how in--how did _he_ happen to get into the conversation?"

"Why, this is Mr. Fogerty, " I replied; "this dog here, sitting on myfoot. "

"Oh, is that so?" jeered the P. O. , a man noted for his quick retorts. "Well, you take your silly looking dog away from here and secure himin some safe place. He ain't no fit associate for our camp dogs. And, furthermore, " he added, "the next time Mr. Fogerty attempts to bite meI'm going to put you on report--savez?"

Mr. Fogerty is almost as much of a comfort in camp as mother. 

Well, that's another something else again and has nothing to do withmy swim and approximate drowning at City Island. Swimming has alwaysbeen one of my strong points, and I have taken in the past no littlepride in my appearance, not only in a bathing outfit, but also in thewater. However, the suit they provided me with on this occasion didnot show me up in a very alluring light. It was quite large andevidently built according to a model of the early Victorian Era. I wasswathed in yards of cloth much in the same manner as is a very youngchild. It delighted Mr. Fogerty, who expressed his admiration byattaching himself to the lower half of my attire and remaining thereuntil I had waded through several colonies of barnacles far out intothe bay. Bidding farewell to Mr. Fogerty at this point, I gave myselfover to the joy of the moment and went wallowing along, giving asurprising imitation of the famous Australian crawl. Far in thedistance I sighted an island, to which I decided to swim. This was avery poor decision, indeed, because long before I had reached thespot I was in a sinking condition owing to the great heaviness of mysuit and a tremendous slacking down of lung power. It was too late toretreat to the shore; the island was the nearest point, and thatwasn't near. On I gasped, my mind teeming with cheerless thoughts ofthe ocean's bed waiting to receive me. Just as I was about to shakehands with myself for the last time I cleared the water from my eyesand discovered that the island though still distant was not altogetherimpossible. Therewith I discarded the top part of my suit and struckout once more. The island was now almost within my grasp. Life seemedto be not such a lost cause after all. Then suddenly, quite clearly, just as I was about to pull myself up on the shore, I saw a womanstanding on the bank and heard her shouting in a very conventionalvoice:

"Private property! Private property!"

I sank. This was too much. As I came up for the first count, and justbefore I sank back beneath the blue, I had time to hear her repeat:

"Private property! Please keep off!"

I went down very quickly this time and very far. When I arose I saw asthough in a dream another woman standing by the first one andseemingly arguing with her. 

"He's drowning!" she said. 

"I'm sure I can't help that!" the other one answered. And then in aloud, imperious voice:

"Private property! No visitors allowed!"

The water closed over my head and stilled her hateful voice. 

"No, " she was saying as I came up for the third time; "I can't do it. If I make an exception of one I must make an exception of all. "

Although I hated to be rude about it, having always disliked forcingmyself upon people, I decided on my fourth trip down that unless Iwanted to be a dead sailor I had better be taking steps. It was almosttoo late. There wasn't enough wind left in me to fatten a small sizedbubble. 

"There he is again!" she cried in a petulant voice as I once moreappeared. "Why doesn't he go away?"

"He's just about to--for good!" said the other lady. With a pitifulyap I struck out feebly in the general direction of the shore. Itwouldn't work. My arms refused to move. Then quite suddenly anddeliriously I felt two soft, cool arms enfold me, and my head sankback on a delicately unholstered shoulder. Somehow it reminded me ofthe old days. 

"Home, James, " I murmured, as I was slowly towed to shore. Just beforeclosing my eyes I caught a fleeting glimpse of a young lady clad inone of the one-piecest one-piece bathing suits I had ever seen. Shewas bending over me sympathetically. 

"Private property!" cried my tormentor, shaking a finger at me. "Whata pity!" I thought as I closed my eyes and drifted off into sweetdreams in which Mr. Fogerty, my beautiful rescuer, and myself weredancing hand-and-hand on the parade ground to the music of the massedband, much to the edification of the entire station assembled inreview formation. 

Presently I awoke to the hateful strains of this old hard-shell'svoice:

"See what you've done!" she was saying to the young girl. "You'vebrought in a half naked man, and now that he has seen you in a muchworse condition than he is, we'll have ten thousand sailors swimmingout to this island in one continuous swarm. "

"Oh, won't that be fun!" cried the girl. And from that time on, inspite of the objections of her mother, we were fast friends. 

When I returned to shore it was in a rowboat with this fair youngcreature. The faithful Fogerty was waiting on the beach for me, where, it later developed, he had been sleeping quite comfortably on anunknown woman's high powered sport hat, as is only reasonable. 

_July 2nd. _ Mother got in again. There seems to be no practical way ofkeeping her out. This time she came breezing in with a friend fromEast Aurora, a large, elderly woman of about one hundred and tensummers and an equal number of very hard winters. The first thingmother said was to the effect that she was going to see what she coulddo about getting me a rating. She did. The very first officer she sawshe sailed up to and buttonholed much to my horror. 

"Why can't my boy Oswald have a pretty little eagle on his arm, suchas I see so many of the young men up here wearing about the camp?"

The abruptness of this question left the officer momentarily stunned, but I will say for him that he rallied quickly and returned aremarkably diplomatic reply to the effect that the pretty littleeagle, although pleasing to gaze upon, was not primarily intended tobe so much of a decoration as means of identification, and thatcertain small qualifications were required, as a rule, before one waspermitted to wear one of the emblems in question; qualifications, hehastened to add, which he had not the slightest doubt that I failed topossess if I was the true son of my mother, but which, owing to fateand circumstances, I had probably been unable to exercise. Whereuponhe bid her a very courteous good-day, returned my salute, and passedon, but not before the very old lady accompanying my mother salutedalso, raising her hand to her funny bit of a bonnet with unnecessarysnappiness and snickering in a senile manner. This last episode upsetme completely, but the old lady was irrepressible. From that time onshe punctuated her progress through the camp with exaggerated salutesto all the officers she encountered on the way. This, of course, wasquite a startling and undignified performance for one of her years, very embarrassing to me, as well as mystifying to the officers, whohardly knew whether to hurl me into the brig as vicarious atonement orto rebuke the flighty old creature, on the grounds of undue levity. Most of them passed by, however, with averted eyes and adiscountenanced expression, feeling, I am sure, that I had put her upto it. Mother thought it quite amusing, and enjoyed my discomfiturehugely. Then for no particular reason she began to garnish herconversation with inappropriate seagoing expressions, such as "Pipedown, " "Hit the deck, " "Avast, " and "Hello, Buddy!" Where she everpicked up all this nonsense I am at a loss to discover, but shecontinued to pull it to the bitter end. 

"Hello, Buddy!" was the way she greeted the Jimmy-legs of my barracksafter I had introduced her to him with much elaboration. Thiscompletely floored the poor lad, and rendered him inarticulate. Hethinks now that I come from either a family of thugs or maniacs, probably the latter. I succeeded in shaking the old thing for a while, and when I next found her she was demonstrating the proper method ofwashing whites to a group of sailors assembled in the wash room of oneof our most popular latrines. She was heading in the direction of theshower baths when I finally rounded her up. She was a game old lady. I'll have to hand her that. Her wildest escapade was reserved for theend of her visit, when I took her over to the K. Of C. Hut, and shechallenged any sailor present to a game of pool for a quarter a ball. When we told her that the sailors in the Navy never gambled she saidthat she was completely off the service, and that she thought it washigh time that we learned to do something useful instead of singingsentimental songs and weaving ourselves into intricate figures. Thisremark forced us to it, and much against our wills we proceeded toshow the old lady up at pool. She had been bluffing all along, andwhen it came to a showdown we found that she couldn't shoot forshucks. When the news spread around the hut the sailors crowded abouther thick as thieves, challenging her to play. She was a wild, unregenerated old lady, but she was by no means an easy mark, as itlater developed when she matched them for the winnings, got it allback, and I am told by some sailors that she even left the hut alittle ahead of the game. I don't object to notoriety, but there arenumerous ways of winning it that are objectionable, and this old ladywas one. Mother must have been giddier in her youth than I everimagined. 

