“Brace up, Army!” was the word passed through West Point’s eleven.
“Good old Darry!” chuckled Wolgast, and, though he did not like to work Darrin too hard at the outset, yet it was also worth while to shake the Army nerve as much as possible. So Wolgast signaled quarterback to send the ball once more by Midshipman Dave.
Another seven yards was gained by Darrin. The West Point men were gasping, more from chagrin than from actual physical strain. Was it going to prove impossible to stop these mad Navy rushes?
Then Wolgast reluctantly as he saw Dave limp slightly, decided upon working Page and Farley a little harder just at present. So back the ball traveled to the right flank was making, however, the Navy cheermaster started a triumphant yell going, in which nearly eight hundred midshipmen joined with all their lung power.
Of course, the Army cheermaster came back with a stirring West Point yell, but one spectator, behind the side lines, turned and bawled at the Army cheermaster:
“That’s right, young man! Anything on earth to keep up your crowd’s courage!”
In the laugh that followed many a gray-clad cadet joined simply because he could not help himself.
“If we don’t break at some point it’s all ours to-day,” Wolgast was informing the players nearest him. “I’ve never seen Darry so wildly capable as he is right now. The demon of victory seems to have seized him.”
Dave’s limp had vanished. He was ready for work—aching for it. Wolgast worked his left flank once more, and the Army was sorely pressed.
“Brace up, Army!” was the word passing again among the West Point men. Douglass, captain of the Army team, was scolding under his breath.
But straight on Darrin and Dalzell worked the ball. It was when Wolgast decided to rest his left that Farley and Page came in for more work. These two midshipmen were excellent football men, but the Army’s left was well defended. The Navy lost the ball on downs. But the Army boys were sweating, for the Navy was now within nine yards of goal line.
The Army fought it back, gaining just half a yard too little in three plays, so the ball came back to the blue and gold ranks of the Navy.
“Brace, Army!” was the word that Cadet Douglass passed. “And look out, on the right, for Darrin and Dalzell!”
There was a feint of sending the ball to Farley, but Darrin had it instead. The entire Army line, however, was alert for this very trick. Playing in sheer desperation, the cadets stopped the midshipmen when but a yard and a half had been gained. With the next play the gain was but half a yard. The third play was blocked, and once more the cadets received the pigskin.
Both Army and Navy cheermasters now refrained from inviting din. Those of the spectators who boosted for the Army were now silent, straining their vision and holding their breath. It began to look, this year, as though the Navy could do with the Army as it pleased.
Wolgast lined his men up for a fierce onslaught Darrin and Dalzell, panting, looked like a pair who would die in their tracks ere allowing the ball to go by them.
In a moment more the Army signal was being called out crisply. The whistle sounded, and both elevens were in instant action.
But the cadets failed to get through. The middies were driving them back. In sheer desperation the cadet with the ball turned and dropped behind the Army goal line—a safety.
CHAPTER XIV
THE NAVY GOAT GRINS
All at once the Navy band chopped out a few swift measures of triumphant melody.
The entire Brigade of Midshipmen cheered under its cheermaster. Thousands of blue and gold Navy banners fluttered through the stands.
That safety had counted two on the score for the Navy.
Given breathing time, the Army now brought the ball out toward midfield, and once more the savage work began. The Navy had gained ten yards, when the time-keeper signaled the end of the first period.
As the players trotted off the Navy was exultant, the Army depressed. Captain Douglass was scowling.
“You fellows will have to brace!” he snapped. “Are you going to let the little middies run over us?”
“I shall have no bad feeling, suh, if you think it well to put a fresh man in my place, suh,” replied Cadet Anstey.
“Hang it, I don’t want a man in your place!” retorted Douglass angrily. “I want you, and every other man, Anstey, to do each better work than was done in that period. Hang it, fellows, the middies are making sport of us.”
Among the Navy players there was not so much talk. All were deeply contented with events so far.
“I’ve no remarks to make, fellows,” Captain Wolgast remarked. “You are all playing real football.”
“At any rate Darry and his grinning twin are,” chuckled Jetson. “My, but you can see the hair rise on the Army right flank when Darry and Danny leap at them!”
In the second period, which started off amid wild yelling from the onlookers, the Army fought hard and fiercely, holding back the Navy somewhat. During the period two of the cadets were so badly hurt that the surgeons ordered them from the field. Two fresh subs. came into the eleven, and after that the Army seemed endowed with a run of better luck. The second period closed with no change in the score, though at the time of the timekeeper’s interference the Navy had the ball within eleven yards of the Army goal line.
“We’ve got the Navy stopped, now, I think,” murmured Douglass to his West Point men. “All we’ve got to do now is to keep ’em stopped.”
“If they don’t break our necks, or make us stop from heart failure, suh,” replied Cadet Anstey, with a grimace.
“We’ve got the Army tired enough. We must go after them in the third period,” announced Captain Wolgast.
But this did not happen until the third time that the Navy got the pigskin. Then Darrin and Dalzell, warned, began to run the ball down the field. Here a new feint was tried. When the Navy started in motion every Army man was sure that Wolgast was going to try to put through a center charge. It was but a ruse, however. Darrin had the pigskin, and Dalzell was boosting him through. The entire Navy line charged with the purpose of one man. There came the impact, and then the Army line went down. Darrin was charging, Dalzell and Jetson running over all who got in the way. The halfback on that side of the field was dodged. Dalzell and Jetson bore down on the victim at the same instant, and Dave, running to the side like a flash, had the ball over the line.
Wolgast himself made the kick to follow, and the score was now eight to nothing.
The applause that followed was enough to turn wiser heads. When play was resumed the Army was fighting mad. It was now victory or death for the soldier boys. The West Point men were guilty of no fouls. They played squarely and like gentlemen, but they cared nothing for snapping muscles and sinews. Before the mad work the Navy was borne back. Just before the close of the third period, the Navy was forced to make a safety on its own account.
“But Wolgast was satisfied, and the Navy coaches more than pleased.
“There’s a fourth period coming,” Wolgast told himself. “But for Darry and his splendid interference the Army would get our scalp yet. Darry looks to be all right, and I believe he is. He’ll hold out for the fourth.”
Eight to two, and the game three quarters finished. The Army cheermaster did his duty, but did it half dejectedly, the cadets following with rolling volumes of noise intended to mask sinking hearts. When it came the Navy’s turn to yell, the midshipmen risked the safety of their windpipes. The Naval Academy Band was playing with unwonted joy.
“Fellows, nothing on earth will save us but a touchdown and a kick,” called Douglass desperately, when he got his West Point men aside. “That will tie the score. It’s our best chance to-day.”
“Unless, suh,” gravely observed Anstey, “We can follow that by driving the midshipmen into a safety.”
“And we could do even that, if we had Prescott and Holmesy here,” thought Douglass, with sinking heart to himself. He was careful not to repeat that sentiment audibly.
“Holmesy ought to be here to-day, and working,” growled one of the Army subs. “He’s a sneak, just to desert on Mr. Prescott’s account.”
“None of that!” called Doug sharply.
The Army head coach came along, talking quietly but forcefully to the all but discouraged cadets. Then he addressed himself to Douglass, explaining what he thought were next to the weakest points in the Navy line.
“You ought to be able to save the score yet, Mr. Douglass,” wound up coach.
“I wish some one else had the job!” sighed Doug to himself.
“Fellows, the main game that is left,” explained Wolgast to the midshipmen, “is to keep West Point from scoring. As to our own points, we have enough now—though more will be welcome.”
Play began in the fourth period. At first it was nip and tuck, neck and neck. But the Army braced and put the pigskin within sixteen yards of the Navy’s goal line. Then the men from Annapolis seemed suddenly to wake up. Darrin, who had had little to do in the last few plays, was now sent to the front again. Steadily, even brilliantly, he, Dalzell and Jetson figured in the limelight plays. Yard after yard was gained, while the Army eleven shivered. At last it came to the inevitable. The Army was forced to use another safety. Stinging under the sense of defeat, the cadet players put that temporary chance to such good advantage that they gradually got the pigskin over into Naval territory. But there the midshipmen held it until the timekeeper interposed.
The fourth period and the game were over. West Point had gone down in a memorable, stinging defeat. The Navy had triumphed, ten to two.
