"You want to see Darrin win?"
"If there has to be a fight, I do," replied Midshipman Hallam.
"Don't bet your money on him, anyway."
"I'm not a gambler, Penny, and I don't bet," replied Hallam, with a dignity that, somehow, ended the conversation.
Pennington had considerable difficulty, at first, in finding a second. At last, however, he induced Decker and Briggs to represent him.
These two midshipmen went to see Dan Dalzell.
"Wait until I send for Mr. Farley," proposed Dalzell. He soon had that midshipman, who was wholly willing to serve Darrin in any capacity.
"We're ready to have the fight this evening," proposed Midshipman Decker.
"We're not," retorted Dan, with vigor.
"Why not?"
"This forenoon Pennington deliberately stepped on Darrin's shoulder, with such force as to lame it a good deal," replied Dan. "Our man insists that he has a right to rest his shoulder, and to wait until to-morrow."
"But to-morrow we have a short shore liberty at Hampton Roads," remonstrated Briggs.
"Yes; and during that shore liberty we can have the fight more safely than on board ship," insisted Dalzell.
"But we intended to devote our shore leave to pleasure," objected Decker.
"You'll find plenty of pleasure, if you accept our proposition," urged Dan dryly. "At any rate, we won't hear of Darrin fighting before to-morrow. He must have to-night to rest that shoulder."
"All right; so be it," growled Decker, after a side glance at Briggs.
"On shore, at some point to be selected by the seconds?" asked Dan Dalzell.
"Yes; that's agreed."
Details as to whom to invite as referee and time-keeper were also arranged.
"I suppose we'll have to use up our shore leave that way, then," grunted Pennington, when told of the arrangement.
"There's one way you can save the day," grinned Decker.
"How?"
"Put Darrin to sleep in the first round, then hurriedly dress and leave, and enjoy your time on shore."
"But Darrin is a very able man with his fists," observed Pennington.
"Yes; but you're a mile bigger and heavier, and you're spry, too. You ought to handle him with all the ease in the world."
"I don't know," muttered Pennington, who didn't intend to make the mistake of bragging in advance. "I'll do my best, of course."
"Oh, you'll win out, if you're awake," predicted Midshipman Briggs confidently.
When the cadets were called, the following morning, they found the battleship fleet at anchor in Hampton Roads.
One after another the launches sped ashore, carrying their swarms of distinguished looking young midshipmen.
The fight party managed to get off all in the same boat, and on one of the earliest trips.
Pennington was to have ordinary shore leave on the cruise, his fifty demerits to be paid for by loss of privileges on his return to the Naval Academy.
"Decker," proposed Dan, "you and I can skip away and find a good place in no time. Then we can come back after the others."
"That's agreeable to me," nodded Midshipman Decker.
In twenty minutes the two seconds were back.
"We've found just the place," announced Decker. "And it isn't more than three minutes' walk from here. Will you all hurry along?"
"The place" turned out to be a barn that had not been used for a year or more. The floor was almost immaculately clean. In consideration of two dollars handed him, the owner had agreed to display no curiosity, and not to mention the affair to any one.
"How do you like it, Darry?" asked Dan anxiously.
"It will suit me as well as any other place," responded Dave, slipping off his blouse, folding it neatly and putting it aside, his uniform cap following.
"And you?" asked Decker of his man.
"The floor's hard, but I don't expect to be the man to hit it," replied Pennington.
In five minutes both midshipmen were attired for their "affair." Between them the different members of the party had smuggled ashore shoes, old trousers and belts for the fighters.
It being a class affair, Remington, of the third class, had come along as referee, while Dawley; was to be the time-keeper.
"If the principals are ready, let them step forward," ordered Midshipman Remington, going to the middle of the floor. "Now, I understand that this is to be a finish fight; rounds, two minutes; rests, two minutes. I also understand that the principals do not care to shake hands before the call to mix up."
Darrin and Pennington nodded their assent.
"Take your places, gentlemen," ordered the referee quickly. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"
"Yes," came from both principals.
"Time!"
Both men had their guards up. As the word left the referee's lips each tried two or three passes which the other blocked. Midshipman Pennington was trying to take his opponent's "measure."
Then Dave ducked, darted, dodged and wheeled about. Pennington had to follow him, and it made the latter angry.
"Stand up and fight, can't you," hissed Pen.
"Silence during the rounds, Mr. Pennington," admonished the referee quietly. "Let the officials do all the talking that may be necessary."
Dave, as he dodged again, and came up unscathed, grinned broadly over this rebuke. That grin made Pen angrier than anything else could have done.
"I'll wipe that grin off his face!" muttered Pennington angrily.
And this very thing Pennington tried hard to do. He was quick on his own feet, and for a few seconds he followed the dodging Darrin about, raining in blows that required all of Dave's adroitness to escape.
Dave's very success, however, made his opponent all the angrier. From annoyance, followed by excessive irritation, Pennington went into almost blind rage—and the man who does that, anywhere in life, must always pay for it.
Suddenly Dave swung his right in on the point of Pen's chin with a force that jolted the larger midshipman. As part of the same movement, Darrin's left crashed against Pennington's nose.
Then, out of chivalry, Dave dropped back, to give Pen a few moments, in case he needed them, to get his wits back.
"Time!" roared Dawley, and Pennington's seconds pounced upon him and bore him away to his corner.
"Now I know how that fellow Darrin wins his fights," growled Pennington in an undertone. "He keeps on running away until he has the other man gasping for breath. Then Darrin jumps in and wins."
"The method doesn't much matter," commented Briggs dryly, as he and Decker worked over their man. "It's the result that counts. Rush Darry into a tight corner, Pen, and then slam him hard and sufficiently."
"Thanks, fellows; now I'm all right for the second round." muttered Midshipman Pennington.
In a few seconds more Dave and his opponent were hard at work.
Dave still used his footwork, and most cleverly. Yet, wherever he went, Pen followed him nimbly. It didn't look so one sided now.
Then Pennington, at last, managed to deliver one blow on Darrin's right short ribs. It took a lot of Dave's spare wind; he raced about, seeking to regain his wind before allowing close quarters. But at last Pennington closed in again, and, after a swift feint, tried to land the same short-rib blow.