_July 3d. _ Yesterday I lost my dog Fogerty and didn't find him untillate in the afternoon. He was up in front of the First Regiment, mustered in with the liberty party. When he discovered my presence helooked coldly at me, as if he had never seen me before, so I knew thathe had a date. He just sat there and shook his bangs over his eyes andtried to appear as if he were somewhere else. When the order come toshove off he joined the party and trotted off without even lookingback, and that was the last I saw of him until this morning, when hecame drifting in, rather unsteadily, and regarded me with a shiftybut insulting eye. I am rapidly discovering hitherto unsuspecteddepths of depravity in Mr. Fogerty, which leads me to believe that heis almost human. 

_July 4th. _ This has been the doggonest Fourth of July I ever spent, and as a result I am in much trouble. All day long I have beengrooming myself to look spic and span at the review held in honor ofthe Secretary when he opened the new wing to the camp. I missed it. Ilost completely something in the neighborhood of ten thousand men. Itseems hard to do, but the fact, the ghastly fact, remains that I didit. When I dashed out of the barracks with my newly washed, splendidlyseagoing, still damp white hat in my hand my company was gone, and thewhole camp seemed deserted. Far in the distance I heard the music ofthe band. Fogerty looked inquiringly at me and I fled. He fled afterme. 

[Illustration: "I LOST COMPLETELY SOMETHING IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF10, 000 MEN"]

"Fogerty, " I gasped, "this is a trick I have to pull off alone. You'renot in on this review, and for God's sake act reasonable. "

I couldn't bear the thought of chasing across the parade ground withthat simple-looking dog bounding along at my heels. My remark had noeffect. Fogerty merely threw himself into high, and together we spedin the direction of the music. It was too late. Thousands of men wereswinging past in review, and in all that mass of humanity there wasone small vacant place that I was supposed to fill. I crouched downbehind a tree and observed the scene through stricken eyes. How couldI possibly have managed to lose nearly ten thousand men? It seemedincredible, and I realized then that I alone could have accomplishedsuch a feat. And I had been so nice and clean, too, and I had workedso hard to be all of those things. I bowed my head in misery, and Mr. Fogerty, God bless his dissolute soul, crept up to me and tried totell me it was all right, and didn't matter much anyway. I lookeddown, and discovered that my snow white hat was all muddy. Fogerty saton it. 

_July 8th. _ As a result of my being scratched out of the Independenceday review I have been tried out as punishment in all sorts ofdisagreeable positions, all of which I have filled with aninefficiency only equaled by the bad temper of my over-lords. Some ofthese tasks, one in particular was of such a ridiculous nature that Irefuse to enter it into my diary for an unfeeling posterity to jeerat. I am willing to state, however, that the accomplishments ofHercules, that redoubtable handy man of mythology, were trifling incomparison with mine. 

To begin with, the coal pile is altogether too large and my back isaltogether too refined. There should be individual coal piles providedfor temperamental sailors. Small, colorful, appetizingly shaped moundsof nice, clean, glistening chunks of coal they should be, and the coalitself could easily be made much lighter, approaching if possible theweight of feathers. This would be a task any reasonably inclinedsailor would attack with relish, particularly if his efforts wereattended by the strains of some good, snappy jazz. However, realitywears a graver face and a sootier one. Long did I labor and valiantlybut to little effect. More coal fell off of my shovel than remained onit. This was due to the unfortunate fact that coal dust seems toaffect me most unpleasantly, much in the same manner as daisies orgolden rod affect hay fever sufferers. The result was that every timeI had my shovel poised in readiness to hurl its burden into space amonolithic sneeze overpowered me, shook me to the keel, and all thecoal that I had trapped with so much patience and cunning fellmiserably around my feet, from whence it had lately risen. Littlethings like this become most discouraging when strung out for a greatperiod of time. In this manner I sneezed and sweated throughout thecourse of a sweltering afternoon, and just as I was about to call it aday along comes an evilly inclined coal wagon and dumps practically inmy lap one hundred times more coal than I had disturbed in the entirecourse of my labors. On top of this Fogerty, who had been loafingaround all day with his tongue out disporting himself on the coal pilelike a dog in the first snow, started a landslide somewhere above andcame bearing down on me in a cloud of dust. I found myself buriedbeneath the delighted Fogerty and a couple of tons of coal, from whichI emerged unbeamingly, but not before Mr. Fogerty had addressed histongue to my blackened face as an expression of high good humor. 

[Illustration: "FOGERTY CAME BEARING DOWN ON ME IN A CLOUD OF DUST"]

"Take me to the brig, " I said, walking over to the P. O. , "I'm through. You can put a service flag on that coal pile for me. "

"What's consuming you, buddy?" asked the P. O. In not an unkindlyvoice. 

"Take me to the brig, " I repeated, "it's too much. Here I've beenworking diligently all day to reduce the size of this huge mass, whenup comes that old wagon and humps its back and belches forth itshorrid contents all over the place. It's ridiculous. I surrender myshovel. "

"Gord, " breathed the P. O. , looking at me pityingly, "we don't want togo and reduce that coal pile, we want to enlarge it. "

"Oh!" I replied, stunned, "I didn't quite understand. I thought youwanted to make it smaller, so I've been trying to shovel it away allafternoon. "

"You shouldn't oughter have done that, " replied the P. O. As if he weretalking to an idiot, "I suppose you've been shoveling her down hillall day?"

I admitted that I had. 

"You see, " I added engagingly, "I began with trying to shovel her uphill, but the old stuff kept on rolling down on me, so I drew thenatural conclusion that I'd better shovel her down hill. It seemedmore reasonable and--"

"Easier, " suggested the P. O. 

"Yes, " I agreed. 

There was a faraway expression in his eyes when he next spoke. "I'drecommend you for an ineptitude discharge, " he said, "if it wasn't forthe fact that I have more consideration for the civilian population. I'd gladly put you in the brig for life if I could feel sure youwouldn't injure it in some way. The only thing left for me to do is tomake you promise that you'll keep away from our coal pile and swearnever to lay violent hands on it again. You'll spoil it. "

I gazed up at the monumental mass of coal rearing itself like adark-town Matterhorn above my head and swore fervently never to molestit again. 

"Go back to your outfit and get washed and tell your P. O. For me thatyou can't come here no more, and, " he added, as I was about to depart, "take that unusual looking bit of animal life with you--it's allwrong. Police his body or he'll ruin some of your pals' white pantsand they wouldn't like that at all. "

I feared they wouldn't. 

"Yes, sir, " I replied in a crumpled voice, "Much obliged, sir. "

"Please go away now, " he said quietly, "or I think I might do you aninjury. " He was fingering the shovel nervously as he spoke. ThusFogerty and I departed, banished even from our dusky St. Helena. 

_July 9th. _ Working on the theory of opposites, I was next placed as awaiter in the Chief Petty Officer's Mess over in the First Regiment. Iwasn't so good here, it seems. There was something wrong with mytechnique. The coal pile had ruined me for delicate work. Icontinually kept mistaking the plate in my hand for a shovel, amistake which led to disastrous results. I will say this for thechiefs, however--they were as clean-cut, hard-eating a body of men asI have ever met. It was a pleasure to feed them, particularly so inthe case of one chief, a venerable gentleman, who seemed both by hisbearing and the number of stripes on his sleeve to be the dean of themess. He ate quietly, composedly and to the point, and after I hadspilled a couple of plates of rations on several of the other chiefs'laps he suggested that I call it a day and be withdrawn in favor ofone whose services to his country were not so invaluable as mine. Appreciating his delicacy I withdrew, but only to be sent out onanother job that defies description. Even here I quickly demonstratedmy unfitness and have consequently been incorporated once more intothe body of my regiment. 

