In San Francisco, Stan and March had two days for a little of the sightseeing they had looked forward to, but they both spent most of their time at other tasks. March passed several hours at a telephone stand trying to get through a call home.

When it finally went through he talked for five minutes with his mother and gave her his San Francisco address. She sounded cheerful and not at all worried, and asked him if he might see Scoot Bailey.

“Scoot’s address is San Francisco, too,” she said.

“I know,” March laughed, “and the address of quite a few thousands of other sailors and soldiers. I think he must have got out of Frisco before this, unless he was held up here for lack of transportation. I might as well try to find out, though.”

“Maybe you’ll see him out where you’re going,” his mother said.

“I doubt it very much,” March said. “Even though we did have a joke about how my submarine would probably have to save him from the Japs out there.”

When he finished talking to his mother, he decided he might as well try to find out if Scoot were still in town. He had probably arrived two or three weeks before. It wasn’t likely that he’d still be around, but sometimes men were held up that long.

“If Scoot were held up that long,” March said to himself, “he’d be just about crazy. I think he’d start swimming to get out to his carrier or plane or base or wherever he’ll be.”

March spent most of the afternoon trying to find out about Scoot. Each office said it didn’t have the information or couldn’t give it to him, until he finally reached the right place and learned that Scoot had left San Francisco by plane for his “destination” twelve days before.

He met Stan for dinner, after which they went to a movie. The Skipper had given them leave until a few hours before they were due to sail.

After the movie Stan and March went back to their ship to find that Ray Corvin had suddenly been taken sick. Just as they came up, the ambulance was taking him away to the Naval Hospital.

“Burst appendix, I think,” Gray said. “And if that’s it, I don’t know what we’ll do. I’m hoping it’s nothing more than an acute indigestion that’ll pass in a day or two. But Sallini felt sure it was the appendix and so did the doc that came. That’s why they rushed him right off to the hospital.”

“Anything we can do?” March asked.

“No, just keep your fingers crossed,” Gray said. “Ray’s a mighty good man to have aboard a submarine.”

“Why, we couldn’t go without him, could we?” Stan asked.

“The Navy doesn’t wait around for an officer to get over appendicitis,” Larry said. “We’re scheduled to pull out of here at dawn day after tomorrow morning, and that’s when we’ll pull out, with or without Ray Corvin.”

“What about his family?” March asked. “Didn’t he say he lived near here?”

“Sure—about fifty miles away,” the Skipper replied. “He had just phoned them before he got this attack. I had to tell them he couldn’t come down as he’d planned. I got in touch with the Commandant here and he has sent a car down there for Ray’s wife and daughter. They’ll see him at the hospital.”

In the morning they learned that Corvin’s appendix had burst and he had been operated on. Larry Gray had spent a good part of the night at the hospital.

“He’ll pull through all right,” he said wearily. “But it will be weeks before he’s up and around. We’re really lucky, I guess, that it didn’t happen when we were at sea. If it had to happen, it couldn’t have timed itself better. In port near a hospital—and not far from Ray’s home. He can go there to convalesce.”

“What about us?” Stan asked. “It’s a shame we can’t have him with us. He’s a swell guy.”

“And a fine officer,” Gray said. “He ought to have a command of his own, really. Well, I’m not sure what we’ll do. The Navy can probably find us another officer in a hurry if we demand it, though it’s not easy to find a good sub man just like that who isn’t already occupied.”

He shook his head as he turned to his quarters. “I’m not sure just what we’ll do,” he said, “except that we’ll get under way on schedule.”

At the door, he stopped. “March, will you and Stan help Mac oversee the loading? I’ve got to have a little rest.”

There wasn’t much to come aboard. Ammunition and torpedoes were still intact, so they had to take on only oil and water and food, plus some special medical supplies for use in tropical climates. Stan had ordered a few more spare parts for his engines and motors. With his little repair shop, he felt able then to take care of almost anything that might happen in his department.