What a crash came from the Naval Academy Band! Yet the Military Academy Band, catching the spirit and the tune, joined in, and both bands blared forth, the musicians making themselves heard faintly through all the tempest of huzzas.
Dave Darrin smiled faintly as he hurried away from the field. All his personal interest in football had vanished. He had played his last game of football and was glad that the Navy had won; that was about all.
Yet he was not listless—far from it. On the contrary Dave fairly ran to dressing quarters, hustled under a shower and then began to towel and dress.
For out in the audience, well he knew, had sat Belle Meade and her mother.
“Darry, you’re a wonder!” cried Wolgast. “Every time to-day we called upon you you were ready with the push.”
But Dave, rushing through his dressing, barely heard this and other praise that was showered on him.
“I’ll get along before assembly time, Davy,” whispered Dan Dalzell.
“Come along now,” Dave called back.
“Oh, no! I know that you and Belle want some time to yourselves,” murmured Dalzell wisely. “I’ll get along at the proper time.”
Dave didn’t delay to argue. He stepped briskly outside, then into the field, his eyes roving over the thousands of spectators who still lingered. At last a waving little white morsel of a handkerchief rewarded Darrin’s search.
“Oh, you did just splendidly to-day,” was Belle’s enthusiastic greeting, as Dave stepped up to the young lady and her mother. “I’ve heard lots of men say that it was all Darrin’s victory.”
“Yes; you’re the hero of Franklin Field, this year,” smiled Mrs. Meade.
“Laura Bentley and her mother didn’t come over?” Dave inquired presently.
“No; of course not—-after the way that the cadets used Dick Prescott,” returned Belle. “Wasn’t it shameful of the cadets to treat a man like Dick in that fashion?”
“I have my opinion, of course,” Dave replied moodily, “but it’s hardly for a midshipman to criticise the cadets for their own administration of internal discipline in their own corps. The absence of Prescott and Holmes probably cost the Army the game to-day.”
“Not a bit of it!” Belle disputed warmly. “Dave, don’t belittle your own superb work in that fashion! The Army would have lost to-day if the West Point eleven had been made up exclusively of Prescotts and Holmeses!”
As Belle spoke thus warmly her gaze wandered, resting, though not by intent, on the face of a young Army officer passing at that moment.
“If the remark was made to me, miss,” smiled the Army officer, “I wish to say that I wholly agree with you. The Navy’s playing was the most wonderful that I ever saw.”
Dave, in the meantime, had saluted, then stood at attention until the Army officer had passed.
“There!” cried Belle triumphantly. “You have it from the other side, now—from the enemy.”
“Hardly from the enemy,” replied Dave, laughing. “Between the United States Army and the United States Navy there can never be a matter of enmity. Annually, in football, the Army and Navy teams are opponents—rivals, perhaps—but never enemies.”
Mrs. Meade had strolled away for a few yards, the better to leave the young people by themselves.
“Dave,” announced Belle almost sternly, “you’ve simply got to say something savage about the action of the West Point men in sending Dick Prescott to Coventry.”
“The West Point men didn’t do it,” rejoined Dave. “It was all done by the members of the first class alone.”
“Well, then, you must say something very disagreeable about the first class at the Military Academy.”
“But why?” persisted Dave Darrin. He was disgusted enough over the action of the first class cadets, but, being in the service himself, he felt it indelicate in him to criticise the action of the cadets of the United States Military Academy.
“Why?” repeated Belle. “Why, simply because Laura Bentley will insist on asking me when I get home what you had to say about Dick’s case. If I can’t tell Laura that you said something pretty nearly awful, then Laura will be terribly hurt.”
“Shall I swear?” asked Dave innocently.
Belle opened her eyes wide in amazement.
“No, you won’t swear,” Belle retorted. “Profanity isn’t the accomplishment of a gentleman. But you must say something about Dick’s case which will show her that all of Dick’s friends are standing by the poor fellow.”
“But, Belle, you know it isn’t considered very manly for a fellow in one branch of the service to say anything against fellows in the other branch.”
“Not even—for Laura’s sake?”
“Oh, well,” proposed Midshipman Darrin, squirming about between the horns of the dilemma, “you just think of whatever will please Laura most to hear from me.”
“Yes—–?” pressed Miss Meade.
“Then tell it to her and say that I said it.”
“But how can I say that you said it if you didn’t say it?” demanded Belle, pouting prettily.
“Easiest thing in the world, Belle. I authorize you, fully, to say whatever you like about Dick, as coming from me. If I authorize you to say it, then you won’t be fibbing, will you?”
Belle had to think that over. It was a bit of a puzzle, as must be admitted.
“Now, let’s talk about ourselves,” Darrin pressed her. “I see Danny boy coming, with that two-yard grin of his, and we won’t have much further chance to talk about ourselves.”
The two young people, therefore, busied themselves with personal talk. Dan drifted along, but merely raised his cap to Belle, then stationed himself by Mrs. Meade’s side.
It was not until Dave signaled quietly that Dalzell came over to take Belle’s proffered hand and chat for a moment.
The talk was all too short for all concerned. A call of the bugle signaled the midshipmen to leave friends and hasten back for assembly.
It was not until the train had started away from Philadelphia that Dave and Dan were all but mobbed by way of congratulation. Wolgast, Jetson, Farley, Page and others also came in for their share of good words.
“And to think, Darry, that you can never play on the Navy eleven again!” groaned a second classman.
“You’ll have some one else in my place,” laughed Dave.
“The Navy never before had a football player like you, and we’ll never have one again,” insisted the same man. “Dalzell’s kind come once in about every five years, but your kind, Darry, never come back—in the Navy!”
CHAPTER XV
DAN FEELS AS “SOLD” AS HE LOOKS
It was the first hop after the New Year.
“Tell me one thing Dave,” begged Belle Meade, who, with Laura Bentley, and accompanied by Mrs. Meade, had come down to Annapolis for this dance.
“I’ll tell you two things, if I know how,” Darrin responded promptly.
“Dan has danced a little with Laura, to be sure, but he introduced Mr. Farley to her, and has written down Farley’s name for a lot of dances on Laura’s card.”
“Farley is a nice fellow,” Dave replied. “But why didn’t Dan want more of the dances with Laura, instead of turning them over to Mr. Farley?” followed up Belle. “And—there he goes now.”
“Farley?”
“No, stupid! Dan.”
“Well, why shouldn’t he move about?” Midshipman Darrin inquired.
“But with—By the way, who is that girl, anyway?”
The girl was tall, rather stately and of a pronounced blonde type. She was a girl who would have been called more than merely pretty by any one who had seen her going by on Midshipman Dalzell’s arm.
“I don’t really know who she is,” Dave admitted.
“Have you seen her here before?”
“Yes; I think I have seen the young lady half a dozen times before to-night.”
“Then it’s odd that you don’t know who she is,” pursued Miss Meade.
“I’ve never been introduced to her, you see.”
“Oh! I imagined that you midshipmen were always being presented to girls.”
“That’s a fairy tale,” said Dave promptly. “The average midshipman has about all he can do to hold his place here, without losing any time in running around making the acquaintances of young women who probably don’t care at all about knowing him.”
“What I’m wondering about,” Belle went on, “is whether the young woman we have been discussing is any one in whom Dan Dalzell is seriously interested.”
“I’ll ask Dan.”
“Oh! And I suppose you’ll tell him that it’s I who really want to know.”
“I’ll tell him that, too, if you wish it.”
“Dave, you won’t even mention my name to Dan in connection with any topic so silly.”
“All right, Belle. All I want is my sailing orders. I know how to follow them.”
“You’re teasing me,” Miss Meade went on, pouting. “I don’t mean to be curious, but I noticed that Dan appears to be quite attentive to the young lady, and I was wondering whether Dan had met his fate—that’s all.”
“I don’t know,” smiled Midshipman Darrin, “and I doubt if Dan does, either. He’s just the kind of fellow who might ignore girls for three years, then be ardently attentive to one for three days—and forget all about her in a week.”
“Is Dan such a flirt as that?” Belle demanded, looking horrified.
“Dan—a flirt!” chuckled Dave. “I shall have to tell that to some of the fellows; it will amuse them. No; I wouldn’t call Dan a flirt. He’s anything but that. Dan will either remain a bachelor until he’s past forty, or else some day he’ll marry suddenly after having known the girl at least twenty-four hours. Dan hasn’t much judgment where girls are concerned.”
