v^TiT^T^VT 
 
 GKEEM
 
 : LIBRARY 
 
 LUS
 
 WON FOR THE FLEET
 
 MEANWHILE HE STEERED THE TWENTY-NINE IN A WIDE CIRCLE TO 
 WINDWARD OF THE FORTY-TWO. 
 
 (Page 81.)
 
 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 A STORY OF ANNAPOLIS 
 
 BY 
 
 FITZHUGH GREEN 
 
 Lt. -Commander, U. S. N. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 681 FIFTH AVENUE
 
 Copyright, 1922, 
 BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 Att right, reserved, 
 
 PMNTKD IK THB TTNITBD STATES OF AWRIOA
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 Annapolis is the most remarkable institution of its kind 
 in the world. 
 
 The education it provides is essentially engineering: 
 marine and civil, electrical and mechanical, finally naval. 
 Also no midshipman escapes instruction, even proficiency, 
 in less than three forms of athletics. 
 
 The Naval Academy is unique in two distinct ways: 
 By intensity of the traditional class spirit is begun that 
 unparalleled esprit de corps which makes our Navy the 
 greatest in the world. By the summer cruises is pro- 
 vided a species of education no youth should reach man- 
 hood without. 
 
 WON FOR THE FLEET is a tale of two boys, one physically 
 brutal, the other physically deficient. Four years at An- 
 napolis moulds and forges, tempers and anneals, their two 
 characters. The bully is refined; the weakling fibred. 
 False standards of both are overthrown. From two awk- 
 ward young animals are made two men two gentlemen. 
 From two instinctive enemies are made two fast friends. 
 
 It is a tale of adventure and vicissitude, true to the 
 middie's life, by one who has lived and loved it! 
 
 2135896
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I ESCAPE i 
 
 II A DASH TO COVER 12 
 
 III BURIED ALIVE 24 
 
 IV AN ADMIRAL AT BAY 36 
 
 V THE DISASTER 45 
 
 VI COURT-MARTIAL 58 
 
 VII FIRE 69 
 
 VIII DILEMMA 79 
 
 IX HAZED go 
 
 X N! N! N! N! 103 
 
 XI CATASTROPHE r. . . . 114 
 
 XII A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 118 
 
 XIII NEARING THE END 130 
 
 XIV EUROPE! 135 
 
 XV MAN OVERBOARD! 148 
 
 XVI NECK AND NECK! 158 
 
 XVII MISSING! 167 
 
 XVIII CLASS SPIRIT 177 
 
 XIX IN SECRET *, . ., 189 
 
 XX TRAITORS! 199 
 
 XXI PIRATES . .... 211 
 
 XXII THE HOP ,.... 224 
 
 XXIII AT His OWN GAME .... ~ v . ... 235 
 
 XXIV THE BATTLE .,..,... 248 
 
 XXV THE TURRET 259 
 
 XXVI THEIR LAST FIGHT 271
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Meanwhile he steered the Twenty-Nine in a wide circle to 
 windward of the Forty-Two (Page 81) . . Frontispiece 
 
 TACINQ PAGE 
 
 Four horsemen were coming down the trail in single file . . 8 
 
 "He's insulted me and I'm going to make him apologize" . . 26 
 
 He was fascinated by the old French town 138 
 
 Some sort of excitement seemed to be going on 174
 
 
 WON FOR THE FLEET
 
 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ESCAPE 
 
 CLOSE to midnight the reader moved his candle a bit 
 nearer to the bed's head. Using his finger as a guide 
 he followed again the final thrilling sentence : 
 
 ". . . Having sunk three frigates and a brig, and with 
 half the width of the South Pacific between him and his 
 pursuers, Skipper Byng now dared risk attack the pirate 
 stronghold." 
 
 After a third reading he rose to a sitting position. 
 Such was his caution that not a creak came from the 
 dilapidated old bed. Strangely enough he was fully 
 dressed, this despite the fact that a moment before the 
 bedclothes had covered him to his chin. 
 
 He pinched out the candle. Blowing would have made 
 too dangerous a noise, and noises of any kind increased 
 tremendously the peril of the moment. As yet there 
 were no pursuers. 'But had there been, the luck of 
 Captain Byng with half the South Pacific behind him 
 was tragically impossible. 
 
 He tiptoed to the window. Through a crack in the 
 shutter the street was faintly visible. It appeared de- 
 serted. He couldn't see the tall figure in dark clothing 
 lurking behind the telegraph post opposite. 
 
 The tall figure was that of the Emmitsburg night 
 patrolman. For a week this officer had noticed the 
 
 1
 
 2 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 flicker of light upstairs in the house he now watched. 
 Inquiry had told him only that this was the residence of 
 the Poors, a new family in Emmitsburg. Anything new 
 in the tiny village of Emmitsburg was a cause for sus- 
 picion. 
 
 Tonight he had determined to solve the mystery. So, 
 having made the rounds of his regular beat, he returned 
 and concealed himself behind the post Within a 
 minute after his arrival he was rewarded by seeing the 
 light disappear. Then noiselessly the shutter opened. 
 A shadowy figure emerged and lowered itself to a ledge 
 beneath the window. It crept to a drain pipe a few feet 
 away and slid to the ground with a faint thud. By 
 furtive steps it passed through the little front garden 
 and into the street. Twenty paces behind, the patrolman 
 took up the pursuit. So far he had no cause for arrest. 
 Also his detective instinct told him that greater possibil- 
 ities of discovering crime lay in covering the full trail. 
 
 Near the lower end of Emmitsburg's main thorough- 
 fare, a freight train delayed matters. As a light hung 
 above the crossing, the fleeing figure shrank into the 
 shadows of a nearby building. The policeman had just 
 time to see he carried a bag of some sort. Booty with- 
 out a doubt. 
 
 The rumbling crashing train passed slowly. Its 
 length seemed endless. Suddenly the green tail light of 
 the caboose swung into sight. At the same instant the 
 officer gave a half-shout of dismay. 
 
 The figure had darted from its hiding place, leaped to 
 the iron rung of a passing flat car, and was carried into 
 the darkness of the night! 
 
 Near dawn the train picked its noisy way through the 
 City's freight yards. The single passenger slipped off
 
 ESCAPE 3 
 
 in time to avoid the inquisitive crew. He was cold and 
 cramped and hungry. But he didn't hesitate. Except 
 for stopping twice and questioning pedestrians as to the 
 route, he walked steadily until the sun was high. 
 
 In the busy center of the City he entered a massive 
 stone building. On the second floor he accosted a man 
 in uniform behind a desk. 
 
 "Want to enlist in the Navy," he announced briefly. 
 
 "Name?" 
 
 "Thomas Poor." 
 
 "Age?" 
 
 "Twenty" he lied without hesitation. 
 
 The man behind the desk shot a keen look. He was 
 trying the age of twenty on Tom Poor as a tailor would 
 try on a coat Stocky well-knit figure it fitted. Heavy 
 jaw and set mouth were those of an older man. Cold 
 blue eyes between their narrow lids, short cropped hair 
 the whole bulldog-like poise were those of a man past 
 twenty. Only the thumping heart beneath was unalter- 
 ably young. It was invisible; yet hopelessly it beat and 
 clamored to shout the truth : 
 
 "He lies this Tom Poor lies! He's seventeen he's 
 seventeen he's seventeen !" 
 
 Three months later to a day there was great excite- 
 ment about the decks of the U. S. S. Alaska. The huge 
 gray dreadnaught had anchored the night before in the 
 blue expanse of Manzanillo Bay on the south coast of 
 Cuba. 
 
 A blazing tropical sunrise had just fired the misty 
 peaks to the north when the officer of the deck dashed 
 to the gangway, shook his sleepy bugler, and ordered 
 reveille blown at once followed by the assembly.
 
 4 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Uproar of boatswain's-mates echoed along the lower 
 
 decks. 
 
 "All 1 hands on deck ! Fall in the landing force !" 
 
 Without waiting to lash hammocks, six hundred men 
 tumbled sleepily down and clambered up the nearest 
 hatchways. Not since the days of war had any -such 
 alarm broken upon the brisk routine of peace. 
 
 "Fall in for muster!" shouted the division petty 
 officers and began to call in a hoarse monotone the lists 
 of names belonging to their division or company. 
 
 "Tom Poor, seaman, second class." 
 
 No reply. 
 
 "Where is the beggar? Tom Poor!" 
 
 A lanky lieutenant strode up. "All right Johnson," 
 he said crisply ; "I've excused Poor from this formation." 
 
 Having received a report of absentees, the lieutenant 
 returned at a dogtrot to his stateroom where he found 
 Tom waiting as he had directed. 
 
 "I was ordered to report to you here, Mr. Rudd," said 
 the lad. 
 
 "Yes, Poor. I have picked you for a serious responsi- 
 bility. I may as well trust you at once with the truth of 
 this disturbance." 
 
 He turned to the open porthole and pointed to a saddle 
 in the distant mountains. 
 
 "See that blurred line? That's smoke. An American 
 sugar plantation has been attacked by .bandits. The 
 owners cabled to Washington for assistance last night. 
 Twenty minutes ago we received orders to land an armed 
 force and capture the criminals." 
 
 "But they've had all night to get away, sir." 
 
 "True, except that they are in such numbers that there 
 may have seemed to them no need to hurry. We hope
 
 ESCAPE 5 
 
 to surround them by dividing our force. Half will be 
 sent up the river opposite us. The rest will land and 
 make their way across country in order to cut off the 
 bandits from escape by way of the railroad." 
 
 Lieutenant Rudd stopped, closed the door and went on 
 in lower tones. 
 
 "You and I have a special job in the middle of things. 
 I have selected you to accompany me on a route midway 
 between the two sections. We can follow a road that is 
 visible for nearly its whole length from the ship. Our 
 signals about the positions of the enemy will be repeated 
 to the divisions on either side of us." 
 
 At this moment a messenger announced the Captain's 
 gig ready for Mr. Rudd. 
 
 Half an hour after they landed, a hard climb brought 
 them to a point from which the smoking ruins of the 
 plantation buildings were plainly visible on the hillside 
 about a mile ahead. 
 
 After a long scrutiny through his binoculars, Lieuten- 
 ant Rudd turned with a smile of satisfaction. "They're 
 still there," he said. "I can't see the men, but their 
 camp fires are quite distinct from the smudge of the 
 burning buildings." 
 
 "Shall I signal that back to the ship?" asked Tom. 
 
 At a nod from the officer he began a swift series of 
 movements with two small red flags. 
 
 "Pretty good at that, aren't you?" 
 
 Tom colored slightly. "I try to be," he said after a 
 pause. 
 
 "That's why I chose you, Poor. You have impressed 
 me as trying to be good at everything I set before you. 
 Must be the way your mind works. Or maybe it's got 
 to do with the reasons you had for coming in the Navy."
 
 6 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 With one eye on the Alaska for a signal Tom made 
 an effort to return the confidence of the older man. 
 
 "Guess it's the reasons you speak of, sir. I ran away 
 from home to enlist in the Navy. I had to go to sea. 
 Seems kind of in me. 'Course I used to be all for this 
 pirate stuff you read about. But the country's coming 
 to be a great sea power and that means law and order. 
 Merchant ships are bound to be monotonous same 
 routes all the time, and all that. So I took the Navy. 
 Then" 
 
 Tom broke off abruptly with a sharp exclamation. 
 One flag he thrust out at right angles to his body and 
 waved it rapidly up and down. A searchlight blinker 
 flashed from the battleship's bridge. 
 
 "Combine in attack at ten thirty," he read. 
 
 "Gives us just time to make the encampment," an- 
 nounced the other pulling out his watch. "Suppose 
 they've figured the same for the other parties." 
 
 From this point it was necessary to strike off across 
 country. The road would not be safe, as parts of it were 
 visible from the bandit camp. Also it was necessary 
 that scouts be avoided in order not to give the alarm. 
 
 Tropical vegetation is a terrible tax on the walker's 
 muscles. Rudd's long legs enabled him to avoid many 
 of the snake-like vines and cacti that constantly tripped 
 the sturdier-built seaman. On the other hand, Tom's 
 rugged physique was not to be conquered by anything 
 so trifling as a tropical jungle. 
 
 After a half an hour's struggle, Lieutenant Rudd 
 stopped. "We've got to be careful not to lose our way 
 here," he panted,. "Even with the sun and our compass 
 we run a risk of running into an ambush."
 
 ESCAPE 7 
 
 "Suppose I take a look ahead," suggested Tom. "I 
 see a tree from which I may get a pretty good squint at 
 the neighborhood." 
 
 "All right, but be back inside of ten minutes, as we 
 have no time to lose." 
 
 Tom's guess was correct. From the tree he could 
 overlook not only the plantation enclosure, now a smok- 
 ing desolation, but the thickly wooded area on either 
 side. To his surprise he found that not twenty yards to 
 the right of him lay an open trail. 
 
 He started down. As he turned, his big Navy Colt 
 automatic caught on a limb. In the few seconds of free- 
 ing himself he chanced to take another glance at the 
 trail. His heart leaped. 
 
 Four horsemen were coming down it in single file. 
 Beyond a doubt they were the bandits. One was thor- 
 oughly drunk. All were loaded down with parcels and 
 bags full of loot. Two had packages of greenbacks 
 protruding from their pockets. 
 
 Tom thought quickly. The bandits were slipping 
 through their fingers. By means of this trail they could 
 elude both attacking parties and escape in either direc- 
 tion along the coast. It would be a good fifteen minutes 
 before the main forces would even reach the camp. And 
 even then they would be of no great help unless they 
 knew exactly in which direction to continue the pursuit. 
 
 There was but one thing to do. Tom drew his gun 
 from its holster and cocked it. Using the crotch of 
 a limb he took steady aim and fired. The leading horse 
 reared with a loud snort, balanced for a moment on its 
 hindlegs, and fell with a crash into the undergrowth that 
 bordered the trail.
 
 8 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Instantly the other riders swung off the open way. 
 Tom could hear them floundering about in all directions. 
 His single shot had thrown them into a panic. 
 
 Then a second shot rang out It was in the direction 
 of Mr. Rudd and reminded Tom of the predicament his 
 impulsive action might have imposed upon his companion. 
 
 A horse screamed. Shouts in Spanish came from all 
 sides. There ensued a tumult of horses and men scram- 
 bling to avoid the unseen attackers. 
 