Darrin was watching, and blocked. Then, his temples reddening with anger, Dave swung in a huge one that crashed in under Pennington's right ear.
"Time!" shouted Dawley, just as Pen went to the floor in a heap. That saved the larger midshipman from having to take the count. His seconds had him ready at the call for the third round.
Now, suddenly, Darrin seemed to change not only his tactics, but his whole personality. To his opponent Dave seemed suddenly transformed into a dancing demon.
It was about the same old footwork, but it was aggressive now, instead of being defensive.
First, Dave landed a light tap on the already suffering nose. A few seconds later he landed on the point of Pen's chin, though not hard enough to send his man down. Then a rather light blow on the jaw, just under Pen's right ear again. The larger midshipman was now thoroughly alarmed. He feared that Darrin could do whatever he willed, and shivered with wonder as to when the knockout blow would come.
The truth was, Pennington was still putting up a better battle than he himself realized, and Darrin was not disposed to take any foolish chances through rushing the affair. Thus, the third round ended.
By the time that they came up for the fourth round, after both men had undergone some vigorous handling by their respective seconds, Pennington was a good deal revived and far more confident.
Dave's tactics were the same in the fourth round. Pennington didn't find time to develop much in the way of tactics for himself, save to defend himself.
During the first minute no important blows were landed on either side. Then, suddenly, Dave darted in and under, and brought a right-arm hook against Pen's nose in a way that started that member to bleeding again, and with a steady flow.
That jarred the larger midshipman. He plunged in, heavily and blindly, blocking one of Darrin's blows by wrapping both arms around him.
"None of that, Mr. Pennington! Break away fast!" ordered Midshipman Remington quickly.
Dave took a fair get away, not attempting to strike as the clinch was broken. But an instant later Dave came back, dancing all around his dazed opponent, landing on the short ribs, on the breast bone, under either ear and finally on the tip of the chin.
Pen was sure that none of these blows had been delivered with the force that Darrin could have sent in.
"Time!" shouted Midshipman Dawley.
The principals retired to their corners, Pennington almost wholly afraid from the conviction that his antagonist was now merely playing with him to keep the interest going.
So Pennington was still rather badly scared when the two came together for the fifth round.
"Get lively, now, gentlemen, if you can," begged Referee Remington. "Finish this one way or the other, and let us get some of the benefits of our shore leave."
Pen started by putting more steam behind every blow. Dave, who had used up so much of his wind by his brilliant footwork, began to find it harder to keep the upper hand.
Twice, however, he managed to land body blows. He was trying to drive in a third when Pennington blocked, following this with a left-arm jab on Darrin's left jaw that sent the lighter man to the floor.
Instantly Dawley began to count off the seconds.
"—seven, eight, nine, te——"
Dave was up on his feet. Pen tried to make a quick rush, but Darrin dodged cleverly, them wheeled and faced his opponent as the latter wheeled about.
After that there was less footwork. Both men stood up to it, as keenly alert as they could be, each trying to drive home heavy blows. While they were still at it the call of time sounded.
"Don't let him put it over you, David, little giant!" warned Dan, as the latter and Farley vigorously massaged Darrin's muscles. "He all but had you, and there isn't any need of making Pen a present of the meeting."
"I tried to get him," muttered Dave in an undertone, "and I shall go on trying to the last. But Pennington is pretty nearly superior to anyone in my class."
"Just waltz in and show him," whispered Dalzell, as the call sounded.
Pennington entered the sixth round with more confidence. He began, at the outset, to drive in heavy blows, nor did Dave do much dodging.
Bump! Twenty-five seconds only of this round had gone when Darrin landed his right fist with fearful force upon the high point of Pennington's jaw.
Down went the larger midshipman again. This time he moaned. His eyes were open, though they had a somewhat glassy look in them.
Dawley was counting off the seconds in measured tones.
"—seven, eight, nine—ten!"
Pen had struggled to rise to his feet, but sank back with a gasp of despair and rage.
"Mr. Pennington loses the count and the fight," announced Referee Remington coolly. "I don't believe we're needed here, Dawley. The seconds can handle the wreck. Come along."
As the two officials of the meeting hustled out of the barn, Dalzell gave his attention to helping his chum, while Farley went over to offer his services in getting the vanquished midshipman into shape.
"There were times when I could have closed both of Pennington's eyes," murmured Dave to Dan. "But I didn't want to give him any disfiguring marks that would start questions on board ship."
"You had him whipped from the start," murmured Dan confidently, as he sprayed, then rubbed Dave's chest and arms.
"Maybe, but I'm not so sure of that," rejoined Darrin. "That fellow isn't so easy a prize for any one in my class. There were times when I was all but convinced that he had me."
"Oh, fairy tales!" grunted Dan.
"Have it your own way, then, Danny boy!"
When Darrin and his seconds left the barn they went off to enjoy what remained of the shore leave. Pennington's seconds finally, at his own request, left him at an ice cream parlor, where he proposed to remain until he could return to the big, steel "Massachusetts" without exciting any wonder over the little time he had remained ashore. Pennington had strength to walk about, but he was far from being in really good shape, and preferred to keep quiet.
From Hampton Roads the Battleship Squadron, with the midshipmen on board, sailed directly for Plymouth, England.
During most of the voyage over slow cruising speed was used. By the time that England's coast was sighted the third-class middies found they knew much more about a battleship than they had believed to be possible at the start of the voyage.
They had served as firemen; they had mastered many of the electrical details of a battleship; they had received instruction and had "stood trick" by the engines; there had been some drill with the smaller, rapid-fire guns, and finally, they had learned at least the rudiments of "wig-wagging," as signaling by means of signal flags is termed.
It was just before the call to supper formation when England's coast loomed up. Most of the midshipmen stood at the rail, watching eagerly for a better glimpse at the coast.
Some of the midshipmen, especially those who came from wealthier families, had been in England before entering the Naval Academy. These fortunate ones were questioned eagerly by their comrades.
The battleships were well in sight of Eastern King Point when the midshipmen's call for supper formation sounded. Feeling that they would much have preferred to wait for their supper, the young men hastened below.
After the line was formed it seemed to the impatient young men as though it had never taken so long to read the orders.