“He appears to be able to tell a pretty girl when he sees one,” argued Belle Meade, turning again to survey Dan’s companion.
Belle, with the sharp eyes and keen intuition of her sex, was quite justified in believing that Midshipman Dalzell realized fully the charms of the girl with whom he was talking.
Miss Catharine Atterly was the only daughter of wealthy parents, though her father had started life as a poor boy. Daniel Atterly, however, had been shrewd enough to know the advantages of a better education than he had been able to absorb in his boyhood. Miss Catharine, therefore, had been trained in some of the most expensive, if not the best, schools in the country. She was a buxom, healthy girl, full of the joy of living, yet able to conceal her enthusiasm under the polish that she had acquired in the schools she had attended. Miss Atterly, on coming to Annapolis, had conceived a considerable liking for the Naval uniform, and had attracted Dan to her side within the last three days. And Dan had felt his heart beating faster when nearing this pretty young creature.
Now, he was endeavoring to display himself to the best advantage before her eyes.
“You midshipmen have a very graceful knack of being charmingly attentive to the ladies,” Miss Atterly suggested coyly.
“We receive a little bit of training in social performance, if that is what you mean, Miss Atterly,” Dan replied.
“And that enables you to be most delightfully attentive to every girl that comes along?”
“I don’t know,” Midshipman Dalzell replied slowly. “I haven’t had much experience.”
Miss Atterly laughed as though she felt certain that she knew better.
“Do you say that to every girl?” she asked.
“I don’t get many chances,” Dan insisted. “Miss Atterly, all the hops that I’ve attended could be counted on your fingers, without using the thumbs?”
“Oh, really?”
“It is the truth, I assure you. Some of the midshipmen attend many hops. Most of us are too busy over our studies as a rule.”
“Then you prefer books to the society of girls?”
“It isn’t that,” replied Dan, growing somewhat red under Miss Atterly’s amused scrutiny. “The fact is that a fellow comes here to the Naval Academy for the purpose of becoming an officer in the Navy.”
“To be sure.”
“And, unless the average fellow hugs his books tightly he doesn’t have any show to get through and become an officer. There are some fellows, of course, to whom the studies come easily. With most of us it’s a terrible grind. Even with the grind about forty per cent. of the fellows who enter the Naval Academy are found deficient and are dropped. If you are interested in knowing, I had a fearful time in keeping up with the requirements.”
“Oh, you poor boy!” cried Miss Atterly half tenderly.
“I never felt that I wanted any sympathy,” Dan declared stoutly. “If I couldn’t keep up, then the only thing to do was to go back to civil life and find my own level among my own kind.”
“Now, that was truly brave in you!” declared Miss Atterly, admiration shining in her eyes.
“There’s the music starting,” Dan hastily reminded her. “Our dance.”
“Would it seem disagreeable in me if I asked you to sit out this number with me?” inquired the girl. “The truth is, I can dance any evening, but you and your brave fight here, Mr. Dalzell, interest me—oh, more than I can tell you!”
Under this line of conversation Midshipman Dalzell soon began to feel highly uncomfortable. Miss Atterly, however, in getting Dan to talk of the midshipman and the Naval life, soon had him feeling at his ease. Nor could Dalzell escape noticing the fact that Miss Atterly appeared to enjoy his company hugely.
Then Dan was led on into talking of the life of the Naval officer at sea, and he spoke eloquently.
“A life of bravery and daring,” commented Miss Atterly thoughtfully. “Yet, after all, I would call it rather a lonely life.”
“Perhaps it will prove so,” Dalzell assented. “Yet it is all the life that I look forward to. It’s all the life that I care about.”
“Despite the loneliness—or rather, because of it—it will seem all the finer and more beautiful to come home to wife and children,” said Miss Atterly after a pause. “Nearly all Naval officers marry, don’t they?”
“I—I believe they do,” Dalzell stammered. “I—I never asked any Naval officers for statistics.”
“Now, you are becoming droll,” cried Miss Atterly, her laughter ringing out.
“I didn’t mean to be,” Dan protested. “I beg your pardon.”
Whereat Miss Atterly laughed more than ever.
“I like you even better when you’re droll,” Miss Atterly informed him.
Something in the way that she said it pleased Midshipman Dalzell so immensely that he began to notice, more than before, what a very fine girl Miss Atterly was. Then, to win her applause, Dan made the mistake of trying to be funny, whereat the girl was extremely kind.
“Dave,” whispered Belle soon after the music had stopped, “I can’t get away from the belief that Dan’s companion is leading him on. See! Dan now looks at her almost adoringly.”
Laura Bentley, too, had noticed Dan’s preoccupation, but she merely smiled within herself. She did not believe that Dan could really be serious where girls were concerned. Now, as Laura’s midshipman partner led her to a seat, and soon left her, Dan, tearing himself away from Miss Atterly, came to remind Laura that his name was written on her card for the next dance.
“Very fine girl I’ve been talking with, Laura,” Dan confided in the straightforward way that he had always used with Miss Bentley, who was such a very old school friend.
“She certainly is very pretty,” Laura nodded.
“And—er—distinguished looking, don’t you think?” Dan ventured.
“Yes, indeed.”
“But I was speaking more of her character—at least, her disposition. Miss Atterly is highly sympathetic. I wish you’d meet her, Laura.”
“I shall be delighted to do so, Dan.”
“After this dance, then? And I want Belle to meet her, too. Miss Atterly has noticed you both, and was much interested when she learned that you were old school-day friends of mine.”
So, after the music had ceased, Dan escorted Laura over to where Dave and Belle were chatting.
“Belle,” asked Dan in his most direct way, “will you come and be introduced to Miss Atterly?”
“The young lady you’ve been dancing with so much?” Miss Meade inquired. “The tall, stately blonde?”
“Yes,” Dan nodded.
“I shall be glad to meet Miss Atterly. But how about her? Do you think she could stand the shock?”
“Miss Atterly is very anxious to meet you both,” Dalzell assured Belle.
“Take me over and shock her, then,” laughed Belle.
Dan stood gazing about the scene. “I—I wonder where Miss Atterly is?” Dan mused aloud.
“Oh, I can tell you,” Belle answered. “A moment ago she went through the entrance over yonder.”
“Alone?”
“No; an older woman, probably Miss Atterly’s mother, was with her.”
“Oh! Let’s look them up, then, if you don’t mind.”
As Belle rose, taking Dave’s arm, Dan and Laura took the lead.
Just beyond the entrance that Belle had indicated no one else was in sight when the four young friends reached the spot. There was a clump of potted tropical shrubbery at one side.
On the other side of this shrubbery sat Mrs. and Miss Atterly, engaged in conversation.
“Why do you prefer to sit in this out-of-the-way place, Catharine?” her mother inquired, just as the young people came up.
“I want to get away from two rather goodlooking but very ordinary girls that Mr. Dalzell wants to present to me, mamma,” she replied.
“If they are midshipmen’s friends are they too ordinary to know?” inquired Mrs. Atterly.
“Mamma, if I am going to interest Mr. Dalzell, I don’t want other girls stepping in at every other moment. I don’t want to know his girl friends.”
“Are you attracted to Mr. Dalzell, Cathy?” asked her mother.
“Not especially, I assure you, mamma.”
“Oh, then it is not a serious affair.”
“It may be,” laughed the girl lightly. “If I can learn to endure Mr. Dalzell, then I may permit him to marry me when he is two years older and has his commission.”
“Even if you don’t care much for him?” asked Mrs. Atterly, almost shocked.
“If I marry,” pouted Miss Atterly, “I don’t want a husband that leaves the house every morning, and returns every evening.”
“Cathy!”
“Well, I don’t! In some ways I suppose it’s nice to be a married woman. One has more freedom in going about alone. Now, a Naval officer, mamma, would make the right sort of husband for me. He’d be away, much of the time, on long cruises.”
“But I understand, Cathy, that sometimes a Naval officer has a year or two of shore duty.”
“If that happened,” laughed the girl, “I could take a trip to Europe couldn’t I? And the social position of a Naval officer isn’t a bad one. His wife enjoys the same social position, you know, mamma.”