 Then to Tom's great satisfaction he heard the noise 
 subside in the direction of the plantation. He clambered 
 down and rushed back to where he had left the officer. 
 Tom's heart stood still at what he saw. 
 
 Lieutenant Rudd lay on the ground face up. Blood 
 was streaming from his mouth and nose* His white 
 uniform was torn and dishevelled. No doubt he had 
 been set upon from behind and left for dead. 
 
 With his neckerchief Tom bound up the wounds as 
 best he could. Though he could hear a faint heartbeat 
 he was by no means sure that death was not very near to 
 the victim. 
 
 This chance that his companion might be saved by 
 prompt medical attention left no room for debate. There 
 was only one thing to do; take him on to the impending 
 battle and trust to luck that the doctor of the landing 
 force would be available. 
 
 Tom's unusual strength came vigorously to his aid 
 when he swung the limp body over his shoulder. At 
 that he staggered as he made his way up the narrow 
 sandy trail. Sweat poured down his arms and legs, and 
 he was conscious of an increasing throbbing pain in the 
 back of his cramped neck. 
 
 Twice he put down the body to reconnoitre. Sud-
 
 FOUR HORSEMEN WERE COMING DOWN THE TRAIL IN SINGLE FILE.
 
 ESCAPE 9 
 
 denly, he realized the time for attack as set by the 
 Alaska's signal* had come and passed. Could he pos- 
 sibly have read the figures wrong? The thought startled 
 him. If so, his mistake had precipitated the bandits' 
 flight and possibly cost the life of his superior officer. 
 
 Then, without warning, a fusillade of shots broke out 
 ahead. There were shouted orders and yells of terror- 
 stricken men mingled with a great stamping of horses' 
 hoofs. The battle had begun! 
 
 Hastily placing the body in the shelter of a large 
 tree, Tom crept cautiously ahead. Gun in hand, he 
 was ready should the natives make a rush in his direc- 
 tion. 
 
 Suddenly as it began, the firing stopped. Tom waited 
 for a long minute to see if it would begin again, then 
 ran back for the unconscious man,. He arrived at the 
 plantation clearing just in time to see the begrimed and 
 heated landing force shouldering their smoking arms and 
 falling into ranks. 
 
 "A doctor !" he shouted. "Quick ! Here's a wounded 
 man!" 
 
 The last words trailed on his lips. The ranks of dirty 
 white uniforms faded into a gray smear. Then, quietly, 
 Tom collapsed. The tropical heat and his superhuman 
 efforts had been too much for him. 
 
 He came to in a little iron cot in sick bay, the battle- 
 ship's hospital between decks. 
 
 "Here, lad, drink this," ordered a white-shirted stew- 
 ard. "And as soon as you feel right, let me know. The 
 Skipper has sent for you to come to his cabin,." 
 
 Tom rose to his wobbly legs. "Might as well go now," 
 he said a little weakly. 
 
 "No hurry, son."
 
 io WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "No," wearily; "but I might as well get this off my 
 chest. I gummed the game ashore, you know." 
 
 The steward opened his eyes. "That ain't what they 
 say on deck," was his dubious comment. 
 
 Tom found to his surprise that Lieutenant Rudd had 
 preceded him,. Except for a head bandage the officer 
 looked very much himself. 
 
 Captain Barlow rose from his chair. "Let me con- 
 gratulate you A Poor," he said, holding out his hand. 
 "Proud to have you aboard." 
 
 "Wh yes sir but " Tom faltered. 
 
 "I've told him all about it," put in Rudd. 
 
 "Yes," continued the Captain, "he told me that you 
 singlehanded were responsible for our capture of the 
 bandits." 
 
 "But I wasn't there, sir," Tom persisted. 
 
 "Guess you don't realize what you did, young man." 
 The Skipper's smile was full of appreciation. "Accord- 
 ing to Mr. Rudd you dropped the leading scoundrel's 
 horse just as he was taking his party to safety. Of 
 course the others lost their nerve and turned about in 
 time to fall into the hands of our main force." 
 
 "Except that one of them managed to creep up behind 
 me," said Rudd, putting a hand to his bloody bandage. 
 
 Captain Barlow turned to his desk and drew an official 
 document from one of the pigeonholes. He waved it at 
 Tom and began: 
 
 "I have here a notification from Washington that I am 
 to select a seaman for one of the yearly appointments to 
 Annapolis that are reserved for enlisted men. Accord- 
 ing to Mr. Rudd you are the very one to fill the bill. 
 You have a love for adventure that will make you appre-
 
 'ESCAPE ii 
 
 ciate life at sea. Further, you have ambition that will 
 keep you out of mischief!" 
 
 "And the loyalty," broke in Rudd, "that goes into the 
 production of a successful naval officer." 
 
 Tom opened his mouth to speak;. Nothing came. 
 His cheeks burned. 
 
 "Orderly !" sang out the Skipper. 
 
 The marine sentry entered. 
 
 "Tell the Executive Officer that when he starts his 
 school course this spring to add the name of Poor, 
 Thomas Poor, seaman. Say I've picked him for An- 
 napolis." 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 Tom stumbled out of the cabin. He felt as though he 
 were walking on air. 
 
 The two dreams of his life were coming true : he was 
 going to get a college education and he was going to sea !
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A DASH TO COVER 
 
 FOR a brief space we must now abandon Tom Poor, 
 seaman U. S. Navy, to his books and bandits and Fleet 
 adventures. 
 
 A thousand miles north of Cuba another adventure was 
 brewing. And it involved another lad of an age ex- 
 actly Tom's. 
 
 The old university town was breathless with anticipa- 
 tion. More than a thousand young men and boys stood 
 in little knots and groups about the broad college campus 
 and discussed in whispers the Doming event. 
 
 "It's really tonight?" asked one in an awed voice. 
 
 "Sure," said a second student. "They always have the 
 class rush the first Saturday in October." 
 
 "Good time, I guess," assented a third, making a weak 
 pretense at being cheerful. "Nice cool night for a 
 roughhouse." 
 
 "Roughhouse," sneered the first speaker; "fight rather, 
 I'd call it Why they say sometimes as many as a hun- 
 dred are in the hospital after it's all over." 
 
 "Piffle! Weaklings and kids ought to keep out of 
 such stuff." 
 
 "Yea Bo! there's one now." 
 
 Simultaneously the group turned. A tall slender boy 
 was coming slowly down the sidewalk- His large brown 
 eyes were roving with vague interest over the little 
 
 12
 
 A DASH TO COVER 13 
 
 gatherings of disturbed young men about him. If he 
 sensed any of their anxiety, his indifferent manner cer- 
 tainly did not show it. 
 
 "Must be a king, or a president, or something like 
 that," remarked the nearest student in a loud voice. The 
 others roared. 
 
 "That's Reggie Van Brunt, the millionaire's son," 
 chirped someone. 
 
 The great battle was due to come off at seven-thirty. 
 Torches carried by the juniors and seniors lit up the 
 field. Far overhead loomed a black arch of branches 
 where the great oaks intertwined. A vast multitude of 
 students passed to and fro, while the deep hum of voices 
 spread like a warning for the mighty struggle about to 
 take place. 
 
 The sharp note of a bugle cut the night air and echoed 
 against the nearest buildings. 
 
 "Sophomores here!" came roared through a huge 
 megaphone. 
 
 "Sophomores here!" five hundred voices took up the 
 cry. 
 
 In two minutes the mob had formed. The entire 
 second year class gathered in a black mass of humanity. 
 At the center, on the shoulders of his classmates, sat 
 the class president. In the flickering light of torches, 
 his face stood out white and set. 
 
 For a second time the trumpet shrieked. Instantly, 
 eight hundred freshmen flung themselves at the solid 
 body of the older class. For a moment there was no 
 perceptible movement of the mass. Men on the edge 
 wrestled frantically. Some fell. Others staggered back 
 panting. 
 
 Then, slowly, the writhing aggregation crept forward.
 
 i 4 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Like a great steam roller made up of human beings it 
 moved heavily ahead, felling and trampling all that dared 
 try to stop it. 
 
 Near the university gate the fighting increased in feroc- 
 ity. While no actual blows were struck, the swaying, 
 grappling wrestlers tore at one another until shirts were 
 ripped from bodies, the shreds littering the ground like 
 a white snow. 
 
 Great cheering applause came from the audience. 
 First one side and then the other stood in public favor. 
 Torches were waved and hats flung into the air as evi- 
 dences of the enthusiasm with which the terrific on- 
 slaughts were viewed. At last the freshman line gave 
 way. One final short rush by the supporters of the soph- 
 omore president and he was half pushed, half dragged 
 to a standing position on the center of a long wooden 
 bench that flanked the college entrance. 
 
 This was the goal : the class that won the rush had the 
 privilege for the ensuing year of sitting on the bench. 
 Thus, besides the joy of victory, there was the undeniable 
 advantage of being able to occupy for the entire winter 
 this ancient relic and undisturbedly scan the passerby. 
 
 As the Sophomore cheers of triumph died away, a 
 more ominous cry passed from mouth to mouth among 
 the humiliated freshmen: 
 
 "Slackers!" 
 
 "Get the slackers!" 
 
 "Yea Bo, get the slackers who wouldn't stand by their 
 class !" 
 
 In a darkened dormitory window stood Reggie Van 
 Brunt. The Freshman threat of vengeance fell upon his 
 ear with ominous meaning. He was a slacker. He had
 
 A DASH TO COVER 15 
 
 stood by and seen his fellows ground into the campus 
 turf without making a single effort to help. 
 
 "But I am different," he told himself. "I am a gen- 
 tleman. Why should I be forced to join that rowdy 
 gang out there?" 
 
 "Is that the true reason?" whispered his Conscience. 
 "Come now, weren't you just a little bit afraid?" 
 
 "Not at all. I had on good clothes; and I could see 
 better up here." 
 
 "That's a lie," said Conscience coldly. "You have 
 plenty of old suits in the closet, and the trees prevent you 
 seeing much of anything from this window." 
 
 Heavy running steps clattered into the dormitory. 
 
 "Reggie Van Brunt!" yelled an angry voice. 
 
 "Oh, you slacker! You 'kindergarten kid! Where 
 are you?" 
 
 Reggie's heart nearly stopped. His trepidation at the 
 thought of entering the rough and tumble had been noth- 
 ing as compared with the fear that seized him now. It 
 was the cry of a hunting wolf-pack that dinned in his ears. 
 Escape was his only thought;. 
 
 He ran to the bathroom. He locked the door and 
 flung up the window. Ten feet below was the roof of 
 a back addition to the building. He swung out and 
 dropped with a clatter on the tin. 
 
 As he landed, the crash of splintering wood above told 
 him that his pursuers had burst in the bathroom door. 
 Even while he hesitated in his terror, he saw the eager 
 look of one who hung out the window. 
 
 "Here he is, fellows ! He's going to get out by the 
 alley. Go 'round and head him off!" 
 
 Reggie did not wait to hear any more. With the des-
 
 16 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 perate courage of fear he jumped from the roof to the 
 alley nearly fifteen feet below. He had no plan of es- 
 cape. His one aim was to distance the mob behind. He 
 turned and raced down the dark passage. 
 
 He suddenly collided heavily with a dark body. The 
 shock threw him to the ground and dazed him for a mo- 
 ment. At first he had the flash of an idea he might have 
 struck one of the delivery horses that were sometimes 
 tied up here. 
 
 "That you, Slacker?" came a gruff voice from the 
 mass beside him. 
 
 Reggie leaped to his feet. He had run headlong into 
 and knocked down the terror of his class, the great 
 McGivern who was slated to make the varsity football 
 team his first year! 
 
 Voices and sounds of running feet came from the 
 alley entrance. That way out was cut off. The situa- 
 tion looked hopeless. 
 
 Wildly Reggie darted to the brick wall on the side op- 
 posite the dormitory. He clambered over and crossed 
 the little yard beyond. In two leaps he was up the porch 
 steps and let himself in by the kitchen door. With trem- 
 bling fingers he slipped the bolt. 
 
 For a few minutes he stood panting and listened. No 
 sounds came. Muffled voices in the alley quickly died 
 away. He had escaped. 
 
 To make more sure he determined to sneak out the 
 front of the house he had entered. Although the family 
 living there was evidently out, several dim lights were 
 burning. 
 
 Like a criminal Reggie crept to the street door. At 
 the creaking of a board his heart nearly stopped beat- 
 ing. As he passed the door of a side room, he saw a
 
 A DASH TO COVER 17 
 
 curtain blow out from an open window. For an in- 
 stant he was sure it was a ghost and nearly fainted from 
 fright. 
 
 He reached the vestibule with shaking knees. Never 
 before had he realized what horror a burglar must suffer 
 who is afraid of getting caught. 
 
 He put out his hand to open the door. What was 
 that? A step sounded on the stone entrance way. Reg- 
 gie gasped. He was caught. It was the owner return- 
 ing. 
 
 Quickly he darted into the nearest room,. At the very 
 instant he left the hall, a key rattled in the lock and the 
 door swung open. He hid himself behind a long curtain. 
 
 "Aha," came a deep voice from the hall. "What's 
 this?" 
 
 Reggie trembled. It must be his handkerchief. He 
 remembered it had been dangling from his pocket when 
 he entered. And it had his name on it! 
 
 " *R. D. Van Brunt/ " read the stern voice outside. 
 The handkerchief had betrayed its master. 
 
 "R. D. Van Brunt, where are you?" 
 
 The culprit squeezed himself against the window jam. 
 Suddenly a blinding light filled the room. 
 
 "Ah, there you are my young friend !" 
 
 Shaking in every limb, Reggie came guiltily from the 
 hiding place. 
 
 "And what have you to say for yourself?" 
 
 The speaker's voice was impressive enough by itself. 
 But coming from the huge bearded man confronting the 
 unhappy boy, it threw Reggie into an even greater panic. 
 
 "I uh " gasped Reggie. His tongue stuck to the 
 roof of his mouth. 
 
 "Very well, sir, if you won't tell me, perhaps you will
 
 i8 WON FOR THE FLEET. 
 
 inform the police what your presence here means." 
 
 The man seized Reggie roughly by the arm and led 
 him out. As they passed down the street he kept up a 
 running fire of abuse. 
 