Yet there came one welcome order, to the effect that, immediately after the morning meal, all midshipmen might go to the pay officer and draw ten dollars, to be charged against their pay accounts.
"That ten dollars apiece looms up large David, little giant," murmured Dan Dalzell, while the evening meal was in progress.
"We ought to have a lot of fun on it," replied Darrin, who was looking forward with greatest eagerness to his first visit to any foreign soil. "But how much shore leave are we to have?"
"Two days, the word is. We'll get it straight in the morning, at breakfast formation."
In defiance of regulations, Midshipman Pennington, whose father was wealthy, had several hundred dollars concealed in his baggage. He had already invited Hallam, Mossworth and Dickey to keep in his wake on shore, and these young men had gladly enough agreed.
"Say, but we're slackening speed!" quivered Dalzell, when the meal was nearly finished.
"Headway has stopped," declared Darrin a few moments later.
"Listen, everyone!" called Farley. "Don't you hear the rattle of the anchor chains?"
"Gentlemen, as we're forbidden to make too much racket," proposed irrepressible Dan, "let us give three silent cheers for Old England!"
Rising in his place, Dan raised his hand aloft, and brought it down, as his lips silently formed a "hurrah!"
Three times this was done, each time the lips of the midshipmen forming a silent cheer.
Then Dan, with a mighty swoop of his right arm, let his lips form the word that everyone knew to be "tiger!"
"Ugh-h-h!" groaned Midshipman Reilly.
"Throw that irresponsible Fenian out!" directed Dan, grinning.
Then the midshipmen turned their attention to the remnants of the meal.
Boom! sounded sharply overhead.
"There goes the twenty-one-gunner," announced Darrin.
When a foreign battleship enters a fortified port the visiting fleet, or rather, its flagship, fires a national salute of twenty-one guns. After a short interval following the discharge of the last gun, one of the forts on shore answers with twenty-one guns. This is one of the methods of observing the courtesies between nations by their respective fleets.
Ere all the guns had been fired from the flagship, the third classmen received the rising signal; the class marched out and was dismissed. Instantly a break was made for deck.
The midshipmen were in good time to see the smoke and hear the roar of guns from one of the forts on shore.
In the morning the commandant of cadets, as commanding officer of the squadron, would go ashore with his aide and pay a formal call to the senior military officer. Later in the day that English officer and one or two of his staff officers would return the call by coming out to the flagship. That accomplished, all the required courtesies would have been observed.
It was still broad daylight, for in summer the English twilight is a long one, and darkness does not settle down until late.
"Oh, if we were only going ashore to-night!" murmured Hallam. There were many others to echo the thought, but all knew that it could not be done.
"Couldn't we find a trick for slipping ashore after lights out?" eagerly queried Dickey, who was not noted as a "greaser."
"Could we?" quivered Hallam, who, with few demerits against him, felt inclined to take a chance.
But Pennington, to whom he appealed, shook his head.
"Too big a risk, Hally," replied Pen. "And trebly dangerous, with that greaser, Darrin, in the class."
"Oh, stow that," growled Hallam. "Darrin is no greaser. You've got him on your black books—that's all."
"He is a greaser, I tell you," cried Pennington fiercely.
There were a score of midshipmen in this group, and many of them nodded approvingly at Pennington's statement. Though still a class leader, Dave had lost some of his popularity since his report to the police of Annapolis.
So the middies turned in, that night, with unsatisfied dreams of shore life in England.
Soon after breakfast the next morning, however, every midshipman had drawn his ten dollars, even to Pennington, who had no use for such a trifling amount.
As fast as possible the launches ranged alongside at the side gangway, taking off groups of midshipmen, everyone of whom had been cautioned to be at dock in time to board a launch in season for supper formation.
Pennington and his party were among the first to land. They hurried away.
It was on the second trip of one of the launches that Dave, Dan and Farley made their get away. These three chums had agreed to stick together during the day. They landed at the Great Western Docks, to find themselves surrounded by eager British cabbies.
"Are we going to take a cab and get more quickly and intelligently to the best part of the town to see?" asked Farley.
"I don't vote for it," replied Darrin. "We have only five dollars apiece for each of the two days we're to be ashore. I move that we put in the forenoon, anyway, in prowling about the town for ourselves. We'll learn more than we would by riding."
"Come on, then," approved Dan.
Plymouth is an old-fashioned English seaport that has been rather famous ever since the thirteenth century. Many parts of the town, including whole streets, look as though the houses had been built since that time. This is especially true of many of the streets near the water front.
For two hours the three middies roamed through the streets, often meeting fellow classmen. Wherever the young midshipmen went many of the English workmen and shopkeepers raised their hats in friendly salute of the American uniform.
"We don't seem to run across Pen's gang anywhere," remarked Farley at last.
"Oh, no," smiled Dave. "That's a capitalistic crowd. They'll hit only the high spots."
Nevertheless, these three poor-in-purse midshipmen enjoyed themselves hugely in seeing the quaint old town. At noon they found a real old English chop house, where they enjoyed a famous meal.
"I wish we could slip some of these little mutton pies back with us!" sighed Dan wistfully.
In the afternoon the three chums saw the newer market place, where all three bought small souvenirs for their mothers at home. Darrin also secured a little remembrance present for his sweetheart, Belle Meade.
The guild hall and some of the other famous buildings were visited.
Later in the afternoon Dave began to inspect his watch every two or three minutes.
"No need for us to worry, with Dave's eye glued to his watch," laughed Dan.
"Come on, fellows," summoned Darrin finally. "We haven't more than time now to make the dock and get back to supper formation."
"Take a cab?" asked Farley. "You know, we've found that they're vastly cheaper than American cabs."
"No-o-o, not for me," decided Dave. "We'll need the rest of our shore money to-morrow, and our legs are good and sturdy."
Yet even careful Dave, as it turned out, had allowed no more than time. The chums reached the dock in time to see the launches half way between the fleet and shore. Some forty other midshipmen stood waiting on the dock.
Among these were Pennington and his party, all looking highly satisfied with their day's sport, as indeed they were.
Pennington's eyes gleamed when he caught sight of Darrin, Dalzell and Farley—for Pen had a scheme of his own in mind.