“Yet why Mr. Dalzell, if you really don’t care anything about him?”
“Because he’s so simple, mamma. He would be dreadfully easy to manage!”
The four young people looking for the Atterlys had unavoidably heard every word. They halted, Dan violently red in the face. Then Laura, with quick tact, wheeled about and led the way back to the ball room floor.
“Better luck next time, Dan,” whispered Belle, gripping Dalzell’s arm.
“Don’t you think twice is enough for a simpleton like me?” blurted Midshipman Dan.
CHAPTER XVI
THE DAY OF MANY DOUBTS
Busy days followed, days which, for some of the first classmen, were filled with a curious discontent.
Some, to be sure, among these midshipmen soon to graduate, took each day as it came, with little or no emotion. To them the Naval life ahead was coming only as a matter of course. There were others, however—and Dave Darrin was among them—who looked upon a commission as an officer of the Navy as a sacred trust given them by the nation.
Dave Darrin was one of those who, while standing above the middle of his class, yet felt that he had not made sufficiently good use of his time. To his way of thinking there was an appalling lot in the way of Naval duties that he did not understand.
“I may get through here, and out of here, and in another couple of years be a line or engineer officer,” Midshipman Darrin confided to his chum and roommate one day. “But I shall be only a half-baked sort of officer.”
“Well, are cubs ever anything more?” demanded Dan.
“Yes; Wolgast, for instance, is going to be something more. So will Fenton and Day, and several others whom I could name.”
“And so is Darrin,” confidently predicted Midshipman Dalzell.
But Dave shook his head.
“No, no, Danny boy. The time was when I might have believed extremely well of myself, but that day has gone by. When I entered the Naval Academy I probably thought pretty well of myself. I’ve tried to keep up with the pace here—–“
“And you’ve done it, and are going to do it right along,” interjected Midshipman Dalzell.
“No; it almost scares me when I look over the subjects that I’m not really fit in. It’s spring, now, and I’m only a few weeks away from graduation, only something like two years this side of a commission as ensign, and—and—Dan, I wonder if I’m honestly fit to command a rowboat.”
“You’ve got a brief grouch against yourself, Davy,” muttered Dan.
“No; but I think I know what a Naval officer should be, and I also know how far short I fall of what I should be.”
“If you get your diploma,” argued Midshipman Dalzell, “the faculty of the Naval Academy will testify on the face of it that you’re a competent midshipman and on your way to being fit to hold an ensign’s commission presently.”
“But that’s just the point, Danny. I shall know, myself, that I’m only a poor, dub sort of Naval officer. I tell you, Danny, I don’t know enough to be a good Naval officer.”
“Then that’s a reflection on your senior officers who have had your training on hand,” grinned Dalzell. “If you talk in the same vein after you’ve gotten your diploma, it will amount to a criticism of the intelligence of your superior officers. And that’s something that’s wisely forbidden by the regulations.”
Dan picked up a text-book and opened it, as though he believed that he had triumphantly closed the discussion. Midshipman Darrin, however, was not to be so easily silenced.
“Then, if you’re not fitted to be a Naval officer,” blurted Dalzell, “what on earth can be said of me?”
“You may not stand quite as high as I do, on mere markings,” Dave assented. “But there are a lot of things, Danny, that you know much better than I do.”
“Name one of them,” challenged Dalzell.
“Well, steam engineering, for instance. Now, I’m marked higher in that than you are, Danny. Yet, when the engine on one of the steamers goes wrong you can hunt around until you get the engine to running smoothly. You’re twice as clever at that as I am.”
“Not all Naval officers are intended to be engineer officers,” grunted Midshipman Dalzell. “If you don’t feel clever enough in that line, just put in your application for watch officer’s work.”
“Take navigation,” Dave continued. “I stand just fairly well in the theory of the thing. But I’ve no real knack with a sextant.”
“Well, the sextant is only a hog-yoke,” growled Dalzell.
“Yes; but I shiver every time I pick up the hog-yoke under the watchful gaze of an instructor.”
“Humph! Only yesterday I heard Lieutenant-Commander Richards compliment you for your work in nav.”
“Yes; but that was the mathematical end. I’m all right on the paper end and the theoretical work, but it’s the practical end that I’m afraid of.”
“You’ll get plenty of the practical work as soon as you graduate and get to sea,” Dan urged.
“Yes; and very likely make a chump of myself, like Digby, of last year’s class. Did you hear what he did in nav.?”
“No,” replied Dalzell, looking up with real interest this times “If Digby made a fool of himself I’ll be glad to hear about it, for Dig was always just a little bit too chesty to suit me.”
“Well, Dig wasn’t a bit chesty the first day that he was ordered to shoot the sun,” Dave laughed. “Dig took the sextant, and made a prize shot, or thought he did. After he had got the sun, plumb at noon, he lowered the instrument and made his reading most carefully. Then he went into the chart room, and got busy with his calculations. The longer Dig worked the worse his head ached. He stared at his figures, tore them up and tried again. Six or eight times he worked the problem over, but always with the same result. The navigating officer, who had worked the thing out in two minutes, sat back in his chair and looked bored. You see, Dig’s own eyes had told him that the ship was working north, and about five miles off the coast of New Jersey. But his figures told him that the ship was anchored in the old fourth ward of the city of Newark. Try as he would, Dig couldn’t get the battleship away from that ward.”
Dan Dalzell leaned back, laughing uproariously at the mental picture that this story of Midshipman Digby brought up in his mind.
“It sounds funny, when you hear it,” Dave went on. “But I sometimes shiver over the almost certainty that I’m going to do something just as bad when I get to sea. If I get sent to the engine room I’ll be likely to fill the furnaces with water and the boilers with coal.”
“Rot!” objected Dan. “You’re not crazy—not even weak-minded.”
“Or else, if I’m put to navigating, I’m fairly likely to bring the battleship into violent collision with the Chicago Limited, over in Ohio.”
“Come out of that funk, Davy!” ordered his chum.
“I’m trying to, Danny boy; but there’s many an hour when I feel that I haven’t learned here all that I should have learned, and that I’ll be miles behind the newest ensigns and lieutenants.”
“There’s just about one thing for you to do, then,” proposed Dan.
“Resign?” queried Darrin, looking quizzically at his chum.
“Not by a long sight. Just go in for a commission as second lieutenant of marines. You can get that and hold it. A marine officer doesn’t have to know anything but the manual of arms and a few other little simple things.”
“But a marine officer isn’t a real sailor, Danny. He lives and works on a warship, to be sure, but he’s more of a soldier. Now, as it happens, my whole heart and soul are wrapped up in being a Naval officer—a real Naval officer.”
“With that longing, and an Annapolis diploma,” teased Dalzell, “there is just one thing to do.”
“What?”
“Beat your way to the realization of your dream. You’ve got a thundering good start.”
Midshipman Dave Darrin was not the kind to communicate his occasional doubts to anyone except his roommate. Had Darrin talked on the subject with other members of his class he would have found that many of his classmates were tortured by the same doubts that assailed him. With midshipmen who were destined to get their diplomas such doubts were to be charged only to modesty, and were therefore to their credit. Yet, every spring dozens of Annapolis first classmen are miserable, instead of feeling the joyous appeal of the budding season. They are assailed by just such fears as had reached Dave Darrin.
Dalzell, on the other hand, was tortured by no such dreads. He went hammering away with marvelous industry, and felt sure, in his own mind, that he would be retired, in his sixties, an honored rear admiral.
Had there been only book studies some of the first classmen would have broken down under the nervous strain. However, there was much to be done in the shops—hard, physical labor, that had to be performed in dungaree clothing; toil of the kind that plastered the hard-worked midshipmen with grime and soot. There were drills, parades, cross-country marches. The day’s work at the Naval Academy, at any season of the year, is arranged so that hard mental work is always followed by lively physical exertion, much of it in the open air.
Dalzell, returning one afternoon from the library encountered Midshipman Farley, who was looking unaccountably gloomy.
“What’s the trouble, Farl—dyspepsia?” grinned Dan, linking one arm through his friend’s. “Own up!”
“Danny, I’m in the dumps,” confessed Farley. “I hate to acknowledge it, but I’ve been fearfully tempted, for the last three days, to send in my resignation.”
“What’s her name?” grinningly demanded Dalzell, who had bravely recovered from his own two meetings with Venus.