 "One of our college bums, I suppose. Been thrown 
 out on account of bad behavior, and haven't money 
 enough to get home. Thought you would steal a little 
 something from my house and have a little party in the 
 city!" 
 
 Instead of replying to these accusations, Reggie shrank 
 behind the larger body of his captor. On the opposite 
 side of the street he saw approaching several of the fresh- 
 men who had been bent on his capture and punishment. 
 For a moment he felt almost grateful to the man beside 
 him. 
 
 The next instant this feeling was replaced by one of 
 hatred and mortification. Just ahead in the glare of 
 the street light he recognized the figure of Dr. Cromwell, 
 Dean of the University. Upon Dr. Cromwell's assist- 
 ance Reggie had depended for an easy way through col- 
 lege. The old gentleman had been a lifelong friend of 
 his father. And now he must discover Reggie in the 
 midst of disgrace! 
 
 "Why hello, what's this?" he asked cheerily as Reggie 
 was dragged into view. 
 
 The big man stopped and looked first at Dr. Cromwell, 
 then at Reggie. 
 
 "You know this young man, Doctor?" 
 
 "I do indeed, Mr. Jason. He's the son of one of the 
 wealthiest men in Boston. His father and I " 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed the first man. "Well, I'll be jig- 
 gered !" He dropped Reggie like a hot iron.
 
 A DASH TO COVER 19 
 
 "No trouble is there?" inquired Dr. Cromwell in sud- 
 den suspicion. 
 
 "Yes and no mostly yes, I should say. Btit since 
 you know him, I'll let him go. Will you let me walk 
 with you and explain?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 Without further word the two turned and left the 
 miserable Reggie. 
 
 What should he do? So far as he knew he would 
 be in jail by morning. Or in the clutches of his class- 
 mates, which would be almost more painful and humiliat- 
 ing. 
 
 He must leave. Absolutely nothing was to be gained 
 by staying at the University. Four years would never 
 be sufficient to live down such a handicap of disgrace as 
 he had started with. 
 
 Reggie crept back to his room. Every minute he 
 expected to be seized either by the police or by the venge- 
 ful freshmen. He found the dormitory deserted and 
 remembered that a class meeting was in progress over 
 at the assembly hall. 
 
 His room was as he left it except for the smashed door 
 and an overturned chair. No, there was something else: 
 
 On the table lay a yellow envelope. It was a tele- 
 gram addressed to Reginald Van Brunt. With nervous 
 fingers he tore it open and read : 
 
 Come home at once. Serious. 
 FATHER. 
 
 He read the message over twice. What could it 
 mean? If his father had been ill, someone else would
 
 20 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 have sent the wire; something would have been said 
 about the illness. 
 
 Half an hour later he was packed. As he took a last 
 look about the room where he was to have passed his 
 long anticipated freshman year at college, he saw the 
 crumpled telegram on the floor. 
 
 " 'Serious,' " he said bitterly. "What could be serious 
 after this?" 
 
 Thirty-six hours later he reached home. The family 
 doctor met him in the library. 
 
 "Dad's ill?" asked Reggie anxiously. 
 
 "Yes and no," was the reply. "I may as well tell you 
 at once.. Your father has been wiped out financially. 
 The shock swept him off his feet. For a few days he 
 must remain absolutely quiet. I'm sorry, my boy." 
 
 Reggie rose unsteadily. He managed to murmur some 
 word of sympathy for his father and leave the room. 
 Rage and disappointment at what he had just heard im- 
 pelled him to seek the fresh air before he broke down 
 and cried like a baby. 
 
 Aimlessly he walked about the streets. For the first 
 time in his life he realized what money meant. Since 
 his earliest memory every wish had been granted. He 
 had had nurses and tutors. He had spent a year in 
 Paris, and another in London. 
 
 At school age he had gone to the most exclusive estab- 
 lishments. The few clubs he belonged to were those of 
 sons of rich men. No boy whose father was not a 
 millionaire was fit for his acquaintance at least so Reg- 
 gie had been brought up to think. 
 
 His own motor car, his racing sloop, his dogs and 
 horses, all he had come to take for granted. Never for
 
 A DASH TO COVER 21 
 
 a moment had he ever lacked money actual cash. He 
 didn't even take the trouble to think where it might all 
 come from. 
 
 And now it was gone ! 
 
 He must work for a living no doubt. He must go 
 out and mix with the kind of people he had never 
 associated with except to order them about. 
 
 At first this thought maddened him. It brought back 
 the shame he had felt at leaving the University. How 
 could he, a fugitive, a coward in the eyes of his college 
 mates, hope to compete in business with other men? 
 
 Then suddenly something hardened inside him. Haz- 
 ily he wondered if after all the trouble wasn't with his 
 upbringing. All his life he been taught to avoid just 
 such things as the class rush. 
 
 "I'll do it!" he declared aloud. "I'll get a job, and 
 make money, and go back when all the other fellows 
 are just graduating; when they haven't even started 
 yet in business!" 
 
 Darkness came on. Despite his grief, Reggie's ap- 
 petite did not desert him. By force of habit he called 
 a taxicab. "Number ten, Park Avenue," he told the 
 driver. 
 
 He found he had walked kwther into the country than 
 he realized.. On arrival back he opened his purse to 
 pay the man. All the change he could muster up fell 
 half a dollar short of the actual amount. 
 
 "Charge it to my father, Mr. Van Brunt," he sakE 
 loftily. 
 
 The cabby gave him an insolent look, and laughed 
 harshly. 
 
 "So that's who you are!" he chortled. "Might ha*
 
 22 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 known you was the son of a crook tryin' to beat me out 
 of the price of a ride !" 
 
 "You impertinent" began Reggie angrily ; then broke 
 off with reddening cheeks. So this was what it all meant : 
 the modern high finance he had heard about, wherein 
 men gather and hoard great masses of wealth with honor 
 till they're caught, and then are known as crooks when 
 fortune turns against them. 
 
 Next day he was admitted to his father's room. 
 
 "Never mind, Dad," he said quickly. "I've made up 
 my mind that it's all right. I'm going after a job to- 
 day." 
 
 Mr. Van Brunt smiled. "No, no, my boy. It's not as 
 bad as all that,. It is true I have lost everything. Many 
 of my friends have turned against me. But I have not 
 cast you utterly adrift. You can still have your educa- 
 tion if you wish." 
 
 "Without money, Dad?" 
 
 For reply Mr. Van Brunt turned to a white-haired 
 gentleman Reggie had not yet noticed. "Reginald, this 
 is my old friend, Senator Brame," he said. "He has a 
 plan for your future." 
 
 The senator grasped Reggie's hand. "My boy, how 
 would you like to go to Annapolis?" 
 
 "Why I never thought of it, sir." 
 
 "Well, I have an appointment for you. Your father 
 says he can manage to send you to a preparatory school 
 in Washington for the winter. How about it ?" 
 
 Reggie's face lit up as the idea took root. Here might 
 be the chance he had dreamed of. A naval officer had 
 power and prestige. He was of the highest class socially. 
 He had privileges denied to all except the wealthy class 
 by which Reggie measured the people about him. Cer-
 
 A DASH TO COVER 23 
 
 tainly this opportunity would give him the nearest thing 
 to the ease and luxury he had hoped would make his life 
 a bed of roses. At least, so Reggie thought. 
 "I'll take it, Dad, you bet!" he exclaimed.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 BURIED 
 
 TOM POOR and Reginald Van Brunt didn't meet at An- 
 napolis. They clashed. Instead of by formal introduc- 
 tion, they encountered one another in a violent head-on 
 collision their fellow midshipmen remembered for years 
 afterward. 
 
 This was to be expected. Tom was active, rough, and 
 physically powerful. Reggie was refined and snobbish, 
 undeveloped, and habitually indolent. Tom had been to 
 sea and become a hero. Reggie had been to college and 
 left it in disgrace. Tom had known nothing but poverty 
 and hardship since boyhood. Reggie was a child of 
 wealth, and of all the luxury that went with wealth. 
 
 Morning parade had just ended. Bancroft Hall, the 
 great granite quarters of the midshipmen, glared a blind- 
 ing white in the June sunshine. To one side lay the blue 
 belt of the Severn River; to the other extended a lawn 
 of green velvet to the row of perfectly matched officers' 
 quarters. 
 
 Six hundred young men in white uniforms broke ranks 
 with a combined shout of relief. The heat was oppres- 
 sive. And, as yet, their muscles had not hardened enough 
 to stand easily the strain of prolonged military exercise. 
 
 Reggie Van Brunt felt more than tired. The inter- 
 minable shouted orders of the drill officer had got on his 
 nerves. He was conscious of a desire to snap at some- 
 one, to give vent in some way to his irritation. 
 
 24
 
 BURIED ALIVE 25 
 
 Directly in front of him he saw a sturdy figure stand- 
 ing with wide-braced legs, his hat jauntily on the back of 
 his head. He was laughing and talking in a loud voice. 
 Here, at least, was one who endured drills without any 
 particular fatigue. 
 
 The sight aggravated Reggie's disturbed condition. 
 He stepped around where he could get a better look at 
 this marvel of endurance. One glance and he recognized 
 the bluejacket who had been in the train with him the 
 day he arrived. 
 
 He turned to the midshipman nearest him. 
 
 "Well," he sneered, "what do you know about 
 that?" 
 
 "About what?" was the vague reply. 
 
 "Common sailors in this place ! Common sailors, mind 
 you! Washed dirty decks and all that. And here I 
 thought this was a gentleman's school !" 
 
 Tom spun around. From head to foot he measured up 
 the man who had dared insult him. 
 
 He was on the verge of laughing off the unkind re- 
 mark. A smile twitched at one corner of his mouth. 
 Then, suddenly, he got a full understanding of the feel- 
 ing behind it. He saw the proud uptilt of Reggie's chin, 
 and felt the cold contempt it stood for. 
 
 "Why, you poor simp !" burst Torn hotly ; "where do 
 you come from, Germany?" 
 
 "I spent a month there once," said Reggie airily. "I've 
 travelled you know." 
 
 A chorus of laughter applauded this well-placed re- 
 tort. Tom's anger exploded at the ridicule. He stepped 
 quickly forward his fist doubled and drawn back to, 
 strike. 
 
 "Take it back, you fresh kid!" he roared.
 
 2b WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 As Reggie stood speechless, another instant and Tom 
 would have swung. Rut the fraction of a second before 
 his fist started, a broad-shouldered, tow-headed boy 
 stepped in between him and the one he was about to anni- 
 hilate. 
 
 "Have a heart, Poor. Can't you see he's half your 
 weight?" 
 
 "Get out, Hansen," snorted Tom, struggling to free 
 himself from the big Swede's grip. "He's insulted me 
 and I'm going to make him apologize !" 
 
 Public opinion supported Hansen. There was a mur- 
 mur of approval at his interference. Possibly there were 
 some who felt with Reggie that their ambition to be- 
 come naval officers had been encroached upon by admis- 
 sion of an ordinary enlisted man. 
 
 Tom realized with blunt shrewdness the truth of this 
 disadvantage to which his previous career had brought 
 him. But the injustice of it infuriated him. How many 
 of them would have had the courage to break out into 
 life unaided and make good ? 
 
 After lunch he sought out Hansen. 
 
 "You're a good sort, Swede," he told him, "in spite of 
 the way you acted before the gang. I think maybe 
 you've knocked about the world a bit like I have. That's 
 why I took the trouble not to lose my temper and knock 
 your block off this morning." 
 
 "How about now, Meester Poor?" the big fellow 
 quietly put in. Though born in America he had assimil- 
 ated some of his parents' native accent. 
 
 "I'll take you on in the gym one of these days," laughed 
 Tom. "What I want to tell you now, though, is about 
 that skinny-gadink who bawled me out before every- 
 body. That dear sweet Reggie Van Brunt !" Tom forced
 
 HE'S INSULTED ME AND I'M GOING TO MAKE HIM APOLOGIZE.

 
 BURIED ALIVE 27 
 
 his voice into a throaty falsetto as he pronounced the 
 name. 
 
 "Wait till he grows up," advised Hansen. 
 
 "Wait nothing. I'm going to get him. Not bully him 
 or smash him up with my knuckles. You put a crimp 
 into that. No, I'm going to make a fool of him in public. 
 I figure that's about the best way to take him down off his 
 high horse." 
 
 "What's your plan?" 
 
 "Don't know yet. Got to think it out." 
 
 At one o'clock there was a boat drill. Heavy Navy 
 cutters were rowed out around a lighthouse two miles 
 down the Bay and back again. Tom saw with joy Reg- 
 gie's drooping shoulders as he struggled under the heavy 
 oars in a boat behind. Perhaps he could use this as a 
 means to humiliate him. 
 
 But he discovered this plan wouldn't do as soon as the 
 boathouse was reached. Very few shoulders were not 
 drooping. Pulling an oar exercises sets of muscles other- 
 wise little used. Scarcely a boy helped secure his boat 
 on the davits without first rubbing his arms and back, 
 with some remark to the effect that "It's a dinged hard 
 life, this Navy !" 
 
 At supper Tom watched Reggie take his place at the 
 far end of a nearby table. He tried to imagine some 
 scheme by which he could catch the assembled interest 
 of six hundred middies and concentrate it upon the) 
 bodily weakness of this man he hated so. 
 
 After supper there was another drill. It consisted 
 of a series of simple exercises at the gymnasium, followed 
 by a brief instruction in knotting and splicing. 
 
 Suddenly Tom leaped from the low bench. "I've got 
 it!" he cried.
 
 28 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Did it bite?" inquired his neighbor with affected in- 
 terest. 
 
 "It will," laughed Tom. "You'll see it too! They'll 
 
 all see it." 
 
 He hunted up Hansen. "Plan's made," he confided. 
 
 "That poor kid again?" 
 
 "Sure. Want to get in on it?" 
 
 "Not if it'll hurt him. Tom, my word on it, force 
 doesn't pay in these days and times. Brains are what 
 count,. That's what this Naval Academy is for. Why 
 in the old Navy days " 
 
 "Aw, pipe the sermon. I'm not going to hurt the in- 
 fant." 
 
 "Well, I don't know but what sweet Reggie does need 
 a lesson. I'm with you in spirit anyway." 
 
