United States or Morocco ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Aye, aye, sir," said the Chief Yeoman. "Signal log, sir." "Don't forget now," counselled the Master-at-Arms to the request-men fallen in on the starboard side of the quarter-deck. "When your names is called out, step smartly up to the table, an' keep your caps on. You salutes when you steps up to the table an' when you leaves it."
The request-men, who had heard all this a good many times before, sucked their teeth in acquiescence. The Captain was walking up and down the other side of the deck talking to the Commander. They turned together and came towards the table. The Captain's Clerk opened the request-book and laid it before the Captain. "'Erbert Reynolds," intoned the Master-at-Arms in a stentorian voice. "Able seaman.
He put in his request to see you through the Master-at-Arms. He didn't say what it was about." The Captain closed the book. "All seamen, eh? No Marine request-men?" "No, sir." "Right. I'll see 'em at eleven." The Clerk gathered the papers together and departed. As he went out there was a tap at the door. The Captain frowned. The tap was repeated. "Don't knock," he called out.
Tell the Commander I'll buy him a pair of white kid gloves when I go ashore. Request-men?" His Clerk placed a book upon the desk open at a list of names. The Captain ran down them with a pencil. "Badges, all entitled? . . . Stop allotment who does he allot to? Mother? . . . Restoration to first class for leave. . . . To be rated Leading Seaman Jones. Jones?
Word Of The Day