“It isn’t a girl—bosh!” jeered Farley. “There’s only one girl in the world I’m interested in—and she’s my kid sister.”
“Then why this talk of resigning.”
“Danny, I’m simply afraid that I’m not made of the stuff to make a competent Naval officer. My markings are all right, but I know that I don’t know enough to take a sailboat out and bring it back.”
“Oh, is that all?” cried Dalzell laughingly. “Then I know just what you want.”
“What?”
“Drop into our room and have a talk with Darry. Dave knows just how to comfort and cheer a fellow who has that glum bug in his head of cabbage. Come right along!”
Dan almost forced Farley to the door of the room, opened it and shoved the modest midshipman inside.
“Darry,” Dan called joyously, “here’s a case for your best talents. Farley has a pet bee in his bonnet that he isn’t fit to be a Naval officer. He doesn’t know enough. So he’s going to resign. I’ve told him you’ll know just how to handle his case. Go after him, now!”
Midshipman Dalzell pulled the door shut, chuckling softly to himself, and marched back to the library. It was just before the call for supper formation when Dan returned from “boning” in the library.
“Did you brace Farl up, Davy?” demanded Dan.
“You grinning idiot!” laughed Darrin. “What on earth made you bring him to me?”
“Because I thought you needed each other.”
“Well, perhaps we did,” laughed Midshipman Darrin. “At any rate I’ve been hammering at Farl all the time that he wasn’t hammering at me. I certainly feel better, and I hope that he does.”
“You both needed the same thing,” declared Dan, grinning even more broadly as he picked up his hair brushes.
“What did we need?”
“You’ve both been studying so hard that your brain cells are clogged.”
“But what did Farley and I both need?” insisted Midshipman Darrin.
“Mental exercise—brain-sparring,” rejoined Dalzell. “You both needed something that could take you out of the horrible daily grooves that you’ve been sailing in lately. You both needed something to stir you up—and I hope you gave each other all the excitement you could.”
In the way of a stirring-up something was about to happen that was going to stir up the whole first class—if not the entire brigade.
Nor was Dave Darrin to escape being one of the central figures in the excitement.
Here is the way in which the whole big buzzing-match got its start and went on to a lively finish.
CHAPTER XVII
MR. CLAIRY DEALS IN OUTRAGES
“Mr. Darrin!”
With that hail proceeded sharply from the lips of a first classman, who on this evening happened to be the midshipman in charge of the floor.
Clairy sat at his desk in the corridor, his eyes on a novel until Dave happened along. As he gave the sharp hail Mr. Clairy thrust his novel under a little pile of text-books.
“Well, sir?” inquired Dave, halting. “Mr. Darrin, what do you mean by coming down the corridor with both shoes unlaced.”
“They are not unlaced,” retorted Dave, staring in amazement at Midshipman Clairy.
“They are not now—true.”
“And they haven’t been unlaced, sir, since I first laced them on rising this morning.”
“Don’t toy with the truth, Mr. Darrin!” rang Clairy’s voice sternly.
“If my shoes had been unlaced, they would still be unlaced, wouldn’t they, sir?” demanded Dave.
“No; for you have laced them since I spoke to you about it!”
This was entirely too much for Darrin, who gulped, gasped, and then stared again at the midshipman in charge of the floor.
Then, suddenly, a light dawned on Dave. He grinned almost as broadly as Dan Dalzell could have done.
“Come, come, now, Clairy!” chided Dave. “What on earth is the joke—and why?”
Midshipman Clairy straightened himself, his eyes flashing and his whole appearance one of intense dignity.
“Mr. Darrin, there is no joke about it, as you are certainly aware, sir. And I must call your attention to the fact that it is bad taste to address a midshipman familiarly when he is on official duty.”
“Why, hang you—” Dave broke forth utterly aghast.
“Stop, sir!” commanded Mr. Clairy, rising. “Mr. Darrin, you will place yourself on report for strolling along the corridor with both shoes unlaced. You will also place yourself on report for impertinence in answering the midshipman in charge of the floor.”
“But—–“
“Go at once, sir, and place yourself on report”
Dave meditated, for two or three seconds, over the advisability of knocking Mr. Clairy down. But familiarity with the military discipline of the Naval Academy immediately showed Darrin that his only present course was to obey.
“I wonder who’s loony now?” hummed Dave to himself, as he marched briskly along on his way to the office of the officer in charge. There be picked up two of the report slips, dipping a pen in ink.
First, in writing, he reported himself on the charge of having his shoes unlaced. In the space for remarks Darrin wrote tersely:
“Untrue.”
Against the charge of unwarranted impertinence to the midshipman in charge of the floor Dave wrote the words:
“Impertinence admitted, but in my opinion entirely warranted.”
So utterly astounded was Darrin by this queer turn of affairs, that he forgot the matter that had taken him from his room. On his way back he met Midshipman Page. On the latter’s face was a look as black as a thundercloud.
“What on earth is wrong, Page?” Darrin asked.
“I’ve got the material for a first-class fight on my hands,” Page answered, his eyes flashing.
“What—“
“Clairy has ordered me to report myself.”
“What does he say you were doing that you weren’t doing?” inquired Midshipman Darrin, a curious look in his eyes.
“Clairy has the nerve to state that I was coming along the corridor with my blouse unbuttoned. He ordered me to button it up, which I couldn’t do since it was already buttoned. But he declared that I buttoned it up while facing him, and so I’m on my way to place myself on report for an offense that I didn’t commit.”
“Clairy just sent me to the O.C. to frap the pap for having my shoes unlaced,” remarked Dave, his face flushing darkly.
“What on earth is Clairy up to?” cried Page.
“I don’t know. I can’t see his game clearly. But he’s certainly hunting trouble.”
“Then—–“
“See here, Page, we’ve no business holding indignation meetings in study hours. But come to my room just as soon as release sounds—will you?”
“You can wager that I will,” shot back Midshipman Page as he started along the corridor.
“Hello,” hailed Midshipman Dalzell, looking up as his chum entered. “Why, Darry, you’re angry—really angry. Who has dared throw spitballs at you?”
“Quit your joking, Dan!” returned Dave Darrin, his voice quivering. “Clairy is hunting real trouble, I imagine, and I fancy he’ll have to be obliged.”
Dave thereupon related swiftly what had happened, Dan staring in sheer amazement. Then Dalzell jumped up.
“Where are you going?” Darrin answered.
“To interview Clairy.”
“You’d better not, Dan. The trouble is thick enough already.”
“I’m going to interview Clairy—perhaps,” retorted Midshipman Dalzell. “I’ve just thought of a perfectly good excuse for being briefly out of quarters during study hours. I’ll be back soon—perhaps with some news.”
Off Dan posted. In less than ten minutes he returned, looking even more indignant than had his chum.
“Davy,” broke forth Dalzell hotly, “that idiot is surely hunting all the trouble there is in Annapolis.”
“He went after you, then?”
“I was making believe to march straight by the fellow’s desk,” resumed Dan, “when Clairy brought me up sharply. Told me to frap the pap for strolling with my hands in my pockets. I didn’t do anything like that.”
In another hour indignation was running riot in that division. Midshipman Clairy had ordered no less than eight first classmen to put themselves on report for offenses that none of them would admit having committed.
Oh, but there was wrath boiling in the quarters occupied by those eight first classmen.
Immediately after release had sounded, Page and Farley made a bee-line for Dave’s room.
“Did Clairy wet you, Farley?” demanded Darrin.
“No; I haven’t been out of my room until just now.”
“Page,” continued Darrin, “circulate rapidly in first class rooms on this deck and find out whether Clairy improperly held up any more of the fellows. Dan was a victim, too.”
Page had five first classmen on the scene in a few minutes. The meeting seemed doomed to resolve itself into a turmoil of angry language.
“Clairy is a hound!”
“A liar in my case!”
“He’s hunting a fight!”
“Coventry would do him more good.”
“Yes; we’ll have to call the class to deal with this.”
“The scoundrel!”
“The pup!”
“He’s trying to pile some of us up with so many demerits that we won’t be able to graduate.”
“Oh, well,” argued Page, “Fenwick has hit it. We can’t fight such a lying hound. All we can do is to get the class out and send the fellow to Coventry.”