Not far from Pennington stood a little Englishman with keen eyes and a jovial face. Pen stepped over to him.
"There are the three midshipmen I was telling you about," whispered Pennington, slipping a half sovereign into the Englishman's hand. "You thoroughly understand your part in the joke, don't you?"
"Don't h'I, though—just, sir!" laughed the undersized Englishman, and strolled away.
Darrin and his friends were soon informed by classmates that the launches now making shore-ward were coming in on their last trip for midshipmen.
"Well, we're here in plenty of time," sighed Dave contentedly.
"Oh, I knew we'd be, with you holding the watch," laughed Dan in his satisfied way.
As the three stood apart they were joined by the undersized Englishman, who touched his hat to them with a show of great respect.
"Young gentlemen," he inquired, "h'I suppose, h'of course, you've 'ad a look h'at the anchor h'of Sir Francis Drake's flagship, the time 'e went h'out h'and sank the great Spanish h'Armada?"
"Why, no, my friend," replied Dave, looking at the man with interest. "Is that here at Plymouth?"
"H'assuredly, sir. H'and h'only a minute's walk h'over to that shed yonder, sir. H'if you'll come with me, young gentlemen, h'I'll show h'it to you. H'it's one of h'our biggest sights, h'and it's in me own custody, at present. Come this way, young gentlemen."
"That sounds like something worth seeing," declared Dave to his comrades. "Come along. It'll take the launches at least six minutes to get in, and then they'll stay tied up here for another five minutes."
With only a single backward glance at the young midshipmen, the undersized Englishman was already leading the way.
At quickened pace the young midshipmen reached the shed that had been indicated. Their guide had already drawn a key from a pocket, and had unsnapped the heavy padlock.
"Step right in, young gentlemen, h'and h'I'll follow h'and show h'it to you."
Unsuspecting, the three middies stepped inside the darkened shed. Suddenly the door banged, and a padlock clicked outside.
"Here, stop that, you rascally joker!" roared Dalzell, wheeling about. "What does this mean?"
"Big trouble!" spoke Dave Darrin seriously and with a face from which the color was fast receding.
"The scoundrel!" gasped Farley, his face whiter than any of the others.
Dave was already at the door, trying to force it open. But he might almost as well have tried to lift one of the twelve-inch guns of the battleship "Massachusetts."
"We're locked in—that's sure!" gasped Dalzell, almost dazed by the catastrophe.
"And what's more, we won't get out in a hurry, unless we can make some of our classmates hear," declared Dave.
For the next half minute they yelled themselves nearly hoarse, but no response came.
"What could have been that little cockney's purpose in playing this shabby trick on us?" demanded Farley.
"Perhaps the cockney thinks we're admirals, with our pockets lined with gold. Perhaps he and some of his pals intend to rob us, later in the evening," proposed Dan, with a ghastly grin.
"Any gang would find something of a fight on their hands, then," muttered Dave Darrin grimly.
All three were equally at a loss to think of any explanation for such a "joke" as this. Equally improbable did it seem that any thugs of the town would expect to reap any harvest from robbing three midshipmen.
Desperately they turned to survey their surroundings. The shed was an old one, yet strongly built. There were no windows, no other door save that at which the three middies now stood baffled.
"Another good old yell," proposed Darrin.
It was given with a lusty will, but proved as fruitless as the former one.
"We don't take the last launch back to ship," declared Farley, wild with rage.
"Which means a long string of demerits," said Dan.
"No shore leave to-morrow, either," groaned Darrin. "Fellows, this mishap will affect our shore leave throughout all the cruise."
"We can explain it," suggested Farley with a hopefulness that he did not feel at all.
"Of course we can," jeered Dave Darrin. "But what officer is fool enough to believe such a cock-and-bull story as this one will seem? At the very least, the commandant would believe that we had been playing some pretty stiff prank ourselves, in order to get treated in this fashion. No, no, fellows! We may just as well undeceive ourselves, and prepare to take the full soaking of discipline that we're bound to get. If we attempted this sort of explanation, we'd be lucky indeed to get through the affair without being tried by general court-martial for lying."
"Drake's anchor, indeed!" exclaimed Dan in deep self disgust.
"We ought to have known better," grunted Farley, equally enraged with himself. "What on earth made us so absent-minded as to believe that a priceless relic would be kept in an old shed like this?"
"We're sure enough idiots!" groaned Dan.
"Hold on there, fellows," interrupted Dave Darrin. "Vent all your anger right on me. I'm the great and only cause of this misfortune. It was I who proposed that we take up that cockney's invitation. I'm the real and only offender against decent good sense, and yet you both have to suffer with me."
"Let's give another yell, bigger than before," suggested Dan weakly.
They did, but with no better result than before.
"The launches are away now, anyway, I guess," groaned Farley, after consulting his watch.
"Yes, and we're up the tree with the commandant," grunted Dalzell bitterly.
"Yell again?" asked Farley.
"No," retorted Dave, shaking his head. "We've seen the uselessness of asking help from outside. Let's supply our own help. Now, then—altogether! Shoulder the door!"
A savage assault they hurled upon the door. But they merely caused it to vibrate.
"We can't do it," gasped Dan, after the third trial.
Considerable daylight filtered in through the cracks at top, bottom and one side of the door. Further back in the shed there was less light.
"Let's explore this old place in search of hope," begged Dave.
Together they started back, looking about keenly in what appeared to be an empty room.
"Say! Look at that!" cried Dave suddenly.
He pointed to a solid looking, not very heavy ship's spar.
"What good will that thing do us?" asked Farley rather dubiously.
"Let's see if we can raise it to our shoulders," proposed Dave Darrin radiantly. "Then well find out!"
"Hurrah!" quivered Dan Dalzell, bending over the spar at the middle.
"Up with it!" commanded Darrin, placing himself at the head of the spar. Farley took hold at the further end.
"Up with it!" heaved Midshipman Darrin.
Right up the spar went. It would have been a heavy job for three young men of their size in civil life, but midshipmen are constantly undergoing the best sort of physical training.
"Now, then—a fast run and a hard bump!" called Darrin.
At the door they rushed, bearing the spar as a battering ram.
Bump! The door shook and shivered.