_July 10th. _ I had the most terrible experience in mess to-day when aguy having eaten more rapidly than I attempted to take my ration. WhenI told him he shouldn't do it he merely laughed brutally and kicked mean awful whack on the shin. This injury, together with the sight ofwitnessing my food about to be crammed down his predatory maw, succeeded in bringing all my latent patriotism to the fore and I fellupon him with a desperation bred of hunger. We proceeded to mill it upin a rather futile, childish manner until the Master-at-arms suggestedin a certain way he has that we go away to somewhere else. Hereafterif any one asks if I did any actual fighting in this war I am going tosay, "Yes, I fought like hell many hard and long battles in camp formy ration, " which will be true. 

"Say, buddy, " said my opponent, after we had landed quite violently onthe exterior of the Mess Hall, "you didn't git no food at all, didyer?"

"No, " I replied bitterly; "at all is right. "

He looked at me for a moment in a strange, studying manner, then beganlaughing softly to himself. 

"I don't know what made me do it, " he said more to himself than to me. "I wasn't hungry no more. I didn't _really_ want it. I wonder whatmakes a guy brutal? Guess he sort of has a feelin' to experiment withhimself and other folks. "

"I wish you'd tried that experiment on some one else, " I replied, thinking tenderly of my shin. 

"Sometimes I feel so doggon strong and mean, " he continued, "I justcan't keep from doing things I don't naturally feel like doing. Iguess I'm sort of an animal. "

"Say, " I asked him in surprise, "if you keep talking about yourselfthat way I won't be able to call you all the names I am carefullypreparing at this moment. "

He peered earnestly down on me for a space. 

"Does my face make you talk that way?" I asked, feeling dimly anduncomfortably that it did. 

"Yes, " he replied, "it's your face, your foolish looking face. I can'thelp feeling sorry for it and your funny empty little belly. "

"You're breaking me down, " I answered; "I can't stand kindness. "

"I ain't no bully, " he said fiercely, as if he was about to strike me. "I ain't no bully, " he repeated, "I'll tell you that. "

"No, sir, " I replied soothingly, keeping on the alert, "you ain't nobully. "

Here he took me by the arm and dragged me along with him. 

"Come on, buddy, " he said, "I'm going to take you to the canteen andfeed you. I'm going to do it, I swear to God. "

So he fed me. Stacks and stacks of stuff he forced on me until theflesh rebelled, after which he put things in my pockets, repeatingevery little while, "I ain't no bully, I'll tell you that, I ain't nobully. " He spent most of his money, I reckon, but I did not try tostop him. He wanted to do it and I guess it made him feel better. After the orgy I took him around and let him pat Mr. Fogerty. Heseemed to like this. Fogerty took it in good part. 

_July 11th. _ There's something about Wednesday afternoons that doesn'tappeal to me. First they make you go away and dress yourself up niceand clean and then they look you over and make you feel nearly aschildish as you look. Then they put a gun into your hand that is muchtoo heavy for comfort and make you do all sorts of ridiculous thingswith this gun, after which you fall in with numerous thousands ofother men who have been subjected to the same treatment, and togetherwe all go trotting past any number of officers, who look you over withuncanny earnestness through eyes that seem to perceive the remotestdefect with fiendish accuracy. Then we all trot home again and call ita review. 

This is all very well for some people, but not for me. I'm a littletoo self-conscious. I have always the feeling that I am the review, that it has been staged particularly for my discomforture, and thatevery officer in camp is on the lookout for any slight irregularity inmy clothes or conduct. In this they have little difficulty. I assistthem greatly myself. To-day, for instance:

Item one: Dropped my gun. 

Item two: Talked in ranks. I asked the guy next to me how he wouldlike to go to a place and he said that he'd see me there first. 

Item three: Failed to follow the guide. 

Item four: Didn't mark time correctly. 

Item five: Was in step once. 

Now all of these things are trifling in themselves, but taken enmass, as it were, it leads up to a sizable display; at least, so I wastold in words that denied any other interpretation by my P. O. Andseveral pals of his. After the review our regimental commander linedus up and addressed us as follows:

"About that review to-day, " he began, "it was terrible" (long, dramatic pause). "It was probably the worst review I have ever seen(several P. O. 's glanced at me reproachfully), not only that, " hecontinued, "but it was the worst review that anybody has ever seen. Anybody! (shouted) without exception! (shouted) awful review! (pause)Terrible!"

We steadied in the ranks and waited for our doom. 

"It will never be so again, " he continued, "I'll see to that. I'lldrill ye myself. If you have to get up at four o'clock in the morningto drill in order to meet your classes, I'll see that ye do it. Dropping guns! (pause). Talking in ranks! (pause). Out-o-step(terrible pause). Marking time wrong. Everything wrong! Companycommanders, take 'em away. "

We were took. 

"All of those things, " said my P. O. In a trembling voice, "you did. All of 'em. Now the old man's sore on us and he's going to give ushell, and I'm going to do the same by you. "

"Shoot, dearie, " says I, with the desperate indifference of a man whohas nothing left to lose, "I wouldn't feel natural if you didn't. "

And in my hammock that night I thought of another thing I might havesaid if it had occurred to me in time. I might have said, "Hell is theonly thing you know how to give and you're generous with that becauseit's free. "

But I guess after all it's just as well I didn't. 

_August 1st. _ Mr. Fogerty has returned aboard. My worst fears arerealized. For a long time he has been irritable and uncommunicativewith me and has indulged in sly, furtive little tricks unbecoming to adog of the service. I have suspected that he was concealing a loveaffair from me. This it appears he has been doing and his guilt isheavy upon him. I realize now for the first time and not without asharp maternal pang that he has reached an age at which he must makedecisions for himself. I can no longer follow him out into the worldupon his nocturnal exploits. His entire confidence is not mine. I mustbe content to share a part of his heart instead of the whole of it. Like father like son, I suppose. However, I see no reason for him toput on such airs. On his return from City Island this time he hadsomehow contrived to get himself completely shaved up to theshoulders. The result is startling. Fogerty looks extremelyaristocratic but a trifle foppish. However, he seems to considerhimself the only real four-footed dog in camp. This is a trifle boringfrom a dog who has never hesitated to steal from the galley anythingthat wasn't a permanent fixture. I can't help but feel sorry for himthough when I see that far-away look in his eyes. Sad days I fear arein store for him. Ah, well, we're only young once. 

_August 3d. _ "Well, now, son, " he was saying, "mind me when I tell yerthat I'm not claiming as to ever have seen a mermaid, but what I amsaying is this and that is if anybody has ever seen one of them thingsI'm that man. I'm not making no false claims, however, nonewhatsoever. "

I carefully placed my shovel against the wheelbarrow and seatingmyself upon a stump prepared to listen to my companion. He was a chiefof many cruises and for some unaccountable reason had fixed on me asbeing a suitable recipient for his discourse. One more hash mark onhis arm would have made him look like a convict. I listened and in themeanwhile many mounds of sand urgently in need of shoveling remainedundisturbed. Upon this sand I occasionally cast a reflective andapprehensive eye. The chief, noticing this, nudged me in the ribs withan angular elbow. 

"Don't mind that, sonny, " he said, "I'll pump the fear-o'-God into theheart of any P. O. What endeavors to disturb you. Trust me. "

I did. 

