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SHOWMAN
I'd long been accustomed to stepping into any old kind of role at a moment's notice in the theater. But my naval training had been badly neglected, and it was with natural misgiving that I decided to turn admiral, hire some bright boys, and, with the surviving German's assistance, train a whole new set of captains to steer the ships. I felt even worse about it the first time I got into one of those floating coffins and tried my hand at running it. I suppose the driver of a whippet tank is in much the same situation— and he's been trained to the business, which I distinctly had not. The whole interior of the thing was lined with electrical gadgets. Touch one at the wrong time and you got an electrical shock that jarred your teeth loose.
But at least I had to start the job to keep up the morale of my raw recruits and, after I began to get the hang of the things, I fell in love with the assignment. I could have trained a new man to run the Oregon as well as the other vessels, but it was too grand a feeling, this dashing up just in the nick of time from a forced-draft voyage round the Horn, with the house cheering and the rest of the fleet saluting. It was even more fun to blaze away at Cervera's fleet, shooting little torpedoes that made as much noise as a trapshooting tournament. A grand money's worth for the customers too, but I'd have done it whether it was profitable or not. I got quite a kick out of hearing about what happened when an assistant of mine ar
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