"Once more may do it!" cheered Darrin. "Back."
Again they dashed the head of their battering ram against the door. It gave way, and, climbing through, they raced back to the pier.
But Dan, who had secured the lead, stopped with a groan, pointing out over the water.
"Not a bit of good, fellows! There go the launches, and we're the only fellows left! It's all up with our summer's fun!"
"Is it, though?" shouted Dave, spurting ahead. "Come on and find out!"
As they reached the front of the piers, down at the edge of a landing stage they espied a little steam tender.
"That boat has to take us out to the 'Massachusetts'!" cried Darrin desperately, as he plunged down the steps to the landing stage, followed by his two chums.
[Illustration: The Three Midshipmen Raced Toward the Pier.]
"Who's the captain here?" called Dave, racing across the landing stage to the tender's gangplank.
"I am, sir," replied a portly, red-faced Englishman, leaning out of the wheel-house window.
"What'll you charge to land us in haste aboard the American battleship 'Massachusetts'?" asked Darrin eagerly.
"Half a sov. will be about right, sir," replied the tender's skipper, touching his cap at sight of the American Naval uniform.
"Good enough," glowed Dave, leaping aboard. "Cast off as quickly as you can, captain, or we'll be in a heap of trouble with our discipline officers."
The English skipper was quick to act. He routed out two deckhands, who quickly cast off. Almost while the deckhands were doing this the skipper rang the engineer's bell.
"Come into the wheel-'ouse with me," invited the skipper pleasantly, which invitation the three middies accepted. "Now, then, young gentlemen, 'ow did it 'appen that you missed your own launches."
"It was a mean trick—a scoundrelly one!" cried Darrin resentfully. Then he described just what had happened.
The skipper's own bronzed cheeks burned to a deeper color.
"I can 'ardly believe that an Englishman would play such a trick on young h'officers of a friendly power," he declared. "But I told you, sir, the fare out to your ship would be half a sov. I lied. If a nasty little cockney played such a trick on you, it's my place, as a decent Englishman, to take you out for nothing—and that's the fare."
"Oh, we'll gladly pay the half sov." protested Darrin.
"Not on this craft you can't, sir," replied the skipper firmly.
Looking eagerly ahead, the three middies saw two of the launches go along side of the "Massachusetts" and discharge passengers. As the second left the side gangway the Briton, who had been crowding on steam well, ranged in along side.
"What craft is that, and what do you want?" hailed the officer of the deck, from above.
"The tender 'Lurline,' sir, with three of your gentlemen to put h'aboard of you, sir," the Briton bellowed through a window of the wheel-house.
"Very good, then. Come alongside," directed the officer of the deck.
In his most seamanlike style the Briton ranged alongside. Dave tried to press the fare upon the skipper, but he would have none of that. So the three shook hands swiftly but heartily with him, then sprang across to the side gangway, where they paused long enough to lift their caps to this stranger and friend. The Briton lifted his own cap, waving it heartily, ere he fell off and turned about.
"You didn't get aboard any too soon, gentlemen," remarked the officer of the deck, eyeing the three middies keenly as they came up over the side, doffing their uniform caps to the colors. "Hustle for the formation."
Midshipman Pennington was chuckling deeply over the supposed fact that he had at last succeeded in bringing Darrin in for as many demerits as Darrin had helped heap upon him.
"That'll break his heart as an avowed greaser," Pen told himself. "With all the demerits Darrin will get, he'll have no heart for greasing the rest of this year. It's rough on Farley, but I'm not quite as sorry for Dalzell, who, in his way, is almost as bad as Darrin. He's Darrin's cuckoo and shadow, anyway. Oh, I wish I could see Darrin's face now!"
This last was uttered just as Midshipman Pennington stepped into line at the supper formation.
"I wish I could see Darrin's face now!" Pen repeated to himself.
Seldom has a wish been more quickly gratified. For, just in the nick of time to avoid being reported, Midshipmen Darrin, Dalzell and Farley came into sight, falling into their respective places.
At that instant it was Midshipman Pennington's face, not Dave Darrin's, that was really worth studying.
"Now how did the shameless greaser work this!" Pennington pondered uneasily.
But, of course, he couldn't ask. He could only hope that, presently, he would hear the whole story from some other man in the class.
There is altogether too much to the summer practice cruise for it to be related in detail.
Nor would the telling of it prove interesting to the reader. When at sea, save on Sundays, the midshipman's day is one of hard toil.
It is no life for the indolent young man. He is routed out early in the morning and put at hard work.
On a midshipman's first summer cruise what he learns is largely the work that is done by the seamen, stokers, water tenders, electricians, the signal men and others.
Yet he must learn every phase of all this work thoroughly, for some day, before he becomes an officer, he must be examined as to his knowledge of all this great mass of detail.
It is only when in port that some relaxation comes into the midshipman's life. He has shore leave, and a large measure of liberty. Yet he must, at all times, show all possible respect for the uniform that he wears and the great nation that he represents. If a midshipman permits himself to be led into scrapes that many college boys regard as merely "larks," he is considered a disgrace to the Naval service.
Always, at home and abroad, the "middy" must maintain his own dignity and that of his country and service. Should he fail seriously, he is regarded by his superiors and by the Navy Department as being unfit to defend the honor of his flag.
The wildest group from the summer practice fleet was that made up of Pennington and his friends. Pen received more money in France from his fond but foolish father. Wherever Pennington's group went, they cut a wide swath of "sport," though they did nothing actually dishonorable. Yet they were guilty of many pranks which, had the midshipmen been caught, would have resulted in demerits.
Ports in France, Spain, Portugal and Italy were touched briefly. At some of these ports the midshipmen received much attention.
But at last the fleet turned back past Gibraltar, and stood on for the Azores, the last landing point before reaching home.
When two nights out from Gibraltar a sharp summer gale overtook the fleet. Even the huge battleships labored heavily in the seas, the "Massachusetts" bringing up the rear.
She was in the same position when the morning broke. The midshipmen, after breakfast, enjoyed a few minutes on the deck before going below for duty in the engine rooms, the dynamo room, the "stoke hole" and other stations.
Suddenly, from the stern rail, there went up the startled cry:
"Man overboard!"