"Now getting back to this mermaid, " he began in a confidential voice, "what I say as I didn't claim to have saw. It happened this way andwhat I'm telling you, sonny, is the plain, unvarnished facts of thecase, take 'em or leave 'em as you will. They happened and I'm here totell the whole world so. "

"I have every confidence in you, chief, " I replied mildly. 

"It is well you have, " he growled, scanning my face suspiciously. "It's well you have, you louse. "

"Why, chief, " I exclaimed in an aggrieved voice, "isn't that rather anunappetizing word to apply to a fellow creature?"

"Mayhap, young feller, " he replied, "mayhap. I ain't no deep seadictionary diver, I ain't, but all this has got nothing to do withwhat I was about to tell you. It all happened after this manner, neither no more nor no less. "

He cleared his throat and gazed with undisguised hostility across theparade ground. Thus he began:

"It was during the summer of 1888, some thirty odd years ago, " quothhe. "I was a bit young then, but never such a whey face as you, certainly not. "

"Positively, " said I, in hearty agreement. 

"At that time, " he continued, not noticing my remark, "I was restingeasy on a soft job between cruises as night watchman on one of themP. O. Docks at Dover. The work warn't hard, but it was hard enough. Iwould never have taken it had it not been for the unpleasant fact thatowing to some little trouble I had gotten into at one of the pubs mywife was in one of her nasty, brow-beating moods. At these times thesolitude and the stars together with the grateful companionship of acouple of buckets of beer was greatly to be preferred to my little oldhome. So I took the job and accordingly spent my nights sitting withmy back to a pile, my legs comfortably stretched out along the rim ofthe dock and a bucket of beer within easy reach. "

"Could anything be fairer than that?" said I. 

"Nothing, " said he, and continued. "Well, one night as I was sittingthere looking down in the water as a man does when his mind is emptyand his body well disposed, I found myself gazing down into twoglowing pools that weren't the reflections of stars. Above these twoflecks of light was perched a battered old leghorn hat after the styleaffected in the music halls of those days. Floating out back of thishat on the water was a long wavery coil of filmy hair, the face wasshaded, but two long slim arms were thrust out of the water toward me, and following these arms down a bit I was shocked and surprised tofind that further than the hat the young lady below me was apparentlyinnocent of garments. Now I believe in going out with the boys whenthe occasion demands and making a bit of a time of it, but my folkshave always been good, honest church people and believers in good, strong, modest clothing and plenty of 'em. I have always followedtheir example. "

"Reluctantly and at a great distance, " said I. 

"Not at all, " said he and continued. "So when I sees the condition theyoung lady was in I was naturally very much put out and I didn'thesitate telling her so. 

"'Go home, ' says I, 'and put your clothes on. You ought to be ashamedof yourself--a great big girl like you. '

"'Aw, pipe down, old grizzle face, ' says she; 'wot have you got in thebucket?' And if you will believe me she began raising herself out ofthe water. 'Give me some, ' says she. 

"'Stop, ' I cries out exasperated; 'stop where you are; you've gone farenough. For shame. '

"'I'll come all the way out, ' says she, laughing, 'unless you give mesome of wot you got in that bucket. '

"'Shame, ' I repeated, 'ain't you got no sense of decency?'

"'None wot so ever, ' she replied, 'but I'm awfully thirsty. Gimme adrink or out I'll come. '

"Now you can see for yourself that I couldn't afford to have a womanin her get-up sitting around with me on the end of a dock, beingmarried as I was and my folks all good honest church folks, and brightmoon shining in the sky to boot, so I was just naturally forced togive in to the brazen thing and reach her down the bucket, a full oneat that. It came back empty and she was forwarder than ever. 

"'Say, ' she cries out, swimming around most exasperatingly, 'you're anice old party. What do your folks know you by?'

"I told her my name was none of her business and that I was a marriedman and that I wished she'd go away and let me go on with my nightwatching. 

"'I'm married too, ' says she, in a conversational tone, 'to an awfulmess. You're pretty fuzzy, but I'd swap him for you any day. Come oninto the sea with me and we'll swim down to Gold Fish Arms and stickaround until we get a drink. I know lots of the boys down there. Thereain't no liquor dealers where I come from, ' and with this if you willbelieve me she flips a bucket full of water into my lap with theneatest little scale spangled tail you ever seen. 

"'No, ' says I, 'my mind's made up. I ain't agoing to go swimmingaround with no semi-stewed, altogether nude mermaid. It ain't right. It ain't Christian. '

"'I got a hat, ' says she reflectively, 'and I ain't so stewed but wotI can't swim. Wot do you think of that hat? One of the boys stole itfrom his old woman and gave it to me. Come on, let's take a swim. '

"'No, ' says I, 'I ain't agoing. '

"'Just 'cause I ain't all dolled up in a lot of clothes?' says she. 

"'Partly, ' says I, 'and partly because you are a mermaid. I ain'tagoing messing around through the water with no mermaid. I ain't neverdone it and I ain't agoing to begin it now. '

"'If I get some clothes on and dress all up pretty, will you goswimming with me then?' she asks pleadingly. 

"'Well that's another thing, ' says I, noncommittal like. 

"'All right, ' says she, 'gimme something out of that other bucket andI'll go away. Come on, old sweetheart, ' and she held up her arms tome. 

"Well, I gave her the bucket and true to form she emptied it. Then shebegan to argue and plead with me until I nearly lost an ear. 

"'No, ' I yells at her, 'I ain't agoing to spend the night arguing witha drunken mermaid. Go away, now; you said you would. '

"'All right, old love, ' she replies good-naturedly, 'but I'll see youagain some time. I ain't ever going home again. I hate it down there. 'And off she swims in an unsteady manner in the direction of the GoldFish Arms. She was singing and shouting something terrible. 

 "'Oh, bury me not on the lonesome prairie Where the wild coyotes howl o'er me, '

was the song she sang and I wondered where she had ever picked it up. 

"Well, " continued the chief, "to cast a sheep shank in a long line, these visits kept up every evening until I was pretty near drovedistracted. Along she'd come about sun-down and stick around devilin'me and drinking up all my grog. After a while she began calling forgin and kept threatening me until I just had to satisfy her. She alsomade me buy her a brush and comb, a mouth organ and a pair ofspectacles, together with a lot of other stuff on the strength of thefact that if I refused she would make a scene. In this way that doggonmermaid continually kept me broke, for my wage warn't enough to makeme heavy and I had my home to support. 

"'Don't you ever go home?' I asked her one night. 

"'No, ' she replied, 'I ain't ever going back home. I don't like itdown there. There ain't no liquor dealers. '

"'But your husband, ' exclaims I. 'What of him?'

"'I know, ' says she, 'but I don't like him and I'm off my baby, too. It squints, ' says she. 

"'But all babies squint, ' says I. 

"'Mine shouldn't, ' says she. 'It ain't right. '

"Then one night an awful thing happened. My wife came down to the dockto find out how I spent all my money. It was a bright moon-lit nightand this lost soul of a mermaid was hanging around, particularlyjilled and entreating. I was just in the act of passing her down thegin flask and she was saying to me, 'Come on down, old love; you knowyou're crazy about me, ' when all of a sudden I heard an infuriatedshriek behind me and saw my wife leaning over the dock shaking anumbrella at this huzzy of a mermaid. Oh, son, " broke off the Chief, "if you only knew the uncontrolled violence and fury of two contendingwomen. Nothing you meet on shipboard will ever equal it. I wasspeechless, rocked in the surf of a tumult of words. And in the midstof it all what should happen but the husband of the mermaid pops outof the water with a funny little bit of a merbaby in his arms. 

"'Go home at once, sir, ' screams my wife, 'and put on your clothes. '

"'I will, ' he shouts back, 'if my wife will come along with me. '

"He was a weazened up little old man with a crooked back. Not veryprepossessing. I could hardly blame his wife. 

