Gunboat Stevens was another of the plotters; his suggestions were so
unique and uncommon that each of them sent us into an uncontrollable
roar of laughter. Unfortunately, as we thought, they were usually as
impracticable as they were strange. This member of our gang derived his
alias from his warm adherence to the navy as against the army. Never was
there an argument started about the navy that it did not have a burning
advocate in Stevens; he would even go to the length of challenging any
man in the crowd to fight him then and there who had the temerity to
claim that the Empire had as good a defender in the military as in the
naval arm of the government.

We also had a Jesse James; his surname was really James and it was easy
fitting on the handle.

The conference finally resolved itself into a determination to burn his
new-made bivouac, but I dissuaded them and convinced them that it would
be much better for them to lug it over to the incinerator and throw it
into the pit. To complete the plot and give it an artistic finish, it
was necessary to have a ham bone, and Gunboat volunteered to get it.
"I'm on picket tonight," he said, "and I'll go to the cookhouse when the
cook is asleep and fix it." He did so; when the cook was dreaming of
everything but the front line, Gunboat quietly slipped in, unearthed
the ham that was in readiness for our breakfast, and with his knife he
quickly extracted the bone, taking care of the pickings with his teeth
while finishing his sentry go.

The next night everything was in readiness and when the opportune moment
arrived, with Hambone leaving with ammunition for the guns, I passed the
word. When he was well on his way we hurried over to his shack, rooted
it out and carried it bodily over to the incinerator, setting it