“What do you imagine it all means, Darry?” questioned Fenwick.
Dave’s wrath had had time to simmer down, and he was cooler now.
“I wish I knew what to think, fellows,” Dave answered slowly. “Clairy has never shown signs of doing such things before.”
“He has always been a sulk, and never had a real friend in the class,” broke in Farley.
“He has always been quiet and reticent,” Dave admitted. “But we never before had any real grievance against Mr. Clairy.”
“We have a grievance now, all right!” glowered Page. “Coventry, swift and tight, is the only answer to the situation.”
“Let’s not be in too much haste, fellows,” Darrin urged.
“You—you give such advice as that?” gasped Midshipman Dalzell. “Why, Davy, the fellow went for you in fearful shape. He insulted you outrageously.”
“I know he did,” Darrin responded. “That’s why I believe in going slowly in the matter.”
“Now, why?” hissed Page. “Why on earth—why?”
“Clairy must have had some motive behind his attack,” Dave urged.
“It couldn’t have been a good motive, anyway,” broke in another midshipman hotly.
“Never mind that part of it, just now,” Dave Darrin retorted. “Fellows, I, for one, don’t like to go after Mr. Clairy too hastily while we’re all in doubt about the cause of it.”
“We don’t need to know the cause,” stormed indignant Farley. “We know the results, and that’s enough for us. I favor calling a class meeting to-morrow night.”
“We can do just as much, and act just as intelligently, if we hold the class-meeting off for two or three nights,” Midshipman Darrin maintained.
“Now, why on earth should we bold off that long?” insisted Fenwick. “We know, now, that Mr. Clairy has insulted eight members of our class. We know that he has lied about them, and that the case is so bad as to require instant attention. All I’m sorry for is that it’s too late to hold the class meeting within the next five minutes.”
Dave found even his own roommate opposed to delay in dealing with the preposterous case of the outrageous Mr. Clairy.
Yet such was Darrin’s ascendency over his classmates in matters of ethics and policy, that he was able, before taps, to bring the rest around to his wish for a waiting programme for two or three days.
“There’ll be some explanation of this,” Dave urged, when he had gotten his comrades into a somewhat more reasonable frame of mind.
“The explanation will have to be sought with fists,” grumbled Fenwick. “And there are eight of us, while Clairy has only two eyes that can be blackened.”
The news had spread, of course, and the first class was in a fury of resentment against one of its own members.
Meanwhile Midshipman Clairy sat at his desk out in the corridor, clearly calm and indifferent to all the turmoil that his acts had stirred up in the brigade.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE WHOLE CLASS TAKES A HAND
“Then, Mr. Darrin, you admit the use of impertinent language to Mr. Clairy, when the midshipman was in charge of the floor?”
This question was put to Dave, the following morning, by the commandant of midshipmen.
“It would have been an impertinence, sir, under ordinary conditions,” Darrin answered. “Under the circumstances I believed, sir, that I had been provoked into righteous anger.”
“You still assert that Mr. Clairy’s charge that your shoes were unlaced when you approached him was false?”
“Absolutely false, sir.”
“Do you wish any time to reflect over that answer, Mr. Darrin?”
“No, sir.”
“You are willing your answer should go on record, then?”
“My denial of the charge of having my shoes unlaced is the only answer that I can possibly make, sir.”
The commandant reflected. Then he directed that Midshipman Clairy be ordered to report to him. Clairy came, almost immediately. The commandant questioned him closely. Clairy still stuck resolutely to his story that Dave Darrin had been passing through the corridor with his shoes unlaced; and, furthermore, that Darrin, when rebuked and ordered to place himself on report, had used impertinent language.
During this examination the midshipmen did not glance toward each other. Both stood at attention, their glances on the commandant’s face.
“I do not know what to say,” the officer admitted at last. “I will take the matter under advisement. You may both go.”
Outside, well away from the office, Dave Darrin halted, swinging and confronting Clairy sternly.
“You lying scoundrel!” vibrated Darrin, his voice shaking with anger.
“It constitutes another offense, Mr. Darrin, to use such language for the purpose of intimidating a midshipman in the performance of his duty,” returned Midshipman Clairy, looking back steadily into Dave’s eyes.
“An offense? Fighting is another, under a strict interpretation of the rules,” Dave replied coldly.
“And I do not intend to fight you,” replied Clairy, still speaking smoothly.
“Perhaps I should know better than to challenge you,” replied Midshipman Darrin. “The spirit of the brigade prohibits my fighting any one who is not a gentleman.”
“If that is all you have to say, Mr. Darrin, I will leave you. You cannot provoke me into any breach of the regulations.”
Clairy walked away calmly, leaving Dave Darrin fuming with anger.
Page was sent for next, then Dalzell. Both denied utterly the charges on which Clairy had ordered them to report themselves. Again Mr. Clairy was sent for, and once more he asserted the complete truthfulness of his charges.
It was so in the cases of the five remaining midshipmen under charges, though still Mr. Clairy stuck to the correctness of the report.
Action in all of the eight cases was suspended by the commandant, who went post-haste to the superintendent. That latter official, experienced as he was in the ways of midshipmen, could offer no solution of the mystery.
“You see, my dear Graves,” explained the superintendent, “it is the rule of custom here, and a safe rule at that, to accept the word of a midshipman as being his best recollection or knowledge of the truth of any statement that he makes. In that case, we would seem to be bound to accept the statements of Mr. Clairy.”
On the other hand, we are faced with the fact that we must accept the statements made by Mr. Darrin, Mr. Page, Mr. Dalzell, Mr. Fenwick and others. We are on the horns of a dilemma, though I doubt not that we shall find a way out of it.”
“There appears, sir, to be only the statement of one midshipman against the word of eight midshipmen,” suggested the commandant.
“Not exactly that,” replied the superintendent. “The fact is that Mr. Clairy’s charges do not concern the eight midshipmen collectively, but individually. Had Mr. Clairy charged all eight of the midshipmen of an offense committed at the same time and together, and had the eight midshipmen all denied it, then we should be reluctantly compelled to admit the probability that Mr. Clairy had been lying. But his charges relate to eight different delinquencies, and not one of the eight accused midshipmen is in a position to act as witness for any of the other accused men.”
“Then what are we going to do, sir?”
“I will admit that I do not yet know,” replied the superintendent. “Some method of getting at the truth in the matter is likely to occur to us later on. In the meantime, Graves, you will not publish any punishments for the reported delinquencies.”
“Very good, sir,” nodded the commandant.
“Keep your wits at work for a solution of the mystery, Graves.”
“I will, sir.”
“And I will give the matter all the attention that I can,” was the superintendent’s last word.
If anger had been at the boiling point before, the situation was even worse now.
Page and Fenwick openly challenged Clairy to fight. He replied, in each case, with a cool, smiling refusal.
“We’ve got to hold that class meeting!” growled Farley.
“Why?” inquired Dave. “The class can’t do anything more to Clairy than has already been done. His refusals to fight will send him to Coventry as securely as could action by all four of the classes. No fellow here can refuse to fight, unless he couples with his refusal an offer to submit the case to his own class for action. No one, henceforth, will have a word to say to Clairy.”
“Perhaps not; but I still insist that the class meeting ought to be called.”
This was the general sentiment among the first classmen. Darrin was the only real dissenter to the plan.
“Oh, well, go ahead and call the class together, if you like,” agreed Dave. “My main contention is that such a meeting will be superfluous. The action of the class has really been taken already.”
“Will you come to the meeting, Darry?” asked Fenwick.
“Really, I don’t know,” Dave answered thoughtfully. “My presence would do neither good nor harm. The action of the class has already been decided. In fact, it has been put into effect.”
“Then you won’t be there?” spoke up Farley.
“I don’t know. I’ll come, however, if it will please any of you especially.”
“Oh, bother you, Darry! We’re not going to beg your presence as a favor.”
At formation for dinner, when the brigade adjutant published the orders, every midshipman in the long ranks of the twelve companies waited eagerly to learn what had been done in the cases of the eight midshipmen. They were doomed to disappointment, however.
At brigade formation for supper notice of a meeting of the first class in Recreation Hall was duly published. There was rather an unwonted hush over the tables that night.
