"Aye, you're not—-not joking?" demanded Dan Dalzell half piteously.
"Do you see any signs of mirth in my face?" demanded Dave Darrin indignantly.
Rap-tap! Right after the summons Midshipman Farley and Page entered the room.
"Say, who's dead?" blurted out Farley, struck by the looks of consternation on the faces of their hosts.
"Tell him, Dave," urged Dan.
"Prescott and Holmes won't play on this year's Army team," statedDarrin.
"Whoop!" yelled Farley gleefully. "And that was what you're looking so mighty solemn about? Cheer up, boy! It's good news."
"Great!" seconded Midshipman Page with enthusiasm.
"I tell you, fellows," spoke Dave solemnly, "it takes all the joy out of the Army-Navy game."
"Since when did winning kill joy?" demanded Farley aghast. "Why, with Prescott and Holmes out of it the Navy will get a fit of crowing that will last until after Christmas!"
"It makes the victory too cheap," contended Darrin.
"A victory is a victory," quoth Midshipman Page, "and the only fellow who can feel cheap about it is the fellow who doesn't win. Cheer up, Davy. It's all well enough to wallop a stray college, here and there, but the one victory that sinks in deep and does our hearts good is the one we carry away from the Army. Whoop! I could cry for joy."
"But why won't Prescott and Holmes play this year?" asked Farley, his face radiant with the satisfaction that the news had given him.
"Because the corps has sent Prescott to Coventry for something thatI'm certain the dear old fellow never did," Darrin replied.
"Lucky accident!" muttered Farley.
"But the corps will repent, when they find their football hope gone," predicted Page, his face losing much of its hitherto joyous expression.
"No! No such luck," rejoined Midshipman Darrin. "If the brigade, here, sent a fellow to Coventry for what they considered cause, do you mean to tell me that they'd take the fellow out of Coventry just to get a good player on the eleven?"
"No, of course, not," Page admitted.
"Then do you imagine that the West Point men are any more lax in their views of corps honor?" pressed Dave.
"To be sure they are not—-they can't be."
"Then there's only a chance in a thousand that Dick Prescott will, by any lucky accident, be restored to favor in the corps—-at least, in time to play on this year's eleven. If he doesn't play, Holmes simply won't play. So that takes all the interest out of this year's Army-navy game."
"Not if the Navy wins," contended Midshipman Page.
"Bosh, there's neither profit nor honor in the Navy winning, unless it's against the best men that the Army can put forth," retorted Dave Darrin stubbornly. "By the great Dewey, I'm afraid nine tenths of my enthusiasm for the game this year has been killed by the miserable news that has come in."
Within less than five minutes after the midshipmen had seated themselves around the scores of tables in the mess hall, the news had flown around that Prescott and Holmes were to be counted as out of the Army eleven for this year.
Here and there suppressed cheers greeted the announcement The bulk of the midshipmen, however, were much of Dave Darrin's opinion that there was little glory in beating less than the best team that the Army could really put forth.
"Darry looks as though he had just got back from a funeral," remarked one member of the third class to another youngster.
"I don't blame him," replied the one so addressed.
"But he's all the more sure of winning over the Army this year."
"I don't believe either of you youngsters know Darrin as well as I do," broke in a second classman. "What I'm afraid of is, if Prescott and Holmes don't play with the soldiers, then Darry will lose interest in the game to such a degree that even Army dubs will be able to take his shoestrings away from him. Danny doesn't enjoy fighting fourth-raters. It's the big game that he enjoys going after. Why, I'm told that he had simply set his heart on pushing Prescott and Holmes all the way across Franklin Field this year."
Readers who are anxious to know why Dick Prescott, one of the finest of American youths, had been sent to Coventry by his comrades at the United States Military Academy, will find it all set forth in the concluding volume of the West Point Series, entitled"Dick Prescott's Fourth Year At West Point."
Strangely enough, the first effect of this news from West Point was to send the Navy eleven somewhat "to the bad." That is to say, Dave Darrin, despite his best endeavors, seemed to go stale from the first hour when he knew that he was not to meet Dick Prescott on the gridiron.
"Mr. Darrin, what ails you?" demanded coach kindly, at the end of the second practice game after that.
"I don't know, sir."
"You must brace up."
"Yes, sir."
"You seem to have lost all ambition. No; I won't just say that. But you appear, Mr. Darrin, either to have lost some of your snap or ambition, or else you have gone unaccountably stale."
"I realize my defects, sir, and I am trying very, very hard to overcome them."
"Are you ill at ease over any of your studies?" persisted coach.
"No, sir; it seems to me that the fourth year studies are the easiest in the whole course."
"They are not, Mr. Darrin. But you have had the advantage of three hard years spent in learning how to study, and so your present course appears rather easy to you. Are you sleeping well?"
"Yes, sir."
"Eating well?"
"Splendid appetite, sir."
"Hm! I shall soon have a chance to satisfy myself on that point, Mr. Darrin. The day after to-morrow the team goes to training table. Have you any idea, Mr. Darrin, what is causing you to make a poorer showing?"
"I have had one very great disappointment, sir. But I'd hate to think that a thing like that could send me stale."
"Oh, a disappointment?"
"Yes, sir," Dave went on frankly. "You see, sir, I have been looking forward, most eagerly, to meeting Prescott and downing him with the tricks that Jetson, Dalzell and I have been getting up."
"Oh! Prescott of the Army team?"
"Yes, sir."
"I think I heard something about his having been sent to Coventry at the Military Academy."
"But, Mr. Darrin, you are not going to fail us just because theArmy loses a worthy player or two?" exclaimed Lieutenant-CommanderParker in astonishment.
"Probably that isn't what ails me, sir," Dave answered flushing."After all, sir, probably I'm just beginning to go stale. IfI can't shake it off no doubt I had better be retired from theNavy eleven."
"Don't you believe it!" almost shouted coach. "Mr. Darrin, you will simply have to brace! Give us all the best that's in you, and don't for one instant allow any personal disappointments to unfit you. You'll do that, won't you?"
"Yes, sir."