 Tom led his friend to a secluded corner. For ten 
 solid minutes he whispered in his ear. Twice he made 
 him shake his head. Once his words caused the other 
 to whisper back a suggestion. But in the end the two of 
 them fell into each other's arms with a roar of 
 heavy laughter that brought the officer in charge to his 
 feet. 
 
 The next day was Saturday. All midshipmen were ac- 
 corded the weekly privilege of visiting the town. Except 
 for a change of scene from the reservation, the little old- 
 fashioned place had small value in the way of entertain- 
 ment. True, for those so inclined, there was a mild de- 
 gree of inebriety in the over-eating of ice cream and 
 cake. And very occasionally the moving pictures were 
 worth seeing. On the whole it was known to the mid- 
 shipmen as a "sell," and always referred to as "Crab- 
 Town." 
 
 Little wonder was therefore occasioned when Tom
 
 BURIED ALIVE 29 
 
 Poor and Ole Hansen announced their determination to 
 spend the afternoon quietly in quarters. 
 
 "Got some letters to write," said Tom. True enough 
 as far as he went. He had not communicated with home 
 for nearly a month. 
 
 "Guess I'll sleep," was Hansen's excuse. 
 
 But when the building was well cleared of midshipmen, 
 neither sleeping nor letter writing occupied the conspira- 
 tors. 
 
 "First we've got to get the line," noted Tom. 
 
 "And a sack of some sort," contributed the other. 
 
 With an eye out for the "Jimmy-legs" or master-at- 
 arms the pair went on a search in the vast galleries of the 
 basement. 
 
 Back in Tom's room they laid out their finds. A coil 
 of stout rope and two gunny sacks made up most of the 
 equipment. To this Tom added a short stick he took 
 from his laundry bag. 
 
 "Guess this'll be about the right dope," he concluded, 
 after a survey. 
 
 "Looks so to me," agreed Ole. 
 
 From then till one o'clock the following morning every- 
 thing proceeded in an orderly and normal naval man- 
 ner. Supper formation at 6.30, supper at 6.40, (oat- 
 meal, milk, and cold roast beef) and taps at ten. 
 
 Beginning at one, Sunday morning, things began to 
 happen in the lives of three midshipmen : Tom, Ole, and 
 one Reginald D. Van Brunt. 
 
 Tom moved first,. He slipped out of bed, opened the 
 door of his study, and peered down the broad corridor. 
 The midshipman-in-charge had gone to bed. All was 
 quiet save for the distant footsteps of a Jimmy-legs 
 making his half -hourly round.
 
 30 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 He tiptoed down to Ole's room and shook the proprie- 
 tor. 
 
 "Wake up, you sea-anchor," he whispered. 
 
 "Ump what time is it?" was the sleepy reply. 
 
 "One o'clock in the morning; but we've got to hurry 
 at that.. Neptune only knows how long this job's going 
 to take." 
 
 They were able to reach Reggie's room undiscovered. 
 It was on the floor below. One of the tremendous wings 
 of Bancroft Hall had been given over to the new class 
 or "plebes" as they are called. Each room is really a 
 suite consisting of a central study, two tiny bedrooms, a 
 bath, and a large closet. Two boys occupy a suite. 
 
 This arrangement made it possible for the kidnappers 
 to reach Reggie without disturbing his roommate. 
 
 Tom took the lead. Probably his incentive was greater 
 than Ole's. He crept up to the bed dimly visible in the 
 darkness. In his hand he carried a towel. Having lo- 
 cated the head of his victim, with a quick movement he 
 wrapped the cloth tight about his head. 
 
 "B-r-r-r, g-r-l-p, Urlph!" choked Reggie. 
 
 "Urlph yourself," snickered Tom. 
 
 "Don't fool about it," hissed Ole, still a little anxious 
 about the dangerous possibilities of the episode. 
 
 "All right ; where's that rope ?" 
 
 Tom took the proffered coil and unwound a fathom or 
 so. Meanwhile he sat upon his squirming captive. 
 Skilfully he bound him with good seagoing knots about 
 his knees and wrists. This enabled Reggie to walk with- 
 out giving him the slightest chance to escape. 
 
 Before removing him from the room, the towel was ex- 
 changed for a gag and blindfold. 
 
 "For heaven's sake be careful of talking," whispered
 
 BURIED ALIVE 31 
 
 Ole. "If he recognizes us, he'll squeal as sure as shoot- 
 ing." 
 
 Stealthily the trio made the basement four floors below. 
 Tom and Ole each held an arm of the stumbling Reg- 
 gie. From time to time a nudge or a shove were neces- 
 sary to urge upon him greater efforts at speed. No ac- 
 tual physical punishment was applied. 
 
 It wasn't that Tom wouldn't gladly have thrashed the 
 boy then and there. His rough code of ethics fully ap- 
 proved of such a course. But Ole Hansen as well as the 
 others had not backed him up in this kind of brutal disci- 
 pline which he knew would have been perfectly proper 
 among the sailormen he hati become used to in the Fleet. 
 
 At first he had thought this was a class difference. 
 These boys entering Annapolis were mostly sons of well- 
 to-do families and had had years of schooling. But that 
 was also true of a great many of the new enlisted men. 
 No, the difference was more an attitude of mind ; the blue- 
 jacket was used to settling his difficulties himself ; the 
 midshipman had become previously accustomed to have 
 those in authority settle things for him. 
 
 "Now for the moat," said Tom when they had forced 
 their way into the lowest level. 
 
 Bancroft Hall is surrounded by a deep concrete al- 
 ley which is supposed to admit light to the kitchens and 
 laundry and other activities necessary to the midship- 
 man's home life. As a fact, though, this alley provides 
 in most cases an effective means of preventing the escape 
 of the boys. 
 
 The moat was gained by forcing a window. Tom 
 then brought a ladder he had spotted on their afternoon 
 exploration. With considerable difficulty they finally 
 succeeded in getting Reggie up it.
 
 32 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Have you counted on the watchman?" cautioned Ole. 
 
 "I've figured it all out ahead," Tom replied. "He 
 passes here twice an hour on the quarter hours. If I'm 
 not mistaken there he conies now." 
 
 The three criminals dodged low in the shadow of the 
 moat's retaining wall while the man passed. 
 
 "Right across Lover's Lane from here," Tom directed. 
 He referred to that main portion of the campus which 
 had always been the chief attraction for midshipmen and 
 their girls who came down for Saturday night hops. On 
 Sunday after chapel the benches were usually fully oc- 
 cupied. 
 
 The chapel itself faced one side of the Lane. It was 
 a massive white building to match Bancroft Hall. Hun- 
 dreds of feet in the air its mammoth dome of gold shone 
 a ghostly yellow in the pale moonlight. 
 
 Across the open space they carried Reggie. This way 
 more speed could be made; and speed was necessary. 
 On all sides there was a dangerous lack of cover. 
 
 By a little side door they made the cavernous gallery 
 under the chapel. In the center, showing dimly, was the 
 great stone crypt that held the remains of John Paul 
 Jones. 
 
 "Wonder what he thinks of this business," queried 
 Ole in awed tones. 
 
 "Thinks it's silly," replied Tom promptly and with no 
 sign of nervousness. "He'd have done just what I 
 wanted to do, and you wouldn't let me ; knocked the man 
 down who dared insult him." 
 
 "Yes," observed Ole sagely, "he had the time to de- 
 velop his fists and footwork. Our time we must put in 
 on our brains. There wasn't any radio or electrical en- 
 gineering in those days."
 
 BURIED ALIVE 33 
 
 "Preach ahead, Swede, we're in the chapel you know." 
 Tom's intolerance of the other boy's reasoning never 
 failed. 
 
 With a feeling of relief they left the region of the 
 dead and mounted the stairway to the main chapel. 
 Here another kind of discomfort assailed them. The 
 enormous size of the dome, lit only by the ghastly pale- 
 ness of the moon that filtered through the long windows 
 gave them a sort of creeps. 
 
 "I'm not specially superstitious," mumbled Tom, "but 
 gosh! this kind of gets next to me. I can feel it under 
 my skin. Can't you?" 
 
 "You bet," returned Ole, keeping a little closer than 
 was necessary to Tom and the victim. "Guess it's 
 better this kid doesn't know where we're putting 
 him." 
 
 On the raised platform, between the choir stalls, Tom 
 stopped. 
 
 "Here it is," he said, and leaned over. After a short 
 struggle he lifted up a kind of trap-door disclosing a 
 black hole underneath. 
 
 "So that's where you're going to put him?" 
 
 "Yes," explained Tom. "I remember the repair gang 
 were fixing the light connections down here this week. 
 This hole is only three feet deep and the lid is tempor- 
 ary." 
 
 "But how are you going to make this bird stay there ?" 
 
 For reply Tom gently tripped and threw Reggie to the 
 flagged pavement. He took the remainder of the coil he 
 had brought along, and passed a series of peculiar turns 
 about the arms, legs, and wrists of the prostrate boy. 
 With the stick these lashings were made into a sort of 
 truss that left him utterly helpless.
 
 34 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Trick I learned in the Fleet," said Tom when he fiad 
 finished. 
 
 "But you swore not to hurt him," protested .Ole 
 "This will be torture." 
 
 "On the contrary he will be perfectly comfortable 
 for several hours anyway. That's the object of these 
 knots 'prisoner's splice' it's called. They taught it to 
 us down south when we used to round up some of those 
 rioters in Haiti." 
 
 Ole bowed to the superior knowledge and experience 
 of his companion. But when he helped lower Reggie into 
 the hole, he still had doubts. 
 
 "How are you going to get him out?" 
 
 Tom shoved the trap-door in place with a chuckle. 
 "Simple enough. Here's my jackknife and lanyard. I 
 have laid Mister Van Brunt in such a position that if the 
 knife falls through this hole at the edge of the door it 
 will land within reach of his hands. That splice I used 
 is such that he cannot untie himself, but he can handle a 
 knife freely enough to cut the lashings." 
 
 "All very well. But who's going to drop the knife?" 
 
 "The battalion adjutant, Harry Gill. Tomorrow's the 
 first Sunday in the month you know. He reads Rocks 
 and Shoals * at the beginning of chapel. Hank's a ner- 
 vous shrimp. Right here is where he stands. While he 
 reads, he shuffles all over the place. If I shove my knife 
 in the hole and leave it sticking out the eighth of an inch 
 he'll knock it down sure,." 
 
 "And what then?" 
 
 "Oh boy!" Tom hugged himself at the prospect. 
 
 * Rocks and Shoals." i. e. the Navy regulations which are 
 read on the first Sunday in every month to the assembled crews 
 aboard ships, and to the midshipmen at Annapolis.
 
 BURIED ALIVE 35 
 
 ""Why dear sweet little Reggie will think he's been tied 
 up in the basement of one of the academic buildings. 
 He will cut himself loose with joy. The cramp in his 
 legs will make him have to get up and move about. And 
 then" 
 
 "Paul Jones rises from his grave !" exploded Ole.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 AN ADMIRAL AT BAY 
 
 SUNDAY came serene and calm and hot. 
 
 Admiral Lacy, the Commandant of Midshipmen, was 
 also hot ; he was anything but serene and calm. 
 
 His day was ruined from the outset by the arrival of 
 Commander Hill, his aide. 
 
 "Another anonymous letter, sir," announced the Com- 
 mander, holding out a dirty and crumpled envelope. 
 
 The Admiral fairly snatched at the missive. 
 
 "Dere sir," he read, "i've seed lately many of your 
 mids commin' in and out uv the place where Charley the 
 cobbler lives. Looks like they ain't behavin theirselves 
 as they should. Plese take this as it is ment. Sig. a 
 frend." 
 
 "I have investigated, sir," began the Commander, "and 
 find that nothing is wrong. A good many of the mid- 
 shipmen have been going to this Charley Simmons to 
 have rubber heels put on their shoes. Our own cobbler 
 shop has run out of them." 
 
 The Admiral slammed his fist on the table. "It's the 
 rotten spirit of the thing!" he barked. "The writer of 
 this letter probably pictures our boys getting filled up 
 with liquor at that place. And he hasn't the courage to 
 come and tell me about it face to face!" 
 
 "He's a coward all right," agreed the aide. "He has 
 already spread the gossip all over town that midshipmen 
 are getting out of hand." 
 
 36
 
 AN ADMIRAL AT BAY 37 
 
 An inarticulate gurgle of rage escaped the furious 
 Admiral. His predecessor had been removed the year be- 
 fore after just such baseless slander. 
 
 "If I catch that fellow, I'll jail him!" he roared. 
 
 At this moment a knock came at the door followed by 
 the arrival of the marine orderly. 
 
 "A lady to see you, sir." 
 
 The unhappy Admiral groaned. He turned to his aide 
 with a hunted look. "Hill, I really doubt the wisdom 
 of this Sunday morning plan. I thought it a good idea 
 to let parents and interested friends come to me between 
 nine and ten because many of them cannot arrange to 
 reach me during the week. But " 
 
 A sudden rumpus arose outside the office door. In 
 the reception room, parents were supposed to wait their 
 turn. From it now came the angry tones of a woman's 
 voice. An instant later the door burst open and there 
 entered a tall angular lady with her hat awry, her face 
 purple with wrath,. In her hands she gripped a large 
 umbrella. 
 
 Behind her came the other marine orderly, his hair 
 mussed and his stiff hat crumpled. Very evidently he 
 had been in combat with the visitor. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir," he stammered, "but she wouldn't see 
 fit as to wait 'er turn, sir." 
 
 Before the astonished Commandant could open his 
 mouth, the excited woman exploded in a stream of shrill 
 abuse. 
 
 "I wouldn't wait my turn, wouldn't I?" She glared 
 from the orderly to the Admiral, both speechless. "Why 
 should I wait my turn with this on my mind?" 
 
 Dramatically she put her hand in her bag and drew out 
 a large and bloody handkerchief.
 
 3 g WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "It's my boy's!" Her voice broke and tears filled 
 "her eyes. "He's being tortured,. He's being murdered 
 in this this penitentiary!" 
 
 The Admiral sighed with relief. This kind of thing 
 he could deal with. As the lady had played her trump 
 card at the very beginning, he knew exactly where he 
 stood. 
 
 "Sit down, madam," he said courteously, and waved her 
 to a chair. "Now tell me, please, who your boy is." 
 
