The watches, meaning the length of time into which the twenty-four hours aboard ship is divided, are arranged on a naval vessel as in all maritime affairs.

The first watch is from 8:00 P. M. till midnight.  The mid-watch, or “graveyard watch,” is from midnight till 4:00 A. M.; the morning watch from 4:00 till 8:00 A. M.; the forenoon watch from 8:00 A. M. till mid-day; the afternoon watch from noon till 4:00 P. M.; and the dog-watches, each of which is but two hours long, are from 4:00 till 6:00 P. M. and from 6:00 till 8 P. M.

The Seacove boys were already well trained in the general duties that fell to their share, even though they had never cruised upon a superdreadnaught.  Now they had the special duties of looking after the guns in the turret to which they were attached.  Gun drill would hereafter occupy a part of their time each forenoon.

As the weather cleared the lookouts all over the ship kept sharper watch than they had before for any moving object on the sea.  They had seen the smoke of steamships and the sails of other vessels during the storm, but had not spoken a single craft since leaving port.

The Kennebunk frequently received and sent wireless messages; but the messages were evidently unimportant for they caused no flurry of excitement.  The Seacove boys were expecting some news of submarines, or the capture of the “mother ship,” which they believed was cruising off the coast to supply German U-boats with fuel.  But no news of this kind came to their ears.

The big battleship was now nearing the point where they could expect to meet the auxiliary naval vessel towing the target.

“Pretty soft!  Pretty soft!” said one chap in Whistler’s gun crew disgustedly.  “Pretty soft for us!  We fellows going out to target practice, while those battleships already on the other side of this periscope pond may be fighting the Fritzies off Heligoland.”

“We’ll get a chance at a sub maybe,” said another more hopefully.

“No such luck,” growled the first speaker.  “We’ll just about get shot at with a torpedo from one of those pirates.  We’d never have the good luck to plant a shell in a U-boat where it would do the most good.  No, sir!”

There was so much that was new for the four boys from Seacove to learn aboard the superdreadnaught that they did not worry much about getting into immediate action.  Target practice with the big guns would spell excitement enough for the time being, they thought.

Meanwhile Michael Donahue and Ikey Rosenmeyer were having a secret all to themselves that kept them breaking out in “the giggles” at unseasonable times, so that the master-at-arms gave them two reprimands within the twenty-four hours.  Another would be likely to put their names on the report—­an incident that was always to be regretted.

The battleship was steaming through a flattening sea at half speed.  Word had been passed from one of the masthead lookouts that smoke was sighted.  The executive officer said it was probably the auxiliary ship with the target in tow.  The report brought almost everybody who was free to the open decks.