Darrin certainly tried hard enough. Yet just as certainly the Navy's boosters shook their heads when they watched Darrin's work on the field.
"He has gone stale," they said. "The very worst thing that could happen to the Navy this year!"
Then came the first game of the season—-with Lehigh. Darrin roused himself all he could, and his playing was very nearly up to what might have been expected of him—-though not quite.
The visitors got away with a score of eight to five against the Navy.
Next week the Lehighs went to West Point and suffered defeat at the hands of the Army.
The news sent gloom broadcast through the Naval Academy.
"We get beaten by one of the smaller colleges, that West Point can trim," was the mournful comment.
It did, indeed, look bad for the Navy!
As the season went on it was evident that Dave Darrin was slowly getting back to form.
Yet coach was not wholly satisfied, nor was anyone else who had the triumph of the Navy eleven at heart.
Three more games had been played, and two of them were won by the Navy. Next would come Stanford College, a hard lot to beat. The Navy tried to bolster up its own hopes; a loss to Stanford would mean the majority of games lost out of the first five.
True, the news from West Point was not wholly disconcerting to the Navy. The Army that year had some strong players, it was true; still, the loss of Prescott and Holmes was sorely felt. Word came, too, in indirect ways, that there was no likelihood whatever that the Coventry against Cadet Dick Prescott would be lifted. It was the evident purpose of the Corps of Cadets, for fancied wrongs, to ostracize Dick Prescott until he found himself forced to resign from the United States Military Academy.
November came in. Stanford came. Coach talked to Dave Darrin steadily for ten minutes before the Navy eleven trotted out on to the field. Stanford left Annapolis with small end of the score, in a six-to-two game, and the Navy was jubilant.
"Darrin has come back pretty close to his right form," was the general comment.
For that Saturday evening Dan Dalzell, being now "on privilege" again, asked and received leave to visit in town—-this the more readily because his work on the team had prevented his going out of the Yard that afternoon.
Dave, too, requested and secured leave to go into town, though he stated frankly that he had no visit to make, and wanted only a stroll away from the Academy grounds.
Darrin went most of the way to the Prestons.
"Come right along through, and meet Miss Preston," urged Dan.
"If you ask it as a favor I will, old chap," Dave replied.
"No; I thought the favor would be to you."
"So it would, ordinarily," Darrin replied gallantly. "But to-nightI just want to stroll by myself."
"Ta-ta, then." The grin on Dan Dalzell's face as he turned away from his chum was broader than usual. Dan was thinking that, this time, though his call must be a short one, he would be in no danger on his return. He could report unconcernedly just before taps.
"No doughface need apply to-night," chuckled Dan. "But Davy was surely one awfully good fellow to get me through that other scrape as he did."
All thought of football fled from Dan Dalzell's brain as he pulled the bellknob at the Preston house.
After all this was to be but the third meeting. Dan fancied, however, that absence had made his heart fonder. Since the night when he had Frenched it over the wall Dan had received two notes from Miss Preston, in answer to his own letters, but the last note was now ten days' old.
"May I see Mrs. Preston?" asked Dan, as a colored servant opened the door and admitted him.
This was Dan's correct idea of the way to call on a young woman to whom he was not engaged, but half hoped to be, some day.
The colored maid soon came back.
"Mrs. Preston is so very busy, sah, that she asks to be excused, sah," reported the servant, coming into the parlor where Dan sat on the edge of a chair. "But Mistah Preston will be down right away, sah."
A moment later a heavier step was heard on the stairway. ThenMay Preston's uncle came into the parlor.
"You will pardon Mrs. Preston not coming down stairs to-night, I know, Mr. Dalzell," said the man of the house, as he and the midshipman shook hands. "The truth is, we are very much occupied to-night."
"I had not dreamed of it, or I would not have called," murmuredDan reddening. "I trust you will pardon me."
"There is no need of pardon, for you have not offended," smiled Mr. Preston. "I shall be very glad to spare you half an hour, if I can interest, you."
"You are very kind, sir," murmured Dan. "And Miss Preston——"
"My niece?"
"Yes, sir."
"It is mainly on my niece's account that we are so busy to-night," smiled the host.
"She is not ill, sir?" asked Dan in alarm.
"Ill! Oh, dear me, no!"
Mr. Preston laughed most heartily.
"No; she is not in the least ill, Mr. Dalzell, though, on Monday, she may feel a bit nervous toward noon,"
"Nervous—-on Monday?" asked Dan vaguely. It seemed rank nonsense that her uncle should be able to predict her condition so definitely on another day.
"Why, yes; Monday is to be the great day, of course."
"Great day, sir? And why 'of course'?" inquired Dan, now as much interested as he was mystified.
"Why, my niece is to be married Monday at high noon."
"Married?" gasped Midshipman Dalzell, utterly astounded and discomfited by such unlooked-for news.
"Yes; didn't you know Miss Preston was engaged to be married?"
"I—-I certainly did not," Dan stammered.
"Why, she spoke to you much of 'Oscar'——-"
"Her brother?"
"No; the man who will be her husband on Monday," went on Mr. Preston blandly. Being quite near-sighted the elder man had not discovered Dan's sudden emotion. "That is what occupies us to-night. We leave on the first car for Baltimore in the morning. Mrs. Preston is now engaged over our trunks."
"I—-I am very certain, then, that I have come at an unseasonable time," Dan answered hastily. "I did not know—-which fact, I trust, will constitute my best apology for having intruded at such a busy season, Mr. Preston."
"There has been no intrusion, and therefore no apology is needed, sir," replied Mr. Preston courteously.
Dan got out, somehow, without staggering, or without having his voice quiver.
Once in the street he started along blindly, his fists clenched.
"So that's the way she uses me, is it?" he demanded of himself savagely. "Plays with me, while all the time the day for her wedding draws near. She must be laughing heartily over—-my greenness! Oh, confound all girls, anyway!"
It was seldom that Midshipman Dalzell allowed himself to get in a temper. He had been through many a midshipman fight without having had his ugliness aroused. But just now Dan felt humiliated, sore in spirit and angry all over—-especially with all members of the gentler sex.