"'So that bit of stuff is your wife, is it?' cries out my old lady, and with that she began telling him her past. 

"'I know it, ' says the little old merman at last, almost crying; 'Iknow it, but I ain't got no control over her whatsoever. I've beentrying to get her to come home for the last fortnight, but she justwon't leave off going around with the sailors. The whole beach isashamed of her. It's general talk down below. What can I do? Thelittle old coral house is going to wrack and ruin and the baby ain'tbeen properly took care of since she left. What am I going to do, madam? What am I going to do? I'm well nigh distracted. '

"But his wife was too taken up with the gin bottle to pay much heed tohis pitiful words. She just kept flirting around in the water andsinging snatches of bad sailor songs she'd picked up around the docks. 

"'Take her home, ' said my wife, 'take her home, you weakling, byforce. '

"'But I can't when she's in this condition. I got a child in my arms. '

"'Give me the baby, ' said my wife, with sudden determination. 'I'lltake care of it until to-morrow night when you can come back here andget it. '

"He handed the flopping little thing up to my wife and turned to themermaid. 

"'Lil, ' he says to her, holding out his arms to her, 'Lil, will youcome home?'

"Lil swims up to him then and takes him by the arm and looks at himfor a long time. 

"'Kiss me, Archie, ' she says suddenly, 'I don't mind if I do, ' andflipping a couple of pounds of water upon the both of us on the pier, she pulls him under the water laughing and that's the last I saw ofeither of them. Now I ain't asaying as I have ever seen a mermaid mindyou, " continued the chief, "but what I do say is that if any man hasever seen one I'm the man. "

"I understand perfectly, " said I, "and what, chief, became of thebaby?"

"Oh, the baby, " said the chief, thoughtful like; "the baby--well, yousee, about that baby--" he gazed searchingly around the landscape fora moment before replying. 

"Oh, the baby, " he said suddenly, as if greatly relieved, "well, mywife took the baby home and kept it in the bathtub for a couple ofdays after which she returned it in person to its father. She made megive up my job. It did squint, though, " said the chief, as he got upto go, "ever so little. "

I turned to my shovel. 

"But I ain't saying as I have ever seen a mermaid, " he said, turningback in his tracks, "all I'm saying is that--"

"I know, Chief, " I said wearily, "I fully appreciate your delicacy andfairness. You're not the man to make any false claims. "

"No, sir, not I, " he replied, as he walked slowly away. 

_August 5th. _ In order to distract Mr. Fogerty's attention from hislove affair and in a sort of desperate endeavor to win him back to meI took him away on my last liberty with me. Fogerty doesn't come underthe heading of a lap dog, but through some technical quibble I managedto smuggle him into the subway. All he did there was to knock over oneelderly lady and lick her face effusively when he had gotten her down. This resulted in a small but complete panic. For the most part, however, he sat quietly on my lap and sniffed at those around him. Atlast we reached Washington Square, whereupon I proceeded to take Mr. Fogerty around and show him off to my friends. He was well received, but his heart wasn't with us. It was far away in City Island. 

[Illustration: "FOR THE MOST PART, HOWEVER, HE SAT QUIETLY ON MY LAPAND SNIFFED"]

At one restaurant we ran into a female whose hair was nearly as shortas Fogerty's. She was holding forth on the Silence of the Soul vs. TheLove Impulse, the cabbage or some other plant. Fogerty listened to herfor a while and then bit her. He did it quietly, but I thought it bestto take him away. 

After supper we went up to another place for coffee, a fine littleplace for sailormen, situated on the south side of the square. Herewe were received with winning cordiality and Fogerty was given a friedegg, a dish of which he is passionately fond. But even here he gotinto trouble by putting one of his great feet through a Ukulele, whichisn't such a terrible thing to do, except in certain places. 

Getting back to the station was a crisp little affair. Fogerty andmyself rose at five and went forth to the shuttle. The subway was amadhouse. We shuttled ourselves to death. At 5. 30 we were at the TimesSquare end of the shuttle, at 5. 45 we were at Williams, at 6 o'clockwe had somehow managed to get ourselves on the east side end of theshuttle, five minutes later we were back at Times Square, ten minuteslater we were over on the east side once more. At 6. 15 I lost Fogerty. At 6. 25 I was back at Times Square. "Hello, buddy, " said the guard, "you back again? Here's your dog. "

At 7 o'clock we were at Van Cortlandt Park, at 8 we were atNinety-sixth Street, 9 o'clock found us laboring up to the gate of thecamp, with a written list of excuses that looked like the schedule ofa flourishing railroad. It was accepted, much to our surprise. 

_Aug. 7th. _ I have a perfectly splendid idea. Of course, like the restof my ideas it won't work, but it is a perfectly splendid idea for allthat. I got it while traveling on the ferry boat from New York toStaten Island--the longest sea voyage I have had since I joined theNavy. On this trip, strangely thrilling to a sailor in my situation, but which was suffered with bored indifference by the amphibiouscommuters that infest this Island in those waters, I saw a number ofships so gaudily and at the same time so carelessly painted that anyGod-fearing skipper of the Spanish Main would positively have refusedto command. Captain Kidd himself would have blushed at the very sightof this ribald fleet and turned away with a devout imprecation. 

This was my first experience with camouflage, and it impressed me mostunfavorably. An ordinary ship on a grumbling ocean is difficult enoughas it is to establish friendly relations with, but when trigged out inthis manner--why serve meals at all, say I. Nevertheless it occurredto me that it would not be a bad idea at all to camouflage one'shammock in such a manner that it took upon itself the texture andappearance of the bulkhead of the barracks in which it was swung. Inthis manner a sailor could sleep undisturbed for three weeks if he sodesired (and he does), without ever being technically considered adeserter. 

One could elaborate this idea still further and make one's sea baglook like a clump of poison ivy, so that no inspecting officer wouldever care to become intimate with its numerous defects in cleanliness. One might even go so far as to camouflage oneself into a writing deskso that when visiting the "Y" or the "K-C" and unexpectedly requiredto sing one would not be forced to rise and scream impatiently andthreateningly "Dear Mother Mine" or "Break the News to Mother. " Notthat these songs are not things of rare beauty in themselves, butafter a day on the coal pile one's lungs have been sufficientlyexercised to warrant relief. This is merely an idea of mine, and nowthat everybody knows about it I guess there isn't much use in goingahead with it. 

_Aug. 8th. _ "This guide i-s l-e-f-t!" shouted the P. O. , and naturallyI looked around to see what had become of the poor fellow. 

"Keep your head straight. Eyes to the front! Don't move! Whatchalookin' at?"

"I was looking for the guide that was left, " says I timidly. "It seemsto me that he is always being left. "

"Company dismissed, " said the P. O. Promptly, showing a wonderfulcommand of the situation under rather trying circumstances, for theboo-hoo that went up from the men after my remark defied allrestraints of discipline. 

"Say, Biltmore, " says the P. O. To me a moment later, "I'm going to seeif I can't get you shipped to Siberia if you pull one of them bumjokes again. You understand?"

"But I wasn't joking, " I replied innocently. 

"Aw go on, you sly dog, " said he, nudging me in the ribs, and for somestrange reason he departed in high good humor, leaving me in a greatlymystified frame of mind. 

