CHAPTER XIII.
HERC LEARNS WHAT "THE BRIG" IS.
In a few minutes the messenger returned with the master-at-arms, whosaluted the officer of the deck, who in turn gravely saluted him. Herc,feeling that he should do something, saluted each of them in turn,concluding his respectful motions with a deep bow.
Neither officer, however, paid any more attention to the lad than if hehad been carved out of wood.
"Master-at-arms!" began the officer.
"Yes, sir," responded the master-at-arms, bringing his heels togetherwith a sharp click.
"There has been a flagrant breach of discipline here, which it ismy duty to report to the captain at once. You will place this man,Ordinary Seaman Taylor, under restraint, and arraign him at the mast atone o'clock with the other prisoners."
"Yes, sir," nodded the master-at-arms, edging up to the dismayed Herc.
"Kennell, if you wish to prefer a complaint against this man Taylor,you may," went on the officer.
"I do, sir, certainly," said Kennell earnestly, through the paint thatsmothered his face; "but first, sir, I should like to clean this messoff, sir."
"You will be relieved from duty while you do. Carry on, men."
The officer of the deck faced about and walked aft; no doubt toacquaint the captain with the details of the occurrences on the forwarddeck.
"Come, wake up," said the master-at-arms to Herc, who was in asemi-stupor at the horrifying idea that he was under arrest. "Come withme."
"What! I'm to be locked up?" gasped Herc.
"Yes, in the brig."
In an instant the recollection of the boys' conversation with old Tomon the day they joined the ship flashed into Herc's mind. So then"the brig" that the old tar had been so reluctant to talk about, wasthe place in which they locked up malefactors and disgracers of theservice, of whom it seemed he was one. Poor Herc felt ready to dropwith shame and humiliation as--under the eyes of the hundreds ofjackies going about their various tasks--he was marched aft by themaster-at-arms. There was only one drop of relief in his bitter cup. Itcame when Ned pressed forward, at the risk of being severely reproved.
"Never mind, Herc, old fellow," he breathed. "I know you were in theright, and I'll see that Kennell gets what's coming to him, if it's thelast thing I do."
"Come, sir! carry on," snapped the master-at-arms, who had pretendednot to notice the first part of this conversation, being a reallykind-hearted man, although bound by discipline, just as is every oneelse in the navy; "you must know it is a breach of discipline to talkto prisoners."
Prisoners!
Poor Herc groaned aloud.
"Come, come," comforted the master-at-arms, "it isn't as bad as allthat. I am confident that you can clear yourself. Besides, it is yourfirst offense, and you are a recruit, so perhaps the old man will beeasy on you."
"It isn't that, so much as it's the disgrace of being arrested likethis," burst out Herc.
"Oh, well, you shouldn't go to fighting, then," remarked themaster-at-arms, pulling open a steel-studded door and thrusting Hercbefore him into a narrow passage, lighted by electric bulbs, down oneside of which was fitted a row of steel-barred cells.
"We're a bit crowded," he remarked, "so I can't give you a cell toyourself. When a ship puts to sea out of a port there are generally alot of men to be disciplined. Those who have overstayed their leave,and so forth. Therefore, I'll have to put you in here."
He opened a door as he spoke, and pushed Herc into a cell in which twoother men were already seated on a narrow bench which ran along oneside.
"You'll get a full ration at eight bells, for which you are lucky,"remarked the master-at-arms; "the others get only bread and water."
Clang!
The steel door swung to, and Herc, for the first time in his life, wasa prisoner.
It did not make the experience any the less bitter to know that he wasa captive and disgraced through no fault of his own, unless it had beenfrom his exuberant swinging of the paint-pot in the enthusiasm of hisnewly-acquired "sea-legs."
The Dreadnought Boy, despite his unpleasant situation, was naturallyinquisitive enough to gaze about him on his surroundings. The cellitself was a steel-walled apartment about twelve feet square withno other furnishings than the narrow bench, which also was of steel.It was lighted by an electric bulb, set deep in the ceiling andbarred off, so that it could not be tampered with by a meddlesomeprisoner. The walls of this place were painted white. The floorsred. It was insufferably hot and stuffy, and the songs of a group ofroisterers confined in another cell, which broke forth as soon as themaster-at-arms departed, did not tend to make the environment anypleasanter.
"So this is the brig," mused Herc, "well, they can have it for all Iwant with it. It's not much better than the hog-pen at home."
One of Herc's fellow prisoners, who had been sitting sullenly on thebench, now arose and began to pace back and forth. His companion didlikewise. They had not paid the slightest attention to Herc hitherto,but now one of them spoke.
"What you in for, kid?"
"I guess you'll have to ask the master-at-arms," rejoined Herc, who wasnot prepossessed by his questioner's appearance. He was a heavy-set,low-browed man, with a pair of black eyebrows that almost met in thecenter of his forehead, giving him a sinister aspect. His companion wasslight, and long-legged, with a delicate--almost an effeminate--cast offeatures.
"Oh, well, if you don't want to talk you don't have to," growled theheavy-browed man. "Say, Carl," he went on, turning to his companion,"this is a nice, sociable cellmate they've given us, isn't it?"
"You attend to your own affairs, Silas," snarled the other, who did notseem to be any more amiable than his heavy-browed friend; "leave thekid alone. We've got trouble enough of our own, haven't we?"
"Hum, yes; but overstaying leave isn't such a very serious matter, andthink of the reward that's ahead in store for us. Only this cruise,and----"
"Hush!" broke in the one addressed as Carl, with an angry intonation;"you must be a fool to talk like that in front of the kid," he went onin a low undertone.
"Pshaw!" snarled the other in the same low voice, however. "He's justa country Reuben, with the hayseed still in his hair and the smell ofthe hog-pen on him--like that one we gambled with in New York--HankHarkins--wasn't that his name?--on the old 'Idy'."
"Just the same, it's well to be prudent," counseled the other, and fellonce more to his pacing of the cell.
As for Herc, to whom all this, including the reference to Hank, hadbeen, as Carl had guessed, so much Greek, he laid down at full lengthon the bench. As he had not had more than a few winks of sleep duringhis seasick night, he soon dropped off into peaceful slumber, despitehis uncomfortable couch and serious position.
How long he slept, he did not know, but he woke with a start, and wasabout to open his eyes, when he suddenly closed them again and feigneddeep slumber.
He had heard something being discussed by the two men with whom heshared the cell that set his pulse to stirring and his heart to beatinga wild tattoo.
The boy realized that the safety of one of the United States' greatestnaval secrets lay, for the time being, in his hands.
The Dreadnought Boys on Battle Practice Page 13