"Full speed ahead and jumps," whispered a guy next to me. It sounded reasonable. I seized upon it eagerly.

"I'd put full steam ahead and jump, sir," I replied.

"Are you mad?" shouted the amazed officer.

"No, sir," I hastened to assure him, "only profoundly perplexed. I think, sir, that I would go into a conference, under the circumstances."

The officer seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown.

"What's your name?" asked another officer suddenly.

I told him.

"Initials?"

I told him. He looked at the paper for a moment.

"That explains it," he said with a sigh of relief, "you're not the man. There has been some mistake. Orderly, take this man away and bring back the right one. Pronto!"

That Spanish stuff sounds awfully sea-going. I was taken away, but the officer had not yet recovered. He regarded me with an expression of profound disgust. Anyway I created a sensation.

"'I would still remain in a dense fog,' I gasped in a low voice"

Sept. 4th. Things have been happening with overwhelming rapidity. On the strength of being properly engaged to Polly, my permanent sweetie, I went to my Regimental commander this morning and applied for a furlough. He regarded me pityingly for a moment and then carefully scanned a list of names on the desk before him.

"I am sorry," he said finally, "but not only am I not able to grant your request, but I have the unpleasant duty to inform you that you are a little less than forty-eight hours from the vicinity of Ambrose light."

"Shipped!" I gasped as the world swam around me.

"Your name is on this list," said the officer not unkindly.

"Shipped!" I repeated in a dazed voice.

"It does seem ridiculous, I'll admit," said the officer, smiling, "but you never can tell what strange things are going to happen in the Navy. If 

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