Immediately afterwards groups of midshipmen were seen strolling through the broad foyer of Bancroft Hall, and up the low steps into Recreation Hall. Yet it was some ten minutes before there was anything like a full gathering of the first class.
“Order!” rapped the class president Then, after glancing around:
“Is Mr. Clairy present?”
He was not.
“Where’s Darry?” buzzed several voices.
But Dave Darrin was not present either.
“Where is he?” several demanded of Dan.
“Blessed if I know,” Dan answered. “I wish I did, fellows.”
“Isn’t Darry going to attend?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
Midshipman Gosman now claimed the floor. He spoke a good deal as though he had been retained as advocate for the eight accused midshipmen. In a fiery speech Mr. Gosman recited that eight different members of the class had been falsely accused by Mr. Clairy.
“There are not eight liars in our class,” declared Midshipman Gosman, with very telling effect.
Then, after more fiery words aimed at Clairy, Mr. Gosman demanded:
“Why is not Mr. Clairy here to speak for himself? Let him who can answer this! Further, Mr. Clairy has been challenged to fight by some of those whom be accused. Now, sir and classmates, a midshipman may refuse to fight, but if he does he must submit his case to his class, and then be guided by the class decision as to whether he must fight or not. Mr. Clairy has not done this.”
“He’s a cur!” shouted a voice.
“I accept the remark,” bowed Mr. Gosman, “if I am permitted to express the class’s apology to all dogs for the comparison.”
“Good!” yelled several.
“Mr. President and classmates,” continued the angry orator, “I believe we are all of one mind, and I believe that I can express the unanimous sentiment of the first class.”
“You can!”
“You bet you can!”
“Go ahead!”
“Mr. President, I take it upon myself to move that the first class should, and hereby does, send Mr. Clairy to Coventry for all time to come!”
“Second the motion!” cried several voices.
Then a diversion was created.
One of the big doors opened and a midshipman stepped into the room, closing the door.
That midshipman was Dave Darrin. Every first classman in the room felt certain that Darrin had entered for the express purpose of saying something of consequence.
CHAPTER XIX
MIDSHIPMAN DARRIN HAS THE FLOOR
But Dave did not speak at first. Advancing only a short distance into the hall he stood with arms folded, his face well-nigh expressionless.
For a moment the class president glanced at Darrin, then at the assemblage.
“Gentlemen,” announced the class president, “you have heard the motion, that Mr. Clairy be sent to Coventry for all time to come. The motion has been duly seconded. Remarks are in order.”
“Mr. President!”
It was Dave who had spoken. All eyes were turned in his direction at once.
“Mr. Darrin,” announced the chair. “Mr. President, and classmates, I, for one, shall vote against the motion.”
An angry clamor rose, followed by calls of, “Question! Put the motion!”
“Do any of you know,” Darrin continued, “why Mr. Clairy is not here this evening?”
“He’s afraid to come!”
“Did any of you note that Mr. Clairy was not at supper?”
“The hound hadn’t any appetite,” jeered Fenwick angrily.
“You have observed, of course, that Mr. Clairy was not here at the meeting?”
“He didn’t dare come!” cried several voices.
“If you have any explanation to make, Mr. Darrin, let us have it,” urged the chair.
“Mr. President and classmates,” Midshipman Darrin continued, “all along I have felt that there must be some explanation to match Mr. Clairy’s most extraordinary conduct. I now offer you the explanation. The officer in charge sent for me, to impart some information that I am requested to repeat before this meeting.”
“Go on!” cried several curious voices when Dave paused for a moment.
“Fellows, I hate to tell you the news, and you will all be extremely sorry to hear it. You will be glad, however, that you did not pass the motion now before the class. Mr. President, I have to report, at the request of the officer in charge, the facts in Mr. Clairy’s case.
“From the peculiar nature of the case both the superintendent and the commandant of midshipmen were convinced that there was something radically wrong with Mr. Clairy.”
“Humph! I should say so!” uttered Penwick, with emphasis.
“Mr. Clairy was not at our mess at supper,” resumed Dave Darrin, “for the very simple reason that he had been taken to hospital. There he was examined by three surgeons, assisted by an outside specialist. Mr. President and classmates, I know you will all feel heartily sorry for Clairy when I inform you that he has been pronounced insane.”
Dave ceased speaking, and an awed silence prevailed. It was the chair who first recovered his poise.
“Clairy insane!” cried the class president. “Gentlemen, now we comprehend what, before, it was impossible to understand.”
In the face of this sudden blow to a classmate all the midshipmen sat for a few minutes more as if stunned. Then they began to glance about at each other.
“I think this event must convince us, sir,” Darrin’s voice broke in, “that we young men don’t know everything, and that we should learn to wait for facts before we judge swiftly.”
“Mr. President!”
It was Gosman, on his feet. In a husky voice that midshipman begged the consent of his seconders for his withdrawing the motion he had offered sending Midshipman Clairy to Coventry. In a twinkling that motion had been withdrawn.
“Will Mr. Darrin, state, if able, how serious Clairy’s insanity is believed to be?” inquired the chair.
“It is serious enough to ruin all his chances in the Navy,” Dave answered, “though the surgeons believe that, after Clairy has been taken by his friends to some asylum, his cure can eventually be brought about.”
The feeling in the room was too heavy for more discussion. A motion to adjourn was offered and carried, after which the first classmen hurried from the room.
Of course no demerits were imposed as a result of the crazy reports ordered by Midshipman Clairy on that memorable night. Three days later the unfortunate young man’s father arrived and had his son conveyed from Annapolis. It may interest the reader to know that, two years later, the ex-midshipman fully recovered his reason, and is now successfully engaged in business.
Spring now rapidly turned into early summer. The baseball squad had been at work for some time. Both Darrin and Dalzell had been urged to join.
“Let’s go into the nine, if we can make it—and we ought to,” urged Dan.
“You go ahead, Danny boy, if you’re so inclined,” replied Dave.
“Aren’t you going in?”
“I have decided not to.”
“You’re a great patriot for the Naval Academy, Davy.”
“I’m looking out for myself, I’ll admit. I want to graduate as high in my class as I can, Danny. Yet I’d sacrifice my own desires if the Naval Academy needed me on the nine. However, I’m not needed. There are several men on the nine who play ball better than I but don’t let me keep you off the nine, Dan.”
“If you stay off I guess I will,” replied Dalzell. “If the nine doesn’t need you then it doesn’t need me.”
“But I thought you wanted to play.”
“Not unless you and I could be the battery, David, little giant. I’d like to catch your pitching, but I don’t want to stop any other fellow’s pitching.”
So far the nine had gone on without them. Realizing how much Dan wanted to play with the Navy team in this, their last year, Dave changed his mind, and both joined. A very creditable showing was made after their entrance into the nine. That year the Navy captured more than half the games played, though the Navy was fated to lose to the Army by a score of four to three. This game is described in detail in “_Dick Prescott’s Fourth Year At West Point_.”
With the approach of graduation time Dave’s heart was gladdened by the arrival in Annapolis of Belle Meade and her mother, who stopped at the Maryland House. Dave saw them on the only days when it was possible—that is to say, on Saturdays and Sundays. He had many glimpses of his sweetheart, however, at other times, for Belle, filled with the fascination of Naval life, came often with her mother to watch the outdoor drills.
When Dave saw her at such times, however, he was obliged to act as though he did not. Not by look or sign could he convey any intimation that he was doing anything but pay the strictest heed to duty.
Then came the Saturday before examination. Dave Darrin, released after dinner, would gladly have hurried away from the Academy grounds to visit his sweetheart in town, but Belle willed it otherwise.
“These are your last days here, Dave,” whispered Belle, as she and her handsome midshipman strolled about. “If I’m to share your life with you, I may as well begin by sharing the Naval Academy with you to-day.”
“Shall we go over to the field and watch the ball game when it starts?” Darrin asked.
“Not unless you very especially wish to,” Miss Meade replied. “I’d rather have you to myself than to share your attention with a ball game.”
So, though Midshipman Dave was interested in the outcome of the game, he decided to wait for the score when it had been made.
“Where’s Dan to-day?” Belle inquired.
“Over at the ball game.”
“Alone?”
“No; the brigade is with him, or he’s with the brigade,” laughed Darrin.
“Then he’s not there with a girl?”
“Oh, no; I think Danny’s second experience has made him a bit skeptical about girls.”