In an instant the marine sentry had tumbled two life-preservers over into the water.
With almost the swiftness of telegraphy the cry had reached the bridge. Without stopping to back the engine the big battleship's helm was thrown hard over, and the great steel fighting craft endeavored to find her own wake in the angry waters with a view to going back over it.
Signal men broke out the news to the flagship. The other two great battleships turned and headed back in the interests of humanity.
It seemed almost as though the entire fleet had been swung out of its course by pressure on an electric button.
Officers who were not on duty poured out. The captain was the first to reach the quarter-deck. He strode into the midst of a group of stricken-looking midshipmen.
"Who's overboard!" demanded the commanding officer.
"Hallam, sir——"
"And Darrin, sir——"
"And Dalzell, sir——"
"How many?" demanded the captain sharply.
"Three, sir."
"How did so many fall overboard?"
"Mr. Hallam was frolicking, sir," reported Midshipman Farley, "and lost his footing."
"But Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell?" inquired the captain sharply.
"As soon as they realized it, sir, Darrin and Dalzell leaped overboard to go to Hallam's rescue, sir."
"It's a wonder," muttered the captain, glancing shrewdly at the bronzed, fine young fellows around him, "that not more of you went overboard as well."
"Many of them would, sir," replied Farley, "but an officer forward shouted: 'No more midshipmen go overboard,' So we stopped, sir."
Modest Mr. Farley did not mention the fact that he was running toward the stern, intent on following his chums into the rough sea at the very instant when the order reached him.
The captain, however, paused for no more information. He was now running forward to take the bridge beside the watch officer.
The midshipmen, too, hurried forward, mingling with the crew, as the big battleship swung around and tried to find her wake.
The flagship had crowded on extra steam, and was fast coming over the seas.
With such a sea running, it was well nigh impossible to make out so small a thing as a head or a life-preserver, unless it could be observed at the instant when it crested a wave.
Marine glasses were in use by every officer who had brought his pair to the deck. Others rushed back to their cabins to get them.
A lieutenant of the marine corps stood forward, close to a big group of sorrowing midshipmen.
"There are certain to be three vacancies in the Naval Academy," remarked the lieutenant.
"Don't say that, sir," begged Farley, in a choking voice. "The three overboard are among the finest fellows in the brigade!"
"I don't want to discourage any of you young gentlemen," continued the marine corps lieutenant. "But there's just about one chance in a thousand that we shall be able to sight and pick up any one of the unlucky three. In the first place, it would take a wonderful swimmer to live long in such a furious sea. In the second place, if all three are still swimming, it will be almost out of the question to make out their heads among the huge waves. You've none of you seen a man overboard before in a big sea?"
Several of the mute, anxious midshipmen shook their heads.
"You'll realize the difficulties of the situation within the next few minutes," remarked the lieutenant. "I am sorry to crush your hopes for your classmates, but this is all a part of the day's work in the Navy."
The largest steam launches from all three of the battleships were being swiftly lowered. Officers and men were lowered with the launches. As the launch shoved off from each battleship tremendous cheers followed them.
"Stop all unnecessary noise!" bellowed the watch officer from the bridge of the "Massachusetts." "You may drown out calls for help with your racket."
While the three battleships went back over their courses in more stately fashion, the launches darted here and there, until it seemed as though they must cover every foot within a square mile.
"I don't see how they can help finding the three," Farley declared hopefully.
"That is," put in another third classman, "if any of the three are still afloat."
"Stow all talk of that sort," ordered Farley angrily.
Other midshipmen joined in with their protests. When a man is overboard in an angry sea all hands left behind try to be optimists.
When fifteen minutes had been spent in the search the onlooking but helpless middies began to look worried.
At the end of half an hour some of them looked haggard. Farley's face was pitiable to see.
At the end of an hour of constant but fruitless searching hardly any one felt any hope of a rescue now.
All three midshipmen, the "man overboard" and his two willing, would-be rescuers, were silently conceded to be drowned.
Yet the hardest blow of all came when, at the end of an hour and a quarter, the flagship signaled the recall of the small boats.
Then, indeed, all hope was given up. In an utter human silence, save for the husky voicing of the necessary orders, the launches were hoisted on board. Then the flagship flew the signal for resuming the voyage.
There were few dry eyes among the third class midshipmen when the battleships fell in formation again and proceeded on their way.
As a result of more signals flown from the flagship, all unnecessary duties of midshipmen for the day were ordered suspended.
In the afternoon the chaplain on each battleship held funeral services over the three lost midshipmen. Officers, middies and crew attended on board each vessel.
Dave Darrin stood within ten feet of Hallam when that latter midshipman had lost his balance and fallen into the boiling sea.
Dave's spring to the stern rail was all but instantaneous. He was overboard, after his classmate, ere the marine had had time to leap to the life buoys.
Out of the corner of one eye Dan Dalzell saw the marine start on the jump, but Dan was overboard, also, too soon to see exactly what the marine sentry was doing.
Both daring midshipmen sank beneath the surface as they struck.
As Dan came up, however, his hand struck something solid and he clutched at it. It was one of the life buoys.
As he grasped it, and drew his head up a trifle, Dan saw another floating within thirty feet of him. Swimming hard, and pushing, Dan succeeded in reaching the other buoy. He now rested, holding on to both buoys.
"Now, where's David, that little giant?" muttered Dalzell, striving hard to see through the seething waters and over the tops of foam-crested waves.
After a few minutes Dan began to feel decidedly nervous.
"Yet Dave can't have gone down, for he's a better swimmer than I am," was Dan's consoling thought.
At last Dalzell caught sight of another head. He could have cheered, but he expended his breath on something more sensible.
"Dave!" he shouted. "Old Darry! This way! I have the life buoys."
At the same time, holding to both of them, but kicking frantically with his feet, Dalzell managed slowly to push the buoys toward Dave.
Soon after he had started, Dan did utter a cheer, even though it was checked by an inrush of salt water that nearly strangled him.
He saw two heads. Dave Darrin was coming toward him, helping Hallam.
The wind carried the cheer faintly to Dave. He raised his head a little in the water, and caught sight of Dan and the buoys.
Some three minutes it took the two chums to meet. Dave Darrin was all but exhausted, for Hallam was now unconscious.