He even fancied that Mr. Preston was at that moment engaged in laughing over the verdant midshipman. As a matter of fact, Mr. Preston was doing nothing of the sort. Mr. Preston had not supposed that Dan's former call had been intended as anything more than a pleasant social diversion. The Prestons supposed that every one knew that their niece was betrothed to an excellent young fellow. So, at this particular moment, Mr. Preston was engaged in sitting on a trunk, while his wife tried to turn the key in the lock. Neither of them was favoring Midshipman Dalzell with as much as a thought.
"Why on earth is it that all girls are so tricky?" Dan asked himself savagely, taking it for granted that all girls are "tricky" where admirers are concerned.
"Oh, my, what a laugh Davy will have over me, when he hears!" wasDan's next bitter thought, as he strode along.
Having just wronged all girls in his own estimation of them, Dan was now proceeding to do his own closest chum an injustice. For Dave Darrin was too thorough a gentleman to laugh over any unfortunate's discomfiture.
"What a lucky escape I had from getting better acquainted with that girl!" was Dalzell's next thought. "Why, with one as wholly deceitful as she is there can be no telling where it would all have ended. She might have drawn me into troubles that would have resulted in my having to leave the service!"
Dan had not the least desire to do any one an injustice, but just now he was so astounded and indignant that his mind worked violently rather than keenly.
"Serves me right!" sputtered Dalzell, at last. "A man in theNavy has no business to think about the other sex. He shouldgive his whole time and thought to his profession and his country.That's what I'll surely do after this."
Having reached this conclusion, the midshipman should have been more at peace with himself, but he wasn't. He had been sorely, even if foolishly wounded in his own self esteem, and it was bound to hurt until the sensation wore off.
"You'll know more, one of these days, Danny boy," was his next conclusion. "And what you know will do you a lot more good, too, if it doesn't include any knowledge whatever of girls—-except the disposition and the ability to keep away from 'em! I suppose there are a few who wouldn't fool a fellow in this shameless way but it will be a heap safer not to try to find any of the few!"
Dan's head was still down, and he was walking as blindly as ever, when he turned a corner and ran squarely into some one.
"Why don't you look out where you're going?" demanded that some one.
"Why don't you look out yourself?" snapped Midshipman Dalzell, and the next instant a heavy hand was laid upon him.
"Here, confound you! I'll teach you to——-"
"Teach me how to walk the way you were going when I stopped you?" demanded the same voice, and a harder grip was taken on Dalzell's shoulder.
In his misery Dan was not at all averse to fighting, if a good excuse were offered. So his first move was not to look up, but to wrest him self out of that grip, haul away and put up his guard.
"Dave Darrin!" gasped Midshipman Dan, using his eyes at last.
Dave was laughing quietly.
"Danny boy, you shouldn't cruise without lights and a bow watch!" admonished Dave. "What sent your wits wool gathering? You look terribly upset over something."
"Do I?" asked Dan, looking guilty.
"You certainly do. And see here, is this the way to the Preston house?"
"No; it's the way away from it."
"But you had permission to visit at the Prestons."
"That isn't any news to me," grunted Dalzell.
"Then—-pardon me—-but why aren't you there?"
"Are you the officer of the day?" demanded Dan moodily.
"No; merely your best friend."
"I beg your pardon, Dave. I am a grouch tonight."
"Wasn't Miss Preston at home."
"I—-I don't know."
"Don't know? Haven't you been there?"
"Yes; but I didn't ask——-"
As Dan hesitated Dave rested both hands on his chum's shoulders, looking sharply into that young man's eyes.
"Danny, you act as though you wereloco. (crazy). What on earth is up? You went to call on Miss Preston. You reached the house, and evidently you left there again. But you don't know whether Miss Preston was in; you forgot to ask. Let me look in at the answer to the riddle."
"Dave—-Miss Preston is going to be married!"
"Most girls are going to be," Darrin replied quietly. "Do you mean that Miss Preston is going to marry some one else than yourself?"
"Yes."
"Soon?"
"Monday noon."
Dave Darrin whistled.
"So this is the meaning of your desperation? Danny boy, if you're stung, I'm sincerely sorry for you."
"I don't quite know whether I want any sympathy," Dan replied, though he spoke rather gloomily. "Perhaps I'm to be congratulated."
He laughed mirthlessly, then continued:
"When a girl will treat a fellow like that, isn't it just as well to find out her disposition early?"
"Perhaps," nodded Darrin. "But Danny, do you mean to say that you attempted to pay your call without an appointment?"
"What was the need of an appointment?" demanded Dan. "Miss Preston invited me to call at any time—-just drop in. Now, she must know that Saturday evening is a midshipman's only chance at this time of the year."
"Nevertheless, you were wrong at that point, in the game," Dave went on gravely. "Unless you're on the best of terms with a young lady, don't attempt to call on her without having learned that your purpose will be agreeable to her. And so Miss Preston, while receiving your calls, has been engaged to some one else?"
Dan nodded, adding, "She might have given me some hint, I should think."
"I don't know about that," Darrin answered thoughtfully. "Another good view of it would be that a young lady's private affairs are her own property. Didn't she ever mention the lucky fellow to you?"
"It seems that she did," Dalzell assented. "But I thought, all the time, that she was talking about her brother."
"Why should you especially think it was her brother whom she was mentioning?"
"Because she seemed so mighty fond of the fellow," Dan grunted.
Dave choked a strong impulse to laugh.
"Danny boy," he remarked, "girls, very often, are mighty fond, also, of the fellow to whom they're engaged."
"Why did she let me call?" demanded Dan gloomily.
"How often have you called?" inquired Midshipman Darrin.
"Once, before to-night."
"Only once? Then, see here, Danny! Don't be a chump. When you call on a girl once, and ask if you may call some other time, how on earth is she to guess that you're an intended rival of the man she has promised to marry?"
"But——-" That was as far as Midshipman Dalzell got. He halted, wondering what he really could say next.