“And how are you, on that point, Mr. Darrin?” teased Belle, gazing up at him mirthfully.
“You know my sentiments, as to myself, Belle. As for Dan—well, I think it beyond doubt that he will do well to wait for several years before he allows himself to be interested in any girls.”
“Why?”
“Well, because Danny’s judgment is bad in that direction. And he’s pretty sure to be beaten out by any determined rival. You see, when Danny gets interested in a girl, he doesn’t really know whether he wants her. From a girl’s point of view what do you think of that failing, Belle?”
“I am afraid the girl is not likely to feel complimented.”
“So,” pursued Dave, “while Danny is really interested in a girl, but is uneasily unable to make up his mind, the girl is pretty sure to grow tired of him and take up with the more positive rival.”
“Poor Dan is not likely to have a bride early in life,” sighed Belle.
“Oh, yes; one very excellent bride for a Naval officer to have.”
“What is that?”
“His commission. Dan, if he keeps away from too interesting girls, will have some years in which to fit himself splendidly in his profession. By that time he’ll be all the better equipped for taking care of a wife.”
“I wonder,” pondered Belle, “what kind of wife Dan will finally choose.”
“He won’t have anything to do with the choosing,” laughed Darrin. “One of these days some woman will choose him, and then Dan will be anchored for life. It is even very likely that he’ll imagine that he selected his wife from among womankind, but he won’t have much to say about it.”
“You seem to think Dan is only half witted,” Belle remarked.
“Only where women are concerned, Belle. In everything else he’s a most capable young American. He’s going to be a fine Naval officer.”
In another hour Belle had changed her mind. She had seen all of the Academy grounds that she cared about for a while, and now proposed that they slip out through the Maryland Avenue gate for a walk through the shaded, sweet scented streets of Annapolis. As Darrin had town liberty the plan pleased him.
Strolling slowly the young people at last neared State Circle.
“I thought midshipmen didn’t tell fibs,” suddenly remarked Belle.
“They’re not supposed to,” Dave replied.
“But you said Dan was at the ball game.”
“Isn’t he?”
“Look there!” Belle exclaimed dramatically.
CHAPTER XX
DAN STEERS ON THE ROCKS AGAIN
Just entering Wiegard’s were Midshipman Dalzell and a very pretty young woman.
Dan had not caught sight of his approaching friends.
“Why, that fellow told me he was going to see if he couldn’t be the mascot for a winning score to-day,” Dave exclaimed.
“But he didn’t say that the score was to be won in a ball game, did he?” Belle queried demurely.
“Now I think of it, he didn’t mention ball,” Darrin admitted. “But I thought it was the game down on the Academy athletic field.”
“No; it was very different kind of game,” Belle smiled. “Dave, you’ll find that Dan is incurable. He’s going to keep on trying with women until—–“
“Until he lands one?” questioned Dave.
“No; until one lands him. Dave, I wonder if it would be too terribly prying if we were to turn into Wiegard’s too?”
“I don’t see any reason why it should be,” Darrin answered. “Mr. Wiegard conducts a public confectioner’s place. It’s the approved place for any midshipman to take a young lady for ice cream. Do you feel that you’d like some ice cream?”
“No,” Belle replied honestly. “But I’d like to get a closer look at Dan’s latest.”
So Dave led his sweetheart into Wiegard’s. In order to get a seat at a table it was necessary to pass the table at which Dan and his handsome friend were seated. As Dalzell’s back was toward the door he did not espy his friends until they were about to pass.
“Why, hello, Darry!” cried Dan, rising eagerly, though his cheeks flushed a bit. “How do you do, Miss Meade? Miss Henshaw, may I present my friends? Miss Meade and Mr. Darrin.”
The introduction was pleasantly acknowledged all around. Miss Henshaw proved wholly well-bred and at ease.
“Won’t you join us here?” asked Dalzell, trying hard to conceal the fact that he didn’t want any third and fourth parties.
“I know you’ll excuse us,” answered Dave, bowing, “and I feel certain that I am running counter to Miss Meade’s wishes. But I have so little opportunity to talk to her that I’m going to beg you to excuse us. I’m going to be selfish and entice Miss Meade away to the furthest corner.”
That other table was so far away that Dave and Belle could converse in low tones without the least danger of being overheard. There were, at that time, no other patrons in the place.
“Well, Belle, what do you think of the lady, now that you’ve seen her?”
“You’ve named her,” replied Belle quietly. “Dan’s new friend is beyond any doubt a lady.”
“Then Dan is safe, at last.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Belle answered.
“But, if she’s really a lady, she must be safe company for Dan.”
Belle smiled queerly before she responded:
“I’m afraid Dan is in for a tremendous disappointment.”
“In the lady’s character?” pressed Darrin.
“Oh, indeed, no.”
“Wait and see.”
“But I’d rather know now.”
“I’ll tell you what I mean before you say good-bye this afternoon,” Belle promised.
“By Jove, but I am afraid that is going to be too late,” murmured Midshipman Darrin. “Unless I’m greatly misled as to the meaning of the light that has suddenly come into Danny’s eyes, he’s proposing to her now!”
“Oh!” gasped Belle, and the small spoonful of cream that was passing down her throat threatened to strangle her.
“Dave, how old do you think Miss Henshaw is?” asked Miss Meade, as soon as she could trust herself to speak.
“Twenty, I suppose.”
“You don’t know much about women’s ages, then, do you?” smiled Belle.
“I don’t suppose I’ve any business to know.”
“Miss Henshaw is a good many years older than Dan.”
“She doesn’t look it,” urged Dave.
“But she is. Trust another woman to know!”
“There, by Jove!” whispered Dave. “It has started. Danny is running under the wire! I can tell by his face that he has just started to propose.”
“Poor boy! He’ll have an awful fall!” muttered Belle.
“Why do you say that? But, say! You’re right, Belle. Dan’s face has turned positively ghastly. He looks worse than he could if he’d just failed to graduate.”
“Naturally,” murmured Belle. “Poor boy, I’m sorry for him.”
“But what’s the matter?”
“Did you notice Miss Henshaw’s jewelry?”
“Not particularly. I can see, from here, that she’s wearing a small diamond in each ear.”
“Dave, didn’t you see the flat gold band that she wears on the third finger of her left hand?” Belle demanded in a whisper.
“No,” confessed Midshipman Darrin innocently. “But what has that to do with—“
“Her wedding ring,” Belle broke in. “Dan has gotten her title twisted. She’s Mrs. Henshaw.”
“Whew! But what, in that case, is she doing strolling around with a midshipman? That’s no proper business for a married woman,” protested Dave Darrin.
“Haven’t you called on or escorted any married women since you’ve been at Annapolis?” demanded Belle bluntly.
“Yes; certainly,” nodded Dave. “But, in every instance they were wives of Naval officers, and such women looked upon midshipmen as mere little boys.”
“Isn’t there an Admiral Henshaw in the Navy?” inquired Belle.
“Certainly.”
“That’s Mrs. Henshaw,” Belle continued.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t, but I’m certain, just the same. Now, Dan has met Mrs. Henshaw somewhere down at the Naval Academy. He heard her name and got it twisted into Miss Henshaw. It’s his own blundering fault, no doubt. But Admiral Henshaw’s young and pretty wife is not to be blamed for allowing a boyish midshipman to stroll with her as her escort.”
“Whew!” whistled Dave Darrin under his breath. “So Dan has been running it blind again? Oh, Belle, it’s a shame! I’m heartily sorry that we’ve been here to witness the poor old chap’s Waterloo.”
“So am I,” admitted Belle. “But the harm that has been done is due to Dan’s own blindness. He should learn to read ordinary signs as he runs.”
No wonder Dan Dalzell’s face had gone gray and ashy. For the time being he was feeling keenly. He had been so sure of “Miss” Henshaw’s being a splendid woman—as, indeed, she was—that he decided on this, their third meeting, to try his luck with a sailor’s impetuous wooing. In other words, he had plumply asked the admiral’s wife to marry him;
“Why, you silly boy!” remonstrated Mrs. Henshaw, glancing up at him with a dismayed look. “I don’t know your exact age, Mr. Dalzell, but I think it probable that I am at least ten years older than—“
“I don’t care,” Dan maintained bravely.