As Darrin clutched at the buoy he tried to shout, though the voice came weakly:
"Catch hold of Hallam. I'm down and——"
But Dan understood, even before he heard. While Dave clutched at one of the life buoys Dalzell shot out an arm, dragging Hallam in to safety.
Now, it was Darrin who, with both arms, contrived to link the buoys together.
At last the youngsters had a chance to observe the fact that the battleships had put about and were coming back.
"We'll soon be all right," sighed Dave contentedly, as soon as he could speak. "There are thirty-five hundred officers, middies and sailors of the American Navy to look after our safety."
From where they lay as they hung to the buoys the chums could even see the launches lowered.
Dan, with some of the emergency lashing about the buoy, succeeded, after a good deal of effort, and with some aid from Dave, in passing a cord about Hallam and under the latter's armpits that secured that midshipman to one of the buoys. The next move of the chums was to lash the buoys together.
"Now," declared Dave, "we can't lose. We can hang on and be safe here for hours, if need be."
"But what a thundering long time it takes them to bring the battleships around to get to us!" murmured Midshipman Dalzell in wonder.
"Be sure not an unnecessary second has been lost," rejoined Dave. "We're learning something practical now about the handling of big craft."
"I wonder if Hally's a goner?" murmured Dan in an awe-struck voice.
"I don't believe it," Dave answered promptly. "Once we get him back aboard ship the medicos will do a little work over him and he'll sit up and want to know if dinner's ready."
Then they fell silent, for, with the roar of wind and waters, it was necessary for them to shout when they talked.
As the minutes went by slowly, the two conscious midshipmen found themselves filled with amazement.
A dozen times the launches darted by, not far away. It seemed impossible that the keen, restless eyes of the seekers should not discover the imperiled ones.
At such times Dave and Dan shouted with all the power of their lusty young lungs.
Alternately Dan and Dave tried the effect of rising as far as they could and frantically waving an arm. There was not a cap to wave among the three of them.
"I'm beginning to feel discouraged," grunted Dave in disgust at last. "They must have spent a full half day already looking for us."
"Merciful powers!" gasped Dan at last, as they rode half way up the slope of a big wave. "I just caught sight of the 'recall of boats' flying from the flagship!"
"No!" gasped Dave incredulously.
"Yes, I did!"
"But—"
"They've failed and have given up the search," spoke Dan rather despairingly.
"But—"
"We may as well face it," muttered Dan brokenly. "They don't believe that any of us has survived, and we've been abandoned."
"Then," spoke Dave Darrin very coolly, "there's nothing left for us but to die like men of the American Navy."
"It seems heartless, needless," protested Dan.
"No," broke in Darrin. "They've done their best. They're convinced that we're lost. And I should think they would be, after all the time they've searched for us—half a day, at least."
Dan said nothing, but tugged until he succeeded in bringing his watch up to the light.
"The blamed thing is water-logged," he uttered disgustedly.
"Why?"
"The hands point to less than half past nine!"
Darrin managed to get at his own watch.
"My timepiece doesn't call for half past nine, either," he announced.
"Can it be possible—"
"Yes; the time has only seemed longer, I reckon," observed Dalzell.
"Well, we'll face it like men," proposed Dave.
"Of course," nodded Dan. "At least, we're going down in the ocean, and we wear the American Naval uniform. If there's any choice in deaths, I guess that's as good and manly a one as we could choose."
"Poor old Hally won't know much about it, anyway, I guess," remarked Darrin, who seemed unnaturally cool. Possibly he was a bit dazed by the stunning nature of the fate that seemed about to overtake them.
"Maybe the ships will go by us in their final get-away," proposed Dan Dalzell very soberly.
"Not if I'm seaman enough to read the compass by what's visible of the sun," returned Midshipman Darrin.
"Then there's no help for it," answered Dan, choking slightly. "I wonder if we could do anything for Hallam?"
"We won't do anything to bring him to, anyway," muttered Darrin. "Under these circumstances I wouldn't do anything as mean as that to a dog!"
"Maybe he's dead already, anyway," proposed Dan, now hopefully.
"I hope so," came from Darrin.
Now they saw the not very distant battleships alter their courses and steam slowly away.
All was now desolation over the angry sea, as the battleships gradually vanished. The two conscious midshipmen were now resolved to face the end bravely. That was all they could do for themselves and their flag.
By the time that little more than the mastheads of the departing battleships were visible, Hallam opened his eyes.
It would have seemed a vastly kinder fate had he been allowed to remain unconscious to the last.
Hallam had not been strangled by the inrush of water. In going overboard, this midshipman had struck the water with the back of his head and had been stunned. In the absence of attention he had remained a long time unconscious.
Even now the hapless midshipman whose frollicking had been the cause of the disaster, did not immediately regain his full senses.
"Why, we're all in the water," he remarked after a while.
"Yes," assented Darrin, trying to speak cheerfully.
Midshipman Hallam remained silent for some moments before he next asked:
"How did it happen?"
"Fell overboard," replied Dan laconically, failing to mention who it was who had fallen over the stern.
Again a rather long silence on Hallam's part. Then, at last, he observed:
"Funny how we all fell over at the same time."
To this neither of his classmates made any rejoinder.
"See here," shouted Hallam, after a considerable period of silent wondering, "I remember it all now. I was fooling at the stern rail and I toppled overboard."
Dan nodded without words.
"And you fellows jumped in after me," roared Hallam, both his mental and bodily powers now beginning to return. "Didn't you?"
"Of course," assented Darrin rather reluctantly.
"And what became of the fleet!"
Dave and Dan looked at each other before the former replied:
"Oh, well, Hally, brace up! The ships searched for us a long time, and some launches were put out after us. But they couldn't see our little heads above the big waves, and so——"
"They've gone away and left us?" queried Hallam, guessing at once. "Now, fellows, I don't mind so much for myself, but it's fearful to think that I've dragged you into the same fate. It's awful! Why couldn't you have left me to my fate?"
"Would you have done a thing like that?" demanded Dave dryly.
"Oh, well, I suppose not, but—but—well, I wish I had been left to pay the price of my tomfoolery all alone. It would have served me right. But to drag you two into it—"
Hallam could go no further. He was choking up with honest emotion.