"Dan, I'm afraid you've got an awful lot to learn about girls, and also about the social proprieties to be observed in calling on them. As to Miss Preston receiving a call from you, and permitting you to call again, that was something that any engaged girl might do properly enough. Miss Preston came to Annapolis, possibly to learn something about midshipman life. She met you and allowed you to call. Very likely she permitted others to call. From what you've told me I can't see that she treated you unfairly in any way; I don't believe Miss Preston ever guessed that you had any other than the merest social reasons for calling."
"And I'm not sure that I did have," grunted Dalzell.
Dave shot another swift look into his chum's face before he said:
"Danny boy, your case is a light one. You'll recover speedily. Your vanity has been somewhat stung, but your heart won't have a scar in three days from now."
"What makes you think you know so much about that?" insisted Dan, drawing himself up with a dignified air.
"It isn't hard to judge, when it's another fellow's case," smiled Darrin. "I believe that, at this minute, I understand your feelings better than you do yourself."
"I don't know about my feelings," proclaimed Dan gloomily still, "but I do know something about my experience and conclusions. No more girls for me!"
"Good idea, Danny boy," cried Darrin, slapping his friend on the back. "That's the best plan for you, too."
"Why?"
"Because you haven't head enough to understand girls and their ways."
"I don't want to."
"Good! I hope you will keep in that frame of mind. And now, let's talk of something serious."
"Of what, then?" inquired Dalzell, as the two started to walk along together.
"Football."
"Is that more serious than girls?" demanded Dan Dalzell, suspicious that his friend was making fun of him.
"It's safer, at any rate, for you. Why, if a girl happens to say, 'Delighted to meet you, Mr. Dalzell,' you expect her to give up all other thoughts but you, and to be at home every Saturday evening. No, no, Danny. The company of the fair is not for you. Keep to things you understand better—-such as football."
Dan Dalzell's eyes shot fire. He was certain, now, that his chum was poking fun at him, and this, in his present temper, Dan could not quite endure.
"So, since we've dropped the subject of girls," Dave continued placidly, "what do you think are our real chances for the balance of this season?"
"They'd be a lot improved," grunted Dan, "if you'd get the grip on yourself that you had at the beginning of the season."
"I know I'm not playing in as good form as I had hoped to," Dave nodded. "The worst of it is, I can't find out the reason."
"A lot of the fellows think you've lost interest since you found that you won't have the great Prescott to play against in the Army-Navy game," Dan hinted.
"Yes; I know. I've heard that suspicion hinted at."
"Isn't it true?" challenged Dalzell.
"To the best of my knowledge and belief, it isn't. Why, Danny, it would be absurd to think that I couldn't play right now, just because Dick isn't to be against us on Franklin Field."
"I know it would sound absurd," Dan replied. "But let us put it another way, Dave. All along you've been working yourself up into better form, because you knew that, otherwise, it was very doubtful whether the Navy could beat the Army on the gridiron. So you had worked yourself up to where you played a better game than ever Dick Prescott thought of doing. Then you hear that poor Dick is in Coventry, and therefore not on the team. You haven't got the great Army man to beat, and, just for that reason, you slack up on your efforts."
"I am not slacking up," retorted Dave with some spirit. "I am doing the best that is in me, though I admit I appear to have gone stale."
"And so something will happen," predicted Dan.
"What will that be?"
"Between now and the game with the Army, Prescott's comrades will find what boobs they've been, and they'll lift the Coventry. Prescott and Holmes will get into the Army team at the last moment, and the fellows from West Point will ride rough-shod over the Navy, just as they did last year."
"Do you really think that will happen?" demanded Darrin eagerly."Do you really believe that dear old Dick will get out of thatCoventry and back on the Army eleven?"
"Well," returned Midshipman Dalzell soberly, "I'll venture a prediction. If you don't get a brace on your playing soon, then it'll be regular Navy luck for Prescott to come to Philadelphia and put on his togs. Then the soldiers will drag us down the field to the tune of 46 to 2."
"I'd sooner he killed on the field than see that happen!" criedMidshipman Dave, his eyes flashing.
"Then don't let it happen! You're the only star on our team, Dave, that isn't up to the mark. If we lose to the Army, this year, Prescott or no Prescott, it will be your fault, Dave Darrin. You're not one of our weak spots, really but you're not as strong as you ought to be and can be if you'll only brace."
"Brace!" quivered Dave. "Won't I, though?"
"Good! Just stick to that."
"Dan!" Darrin halted his chum before a store where dry goods and notions were sold. "Let's go in here——-"
"What, for?" Midshipman Dalzell asked in astonishment.
"I want to make a purchase," replied Dave soberly. "Danny boy, I'm going to buy you a hat pin—-one at least ten inches long. You're to slip it in, somewhere in your togs. When you catch me lagging—-practice or game—-just jab that hat pin into me as far as you can send it."
"Bosh!" retorted Dan impatiently. "Come along."
Dave submitted, in patient silence, to being led away from the store. For some moments the chums strolled along together in silence.
"Now, speaking of Miss Preston," began Dan, breaking the silence at last, "she——-"
"Drop that! Get back to football, Danny—-it's safer," warnedDave Darrin.
"But——-"
"Hold on, I tell you! You had almost recovered, Danny, in the short space of five minutes. Now, don't bring on a relapse by opening up the old sore. I shall soon begin to believe it was your heart that was involved, instead of your vanity."
"Oh, hang girls, then!" exploded Dan.
"Couldn't think of it," urged Dave gently. "That wouldn't be chivalrous, and even a midshipman is required to be a gentleman at all times. So——-"
"Good evening, gentlemen," spoke a pleasant voice. The midshipmen glanced up, then promptly brought up their hands in salute to an officer whom they would otherwise have passed without seeing.
That officer was Lieutenant Adams, discipline officer.
"Are you enjoying your stroll, Mr. Darrin?" asked Mr. Adams.
"Very much, sir; thank you."
"And you, Mr. Dalzell. But let me see—-wasn't your liberty for the purpose of paying a visit?"
"Yes, sir," Dan answered, coloring.