 She dabbed her eyes with the corner of the gory evi- 
 dence she had brought. "George Melville Audrey John- 
 son," she moaned,. 
 
 "Orderly," commanded the Admiral gravely, "tell the 
 Officer-in-Charge I wish George Melville Audrey John- 
 son here at once. And have him bring the conduct re- 
 port." 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir." The orderly saluted and departed 
 with a grin that broadened with every step. 
 
 "The bloody handkerchief, madam?" inquired the 
 Admiral. "Er did he say how it er happened?" 
 
 "No" was the indignant reply, "his sense of honor is 
 too fine for that. I found it in his coat pocket when he 
 came to visit me at the hotel." 
 
 At this juncture there were ushered in two midship- 
 men. One wore a duty belt; the other was attired in a 
 rather untidy uniform. 
 
 "Audrey !" murmured the fond mother. The boy gave 
 her a cold glance and glared with keen interest out of the 
 window where a Jimmy-legs was adjusting the flagpole 
 halliards. 
 
 "Mr. Johnson's conduct report?" brusquely demanded 
 the Admiral.
 
 AN ADMIRAL AT BAY 39 
 
 The duty midshipman took a roll of white paper from 
 under his arm and began to read in a monotone. 
 
 "June first, neglect of duty, fifteen demerits. June 
 second, smoking in quarters, fifty demerits. June third 
 created disturbance after taps, ten demerits. June 
 fourth," 
 
 The Admiral held up his hand. "That will do for the 
 report." He turned to the sullen Audrey. "Mr. John- 
 son are you afflicted often with nose bleed?" He pointed 
 to the bloody handkerchief in Mrs. Johnson's lap. 
 
 "No sir, I " he suddenly caught the accusing eye of 
 the duty midshipman who had moved a step nearer. 
 "Well, sir, I uh I took a piece of cake outa the locker 
 of another fellow's room and he he " Audrey's voice 
 failed him. 
 
 "Yes?" invited the Admiral in a fatherly note that 
 caused the aide to bite his tongue. 
 
 "Yes, yes?" echoed Mrs. Johnson pathetic in her sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "Well, he uh " went on Audrey. The duty midship- 
 man gave him a slight nudge of encouragement. "He 
 busted me in the nose, sir ; and called me a thief, he did, 
 sir!" 
 
 "Well, weren't you?" was the Admiral's suave in- 
 quiry. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson rose from her chair and rushed across 
 the room. She stretched her arms protectingly toward 
 the youthful criminal. "My Audrey a thief?" she cried. 
 "Never! Never!" 
 
 'But Audrey saw her first. He dodged and sidestepped. 
 With a look of agonized pleading he caught the Admi- 
 ral's stern eye. The Admiral rose.
 
 40 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Open the? door, orderly," he said quietly. 
 
 Nimbly George Melville Audrey Johnson escaped, fol- 
 lowed by his heartbroken mother and the convulsed duty 
 midshipman. 
 
 The Commandant mopped his weatherbeaten brow, 
 
 "Who's next, Hill?" he asked wearily. 
 
 "Senator Brame, sir." 
 
 The Senator entered and bowed slightly. He stood in 
 awe of no military rank. The National Congress of 
 which he was a distinguished member ruled both the 
 Army and the Navy. Indeed, this Admiral before him 
 held his rank only by and with the approval of the august 
 body of the Senate. 
 
 "Good morning, Admiral," he said running his gaze 
 appraisingly over the old sea-dog's well-knit figure, square 
 jaws, and keen unwavering eyes. 
 
 "Good morning, Senator Brame," greeted Admiral 
 Lacy. He had encountered political shrewdness before 
 and was on his guard at once. 
 
 "I come to you about the son of an old friend of mine. 
 Reginald Van Brunt. I'd like to know how he is get- 
 ting along." 
 
 The Admiral bowed assent and rang for the orderly. 
 "Send Reginald Van Brunt to my office." 
 
 The Senator took in the marine's sharp "Aye, aye, sir," 
 and smart salute with unmistakable disapproval. 
 
 He shook his head. "Too Prussian," he commented. 
 
 "What would you have?" asked the Admiral pleas- 
 antly. "The soldier in war, the policeman in peace, 
 both must learn implicit obedience. In no other way can 
 we fully utilize their value to the country in time of 
 emergency." 
 
 "That's all very well, Admiral. But such matters can
 
 AN ADMIRAL AT BAY 41 
 
 be carried too far. Take this boy I am inquiring about. 
 While perfectly able to stand your course here, he is 
 undeniably delicate. He has also what is called a nervous 
 temperament." 
 
 "Annapolis, Senator, is just the place in the world for 
 that type. It strengthens the boy's character as well as 
 his body." 
 
 "I agree with you in principle. What I doubt is the 
 means by which such a change will be brought about." 
 
 "They are approved by Congress our rules and regu- 
 lations." 
 
 "Yes, the official ones. But how about hazing?" 
 
 "Not a stone left unturned to stamp it out." 
 
 "You don't say, though, that it is stamped out" 
 
 For a moment the Admiral did not reply. To debate 
 such a delicate subject with a Senator compelled him 
 to exercise his utmost care not to be misunderstood. 
 
 "Senator," he said at last;. "I don't wish to beat about 
 the bush. You are in a position to hold against me what 
 I say. Therefore I will try to be very frank. There 
 are two kinds of hazing." 
 
 "There can't be !" was the sharp retort. 
 
 "I insist there are," continued the Admiral firmly. 
 "First, there is that concerted action by a whole upper 
 class or classes to coerce the lowest class into a code of 
 discipline not sanctioned by authority. Special painful 
 punishments are devised to make fourth-classmen or 
 plebes obey. They are compelled to perform in some 
 silly manner ; to stand on their heads ; to carry out various 
 other absurd, though seldom dangerous antics," 
 
 "Agreed, Admiral, so far." 
 
 "This kind of hazing we have nearly eradicated. It 
 is a kind of mutiny. It attempts to substitute the will of
 
 42 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 a body of immature students for the matured will of the 
 Superintendent backed by the Navy Department." 
 
 "Quite right, sir." 
 
 "The second kind of hazing I approve." 
 
 The Senator raised his eyebrows. He made a mental 
 note to look up the Commandant's record as soon as 
 he got back to Washington. 
 
 "It is that unavoidable nature of a boy which will not 
 endure certain caddish traits in other boys. It is that 
 which makes the sneak, the coward, the er what my 
 young men call 'sis,' have a hard time when they go to 
 Annapolis or West Point, to Yale or to Harvard. And) 
 for the good of the country at large it is quite right such 
 boys should have a hard time." 
 
 Before the Senator had a chance to offer his own 
 opinion on this point, the orderly returned and announced 
 that Mr. Van Brunt was not to be found in his room. 
 
 "Have the word passed about the decks and on the, 
 terrace for him," ordered the Admiral. Then turning 
 to the Senator, "And what do you think, sir ?" he said. 
 
 "There is truth in what you say, Admiral. No group 
 of boys ever lived who do not take the first opportunity 
 to play pranks on the weak and gullible. The danger lies 
 in the extent to which such things are allowed to go." 
 
 "Which is just where the discipline comes in," inter- 
 rupted the Admiral. 
 
 "Yes, if you are able to forestall the brutality of boys 
 older and stronger than the average, I should have noth- 
 ing to fear. But with over two-thousand midshipmen, 
 not a few of whom have been to sea as enlisted men, per- 
 mit me to say that you have nearly a superhuman task." 
 
 "Our system is the best in the world," announced the 
 Admiral proudly.
 
 AN ADMIRAL AT BAY 4S 
 
 When just here the orderly returned for the second 
 time with the report that Reginald Van Brunt was not to 
 be located in or out of quarters, the Commandant could 
 not conceal his anxiety. 
 
 "Send the Officer-in-Charge here at once " he directed. 
 
 It was aggravating enough to have the Senator pry- 
 ing into the Academy's affairs. But for anything to 
 happen just now to the very boy in question would be 
 terrible. 
 
 Perhaps Senator Brame read some of the disquiet in 
 the naval officer's mind. And, though a middle-aged 
 man himself, he could not resist the temptation to bully 
 a bit just like any boy. 
 
 "You understand my position, Admiral," he declaimed 
 pompously. "The Naval Academy is supported and run 
 by the taxpayer's money. Its responsibility is far beyond 
 that of the ordinary school or university. It is my duty 
 as a representative of the people to inquire into your 
 methods." 
 
 "Yes; quite right, quite right," was the absentminded 
 reply. The Admiral was cudgelling his brain to imagine 
 what mortifying stunt had been arranged by the midship- 
 men at the expense of Reginald Van Brunt. He well 
 knew no punishment lay within his power that would 
 offset the effect of such a prank on the Senator. Dimly 
 he regretted having boasted so openly about the success 
 of his disciplinary system over the obstreperous mid- 
 shipmen. 
 
 "And," concluded the Senator with meaning, "if I 
 see anything suspicious, I shall certainly report it." 
 
 The Admiral fervently prayed he should find Annapo- 
 lis at its best. 
 
 But even Admirals can be disappointed.
 
 44 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 The Officer-in-Charge, Lieutenant Commander Kil- 
 duff, here appeared with a serious expression printed all 
 over his ordinarily jovial countenance. 
 
 "Admiral," said he, "I'm afraid Mr. Van Brunt is 
 guilty of frenching." 
 
 "Frenching taking French leave;" interpreted the 
 Admiral. "That is, absent from the ground without au- 
 thority." His voice had regained its customary brisk- 
 ness. His relief was great to learn that the Senator's pet 
 was like Mrs. Johnson's erring boy, a culprit in the eyes 
 of the law. 
 
 "I strongly doubt this officer's information," was the 
 Senator's unruffled reply. 
 
 "I have sent out a searching party," spoke up Mr. 
 Kilduff somewhat hurt. "I expect a report inside of 
 an hour." 
 
 "In the meanwhile, let's have Sunday parade and in- 
 spection," suggested the Admiral. "It's time." He felt 
 by this means he might divert Senator Brame's unpleas- 
 ant suspicions and possibly entertain him until substan- 
 tial evidence could be got that Reginald Van Brunt de- 
 served none of the high-caste sympathy being wasted on 
 him. 
 
 Evidence came soon enough : but it was of a dreadful 
 and unexpected kind.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE DISASTER 
 
 LET us now return to Reggie. How was he passing 
 the long and painful hours between the moment of his 
 capture and the visit of Senator Brame on his behalf? 
 
 In the first place, Tom and Ole were mistaken when 
 they thought Reggie didn't recognize them. Reggie 
 hadn't said a word or struggled simply because all his life 
 he had been a weakling. He had long ago learned that 
 when in the hands of stronger boys he might as well take 
 what they had in store for him. Resistance only meant 
 punishment. 
 
 On the other hand, they had been successful when 
 they bandaged his eyes and ears. As he lay bound and 
 helpless in the chapel he had not the slightest idea where 
 he was. 
 
 Just before Tom replaced the board cover to the hole, 
 he had removed the bandages in order that Reggie might 
 not miss the knife when it fell. 
 
 For a few minutes Reggie heard the two whispering 
 over his head. A little later the door creaked. Then 
 all was still. 
 
 With the knowledge that he was alone Reggie's fear 
 left him. In fact, the only timidity he had ever had 
 was of a physical kind. He possessed a cynical disbe- 
 lief of ghosts and superstition. 
 
 He began to make efforts to free himself. Though 
 his hands were tied in front of him, he soon found the 
 
 45
 
 46 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 knots too firm to unloose. His knees and ankles were 
 in one tight mass with the stick. 
 
 After a bit his squirming gave him a cramp in one 
 side. This made him anxious. If he was to be left 
 until daylight, small pains might easily grow into acute 
 and unbearable agony. 
 
 His imagination began to torture him. He remem- 
 bered all the books about men captured by pirates and 
 bandits and crutlly forced to confess the whereabouts 
 of hidden treasure. 
 
 Suppose anything happened to Tom and Ole? How, 
 would other people know where to look for him? In 
 the old days his father would have immediately expended 
 large sums to organize -search parties and to provide re- 
 wards for information. There was no chance of that 
 now ! 
 
 The pain in his side grew worse. He wriggled first 
 one way and then the other. Finally he managed to get 
 over on his back. 
 
 As he did so he felt his knees strike something above. 
 Simultaneously there was a slight thud alongside him as 
 if some small object had fallen. 
 
 He lay still listening intently. There was no further 
 sound. He made the discovery that a faint light was 
 visible through a crack directly above his face. 
 
 Another few minutes passed they seemed like an 
 age to Reggie and his cramp forced him to roll over 
 again on his side. This time he felt something cold 
 near one hand. As his fingers were free he picked the 
 object up. 
 
 To his great joy he realized he had hold of a knife. 
 
 It was the work of a comparatively short time to saw
 
 THE DISASTER 47 
 
 through the lashings on his wrist. Those on his legs 
 were heavier but finally came off. 
 
 Every few moments he stopped to listen. If the kid- 
 nappers were still about, it wouldn't do to let them know 
 he was getting free. 
 
 When the last shred of rope fell clear, he closed the 
 knife and put it into his pocket for future service. He 
 felt cautiously overhead. For a moment the awful 
 thought assailed him that he had been buried alive and 
 this was a coffin in which he lay. 
 
 The board door lifted easily. Reggie slowly stood up. 
 His eyes, accustomed to the darkness, quickly told him 
 his prison was the chapel. The tall windows under the 
 dome were distinctly outlined by the moonlight. 
 
 With care to keep in the shadows, Reggie made his 
 way around the central pews to the entrance. The mas- 
 sive bronze doors proved to be locked. Next he tried 
 several of the windows without success. 
 
 Then he recalled the basement entrances. Down the 
 winding stairway it suddenly occurred to him that Paul 
 Jones lay buried there. He wondered if this had any- 
 thing to do with the joke. 
 
 The side basement door proved to be unlocked. Out- 
 side no one was in sight. Apparently there was going 
 to be no great difficulty in getting back to Bancroft Hall 
 unless the watchman caught him. 
 
 He was almost to the terrace when one appeared. In- 
 stantly Reggie dodged behind a tree. But he was too 
 late. The man had seen him. He waited for a few sec- 
 onds to be sure the watchman was going to give chase. 
 Then he ran. Instinctively he took the direction from 
 which he had just come. Twice he looked over his shoul-
 
 48 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 der. He could hear the thudding steps of his pursuer. 
 Then with delight he realized he was holding his own. 
 He was able to run as fast as the watchman ! 
 