It was late that afternoon that the Skipper called March to his quarters.

“Sit down, March,” he said. “I’ve decided what to do about another officer, but I think I ought to talk it over with the rest of you first to see if you agree.”

“Whatever you say is all right with the rest of us, Larry,” March said. “You know that.”

“Perhaps,” Larry replied with a smile. “But this involves a little more work for everybody and I want you all to agree that it’s best. You see, I think we’ve got a good crew here—men and officers alike. We get along. We know our business. Getting along together is mighty important in this work, and I don’t know how another officer would fit in even if we could get one.”

“I know,” March agreed. “You can never tell until you’ve lived in each other’s laps for a while, as we have.”

“So I want to skip getting—or trying to get—another officer to replace Ray,” the Skipper went on. “Plenty of subs this size have operated with four officers and so can we. But we’ll have to split up Ray’s work.”

“Okay with me,” March said at once. “What can I take on?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone first,” Gray said. “I want you to take over Ray’s job, really.”

“You mean as diving officer,” March said, with a thrill.

“Yes, and as executive officer, too,” Larry said.

March started to say something, and then he realized exactly what Gray had said. On his first real patrol, he was asked to serve as second in command of a new submarine! It was unbelievable!

“But—Larry,” he said. “Do you think I can handle it?”

“If you think so,” the Skipper said with a smile, “then I think you can, too. I think you can handle just about anything on a submarine that you want to handle.”

“What about McFee?” March asked. “He’s been out before—been with you before. He’s had more experience.”

“No—not McFee,” Larry said. “Mac’s a wonder at his job, and he could take over just about any other submarine job in an emergency. But—well, Mac knows this as well as I do—he’s just not quite enough of an executive to handle this. I know that he just wouldn’t want the job. He doesn’t like to tell people what to do. He wouldn’t like to be a general manager, and that’s what an executive officer is, really.”

“Well, you know him well,” March said, “but won’t he feel a little funny about having a raw recruit, so to speak, put over him?”

“Not Mac,” Larry answered. “He’s not like that. Anyway, how about it?”

“Well—I’m mighty pleased that you’ve got enough confidence in me to ask me,” March said. “And I surely ought to have as much confidence in myself as someone else has. Okay, Skipper, you’re on.”

“Swell, March,” Gray said with a broad smile. “I don’t feel so bad about not having Ray now. We’re going to do a job in Kamongo.”

“I just hope I can navigate and dive and exec,” March said, “all at the same time.”

“Well, I never did think a navigating officer had enough to do just navigating,” Gray said, laughing. “And you’re never busy navigating when you have to dive. As for being an exec, a well-run sub with a good crew doesn’t need much general managing, you’ll find. Anyway, Mac and Stan will help you out in that department if you need any help. And don’t forget that there is, after all, still a Skipper on the boat who ought to do a little work once in a while.”

Later, in the wardroom with Stan and Mac, Larry told them all the new setup, and March was happy to see how obviously pleased with the arrangement McFee and Stan were.

“I was worried,” McFee said. “I was afraid you’d get another officer and he’d turn out to be a guy who pulled puns or was a bridge fiend or something terrible like that. And we wouldn’t have time to find it out before we got under way, so we’d have to drown him at sea.”

“Well, I’d better go report to the Commandant and tell him the arrangement,” Larry said. “The Navy likes to know about these things, even if they do leave most decisions up to a ship’s captain.”

After Gray left, March stepped into the control room. Scotty rushed up to him and shook his hand vigorously.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant!” the radioman cried. “Gee, it’s swell!”

“Thanks, Scotty,” March grinned. “But how on earth did the crew ever learn this so fast?”

“Didn’t you ever hear that the crew always knows the important things before the officers on a sub?” Scott said with a laugh.

“It must be, it must be,” March replied, with a shake of his head.