"And you are strolling, instead?"
"Yes, sir; the person on whom I went to call was not there."
"Then, Mr. Darrin, you should have returned to Bancroft Hall, and reported your return."
"Yes, sir; I should have done that," Dan confessed in confusion."The truth is, sir, it hadn't occurred to me."
"Return at once, Mr. Dalzell, and place yourself on report for strolling without permission."
"Yes, sir."
Both midshipmen saluted, then turned for the shortest cut to MarylandAvenue, and thence to the gate at the end of that thoroughfare.
"Ragged!" muttered Dan. "And without the slightest intention of doing anything improper."
"It was improper, though," Dave replied quickly, "and both you and I should have thought of it in time."
"I really forgot."
"Forgot to think, you mean, Dan, and that's no good excuse in bodies of men where discipline rules. Really, I should have gone on report, too."
"But you had liberty to stroll in town."
"Yes; but I'm guilty in not remembering to remind you of your plain duty."
Lieutenant Adams had not in the least enjoyed ordering Dan to place himself on report. The officer had simply done his duty. To the average civilian it may seem that Dan Dalzell had done nothing very wrong in taking a walk when he found the purpose of his call frustrated; but discipline, when it imposes certain restrictions on a man, cannot allow the man himself to be the judge of whether he may break the restrictions. If the man himself is to be the judge then discipline ceases to exist.
"So I've got to stick myself on pap, and accept a liberal handful of demerits, all on account of a girl?" grumbled Dan, as the chums turned into the road leading to Bancroft Hall."
"That is largely because you couldn't get the girl out of your head," Dave rejoined. "Didn't I tell you, Danny, that you hadn't head enough to give any of your attention to the other sex?"
"It's tough to get those demerits, though," contended Dan. "I imagine there'll be a large allowance of them, and in his fourth year a fellow can't receive many demerits without having to get out of the Academy. One or two more such scrapes, and I'll soon be a civilian, instead of an officer in the Navy!"
"See here, Dan; I'll offer an explanation that you can make truthfully. Just state, when you're called up, that you and I were absorbed talking football, and that you really forgot to turn in the right direction while your mind was so full of Navy football. That may help some."
"Yes; it will—-not!"
Dan Dalzell passed into the outer room of the officer in charge, picked up a blank and filled it out with the report against himself.
Dave was waiting outside as Dan came out from the disagreeable duty of reporting himself.
"Hang the girls!" Dalzell muttered again disgustedly.
Dan Dalzell, on the point of stepping out of Bancroft Hall, wheeled like a flash, and bounded back against Farley, Jetson and Page.
"Don't look!" whispered Dan hoarsely. "Duck!"
"What on earth is the matter?" demanded Midshipman Darrin, eyeing his chum sharply.
"I—-I don't know what it is," muttered Dan, after he had backed his friends some feet from the entrance.
"What does it look like?" asked Farley.
"Something like a messenger boy," returned Dan.
"Surely, you're not afraid of a messenger boy with a telegram," laughed Darrin. "Little chance that the message is for you, at any rate."
"But—-it's got a Naval uniform on, I tell you," warned Dan.
"No; you hadn't told us. What is it—-another midshipman?"
"Not by a jugful!" Dan sputtered. "It's wearing an officer's uniform."
"Then undoubtedly you chanced to glance at an officer of theNavy," Darrin replied, sarcastically soothing. "Brace up, Dan."
"But he's only a kid!" remonstrated Dan. "And he wear a lieutenant's insignia!"
"Bosh! Some officers are quite boyish-looking," remarked Farley. "Come on out, fellows; I haven't forgotten how to salute an officer when I see one."
The others, except Dan, started briskly for the entrance. As forDalzell, he brought up the rear, grumbling:
"All right; you fellows go on out and see whether you see him. If you don't, then I'm going to report myself at hospital without delay. Really, I can't swear that I saw—-it."
But at that moment the object of Dan's alarm reached one of the doors of the entrance of Bancroft Hall and stepped briskly inside.
This new-comer's glance fell upon the knot of midshipmen, and he glanced at them inquiringly, as though to see whether these young men intended to salute him.
Surely enough, the newcomer was decidedly boyish-looking, yet he wore the fatigue uniform and insignia of a lieutenant of the United States Navy. If he were masquerading, here was a dangerous place into which to carry his antics.
The five midshipmen brought their right hands hesitatingly to the visors of their uniform caps. The very youthful lieutenant smartly returned their salutes, half smiled, then turned, in search of the officer in charge.
"Scoot! Skip! Let's escape!" whispered Dan hoarsely, and all five midshipmen were speedily out in the open.
"Now, did you fellows really see—-it—-or did I have a delusion that I saw you all salute when I did?"
"I saw it," rejoined Farley, "and I claim it, if no one else wants it."
"The service is going to the dogs," growled Page, "when they give away a lieutenant's uniform with a pound of tea!"
"What ails you fellows?" rebuked Dave Darrin. "The man who passed us was a sure-enough lieutenant in the Navy."
"Him?" demanded Midshipman Dalzell, startled out of his grip onEnglish grammar. "A lieutenant? That—-that—-kid?"
"He's a lieutenant of the Navy, all right," Dave insisted.
"You're wrong," challenged Page. "Don't you know, Dave, that a man must be at least twenty-one years old in order to hold an officer's commission in the Navy?"
"That man who received our salutes is a Naval, officer," Dave retorted. "I don't know anything about his age."
"Why, that little boy can't be a day over seventeen," gasped DanDalzell. "Anyway, fellows, I'm overjoyed that you all saw him!That takes a load off my mind as to my mental condition."
"Whoever he is, he's a Navy officer, and he has trod the bridge in many a gale," contended Dave. "Small and young as he looks, that man had otherwise every bit of the proper appearance of a Navy officer."
"What a joke it will be on you," grinned Page, "when you find the watchman dragging the little fellow away to turn over to the doctors from the asylum!"
The midshipmen were on their way to report for afternoon football work. As they had started a few minutes early, and had time to spare, they had now halted on the way, and were standing on the sidewalk in front of the big and handsome barracks building.