 This discovery gave him an unaccustomed sense of 
 confidence. Always in the past he had run with the 
 greatest terror of being overtaken and punished. Now 
 he realized that escape did not depend upon his fleetness 
 of foot so much as the strategy which he might use to 
 throw the man off the trail. 
 
 By this time he had reached the chapel again. Think- 
 ing rapidly he ran straight 'for the wall. Just before he 
 reached it, he was for a moment out of sight of the 
 watchman in the shadow of a nearby building. In- 
 stantly he doubled back and reentered the chapel by the 
 door from which he had escaped but a few minutes be- 
 fore. Instead of going upstairs he crawled behind the 
 crypt that held the bones of our greatest naval hero.. 
 
 Reggie was panting and somewhat exhausted after the 
 race. But his customary fear in such flights had left 
 him entirely. Instead, he remarked out loud to him- 
 self: 
 
 "The old beggar, I fooled him that time all right!" 
 
 Although no one appeared, Reggie knew he could not 
 venture out again for some time. No doubt the watch- 
 man thought he had escaped over the wall into town. 
 But that would not prevent him from spreading the 
 alarm and setting others to search all possible hiding 
 places. 
 
 In the security of his position, Reggie's thoughts 
 drifted back to the original difficulty. Why had Tom 
 and Ole taken him here? No doubt it was some form 
 of punishment for what he had said about Tom's pre- 
 vious life.
 
 THE DISASTER 49 
 
 And, by the way, what right had he to criticize? 
 Wasn't he the same Reggie Van Brunt who was known 
 as a coward by the whole freshman class in a certain 
 university ? 
 
 As for Tom Poor, even though he was a common 
 sailor, he had possessed the courage to go out into the 
 world alone and make a living. 
 
 "But I did it, too," Reggie reminded himself. "I 
 would have got a job the very next morning if Dad 
 hadn't stopped me." 
 
 This idea somewhat dispelled the shame of the other 
 memory. Perhaps if he, Reggie, had a chance he would 
 get ahead just as fast as Tom or Ole or any other 
 stronger boy. He couldn't help being weak. He wasn't 
 built for fighting. Then there was this little brush with 
 the watchman. Hadn't he put it over on the fellow by 
 sheer cleverness? 
 
 "Then why can't I turn tables on those other nuts?" 
 
 Reggie actually laughed. If he had only known it, 
 the medicine of Tom's practical joke was working with 
 miraculous rapidity. At last he was beginning to see 
 life in terms of brains rather than brute strength. 
 
 Something white caught his eye. 
 
 He tiptoed around to the other side of the crypt and 
 found a cardboard placard propped up against the door. 
 Turning it over he could make out large lettering illeg- 
 ible in the faint light. 
 
 He took the placard to the door which was still open 
 a crack and read : 
 
 LEAVE YOUR 
 CAPS HERE 
 
 The card had been used in the recent crowded grad-
 
 S o WON FOR THE FLEET, 
 
 uation week when several classes had reunions. Uni- 
 form caps were on these occasions always difficult to 
 retain. The thousands of them were so absolutely 
 identical. 
 
 Reggie's imagination was still hard at work. He had 
 also reached a state of self-confidence wherein he felt 
 nearly able to cope with even such bullies as Tom and 
 Ole. 
 
 Suddenly he ejaculated "Wow," And again he ex- 
 claimed with perilous loudness: "WOW!" 
 
 Deliberately he closed the door. He returned to the 
 scene of his imprisonment. From the hole in which he 
 had lain he fished out several old nails. With the help 
 of these he fastened the sign to the under side of the 
 board cover. Then, drawing the knife from his pocket 
 and opening it, he began to scrape at one of the letters. 
 
 About six hours after this, the long corridors of Ban- 
 croft Hall echoed with the strident notes of the bugle. 
 Twice the call to rooms was sounded accompanied by a 
 great 'confusion and running about. 
 
 "Clear the deck and stand by for inspection !" shouted 
 the midshipmen-in-charge of floors. 
 
 In five minutes all was quiet. 
 
 "Quarters ready for inspection," announced the Officer- 
 in-Charge. 
 
 "Very good, sir," replied Admiral Lacy. And turn- 
 ing to the Senator. "Come," he said "and I will show 
 you what discipline can be,." 
 
 At each study door stood a midshipman at attention 
 in full dress uniform. Inside was his roommate whose 
 turn it was to be responsible for the appearance of the 
 room for the ensuing week. In the center of the study 
 stood a plain deal table and two chairs. By each wall
 
 THE 'DISASTER 51 
 
 was a three-story book case, likewise of the simplest con- 
 struction. Books were arranged with microscopic at- 
 tention to size. 
 
 In each small bedroom on either side were a small 
 white iron bedstead, a locker, and a metal washstand. 
 By the bed was a tiny piece of carpet, the only floor cover- 
 ing in the whole room,. Under the bed were two pairs 
 of shoes polished till they glistened. 
 
 Not a speck of dust in sight. Not a piece of furni- 
 ture or a book, or a windowshade the fraction of an 
 inch out of alignment. Even the clothing in the locker 
 was arranged according to size and kind. 
 
 "They do it themselves," said the Commandant 
 proudly. 
 
 "Chambermaids are scarce these days," dryly com- 
 mented the Senator. "May I ask why such austerity of 
 existence is necessary for these young men?" 
 
 The midshipman by the door bestowed a pleased wink 
 upon his roommate. 
 
 "Certainly," returned the Admiral. "Some day these 
 lads will be officers. Their duty will be to keep our 
 naval vessels in the same condition of irreproachable 
 cleanliness as they now keep their rooms. Such a state 
 aboard a man-of-war makes for contentment of the 
 crews as well as economical upkeep of the whole ord- 
 nance and engine installation." 
 
 To the Admiral's disappointment, Senator Brame 
 seemed to have missed the full weight of this impressive 
 speech. He was scrutinizing one of the lockers, ap- 
 parently overcome by its almost superhuman tidiness. 
 
 Suddenly he turned and with a look of great stern- 
 ness addressed the Admiral. 
 
 "Cleanliness is next to Godliness," he pronounced
 
 S 2 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 solemnly. "But even Godliness has been known to wane 
 in the face of insufficient nourishment." 
 
 "My dear sir," hastily interposed the Admiral, "just 
 wait till you see the magnificence of our kitchens." 
 
 Senator Brame hereupon placed his hand under a pair 
 of beautifully pressed and folded white trousers and 
 drew it out. 
 
 "I don't need to," he said, and handed the Admiral a 
 thick, rich, and juicy cherry pie! 
 
 "Put Midshipman Jones on the report for 'food in 
 room!'" was the Admiral's icy comment. 
 
 The inspection party passed grimly out. 
 
 By the time parade call was sounded the Commandant 
 had regained his composure. He led the Senator to a 
 point of vantage on the terrace. To the east lay the 
 grassy drill and athletic field. Beyond for ten clean 
 blue miles spread the broad waters of Chesapeake Bay. 
 
 "Can you imagine a more beautiful environment for 
 the education of a boy?" he asked,. 
 
 "For once I agree with you, Admiral," was the banter- 
 ing reply. "Your task as I see it is not only to teach 
 these young men to shoot guns and operate engines. 
 More important almost is to convince them that a naval 
 career is the finest in the world; to breed in them a love 
 of the sea. I cannot imagine a happier situation for 
 such a school." 
 
 By this time the hundreds of future naval officers were 
 flooding from the various doors of the quarters. As if 
 by magic they fell into two long parallel lines. 
 
 "Makes soldiers out of them, too," muttered the Sen- 
 ator. 
 
 The Admiral laughed. "It's all in the day's work," 
 he suggested. "In the Navy we've got to be prepared to
 
 THE DISASTER 53 
 
 fight ashore as well as afloat. Our lines of activity com- 
 bine those of nearly every technical profession known." 
 
 As the roll call began with a loud clattering of names 
 Senator Brame was reminded of the cause for his visit. 
 
 "Anything of my young friend yet?" he inquired. 
 
 The Admiral sent his orderly to investigate. Lieuten- 
 ant Commander Kilduff himself came to report. 
 
 "My scouts say they have covered every district in 
 Annapolis without finding a single trace of Midshipman 
 Van Brunt. It's very strange, sir." 
 
 The Admiral nodded slowly. With growing satisfac- 
 tion he felt the value of proving to the distinguished 
 visitor that even the boys of most refined families, with 1 
 the best previous breeding and education, may go astray. 
 
 "One thing more, sir," continued the Officer-in-Charge. 
 "I forgot to say that main gate watchman reports he 
 chased a midshipman over the wall behind the chapel 
 about three o'clock this morning. He believes the fellow 
 tallied with the description of Van Brunt." 
 
 At last the Senator seemed inclined to weaken. "Well, 
 'boys will be boys,' " he quoted. "It's an old adage, but 
 a very true one. And there's no accounting for it." 
 
 With great pride the Admiral led the way down the 
 stiff ranks. Now and then he stopped to examine a 
 boy's cap or uniform more closely. Very occasionally 
 he asked one his name. 
 
 Opposite Tom he stopped for a full minute. In his 
 mind he said : "Here's a fine looking young man. I'll 
 have to keep my eye on him. Some day he'll make me 
 a good flag lieutenant." 
 
 Tom returned the Admiral's gaze without flinching. 
 In his mind he imagined the Admiral was saying: 
 
 "Here's a guilty-looking young cuss. Wonder what
 
 54 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 he's been up to. His eyes show he needs sleep. That 
 means he's been up all night. Probably he can tell me 
 where that Van Brunt is we've been passing the word 
 for all morning!" 
 
 The Admiral passed on. 
 
 Inspection done, bugles sounded again and rank broke 
 up into squads. With mechanical precision the whole six 
 hundred stepped off together in time to the music. 
 
 "Fine sight, fine sight indeed!" exclaimed the Senator 
 much moved by the spectacle. 
 
 "Inspiring it is," agreed the Admiral. "So many 
 young men, healthy and strong, with all their future 
 ahead of them." His eyes blinked with emotion. "It 
 glorifies the duty of us who guide them!" 
 
 The Senator recovered first. "Don't forget the sheep 
 that's out," he laughed. 
 
 As the marching columns approached the chapel en- 
 trance, a crowd of visitors parted to let them through. 
 
 "Aren't they handsome!" came the shrill voice of a 
 girl 
 
 "So highminded," whispered a mother to the father 
 of a fat plebe in one of the rear ranks. 
 
 "Possibly," returned the father in a dubious tone. 
 
 The central pews were quickly filled by the battalion. 
 With quiet efficiency the long rows were occupied. Each 
 midshipman sat erect and stiff as if a ramrod had been 
 poked up his back before leaving quarters. The com- 
 bined solemnity fixed upon the six hundred young faces 
 would have made a graveyard seem jovial by compari- 
 son. 
 
 A few minutes were occupied by the entrance of the 
 visitors. At the rustling of gowns and hushed feminine 
 voices a slight tremor seemed to pass along the flat broad
 
 THE DISASTER 55 
 
 uniformed shoulders. But the discipline was perfect. 
 Not a single one of those close-clipped heads turned the 
 hundredth part of an inch. 
 
 When the Commandant and Senator Brame had taken 
 their seats at the front and center there was a moment 
 of dead silence. The Cadet Adjutant Gill marched 
 grandly up the aisle. Under his arm he carried the Navy 
 Regulations. 
 
 At the top of the steps leading to the chancel he came 
 to a halt and smartly faced about. 
 
 Immediately he found his place and in a clear carry- 
 ing voice began to read: 
 
 " 'The Navy of the United States shall be governed 
 by the following articles/' 1 
 
 Imperceptibly six hundred bodies between the ages of 
 sixteen and twenty-one settled themselves for the ordeal. 
 
 " 'The Commanders of all fleets, squadrons, naval sta- 
 tions. 
 
 To the great joy and entertainment of six hundred 
 pairs of watchful eyes a fly lit upon Admiral Lacy's 
 bald spot. 
 
 " 'Or strikes or assaults, or attempts or threat- 
 ens. 
 
 The Admiral struck and assaulted the fly. In so do- 
 ing he jolted unpleasantly the Senator next to him who 
 was just dropping into a peaceful doze. 
 
 The aroused Senator drew himself upright and looked 
 about. By turning half around he could see the row 
 upon row of set bored faces behind. One boy he 
 thought he recognized. He looked like 
 
 The Senator closed his eyes and opened them again. 
 The countenance he was studying had suddenly taken 
 on a look of horror and amazement. The eyes pro-
 
 5 6 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 truded. The jaw dropped; and by the nostrils' quick 
 movement he knew the boy was panting. 
 
 Instantly the Senator turned to warn the Admiral that 
 one of his midshipmen was on the point of having a fit of 
 some sort. Better get him out before a disturbance was 
 created. 
 
 To his astonishment he found the same wild look had 
 seized upon the Admiral. Evidently he too was in the 
 throes of some terrific internal emotion. 
 
 Senator Brame followed his gaze. And his face fol- 
 lowed suit. 
 
 Just behind the Cadet Adjutant near the chancel a 
 square board had been raised by some invisible agency. 
 On the board had been nailed a large white placard on 
 which in tall black letters was the remarkable inscrip- 
 tion: 
 
 LEAVE YOUR 
 CATS HERE 
 
 Intense silence held the stupefied assemblage. 
 
 Then slowly, gruesomely, there rose before the pla- 
 card a dreadful sight. It was the tall figure of a man. 
 He was dirty and dishevelled. A cruel gag filled the 
 space where his mguth should have been. A blindfold 
 blotted out the eyes. His wrists and body were twined 
 with torturing knots that would have gratified a hang- 
 man. 
 
 The apparition came to its full height, then emitted 
 a long and heart-rending groan. 
 
 A woman in the rear screamed and fainted and had to 
 be carried out. It was the mother of Audrey Melville 
 Johnson. 
 
 The apparition disappeared behind the organ sup-
 
 THE DISASTER 57 
 
 ported on the shoulders of two choking members of the 
 choir. 
 
 But not before the Senator had recognized Reginald 
 D. Van Brunt!
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 COURT-MARTIAL 
 
 TOM enjoyed exactly twenty-four hours of sweet sat- 
 isfaction in the glorious success of his deed before the 
 blow fell. 
 
