TWENTY FATHOMS DOWN
young Neptune! Those your duds there? Why aren't they dried? Can't you hang these in front of the stove somehow, Cook? He will want something to put on when he gets up. Here, Clancy, you take charge of this man. See that he's fed and has dry clothing. When he gets up give him something to do to earn his passage."
The lieutenant nodded, frowned, smiled, and strode back to the central station.
Clancy, a red-haired youth of twenty-four or so, rating as a first class machinist's mate, forthwith took over his duties. He viewed Nelson severely, standing beside the bunk with legs spread wide and oil-stained hands on his hips.
"Now then, Mr. Neptune, you heard the luff's words, didn't you?"
Nelson nodded and smiled.
"What you grinning about? Respect is what I'll have from you, my son, and a lot of it! Don't you know better than to grin at your superior officer? What sort of manners do they teach you in the Naval Reserve? Stow that grin, I tell you, and look respectful!"
"Yes, sir," responded Nelson demurely. The petty officer grunted.
"That's better. Now then, hungry?"
"No, thank you."
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