"Can you fellows still use your eyes?" Dave wanted to know. "If you can, look toward the steps of Bancroft."
The officer in charge was coming out. At his side was the very youthful looking one in the lieutenant's uniform.
"The O.C. is decoying the stranger away to turn him over to the watchmen without violence," guessed Midshipman Farley.
Three officers were approaching. These the five midshipmen turned and saluted. In another moment all of the five save Dave Darrin received a sharp jolt. For the O.C. had halted and was introducing the three Navy officers to the youthful one.
"This is Lieutenant Benson, the submarine expert of whom you have heard so much," said the O.C., loudly enough for the amazed middies to hear.
"Sub—-sub——say, did you fellows hear that?" begged Dan hoarsely.
"Yes," assented Dave calmly. "And say, you fellows are a fine lot to be serving here. You all remember Mr. Benson. He was here last year—-he and his two submarine friends. We didn't see them, because our class didn't go out on the Pollard submarine boat that was here last year. But you remember them, just the same. You remember, too, that Mr. Benson and his friends were hazed by some of the men in last year's youngster class. You heard about that? A lot of the fellows came near getting ragged, but Benson didn't take offense, and his quick wit pulled that lot of last year's youngsters out of a bad fix."
"Then Benson and his mates are real people?" demanded Dan, still doubtful, if his voice were an indication.
"Yes; and Benson is a real submarine expert, too, even if he is a boy," Dave went on.
"Then he is only a boy?"
"He's seventeen or eighteen."
"Then how can he be a lieutenant?" demanded Dalzell, looking more bewildered.
"He isn't," Dave answered simply.
"But the O.C. introduced him that way."
"And quite properly," answered Darrin, whereat his companions stared at him harder than ever.
"Let's walk along," proposed Dave, "and I'll tell you the little that I know, or think I know, about the matter. Of course, you fellows all know about the Pollard submarine boats? The government owns a few of them now, and is going to buy a lot more of the Pollard craft."
"But that kid officer?" insisted Dan.
"If you'll wait I'll come to that. Benson, his name is; Jack Benson he's commonly called. He and two boy friends got in on the ground floor at the Farnum shipyard. They were boys of considerable mechanical skill, and they found their forte in the handling of submarine boats. They've done some clever, really wonderful feats with submarines. Farnum, the owner of the yard, trusted these boys, after a while, to show off the fine points of the craft to our Navy officers and others."
"But what has that to do with giving Benson a commission in theNavy?" demanded Farley.
"I'm coming to that," Dave replied. "As I've heard the yarn, Benson and his two boy friends attracted attention even from the European governments. The Germans and some other powers even made them good offers to desert this country and go abroad as submarine experts. Our Navy folks thought enough of Benson and his chums to want to save them for this country. So the Secretary of the Navy offered all three the rank and command of officers without the actual commissions. As soon as these young men, the Submarine Boys as they are called, are twenty-one, the Navy Department will bestir itself to give them actual commissions and make them real staff or line officers."
"So that those kids will rank us in the service?" grumbled Dan.
"Well, up to date," replied Dave quietly, "the Submarine Boys have done more for their country than we have. Of course, in the end, we may be admirals in the Navy, even before they're captains. Who can tell?"
"I wonder what Benson is doing here?" murmured Farley.
"Lieutenant Benson," Dave corrected him, "is probably here on official business. If you want exact details, suppose we stop at the superintendent's house and ask him."
"Quit your kidding," grinned Farley.
"So I've got to say 'sir,' if that boy speaks to me?" asked Dan.
"I think it would be better," smiled Darrin, "if you're anxious to escape another handful of demerits."
By the time that the football squad began to assemble on the football field, Dan and his friends found that some of the midshipmen were full of information about the famous Submarine Boys. Readers who may not be familiar with the careers of Lieutenant Jack Benson, Ensign Hal Hastings, and Ensign Eph Somers are referred to the volumes of theSubmarine Boys' Series. In"The Submarine Boys and the Middies"will be found the account of the hazing that Jack, Hal and Eph had received at the hands of midshipmen.
Benson and his two friends, with a crew of four men, were now at the Naval Academy, having arrived at two o'clock that afternoon, for the purpose of giving the first classmen instruction aboard the latest Pollard submarine, the "Dodger."
But play was called, and that stopped, for the time being, all talk about the Submarine Boys.
The following afternoon, at the hour for instruction in the machine shops, the entire first class was marched down to the basin, where the "Dodger" lay. Squad by squad the midshipmen were taken on board the odd-looking little craft that was more at home beneath the waves than on them.
While the exact place and scale of importance of submarine war craft has not been determined as yet, boats of the Pollard type are certainly destined to play a tremendously important part in the Naval wars of the future. Hence all of the midshipmen were deeply interested in what they saw and were told.
Some of these first classmen were twenty-four years of age, others from twenty to twenty-two. Hence, with many of them, there was some slight undercurrent of feeling over the necessity for taking instruction from such very youthful instructors as Jack Benson, Hal Hastings and Eph Somers.
Had any of this latter trio been inclined to put on airs there might have been some disagreeable feeling engendered in the breasts of some of the middies. But Jack and his associates were wholly modest, pleasant and helpful.
Beginning on the following day, it was announced, the "Dodger" would take a squad of six midshipmen down Chesapeake Bay for practical instruction in submarine work, both above and below the surface of the water. This instruction would continue daily, with squads of six midshipmen on board, until all members of the first class had received thorough drilling.
"That's going to be a mighty pleasant change from the usual routine here," whispered Farley in Dave's ear.
"It surely will," Darrin nodded. "It will be even better fun than football."
"With no chance for the Army to beat us out on this game," Farley replied slyly.
At last it came the turn of Dave, Dan, Farley, Page, Jetson andWolgast to go aboard the "Dodger."
"Gentlemen," announced Lieutenant Jack Benson, "Ensign Somers will show you all that is possible about the deck handling and the steering below the surface, and then Ensign Hastings will explain the mechanical points of this craft. When both are through, if you have any questions. I will endeavor to answer them."