 During Sunday lunch excitement ran high. Naturally 
 the first flush of public sentiment favored Reggie. 
 
 "Oh, you old cat!" his twenty-one table mates as- 
 sailed him,. 
 
 Reggie bestowed a superior grin upon the crowd. 
 
 "Hey, John Paul Jones, how does it feel to be buried 
 two hundred years?" inquired one wit. 
 
 "Hot stuff, boy," retorted Reggie. 
 
 On the other side of the mess hall midshipmen craned 
 their necks to catch a glimpse of the hero. And hero 
 Reggie was, strange as it may seem. Consensus of opin- 
 ion agreed that only considerable presence of mind on 
 his part as well as a good deal of downright nerve could 
 have made it possible to work the chapel stunt with such 
 huge success. 
 
 Secretly Tom and Ole agreed. They had never 
 dreamed their plot could have been carried out so mag- 
 nificently. 
 
 "The only thing that worries me is that fool sign," 
 said Tom. But the less imaginative Ole merely took 
 this phenomenon as a contribution by Providence. 
 "Should have thought of it ourselves," he growled. 
 
 58
 
 COURT-MARTIAL 59 
 
 As for Reggie his self-respect had been swelling like 
 a balloon ever since that thrilling moment when he found 
 he could outspeed the watchman. That he now had out- 
 speeded two bullies like Tom Poor and Ole Hansen he 
 took almost as a matter of course. 
 
 During the afternoon, the midshipmen on sailing 
 parties and cross-country walks discussed the great sen- 
 sation from beginning to end. 
 
 "What'll the Supe do about it?" was the question 
 sooner or later everyone asked everyone else. The 
 Superintendent was absent; and the Commandant, Ad- 
 miral Lacy, had not yet been able to impose any extreme 
 fear upon the battalion. 
 
 "Find out who pulled the stunt, of course." 
 
 "But how can he?" 
 
 "Easy enough." 
 
 "Sherlock Holmes stuff, I suppose." 
 
 "Not at all. Simply seek the motive." Not without 
 results had the speaker stayed up half the night over a 
 harrowing detective story. 
 
 "Say, you're some little sleuth, now ain't you?" 
 
 "Not at all. Who do you think had it in for Reggie 
 Van Brunt? Why that gink, Tom Poor, of course. 
 Poor wanted to beat him up ; but the gang wouldn't stand 
 for it. So he got even by making a fool out of Reg- 
 gie." 
 
 Thus it was that by supper-time the fickle admiration 
 of nearly six hundred youthful detectives abandoned 
 Reggie for Tom Poor. They realized that beyond a 
 shadow of a doubt Tom Poor's was the master mind be- 
 hind the whole circus. 
 
 Desperately Reggie sought to retain his midday pres- 
 tige.
 
 6o WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Any cats to dispose of?" he facetiously inquired of 
 several of his recent most ardent admirers. 
 
 But it was of no use. All eyes were on Tom. All 
 minds were hard at work picturing the tremendous 
 physical strength and the super-intelligence required to 
 kidnap a live man, then to arrange a trap that would 
 spring with such divine consequences at the exact mo- 
 ment it would be most effective. 
 
 Tom took this hero-worship as a matter of course. 
 He had been a public character before. 
 
 For the same reason he was amazed to see Reggie's 
 pride in having been the victim. In fact he called Ole's 
 attention to it as they drifted up to Recreation Hall 
 after lunch. 
 
 "Anybody would think he had planned the thing him- 
 self," he said. 
 
 At that minute Reggie hove in sight. To the kidnap- 
 pers' profound astonishment he favored them with a 
 condescending bow. 
 
 "Well, I'll be jiggered!" gasped Tom. 
 
 After supper the situation was reversed. Reggie had 
 regained something of his former uneasy manner. 
 Truth was that the attention which had bolstered him 
 up earlier in the day was now entirely diverted to Ole 
 and Tom. 
 
 These two took pains to seek him out just before the 
 evening call to rooms. Some maneuvering was neces- 
 sary to avoid making a public spectacle of the encounter. 
 
 "Say, Van Brunt," said Tom menacingly, "maybe you 
 might explain who was responsible for that sign." 
 
 Reggie glanced over his shoulder. A group of mid- 
 shipmen stood reassuringly near.
 
 COURT-MARTIAL 61 
 
 "Maybe I might, and maybe I mightn't," was the dar- 
 ing reply. 
 
 Before Ole could stop him Tom had swung out with 
 all his force. Reggie was half prepared for the attack 
 and ducked. But his unpractised eye was too slow. 
 The blow missed his chin but caught him with a thud 
 on his right shoulder. He spun and fell sprawling to 
 the floor. 
 
 "You fool!" cried Ole. "I'm done with you, Tom 
 Poor!" 
 
 Whereupon Reggie, who by this time had rolled un- 
 hurt to a sitting position and saw the gathering crowd, 
 seized the opportunity to make the only defense he knew 
 how. His eyes narrow with hatred, he hissed: 
 
 "I'll get you, you thug! You watch!" 
 
 And he did. 
 
 It was next morning. The fourth class had been out 
 in the sub-chasers for tactical and signal drill. Sixteen 
 of these small gasoline-driven craft were organized into 
 regular battleship divisions. Midshipmen formed their 
 crews. From bridge to bridge semaphore signals were 
 flashed back and forth,. 
 
 Having been a signal boy himself, Tom instinctively 
 caught many of the silly sentences that were spelled out 
 by the bits of fluttering colored bunting. The message 
 that passed most frequently made him dig his finger 
 nails into the palms of his hands. It was : 
 
 "L-E-A-V-E Y-O-U-R C-A-T-S H-E-R-EP 
 
 "Children!" he sneered. 
 
 As Reggie had not yet mastered the code, he missed 
 this particular part of the morning's exercises. He had 
 his medicine though. At least two hundred times the
 
 62 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 sub-chaser to which he was attached received the mean- 
 ingless inquiries: 
 
 "How is the old cat?" or "Does she smell yet?" All 
 of which were repeated with emphasis to the irritated 
 Reggie. 
 
 Scarcely had the boats tied up to the sea-wall at ten- 
 thirty, when a duty midshipman appeared bearing a slip 
 of paper and a megaphone. With impressive loudness 
 he announced: 
 
 "All the fourth class report to Mahan Hall after 
 drill." 
 
 This word was greeted by a chorus of cheers. 
 
 "Old Man's on the warpath again!" shouted one. 
 
 "He ought to be," growled the Lieutenant in charge 
 of the drill, "after yesterday's performance." 
 
 Tom overheard this remark and caught the sinister tone 
 of the speaker. A vague apprehension came over him. 
 Could it be possible that a snob and a weakling like Reg- 
 gie Van Brunt might triumph over a man that played as 
 square as Tom felt he had played? 
 
 The midshipmen nearly filled the large auditorium in 
 the Academic Building, or Mahan Hall as it was known. 
 After a noisy roll call, the Commandant's Aide ordered 
 silence. 
 
 On the stage sat the officers, about forty in all, who 
 were being retained for the summer in connection with 
 the new class. All other officers had gone to sea on the 
 ships of the practice squadron for the annual midship- 
 men's cruise. 
 
 As the whispering died away, Admiral Lacy advanced 
 to the front of the stage. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he began in his best deep-sea voice, "I
 
 COURT-MARTIAL 63 
 
 have brought you here for a serious purpose. My theme 
 will be evident when I request that Midshipman Van 
 Brunt join me up on the stage." 
 
 He paused while Reggie, invisibly assisted by those 
 who sat on either side of him, extricated himself from 
 a back row and awkwardly climbed over the footlights. 
 
 "The presence of Mr. Van Brunt before you," con- 
 tinued the Admiral, "will refresh your memories in re- 
 gard to the sacrilege which profaned our chapel yester- 
 day morning." 
 
 "Get the dictionary!" came a hoarse but audible whis- 
 per from one side. A suppressed titter ran across the 
 hall. 
 
 The old sea-dog took one stride nearer his audience. 
 "Silence!" he roared. "Gentlemen, stand up!" 
 
 This time the vibrant command had its full effect. 
 Instantly and with a minimum of commotion the six- 
 hundred boys rose to attention. 
 
 With his feet braced wide, his jaw protruding, and 
 fists clenched in two muscular knots, the Admiral then 
 gave the newcomers their first taste of a "salt-air 
 tongue." 
 
 For a good five minutes the walls resounded with the 
 short sure sentences that sprang from the Admiral's 
 powerful lungs. From nearly the very first word he 
 made each single boy feel guilty of disrespect to higher 
 authority. 
 
 "And some day," he concluded with rasping slow- 
 ness, "you will remember what I say; you will use my 
 very words ; and you will thank me for having taught you 
 while you were young!" 
 
 For a moment one could have heard a pin drop.
 
 64 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Then, "Seats," ordered the Admiral quietly. Obedi- 
 ence was prompt and quiet. After forty years of prac- 
 tice it was no great task for him to handle men. 
 
 "Now we come to the chief business of the day," he 
 next announced. "But before we begin let me say that 
 till this moment I have made no inquiry, no investigation. 
 Except that this young gentleman appeared yesterday 
 at a most solemn moment in a most disgraceful condi- 
 tion, I know no more than you do." For an instant his 
 eyes twinkled. "Probably not as much," he added. 
 
 He beckoned to Reggie. The latter stood at attention 
 before him. Admiral Lacy looked him up and down; 
 took in the delicately cut nose and mouth, the brown eyes, 
 the slender figure and tall ungainly legs. 
 
 "I thought so," he said at last. "You're the pestifer- 
 ous kind the big fellows can't punish by rough methods. 
 So they took it out by trying to make a fool of you." 
 
 He turned to the audience. "Gentlemen, I can read 
 the six hundred of you as plainly as you read that pla- 
 card in the chapel. And what I read is almost as amus- 
 ing. This lad, I take it, has got himself disliked. You 
 have sought to punish him. . . ,. You haven't given 
 him a chance." 
 
 He paused to let his words sink in. He knew this 
 was the hardest point of all to make. Well he realized 
 there are times when no man deserves a chance. 
 
 "One year from today," he continued, "you whoever 
 was responsible for the trick would have had no cause 
 for what you did. Van Brunt's muscles would have 
 caught up with his frame and his age,. His heart would 
 have overtaken his muscles. His digestion and nerves 
 would have been there to back them all up. And he
 
 COURT-MARTIAL 65 
 
 would have played the man with you instead of having 
 to be treated like a child." 
 
 To the Admiral's intense satisfaction he saw a general 
 expression of approval come over the faces before him. 
 
 He cleared his throat. His next move he hated. But 
 his position forced him to uphold the law by legal means. 
 
 "So far I have been personal," he put it. "Now I 
 shall be official. Public desecration of divine service is 
 punishable by severe measures. Furthermore, it can 
 cause a deep and lasting injury to the school of which 
 you all sooner or later will become very fond/' 
 
 He turned to Reggie. "It is my duty, Mister Van 
 Brunt, to investigate the breach of discipline of which 
 I take it you were the unwilling victim. I intend to 
 make this investigation here this morning. Further I 
 intend to punish the guilty ones to the fullest letter of 
 the law " he stopped and looked over the spread of 
 upturned faces "if I fired out who they are." 
 
 There was no mistaking his meaning. The Admiral 
 had thought the difficulty out through a long and sleep- 
 less night. And he had concluded that as it was the 
 first serious offense in the life of an entirely inexperi- 
 enced and undisciplined body of young men, he would be 
 safe in letting them off with a warning. 
 
 "The Old Brick!" burst one middy involuntarily. 
 
 The Admiral turned to Reggie with a kindly and ex- 
 pectant smile. He thought he knew his boys pretty 
 well. Now for the finishing touch to prove that, after 
 all, this one before him would be a man when he had 
 half a chance. 
 
 "And now Mister Van Brunt, will you tell me who 
 they were?"
 
 66 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 He could almost hear Reggie reply bravely: 
 
 "Why no, sir, I'm afraid I can't." 
 
 Instead, his words were met by a cold and withering 
 look. Reggie then turned and fixed his eyes upon one 
 of the side aisles. Slowly his arm came up. His long 
 finger stretched accusingly at the man he was determined 
 to revenge himself upon. 
 
 "There's the one that did it," he said. "Tom Poor!" 
 
 The Admiral stepped back astonished. A series of 
 gasps could be heard over the audience. Then some- 
 one hissed. As if by command the whole assembly took 
 it up. 
 
 The Admiral held up his hand for silence. 
 
 "Is it so, Mister Poor?" 
 
 Tom rose. His face was white with anger. For a 
 moment he could not speak,. Then, with an effort, he 
 regained his self-control. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I am the man,"' he replied. 
 
 For at least a minute the Admiral appeared non- 
 plussed. Could it be possible that the standard of young 
 men had so changed in recent years that they dared be- 
 tray one another at the slightest provocation? At any 
 rate the others were certainly not in sympathy with Van 
 Brunt. 
 
 He turned to the Officer-in-Charge. 
 
 "Put Mister Poor under arrest at once," he com- 
 manded. "I will appoint a board of investigation this 
 afternoon." 
 
 A few hours later Tom faced the court with a feeling 
 of utter hopelessness. 
 
 "Do you expect to plead guilty?" asked the senior 
 officer. 
 
 "Guilty?" Tom repeated vaguely. He looked around
 
 COURT-MARTIAL 67 
 
 the room at the stern faces. "Why yes of course," 
 he said. 
 
 "And you understand what the charges are going to 
 be?" 
 
 One of the younger officers stood up. "I object, sir," 
 he said firmly. "This young man need say nothing that 
 will incriminate himself." 
 
 "Quite true," countered the other. "But since he has 
 already admitted having bound up the midshipman who 
 appeared in chapel, I see no reason for our not making 
 the court's procedure as simple as possible." 
 
 It was all Greek to poor Tom, this legal argument 
 that went on heatedly about him. A certain amount of 
 sympathy the officers had for him, he knew. His past 
 record was splendid. And he had been given to under- 
 stand that his powerful build bid fair to gain him a place 
 on the football team. 
 
 "But we've got to keep up the good name of the Naval 
 Academy," he heard one declare. 
 