"Don't bother about it, Hally," urged Dave. "It's all in the day's work for a sailor. We'll just take it as it comes, old fellow."
To not one of the trio did it occur to let go of the life buoys and sink as a means of ending misery. In the first place, human instinct holds to hope. In the second place, suicide is the resort of cowards.
"None of you happened to hide any food in his pockets at breakfast, I take it?" asked Dan grimly, at last.
Of course they hadn't.
"Too bad," sighed Dan. "I'm growing terribly hungry."
"Catch a fish," smiled back Darrin.
"And eat it raw?" gasped Dalzell. "Darry, you know my tastes better than that."
"Then wait a few hours longer," proposed Dave, "until even raw fish will be a delicacy."
Hallam took no part in the chaffing. He was miserably conscious, all the while, that his own folly had been solely responsible for the present plight of these noble messmates.
Thus the time passed on. None kept any track of it; they realized only that it was still daylight.
Then suddenly Dave gave a gasp and raised one hand to point.
His two classmates turned and were able to make out the mastheads of a craft in the distance.
How they strained their eyes! All three stared and stared, until they felt tolerably certain that the craft was headed their way.
"They may see us!" cried Hallam eagerly.
"Three battleships and as many launches failed to find us," retorted Dan. "And they were looking for us, too."
As the vessel came nearer and the hull became visible, it took on the appearance of a liner.
"Why, it looks as though she'd run right over us when she gets nearer," cried Dave, his eyes kindling with hope.
"Don't get too excited over it," urged Dan. "For my part, I'm growing almost accustomed to disappointments."
As the minutes passed and the liner came on and on, it looked still more as though she would run down the three middies.
[Illustration: "Look! They See Us!"]
At last, however, the craft was passing, showing her port side, not very far distant, to be sure.
Uniting their voices, the three midshipmen yelled with all their power, even though they knew that their desperate call for help could not carry the distance over the subsiding gale.
Boom! That shot came from the liner, and now her port rail was black with people.
"They see us!" cried Hallam joyously. "Look! That craft is slowing up!"
Once more came the cheers of encouragement, as the liner, now some distance ahead, put off a heavy launch. A masthead lookout, who had first seen the midshipmen, was now signaling the way to the officer in command of the launch.
Unable to see for himself, the officer in the launch depended wholly on those masthead signals. So the launch steamed a somewhat zig-zag course over the waves. Yet, at last, it bore down straight upon the midshipmen.
Darrin, Dalzell and Hallam now came very near to closing their eyes, to lessen the suspense.
A short time more and all three were dragged in over the sides of the launch.
"Get those life buoys in, if you can," begged Dave, as he sank in the bottom of the launch. "They are United States property entrusted to our care."
From officer and seamen alike a laugh went up at this request, but the life buoys were caught with a boathook and drawn aboard.
What rousing cheers greeted the returning launch, from the decks of the liner, "Princess Irene"! When the three midshipmen reached deck and it was learned that they were midshipmen of the United States Navy, the cheering and interest were redoubled.
But the captain and the ship's doctor cut short any attempt at lionizing by rushing the midshipmen to a stateroom containing three berths. Here, under the doctor's orders, the trio were stripped and rubbed down. Then they were rolled into blankets, and hot coffee brought to them in their berths, while their wet clothing was sent below to one of the furnace rooms for hurried drying.
As soon as the medical man had examined them, the steamship's captain began to question them.
"Headed for the Azores, eh?" demanded the ship's master. "We ought to be able to sight your squadron before long."
He hastened out, to give orders to the deck officer.
By the time that the young midshipmen had been satisfactorily warmed, and their clothing had been dried, the ship's surgeon consented to their dressing. After this they were led to a private cabin where a satisfying meal was served them.
"Oh, I don't know," murmured Dan, leaning back, with a contented sigh, after the meal was over; "there are worse things than what happened to us to-day!"
The greater speed of the liner enabled her to sight the battleship squadron something more than two hours afterward. Then the nearest vessel of the fleet was steered for directly.
The deck officers of the liner sent their heavy overcoats for the use of the midshipmen, who, enveloped in these roomy garments, went out on deck to watch the pursuit of their own comrades.
Within another hour it was possible to signal, and from the "Princess Irene's" masthead the signal flags were broken out.
"Now, watch for excitement on board your own craft," smiled the liner's commander, an Englishman.
As soon as the liner's signal had been read by the vessels of the squadron a wild display of signal bunting swiftly broke out.
"Heaven be thanked!" read one set of signal flags.
"We have officially buried the young men, but ask them to go on living," read another.
While the most practical signal of all was:
"The 'Massachusetts' will fall astern of the squadron. Kindly stand by to receive her launch."
In a few minutes more the two vessels were close enough. Both stopped headway. One of the big battleship's launches put off and steamed over, rolling and pitching on the waves.
Most carefully indeed the three midshipmen climbed down a rope ladder and were received by an ensign from the "Massachusetts," who next gave the American Navy's profound thanks to the rescuers of the middies.
"Kindly lower that United States property that was in our care, sir!" Dave Darrin called up.
There was good-humored laughter above, and a look of amazement on Ensign White's face until the two buoys, attached to lines, were thrown down over the side.
"When your time comes you will make a very capable officer, I believe, Mr. Darrin, judging by your care of government property," remarked Ensign White, working hard to keep down the laughter.
"I hope to do so, sir," Dave replied, saluting.
Then away to the "Massachusetts" the launch bore, while the whole battleship squadron cheered itself hoarse over the happy outcome of the day.
Dave, Dan and Hallam all had to do a tremendous amount of handshaking among their classmates when they had reached deck. Pennington was the only one who did not come forward to hold his hand out to Darrin—a fact that was noted at the time by many of the youngsters.
To the captain the trio recounted what had befallen them, as matter for official record.
"Mr. Darrin and Mr. Dalzell," announced the battleship's captain, "I must commend you both for wholly heroic conduct in going to the aid of your classmate. And, Mr. Darrin, I am particularly interested in your incidental determination to preserve government property—the life buoys that you brought back with you."
"It's possible I may need them again, sir," returned Dave, with a smile, though he had no notion of prophetic utterance.