When Larry Gray returned from seeing the Commandant, March thought he noticed a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face that he was trying not to show.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Larry replied, looking a little embarrassed. “I just reported and he said okay. Everything set for dawn?”

“Everything set,” March replied.

“Oh, by the way,” Larry said, as if trying to change the subject. “You move your stuff into Ray’s quarters. Then you and Stan can both have a little more room to move around in.”

“Okay, Skipper,” March answered. “Could we see Ray before we leave?”

“No, no more visitors,” Larry said. “His family is there, and they let me see him for a minute to say goodbye and good luck from all of us. He’s feeling pretty lousy with drainage tubes in him, and worse than that because he can’t go along with us. If they’d let him, he’d try to get up and come along right now. He says he could recuperate faster in a sub, anyway, than on dry land. He highly approved of your appointment, by the way.”

It was an hour later that March learned the reason for the Skipper’s hidden smile and slightly embarrassed look. Noticing a new large sheet of paper on the bulletin board in the crew’s quarters he paused to look at it.

“Scuttlebutt Special!!!!” it read. “The brass hats have seen the light at last and promoted our Old Man to Lieutenant Commander! It’s about time!”

March walked quickly back to the wardroom where he found Larry Gray and McFee smoking and talking.

“Well, I was told that the crew knew everything important before the officers,” he said. “But why did you want to keep it secret?”

Larry almost blushed.

“Oh, so you found out?”

“It’s on the bulletin board!” March exclaimed.

“Oh, my golly! These sub crews!” Larry exclaimed. “They can even read your thoughts!”

“Say, what’s all this about?” Mac cried. “Let me in on it!”

“Go read it for yourself,” March said. “The Skipper made me find it out the hard way.”

As Mac squeezed out from behind the little table and hurried down the companionway, March put out his hand and shook Larry’s.

“Congratulations, Skipper,” he said.

“Thanks, March,” Gray said. “Some of the crew on shore liberty must’ve run into it up at headquarters somehow. They don’t miss a thing.”

They not only missed nothing, but they did not miss a chance to do something about it. After mess a delegation from the crew appeared and asked for an audience with the Skipper. He sensed what was coming and met them in the control room.

Pete Kalinsky, Chief Petty Officer in the torpedo room, was the spokesman.

“Lieutenant Commander Gray, sir,” he said. “Your crew is very happy to see you gettin’ up where you belong, though they’ve got to come through a few more times before it’s okay with us. We knew you wouldn’t bother about such things, but the Kamongo’s captain ought to do himself proud, so on behalf of the crew I give you these.”

He coughed, acted as if he were about to add something else, then said “Sir,” lamely, and backed up.

Larry took the small packages Pete had handed him and undid them with fingers that shook slightly. First came a set of three gold stripes, two wide and one narrow, for his blue uniform. Then the same in black for his work uniform. Then shoulder insignia and finally two gold oak-leaves for pinning on his shirt collars.

March, who stood behind Larry, felt a lump in his throat. He knew how Larry must be feeling and wondered how he could keep the tears out of his eyes. There was a long silence, and March knew that Larry was waiting for his voice to get under control before he spoke. Everyone was looking at him as he fingered the marks of his new rank which had been presented to him by his crew. Not only had they got the news almost as soon as it had happened, but somebody had taken up a collection and rushed downtown, during his last hours of shore leave, to buy these things for him.

“You know, men,” Larry spoke quietly, “it’s naturally very pleasant to get a promotion. But when you’re about to set out in a pigboat to sink as many Jap ships as possible, it doesn’t seem very important. And certainly gold braid and pretty gold leaves aren’t important at all. But I’ll tell you what really is important, what really does count for a lot when you’re about to get under way for enemy waters. That is the knowledge that I have a crew like mine! I’ve got a crew that is proud of its boat, proud of its Skipper, proud of itself. A crew that’ll do something—like this—like what you’ve just done—well, it just can’t be licked, that’s all.”