Speaking of getting shipped, I have just written a very sad song inthe style of the old sentimental ballads of the Spanish war days. It'scalled "The Sailor's Farewell, " and I think Polly will like it. Ihaven't polished it up yet, but here it is as it is:

 A sailor to his mother came and said, "Oh, mother dear, I got to go away and fight the war. So, mother, don't you cry too hard, and don't you have no fear When you find that I'm not sticking 'round no more. "

 "My boy, " the sweet old lady said, "I hate to see you go. I've knowed you since when you was but a kid, But if the question you should ask, I'll tell the whole world so-- It's the only decent thing you ever did. "

 A tear she brushed aside, And then she sadly cried:

 CHORUS

 "I'm proud my boy's a sailor man what sails upon the sea. I've always liked him pretty well although he is so dumb. For years he's stuck around the house and disappointed me. I thought that he was going to be a bum. "

 He took her gently by the hand and kissed her on the bean And said, "When I'm about to fight the Hun You shouldn't talk to me that way; I think it's awfully mean-- I ain't agoin' to have a lot of fun. "

 "I know, my child, " the mother said. "The parting makes me sad, But go you must away and fight the war. At least you will not live to drink as much as did your dad-- So here's your lid, my lad, and there's the door. "

 Then as he turned away He heard her softly say:

 CHORUS

 "The sailors I have ever loved. I'm glad my lad's a gob, Although it seems to me he's much too dumb. But after all perhaps he isn't such an awful slob-- I always knew that Kaiser was a bum!"

_Aug. 9th. _ The best way to make a deserter of a man is to give himtoo much liberty. For the past week I have been getting my dog Fogertyon numerous liberty lists when he shouldn't have been there, but notcontented with that he has taken to going around with a couple ofyeomen, and the first thing I know he will be getting on a specialdetail where the liberty is soft. I put nothing past that dog since helost his head to some flop-eared huzzy with a black and tanreputation. 

_Aug. 10th. _ All day long and a little longer I have been carryingsacks of flour. The next time I see a stalk of wheat I am going tosnarl at it. This new occupation is a sort of special penance for nothaving my hammock lashed in time. It seems that I have been in theservice long enough to know how to do the thing right by now, but theseventh hitch is a sly little devil and always gets me. I need alonger line or a shorter hammock, but the only way out of it that Ican see is to get a commission and rate a bed. 

[Illustration: "I CARRIED ALL THE FLOUR TO-DAY THAT WAS RAISED LASTYEAR IN THE SOUTHERN SECTION OF THE STATE OF MONTANA"]

I carried all the flour to-day that was raised last year in thesouthern section of the State of Montana, and I was carrying it welland cheerfully until one of my pet finger nails (the one that themanicure girls in the Biltmore used to rave about) thrust itselfthrough the sack and precipitated its contents upon myself and thefloor. A commissary steward when thoroughly aroused is a poisonousmember of society. One would have thought that I had sunk the greatfleet the way this bird went on about one little sack of flour. 

"Here Mr. Hoover works hard night and day all winter, " he sobs at me, "and you go spreading it around as if you were Marie Antoinette. "

I wondered what new scandal he had about Marie Antoinette, but I heldmy peace. My horror was so great that the real color of my face madethe flour look like a coat of sunburn in comparison. 

"There's enough flour there, " he continued reproachfully, pointing tothe huge mound of stuff in which I stood like a lost explorer on asnow-capped mountain peak and wishing heartily that I was one, "there's enough flour, " he continued, "to keep a chief petty officerin pie for twenty-four hours. "

"Just about, " thought I to myself. 

"Well, " he cried irritably, "pick it up. Be quick. Pick it up--all ofit!"

"Pick it up, " I replied through a cloud of mist, "you can't pick upflour. You can pick up apples and pears and cabbages and cigarettebutts for that matter, but you can't pick up flour. "

The commissary steward suddenly handed me a piece of paper upon whichhe had been writing frantically. 

"Take this to your P. O. , " he said shrilly, "and take yourself alongwith it. 

"A defect in the sack, " I gasped, departing. 

"And there's a defect in you, " he shouted after me, "your brain isexempted. "

"Take this man and kill him if you can find any slight technicalexcuse for it, " the note ran, "and if you can't kill him, give him aninaptitude discharge with my compliments, and if you are unable to doeither of these two things, at least keep him away from my outfit. Wedon't want to see his silly face around here any more at all. "

The P. O. Read it to me with great delight. 

"I guess we'll have to send you to Siberia after all, " he saidthoughtfully, "only that country is in far too delicate a conditionfor you to meddle with at present. Go away to somewhere where I can'tsee you, " he continued bitterly, "for I feel inclined to do you aninjury, something permanent and serious. " I went right away. 

_Aug. 11th. _ Mother has just paid one of her belligerent visits to thecamp, and as a consequence I am on the point of having a flock ofbrainstorms. Some misguided person had been telling her about theOfficer Training School up here, and she arrived fired with theambition to enter me into that institution without further delay. True to form, she bounded headlong into the matter without consultingmy feelings by accosting the very first commissioned officer she met. He happened to be an Ensign, but he might as well have been aVice-Admiral for all Mother cared. 

"Tell me, young man, " she said to this Ensign, going directly to thepoint, "do you see any reason why my boy Oswald should not go to thatplace where they make all the Ensigns?"

"Yes, " said the officer firmly, "I do. "

"Oh, you do, " snapped Mother angrily, "and pray tell me what thatreason might be?"

"Your son Oswald, " replied the Ensign laconically. 

"What!" exclaimed Mother, "you mean to say that my Oswald is not goodenough to go to your silly old school?"

"No, " replied the Ensign, weakening pitifully before the witheringfury of an aroused mother, "but you see, my dear madam, he has not afirst class rating. "

"Fiddlesticks!" said Mother. 

"Crossed anchors, " replied the Ensign. 

"I didn't mean that, " continued Mother, "I think the whole thing isvery mysterious and silly, and I'm not going to let it stop here. Youcan trust me, Oswald, " she went on soothingly. "I am going to see theCommander of the station myself. I am going this very instant. "

"But, Mother, " I cried in desperation, tossing all consequences to thewind, "the 'skipper' isn't on the station to-day. He got a 43-hourliberty. I saw him check out of the gate myself. "

For a moment the Ensign's jaw dropped. I watched him anxiously. Thenwith perfect composure he turned to Mother and came through like alittle gentleman. 

"Yes, madam, " he stated, "your son is right. I heard his name read outwith the liberty party only a moment ago. He has shoved off by now. "

I could have kissed that Ensign. 

"Well, I'm sure, " said Mother, "it's very funny that I can never getto the Captain. I shall write him, however. "

"He must have an interesting collection of your letters already, " Isuggested. "They would be interesting to publish in book form. "

"Anyway, " continued Mother, apparently not attending to my remark, "Ithink you would look just as well as this young man in one of thosenice white suits. "

"No doubt, madam, " replied the Ensign propitiatingly, "no doubt. "

"Come, Mother, " said I, "let's go to the Y. M. C. A. I need somethingcool to steady my nerves. "

"How about your underwear?" said Mother, coming back to her mania, ina voice that invited all within earshot who were interested in myunderwear to draw nigh and attend. 

"Here, eat this ice cream, " I put in quickly, almost feeding her. "It's melting. "

But Mother was not to be decoyed away from her favorite topic. 

"I must look it over, " she continued firmly. 

It seemed to me that every eye in the room was calmly penetrating mywhites and carefully looking over the underwear in which Mother tooksuch an exaggerated interest. "Socks!" suddenly exploded Mother. "Howare you off for socks?"

"Splendidly, " I said in a hoarse voice. A girl behind me snickered. 

"And have you that liniment to rub on your stomach when you havecramps?" she went on ruggedly. 

"Enough to last through the Fall season, " I replied in a moody voice. I didn't tell her that Tim the barkeep had tried to drink it. 

"Polly!" suddenly exclaimed Mother. "Polly! Why, I forgot to tell youthat she said that she would be up this afternoon. She must be herenow. "

The world swam around me. Polly was my favorite sweetie. 

"Oh, Mother!" I cried reproachfully, "how could you have forgotten?"