In a few minutes the "showing" had been accomplished.
"Any questions, gentlemen?" inquired Lieutenant Benson.
Dave was ready with three; Farley had four and Jetson two. Lieutenant Benson looked particularly pleased as he answered. Then, at last, he inquired:
"What's your name?"
"Darrin, sir," Dave replied.
The other midshipmen present were asked their names, and gave them.
"Gentlemen," continued youthful Lieutenant Benson, "this present squad impresses me as being more eager and interested in submarines than any of the squads that have come aboard."
"Thank you, sir," Dave replied for himself and the others.
"Are you really exceptionally interested?" inquired Benson.
"I think we are, sir," Dave responded.
"On Saturday of each week, as long as the 'Dodger' is at Annapolis," went on Benson, "we intend to take out one of the best squads. We shall drop down the Bay, not returning, probably before Sunday noon. Would you gentlemen like to be the first squad to go on the longer cruise—-next Saturday?"
The faces of all six midshipmen shone with delight for an instant, until Dave Darrin answered mournfully:
"It would give us great delight, sir, but for one thing. We play Creighton University next Saturday, and we are all members of the Navy team."
"None of you look forward to having to go to hospital during the progress of the game, do you?" inquired Lieutenant Benson with a slight smile.
"Hardly, sir."
"Then the 'Dodger' can sail an hour after the finish of the game, and perhaps stay out a little later on Sunday. Will that solve the problem?"
"Splendidly, sir!"
"Then I will use such persuasion as I can with the superintendent to have you six men detailed for the Saturday-Sunday detail this week," promised Lieutenant Benson. "And now I will write your names down, in order that there may be no mistake about the squad that reports to me late next Saturday afternoon. Dismissed!"
As Dave and his friends stepped ashore even Dan Dalzell had a more gracious estimate of "that kid, Benson."
That night, and for several nights afterwards, the "Dodger" and her officers furnished a fruitful theme for discussion among the midshipmen. As the "Dodger" was believed to be the very finest submarine craft anywhere among the navies of the world, the interest grew rather than waned.
Dave and Dan, as well as their four friends, began to look forward with interest to the coming cruise down the bay.
"Fellows," warned Wolgast, "you'll have to look out not to get your heads so full of submarines that you lose to Creighton on Saturday."
"On the contrary," retorted Dave, "you can look for us to push Creighton all over the field. We'll do it just as a sheer vent to our new animal spirits."
That was a decidedly boastful speech for Dave Darrin, yet on Saturday he made good, or helped tremendously, for Creighton retired from the field with the small end of an eight-to-two score.
"Now, hustle on the dressing," roared Wolgast, as they started to un-tog and get under the showers, after the football victory.
"What's the need of rush?" demanded Peckham one of the subs.
"It doesn't apply to you," Wolgast shot back over his shoulder, as he started on a run to the nearest shower. "I'm talking only to to-night's submarine squad."
The six midshipmen found many an envious look shot in their direction.
"Those extremely youthful officers seem to have a bad case of spoons on you six," remarked Peckham almost sourly.
"Show some nearly human intelligence, and maybe you'll get a chance at one of the Saturday cruises, Peckham," called back Farley, as he began to towel down vigorously.
Dave and his friends were the first men of the team to be dressed and ready to leave.
"Give our best regards to Davy Jones!" shouted one of the football men.
"If you go down to the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, and can't get up again, don't do anything to spoil the fishing," called another middy.
By this time Dave Darrin and his mates were outside and on their way to the basin.
Lieutenant Jack Benson was the only one of the "Dodger's" officers on view when the midshipmen arrived alongside. They passed aboard, saluting Benson, who returned their salutes without affectation.
"All here?" said Benson. "Mr. Somers, tumble the crew on deck!"
"Shall we go below, sir?" inquired Dave, again saluting.
"Not until so directed," Benson replied. "I wish you to see every detail of the boat handling."
At Lieutenant Jack's command the crew threw the hawsers aboard and soon had them out of the way.
Benson gave the starting signal to Eph Somers.
No sooner had the "Dodger's" hawsers been cast aboard than the submarine torpedo boat headed out. It was a get-away swift enough—-almost to take the breath of the midshipmen.
"You see, gentlemen," Lieutenant Benson explained quietly, "we act on the theory that in submarine work every second has its value when in action. So we have paid a good deal of attention to the speedy start. Another thing that you will note is that, aboard so small a craft, it is important that, as far as is possible, the crew act without orders for each move. What do you note of the crew just now?"
"That they performed their work with lightning speed, sir, and that they have already gone below, without waiting for orders to that effect."
"Right," nodded Jack Benson. "Had the crew been needed on deck I would have ordered them to remain. As I did not so order they have gone below, where they are out of the way until wanted. A craft that fights always on the surface of the water should have some men of the crew always on deck. But here on a submarine the men would be in the way, and we want a clear range of view all over the deck, and seaward, in order that we may see everything that it is possible to see. Mr. Darrin, Mr. Dalzell and Mr. Farley will remain on deck with me. The other young gentlemen will go below to study the workings of the engines under Ensign Hastings."
Though it was a true pleasure trip for all six of the midshipmen, it was one of hard, brisk instruction all the time.
"Here, you see," explained Lieutenant Jack, leading his trio just forward of the conning tower, "we have a deck wheel for use when needed. Mr. Somers, give up the wheel."
"Aye, aye, sir," and Ensign Eph, who had been sitting at the tower wheel since the start, moved away and came on deck.
"Mr. Darrin, take the wheel," directed Benson. "Are you familiar with the Bay?"
"Not sufficiently, sir, to be a pilot."
"Then I will give you your directions from time to time. How does this craft mind her wheel?"
"With the lightest touch, sir, that I ever saw in a wheel."
"The builders of the 'Dodger' have been working to make the action of the steering wheel progressively lighter with each boat that they have built. Men on a submarine craft must have the steadiest nerves at all times, and steady nerves do not go hand in hand with muscle fatigue."