At that moment I heard a familiar voice issuing from the corner, andturning around, I caught sight of the staff reporter of the camppaper, a notoriously unscrupulous sailor with predatory proclivities. He had gotten Polly in a corner and was chinning the ear off of her. As I drew near I heard him saying:

"Really it's an awful pity, but I distinctly remember him saying thathe was going away on liberty to-day. He mentioned some girl's name, but it didn't sound anything at all like yours. "

Polly looked at him trustfully. 

"Are you sure, Mr. ----"

"Savanrola, " the lying wretch supplied without turning a hair. 

"Are you sure, Mr. Savanrola, that he has left the station?"

"Saw him check out with my own eyes, " he said calmly. 

I moved nearer, my hands twitching. 

"Now with an honest old seafaring man like myself, " he continued, in aconfidential voice, "it's different. Why, if I should wear all thehash marks I rate I'd look like a zebra. So I just don't wear any. Youknow how it is. But when I like a girl I stick to her. Now from thevery first moment I laid eyes on you--"

Human endurance could stand no more. I threw myself between them. 

"Why, here's Oswald hisself, " exclaimed the reporter with masterfullyfeigned surprise. "However did you get back so soon?"

"I have never been away anywhere to get back from, and you know it, " Ireplied coldly. 

"Strange!" he said, "I could have sworn that I saw you checking out. Can I get you some ice cream?" he added smoothly. 

"What on?" I replied bitterly, knowing him always to be broke. 

"Your mother must have--"

"Come, " said I to Polly, "leave this degraded creature to ply hispernicious trade alone. I have some very important words to say toyou. "

"Good-by, Mr. Savanrola, " said Polly. 

"Until we meet again, " answered the reporter, with the utmostconfidence. 

_Aug. 12th. _ It's all arranged. Those words I had to say to Polly werenot spoken in vain. She has promised to be my permanent sweetie. Ofcourse, I have had a number of transit sweeties in the past, but nowI'm going to settle down to one steady, day in and day out sweetie. Itold Tim, the barkeep, about it last night and all he said was:

"What about all those parties we'd planned to have after we were paidoff?"

This sort of set me back for the moment. The spell of Polly's eyes hadmade me forget all about Tim. 

"Well, Tim, " I replied, "I'll have to think about that. Come on overto the canteen and I'll feed you some of those honest, upstandingsandwiches they have over there. "

"Say, " says Tim, the carnal beast, forgetting everything at theprospect of food, "I feel as if I could cover a flock of them withouttrying. "

So together Tim and I had a bachelor's dinner over the sandwiches, which were worthy of that auspicious occasion. 

_Aug. 17th. _ We were standing on a street corner of a neighboringtown. The party consisted of Tim the barkeep, the "Spider, " anindividual who modestly acknowledged credit for having brought reliefto several over-crowded safes in the good old civilian days; Tony, whodelivered ice in my district also in those aforementioned days, andmyself. These gentlemen for some time had been allowing me to exist inpeace, and I had been showing my gratitude by buying them whateverlittle dainties they desired, but such a comfortable state of affairscould not long continue with that bunch. Suddenly, without anyprevious consultation, as if drawn together as it were by somefiendish undercurrent, they decided to make me unhappy--me, the onlyguy that spoke unbroken English in the crowd. This is the way theyaccomplished their low ends. When the next civilian came along theyall of them shouted at me in tones that could be heard by allpassers-by:

"Here comes a 'ciwilian, ' buddy; he'll give you a quarter. "

"Do you need some money, my boy?" said the old gentleman to me in akindly voice. 

"No, sir, " I stammered, getting red all over, "thank you very much, but I really don't need any money. "

Ironical laughter from my friends in the background. 

"Oh, no, " cries Tim sarcastically, "he don't need no money. Just watchhim when he sees the color of it. "

"Don't hesitate, my son, " continued the kind old man, "if you needanything I would be glad to help you out. "

"No, sir, " I replied, turning away to hide my mortification, "everything is all right. "

"Poor but proud, " hisses the "Spider. " The old gentleman passed on, sorely perplexed. 

For some time I was a victim of this crude plot. When I tried to moveaway they followed me around the streets, crying after me:

"Any 'ciwilian' will give you a quarter. Go on an' ask them. "

Several ladies stopped and asked if they could be of any service tome. I assured them that they couldn't, but all the time these lowsailors whom I had been feeding lavishly kept jeering and intimatingthat I was fooling and would take any amount of money offered me froma dime up. This shower of conflicting statements always left thekindhearted people in a confused frame of mind and broke me upcompletely. I had to chase one man all the way down the street andhand him back the quarter he had thrust into my hand. My friends neverforgave me for this. 

At length, tiring of their sport, they desisted and stood gloomily onthe curb as sailors do, looking idly at nothing. 

"It don't look like we was ever going to get a hitch, " said the"Spider, " after we had abandonedly offered ourselves to severalautomobiles. 

At that moment a huge machine rolled heavily by. 

"There goes a piece of junk, " said Tim. The lady in the machine musthave heard him, for the car came to and she motioned for us to get in. 

"Going our way?" she asked, smiling at us. 

"Thanks, lady, " replies Tim, elbowing me aside as he climbed aboard. 

"Dust your feet, " I whispered to Tony as he was about to climb in. 

"Whatta you mean, dusta my feet?" shouted Tony wrathfully, "you gohead an' dusta your feet! I look out for my feet all right. "

"What did he want yer to do, Tony?" asked Tim in a loud voice. 

"Dusta my feet, " answered Tony, greatly injured. 

"What yer doin', Oswald?" asks Tim sarcastically, "tryin' to drag usup?"

"I only spoke for the best, " I answered, sick at heart. 

"Ha! ha!" grated Tim, "guess you think we ain't never rode in one ofthese wealthy wagons before. "

"Arn't you rather young?" asked the lady soothingly of the "Spider, "who by virtue of his mechanical experience in civil life had beengiven a first class rating, "Arn't you rather young to have so manythings on your arm?"

"Yes, " answered the "Spider" promptly, "but I kin do a lot of tricks. "

The conversation languished from this point. 

"We always take our boys to dinner, don't we, dear?" said the lady toher husband a little later. 

"Yes, dear, " he answered meekly, just like that. 

Expectant silence from the four of us. 

"Have you boys had dinner?" the lady asked. 

"Certainly not, " we cried, with an earnestness that gave the lie toour statement, "no dinner!"

"None at all, " added Tim thoughtfully. 

The automobile drew up at a 14k. Plate-glass house that fairly madethe "Spider" itch. 

"Gosh, " he whispered to me, looking at the porch, "that wouldn't behard for me. "

During the dinner he kept sort of lifting and weighing the silver andthen looking at me and winking in an obvious manner. 

"Not many people here to-night, " said Tony from behind his plate. 

"Why, there is the usual number, " said the husband in surprise, "mywife and myself live alone. "

"Oh, " said Tony, looking around at the tremendous dining hall, "Ithought this was a restaurant. "

[Illustration: "'OH, ' SAID TONY, 'I THOUGHT THIS WAS A RESTAURANT'"]

Tim started laughing then, and he hasn't stopped yet. He's so proud hedidn't make the mistake himself. 

The "Spider" didn't open his mouth save for the purpose of eating. Hetold me he was afraid his teeth would chatter. 

_Aug. 20th. _ Got a letter from Polly to-day. She says that her fingeris just itching for the ring. I told the "Spider" about it and he saidthat he had several unset stones he'd let me have for next tonothing. A good burglar is one of the most valuable friends a man canpossess. 