Lieutenant Jack walked to the entrance to the conning tower."Mallock!" he called down to one of the crew.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"My compliments to Mr. Hastings, and ask him to crowd the speed of the boat gradually."
"Aye, aye, sir."
The "Dodger" had been moving down the bay at a ten-knot pace. Suddenly she gave a jump that caused Midshipman Dave Darrin to wonder. Then the submarine settled down to a rushing sixteen-knot gait."
"I didn't know, sir," ventured Farley, "that submarines could go quite so fast."
"The old types didn't," Lieutenant Jack answered. "However, on the surface a capable submarine must be able to show a good deal of speed."
"For getting away, sir?"
"Oh, no. Naturally, when a submarine is pursued she can drop under the surface and leave no trail. But suppose a single submarine to be guarding a harbor, unaided by other fighting craft. A twenty-or twenty-two knot battleship is discovered, trying to make the harbor. Even if the battleship steams away the submarine should be capable of following. The engines of the 'Dodger,' in favorable weather, can drive her at twenty-six knots on the surface."
"She's as fast as a torpedo-boat destroyer, then, sir," hazarded Dan.
"Yes; and the submarine needs to be as fast. With the improvement of submarine boats the old style of torpedo boat will pass out altogether. Then, if the destroyer is retained the submarine must be capable of attacking the destroyer on equal terms. Undoubtedly, after a few years more the river gunboat and the submarine torpedo boat will be the only small fighting craft left in the navies of the leading powers of the world."
Even while this brief conversation was going on the speed of the "Dodger" had begun to increase again. Ensign Hasting's head showed through the opening in the conning tower.
"We're going now at a twenty-knot clip, sir," Hal reported. "Do you wish any more speed?"
"Not in Chesapeake Bay; navigating conditions are not favorable."
"Very good, sir." Hal vanished below. Never very talkative, Hal was content to stand by his engines in silence when there was no need of talking.
From time to time, as the craft sped on down the bay, LieutenantBenson glanced at the chronometer beside the deck wheel.
"You don't have the ship's bell struck on this craft, sir?" inquiredMidshipman Darrin.
"Only when at anchor or in dock," replied Lieutenant Jack Benson. "A submarine's natural mission is one of stealth, and it wouldn't do to go about with a clanging of gongs. Now, let me have the wheel, Mr. Darrin. You gentlemen go to the conning tower and stand so that you can hear what goes on below."
While the three midshipmen stood as directed the speed of the"Dodger" slackened.
Then, after a space of a full minute, the submarine returned to her former twenty-knot speed.
"Did you hear any clanging or jangling of a signal bell or gong when the speeds were changed?" questioned Lieutenant Benson.
"No, sir," Darrin answered.
"That was because no bells were sounded," explained Benson. "From deck or conning tower signals can be sent that make no noise. On a dark night, or in a fog, we could manoeuvre, perhaps, within a stone's throw of an enemy's battleship, and the only sound that might betray our presence would be our wash as we moved along. Take the wheel, Mr. Farley."
Then, after giving Farley a few directions as to the course to follow, Lieutenant Benson added:
"Take command of the deck, Mr. Farley."
"Humph!" muttered Dan. "The lieutenant doesn't seem to be afraid that we'll run his craft into any danger."
"He knows as well as we do what would happen to me, if there were any disaster, and I had to explain it before a court of inquiry," laughed Midshipman Farley. "Hello! Who slowed the boat down?"
Dan had done it, unobserved by his comrades, in an irrepressible spirit of mischief. He had reached over, touching the indicator, and thus directing the engine-room man to proceed at less speed. Dalzell, however, did not answer.
"I'd like to know if the speed were slackened intentionally," fussed Farley. "Darry, do you mind going below and inquiring?"
"Not in the least," smiled Dave, "but is it good Naval etiquette for one midshipman to use another midshipman as a messenger?"
"Oh, bother etiquette!" grunted Farley. "What would you really do if you were in command of the deck—-as I am—-and you wanted to ask a question, with the answer down below?"
"I'll go to the conning tower and summon a man on deck, if you wish," Dave offered.
Farley nodded, so Dave stepped over to the conning tower, calling down:
"One man of the watch—-on deck!"
Seaman Mallock was on deck in a hurry, saluting Midshipman Farley.
"Mallock, report to Lieutenant Benson, or the next ranking officer who may be visible below. Report with my compliments that the speed of the craft has slackened, and inquire whether that was intentional."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Mallock was soon back, saluting.
"Engine tender reports, sir, that he slowed down the speed in obedience to the indicator."
"But I——-" Farley began. Then he checked himself abruptly, noting out of the corner of his eye that Dan Dalzell had wandered over to the rail and stood looking off to seaward. If Dan were responsible for the slowing down of the speed, and admitted it under questioning, then Farley, under the regulations, would be obliged to report Dalzell, and that young man already had some demerits against his name.
"Oh, very good, then, Mallock," was Midshipman Farley's rather quick reply. "Who is the ranking officer visible below at present?"
"Ensign Somers, sir."
"Very good. My compliments to Mr. Somers, and ask at what speed he wishes to run."
Seaman Mallock soon returned, saluting.
"Ensign Somers' compliments sir, and the ensign replies that Mr.Farley is in command of the deck."
"Very good, then," nodded Midshipman Farley, and set the indicator at the twenty mark.
Ten minutes later Lieutenant Benson reappeared on deck. First of all he noted the "Dodger's" position. Then, as Ensign Eph and Mallock appeared, Benson announced:
"Gentlemen, you will come down to Supper now. Mr. Somers, you will take command of the deck."
"Very good, sir," Eph responded. "Mallock, take the wheel."
Lieutenant Benson seated himself at the head of the table, with Ensign Hastings on his right. The midshipmen filled the remaining seats.
"We're necessarily a little crowded on a craft of this size," explained Benson. "Also the service is not what it would be on a battleship. We can carry but few men, so the cook must also act as waiter."
At once a very good meal was set on the table, and all hands were busily eating when Eph Somers came down the stairs, saluted and reported:
"Sir, we are on the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, with our nose in the mud!"