_Sept. 3d. _ I had such a set-back to-day. Never was I more confounded. This morning I received a notice to report before the examining boardfor a first class rating. Of course I had been expecting some slightrecognition of my real worth for a long time, but when the blow fell Iwas hardly prepared for it. Hurrying to "My Blue Jacket's Manual, " Isucceeded by the aid of a picture in getting firmly in my mind theport and starboard side of a ship and then I presented myself beforethe examiners--three doughty and unsmiling officers. There were abouttwelve of us up for examination. Seating ourselves before the threegentlemen, we gazed upon them with ill-concealed trepidation. One ofthem called the roll in a languid manner, and then without furtherpreliminaries the battle began, and I received the first shock of theassault. I don't quite remember the question that man asked me, it wasall too ghastly at the time, but I think it was something like this:

"What would you do if you were at the wheel in a dense fog and youheard three whistles on your port beam, four whistles off thestarboard bow, and a prolonged toot dead ahead?"

"I would still remain in a dense fog, " I gasped in a low voice. 

"Speak up!" snapped the officer. 

"Full speed ahead and jumps, " whispered a guy next to me. It soundedreasonable. I seized upon it eagerly. 

"I'd put full steam ahead and jump, sir, " I replied. 

"Are you mad?" shouted the amazed officer. 

"No, sir, " I hastened to assure him, "only profoundly perplexed. Ithink, sir, that I would go into a conference, under thecircumstances. "

The officer seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. 

"What's your name?" asked another officer suddenly. 

I told him. 

"Initials?"

I told him. He looked at the paper for a moment. 

"That explains it, " he said with a sigh of relief, "you're not theman. There has been some mistake. Orderly, take this man away andbring back the right one. Pronto!"

That Spanish stuff sounds awfully sea-going. I was taken away, but theofficer had not yet recovered. He regarded me with an expression ofprofound disgust. Anyway I created a sensation. 

[Illustration: "'I WOULD STILL REMAIN IN A DENSE FOG, ' I GASPED IN ALOW VOICE"]

_Sept. 4th. _ Things have been happening with overwhelming rapidity. Onthe strength of being properly engaged to Polly, my permanent sweetie, I went to my Regimental commander this morning and applied for afurlough. He regarded me pityingly for a moment and then carefullyscanned a list of names on the desk before him. 

"I am sorry, " he said finally, "but not only am I not able to grantyour request, but I have the unpleasant duty to inform you that youare a little less than forty-eight hours from the vicinity of Ambroselight. "

"Shipped!" I gasped as the world swam around me. 

"Your name is on this list, " said the officer not unkindly. 

"Shipped!" I repeated in a dazed voice. 

"It does seem ridiculous, I'll admit, " said the officer, smiling, "butyou never can tell what strange things are going to happen in theNavy. If I were in your place I'd take advantage of this head start Ihave given you and get my clothes and sea-bag in some sort ofcondition. If I remember rightly, you have never been ablesuccessfully to achieve this since you've been in the service. "

"Thank you, sir, " I gasped, and bolted. In my excitement I ranviolently into a flock of ensigns stalking across the parade ground. 

"I'm going to be shipped, " I cried by way of explanation to one ofthem as he arose wrathfully. 

"You're going to be damned, " said he, and I was. Too frantic to writemore. 

_Sept. 5th. _ All preparations have been made. Tim, Tony and the Spiderare going too. I have just been listening to the most disturbingconversation. It all arose from our speculating as to our probabledestination and the nature of our services. The Master-at-arms, whohad been sleeping on the hammock rack as only a Master-at-arms can, permitted himself to remain awake long enough to join in. 

"I wouldn't be at all surprised, " said he, "if you were shipped toone of these new Submarine Provokers. "

"What's that?" I asked uneasily. 

"Why, it's a sort of a dee-coy, " said he, stretching his huge hulk, "alittle, unarmed boat that goes messing around in the ocean until itfinds a submarine and then it provokes it. "

"How's that?" asked Tim. 

"Why, you see, " continued the jimmy-legs, "it just sort of steams backand forth in front of the submarine, just steams slowly back and forthin front of the submarine until it provokes it. "

"Ah!" said I, taking a deep breath. 

"Yes, " he continues cheerfully, "and the more you provoked thesubmarine why the harder it shoots at you, so of course it doesn'tnotice the real Submarine Sinker coming up behind it. See thetactics. "

"Oh, " says I, "we just provoke the submarine until it loses its temperand the other boat sinks it. "

"That's it, " says the jimmy-legs, "you just sort of steam back andforth in front of it slowly. "

"How slowly?" asks the Spider. 

"Very, " replied the jimmy-legs. 

"No guns at all?" asks Tim. 

"None, " says he. 

"A regular little home, " suggests Tony. 

"Sure, " says the jimmy-legs, "nothing to do at all but steam slowlyback--"

"For God's sake don't dwell on that point any more!" I cried. "Weunderstand it perfectly. "

"A regular lil' home, " muttered Tim as he began to stow his bag. 

(Later) I write these lines with horror. Some one has told me that theNavy needs Powder tasters, something I'd never heard of before, andthat perhaps--that's what we are going to be used for. All you have todo, this guy says, is to taste the powder to see if it's damp or dryand if it's damp you take it away and bake it. This sounds worse thanthe Submarine Provoker. 

(Still later) Rumor is rife. The latest report is that we are going tobe Mine Openers. 

"What's a Mine Opener?" I asked my informant. 

"Why, it's a guy, " says he, "that picks up the mines floating aroundhis boat, but only the German mines of course, and opens them to seeif they are as dangerous as they look. Some are not half as dangerousas they look, " he continues easily, "some are not quite so dangerousand of course some are a great deal more so. But they are alldangerous enough. "

"My dear chap, " I replied, turning away miserably, "a pinwheel isquite dangerous enough for me. "

_Sept. 6th. _ This is being written from the gate. My bag and hammockare beside me. Tim lashed them together for me so they wouldn't comeundone. We are waiting for the truck. Tony in his excitable way wantsto kiss the guard good-by. The guard doesn't want him to. My lastmoments at Pelham have been hectic. The doctor said I looked onehundred per cent better than when I came in, but that wasn't enough. If you didn't look at me very closely you wouldn't know that I wassuch an awful dub. This is progress at any rate. The telephone wiresbetween mother's house and the camp were dripping wet with tears whenI phoned her that I was being shipped. However, she braced up and saidshe was proud of me and said she hoped I'd tell the captain good-byand thank him for all he has done. I assured her I would do this, orat least leave a note. Polly was a trump. The Spider talked to her andsaid that he was going to save the best uncut stone for her that hehad ever bitten out of a ring. The Spider has been very valuable to usall. He seems to have the uncanny faculty of being able to take thecloth straps off other people's clothes right before their eyes. Consequently we are well supplied. At present he's looking at thehandle of the gate in a musing way. I think he would like to have itas a souvenir. Here comes the truck. Pelham is about to lose its mostuseless recruit. I must tuck these priceless pages in my money belt. Wish I had a picture of Polly. Well, here's to the High Adventure, butthere's something about that Submarine Provoker I can't quite get usedto. It seems just a trifle one sided. However, that is in the lap ofthe gods. Instead of a camp I will soon have the vast expanses of theocean in which to demonstrate my tremendous inability to emulate theexample of one John Paul Jones. 

"Bear a hand there, buddy, " the P. O. Has just cried at me. 

"Buddy" I came in and "buddy" I go out. We're off! I can dimlydistinguish Mr. Fogerty, that unscrupulous dog that abandoned my bedand board for a couple of influential yeomen. Farewell, Fogerty, mayyour evil ways never bring you to grief. I do wish I had a picture ofmy Sweetie. 

[Illustration: "'BUDDY' I CAME IN AND 'BUDDY' I GO OUT"]

[Illustration: BILTMORE OSWALD and FOGARTY]

THE END