 That seemed to be the gist of it. He was to be made 
 an example before his classmates. He was to be sacri- 
 ficed that other midshipmen would be warned before it 
 was too late. 
 
 At last the session was brought to an end. Tom was 
 led away under guard. Just as he reached the door the 
 senior officer called him back. 
 
 "A minute, Poor," he said. 
 
 Tom turned to find the others had left by another 
 entrance. 
 
 "I just wanted to tell you, Poor, that you may as well 
 prepare for the worst. After our trouble about hazing 
 last year the Superintendent has directed that the new 
 class shall be put right in the beginning."
 
 68 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Yes, sir," Tom nodded sadly. 
 
 "It looks as if you had better try to use any influence 
 you may have in Washington." 
 
 Tom shook his head,. What influence had he a run- 
 away from home, an enlisted seaman in the fleet, a 
 miserable plebe at Annapolis? 
 
 "I'm sorry then," concluded the officer. "You may 
 as well make up your mind that you are to be dismissed." 
 
 With dry and burning eyes Tom studied the floor 
 seams for a moment, then turned and rejoined the private 
 of marines, his guard.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 FIRE 
 
 ON the third day of his confinement, Tom became 
 desperate. The trial irked him to madness. It was 
 dragging along. Mostly because every effort was being 
 made to discover what midshipmen were in the plot be- 
 sides Tom. 
 
 "It took about a dozen of us," he gravely informed 
 his examiners.. Then, later, he was forced to admit the 
 falsity of this statement, and declared he had done the 
 trick singlehanded. 
 
 Now as he sat in the little bare room, with his face 
 buried in his hands, the future looked absolutely black. 
 Dismissal from the Naval Service meant that he could 
 not reenlist. And without doubt his reputation would be 
 passed along to the Merchant Marine. 
 
 "But I am going to sea!" He clenched both fists and 
 pounded the wall in front. "I'm going to sea yet!" he 
 exclaimed through clamped jaws. 
 
 Suddenly a wave of uncontrollable anger swept 
 through him. He saw red in reality. Abruptly he 
 realized that the man who had caused his downfall was 
 now enjoying the fullest liberty,. 
 
 "But before I do anything else," he muttered, "I'm 
 going to give Van Brunt the thrashing of his life. That's 
 the medicine / need !" 
 
 Tom rose and tiptoed to the door. He could hear the 
 marine guard pacing slowly up and down outside. 
 
 69
 
 70 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 He opened the transom and called: "Hey you, out- 
 side." 
 
 "What do you want?" came the insolent response. 
 
 "There's a water pipe leaking badly here," said Tom 
 in the pleasantest voice he could muster. "I think you'd 
 better have a look at it. 1 * 
 
 The marine turned his key in the lock and stepped in. 
 As the door closed behind him he was seized by the collar 
 and jerked sharply to one side. 
 
 The same moment he felt a stinging pain in his shins. 
 Tom had used a tripping trick he had learned in some of 
 the seagoing riots he had taken part in on the Boston 
 waterfront. 
 
 As the marine was both lighter and weaker than the 
 sturdy Tom, it was the work of but a moment to roll 
 him into the shower bath and hold him by sitting on his 
 chest. 
 
 "Now I'm going out for a bit," said Tom shortly. 
 "And I'm going to tie you right here under the shower. 
 If I hear a sound of your trying to get loose I'm going 
 to come back and turn the cold water on." 
 
 The threat did its work. The marine nodded assent. 
 
 On his way out of Bancroft Hall Tom boldly asked 
 a duty midshipman where he could find the battalion. 
 
 "All of them at the Engineering Building," he was 
 informed. "But I thought you were in jail?" 
 
 "You're not paid to think," replied Tom caustically. 
 
 He made his plans quickly. Engineering Building was 
 on the other side of Mahan Hall. He could conceal 
 himself by the old bleachers near the back entrance. 
 This, he knew, was the place Reggie and others were 
 accustomed to come for a stolen smoke after drill. Here
 
 FIRE 71 
 
 he could capture and destroy Reggie at his own free will. 
 
 Just as he reached the crossing at Maryland Avenue 
 he was accosted by a fat dressy lady accompanied by a 
 small boy in a sailor suit. He failed to see them until 
 the last moment because he was mentally engaged in pic- 
 turing the joy that would come with getting his fingers 
 on Reggie Van Brunt's throat. 
 
 "Oh, you nice looking boy!" in a feminine voice 
 brought him suddenly out of his murderous thoughts. 
 
 "Wha-what?" stammered Tom, reddening more with 
 anger and embarrassment. 
 
 "I'm Mrs. MacMichael of Baltimore," explained the 
 lady with an ingratiating smile. "And this is little 
 Jimmy MacMichael,. I want him to grow up and be a 
 sailor. Now couldn't you tell him something about the 
 life?" 
 
 At this moment a marine sergeant passed. "What's 
 him, Ma?" inquired Jimmy. 
 
 The fat lady turned to Tom. "He had U. S. M. C. on 
 him," she observed. "Now wasn't he some kind of 
 soldier?" 
 
 The exasperated Tom tried to pass on. But the pon- 
 derous lady blocked the way. "Do tell me what those 
 letters stand for," she entreated. 
 
 "Useless Sons Made Comfortable, Ma'am," said Tom 
 with dignity. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the lady. Then with a bow and 
 a smile she drew a coin from her bag and pressed it into 
 Tom's hand. Before he could protest she had passed on. 
 
 Tom gazed at the piece of silver for a moment. 
 "Tipped, by heck!" he ejaculated. Then a thought struck 
 him.
 
 72 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Hey there," he hailed a negro mess attendant that 
 was on his way to the main gate. "Want to make a 
 quarter ?" 
 
 "Yessuh, yessuh. You bet, suh!" 
 
 "Well, here it is. Now when you see the midshipmen 
 come out of the Engineering Building that big white 
 one over there you come over and let me know. I'll 
 be under this end of the bleachers." 
 
 Inside the building Tom had set his spy upon was 
 being held the routine summer instruction of the new 
 midshipmen. They were detailed into groups of about 
 thirty. Each group was in charge of an officer. 
 
 The first floor of the building was arranged for 
 practical demonstration. One large room was filled with 
 row after row of lathes. About the walls stood carpen- 
 ter benches, each fitted with sets of beautiful tools. 
 
 Another spacious room was given over to machine 
 tools of all sorts. Through great sliding doors was the 
 boiler-making shop. And beyond that was the foundry 
 with a real blast furnace, moulds, and anvils. 
 
 Thus, by actual work with his own hands, is the mid- 
 shipman taught the fundamentals of his many-sided 
 profession. 
 
 The room in which Reggie's group were gathered was 
 most interesting of all. In it were hundreds of engines : 
 large engines; small engines; ship engines; launch en- 
 gines; aeroplane engines; every kind of engine Reggie 
 had ever heard or dreamed of. And Reggie's past series 
 of motor cars had brought him into what he had con- 
 sidered a really unusual intimacy with engines operated 
 by gasoline. 
 
 He discovered his mistake when Lieutenant Ruggles
 
 FIRE 73 
 
 began to describe the action of a simple little two-cylinder 
 affair. 
 
 "Gentlemen, we have here the four-cycle, compound 
 exhaust, overhead valve type of low-pressure gas en- 
 gine." 
 
 "Gosh!" exclaimed Reggie. "As many names as an 
 English duke." 
 
 At this remark the midshipman nearest Reggie looked 
 up for a moment without the sign of a smile. Then he 
 edged slightly away. 
 
 "The internal stresses," went on the officer, "are 
 balanced by a series of dynamic moments." 
 
 Reggie missed this. He was interested in the midship- 
 man's peculiar effort to be unfriendly. 
 
 "A moment, gentlemen," from Lieutenant Ruggles, 
 "and I will get hold of some gas for an actual demonstra- 
 tion." 
 
 During his absence Reggie attempted to engage several 
 of his fellows in conversation. To his surprise not one 
 would listen or reply. And in each case the one ad- 
 dressed turned his back upon the speaker. 
 
 Finally, one came forward. "Van Brunt," he pro- 
 claimed icily, "the class met last night and put you into 
 Coventry." 
 
 "Into what?" Reggie inquired curiously. 
 
 "Into Coventry. Means we intend to have nothing 
 further to do with you. No one will ever speak to you 
 again. Maybe now you understand what we think of a 
 man who'd squeal as you did !" 
 
 Before Reggie could reply Lieutenant Ruggles had re- 
 turned. "No gas," he announced. "Besides the hour's 
 up, so we shall have to go. The schedule has been
 
 74 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 changed this morning. We are to have squadron drill 
 in the boats at once instead of this afternoon." 
 
 While the squads were forming Reggie tried to figure 
 out this latest unhappiness in his life. He had 
 "squealed" on Tom Poor simply because he felt his feud 
 with Tom was entirely between the two of them. He 
 had never considered the ethics of the contest. All his 
 life he had done absolutely as his own conscience had dic- 
 tated. 
 
 Now, suddenly, he discovered that he and Tom were 
 being refereed. The whole new class stood together to 
 see that the fight went on exactly as they wanted it to. 
 First they wouldn't let Tom attack Reggie with his fists. 
 And now they were combined against him, Reggie, be- 
 cause he had been clever enough to have Tom put under 
 arrest by giving his name to the Admiral. 
 
 It was all very confusing to Reggie. At none of the 
 schools he had attended had he been forced to put up 
 with this sort of business. The fact that he was Reggie 
 Van Brunt, son of the multi-millionaire, was sufficient 
 to give him all the privileges necessary to a free and easy 
 life. 
 
 "It's none of their blasted business," Reggie told 
 himself. "And if they think I care whether this lot of 
 muckers ever speak to me again they're very much mis- 
 taken!" 
 
 As Lieutenant Ruggles swung the column into fours 
 he spied Tom. 
 
 "Why hello, Poor!" he sung out in a friendly voice. 
 "Out of the jug?" 
 
 "Not exactly," was Tom's halting reply. His spy had 
 been faithful all right. But this change in the drill
 
 FIRE 75 
 
 schedule prevented Reggie from trying his customary 
 smoke under the bleachers. All prospects of the great 
 thrashing had disappeared. 
 
 "Oh, I see," continued the officer. "Just out for a 
 bit of air." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Tom having nothing else to say. 
 
 "Very well then come along with us. We're going to 
 have some real maneuvers with the sub-chasers this 
 morning." 
 
 With pleasure Tom joined the column. He was sea- 
 going enough to love these short cruises down the bay in 
 the speedy little vessels. And there lurked in his mind 
 the feeling that by sticking with the crowd he might yet 
 have his chance to beat Reggie Van Brunt into a "ripe- 
 peach pulp" as he framed it. 
 
 This day there was a fleet of twelve boats divided 
 into three divisions. Tom took the helm on the flag- 
 ship, with Lieutenant Ruggles acting as the Admiral in 
 command. 
 
 "Now we shall assume that there is the enemy," ex- 
 plained the latter. He pointed to an ocean liner out- 
 ward bound from Baltimore about eight miles to the 
 eastward. 
 
 A flutter of flags ran to the yard-arm. 
 
 "Enemy on starboard bow !" read the signalmen on the 
 following boats. 
 
 "Divisions column right," was the next hoist. 
 
 A little later the formation was swung into line again 
 and deployed in such a way as to cut off the enemy's 
 retreat. 
 
 "Open fire when within range. Concentrate on the 
 leading ship !" sang out the acting admiral.
 
 76 
 
 Tom thrilled. All the zest of a real high-sea action 
 boiled up in him. His heart beat faster. He could 
 almost hear again the drone of the fire-control parties, 
 the singing of the turret motors, the clash of shell and 
 rammer, breech and lock, he had learned to love so in 
 the real Fleet. 
 
 "Breakdown on the Forty-two!" yelled the starboard 
 lookout just when the enemy was about to be annihilated. 
 
 Lieutenant Ruggles sprang to his engine-room tele- 
 graphs. "Hard aport!" he shot at Tom. 
 
 "Both wing engines disabled," signaled the stricken 
 chaser. She was veering wildly out of column to the 
 great peril of those behind her. 
 
 With accurate promptness Lieutenant Ruggles met the 
 emergency as befitted a steely-nerved naval officer. 
 
 "Signal Twenty-nine to take charge and lead back into 
 port," he directed. Then turning to Tom: "Put us 
 alongside Forty-two," he added. "Think you can do it?" 
 
 Tom nodded with a smile. For several months of the 
 previous winter he had been coxswain of the Alaska's 
 fifty-foot picket launch in the fleet. Work in the Chesa- 
 peake Bay was child's play compared to the great seas 
 that he had fought so many times on the Southern Drill 
 Ground off Cape Henry. 
 
 At least so he thought. 
 
 He got alongside all right. The officer had but a foot 
 to jump when Tom slid the vessel under him up across 
 the quarter of her helpless sister. 
 
 Then came the breeze. For an hour this breeze re- 
 mained a breeze. 
 
 And still Tom lay off while Lieutenant Ruggles 
 struggled over the stubborn gas engines of the Forty-two.
 
 FIRE 77 
 
 All his knowledge of the theory of them could not over- 
 come their war-worn cylinders and bases racked to pieces 
 by a terrific service two years previous in the English 
 Channel. 
 
 By noon the breeze had freshened to a strong nor'west 
 wind. The little vessels began to roll as they drifted in 
 the trough of the seas out into the middle of Chesapeake 
 Bay. 
 
 Thirty minutes later the wind had become a half-gale. 
 Water began to slop across the main deck. 
 
 Tom took real command at once. "Secure every- 
 thing," he ordered. "Haul over all your hatch-hoods!" 
 
 Dumbly the midshipmen obeyed him. Several were 
 already feeling the effects of the rolling. None were yet 
 accustomed enough to the water to feel at ease under 
 such circumstances. 
 
 "Over she goes !" roared Tom gaily, as one greenfaced 
 lad rushed for the rail. 
 
 In five minutes more he mustered his crew on deck. 
 He discovered that only four out of the dozen could be 
 counted on for work. The rest were ready to give up 
 the ghost and breakfast, too no matter what the 
 danger. 
 
 Somewhat worried, Tom put his spy-glass on the boat 
 he was standing by. Was he going to have to tow her 
 in after all? 
 
 As he looked he saw a white figure hanging over the 
 Forty-two's lee rail. Something about the long legs 
 struck him as familiar. Suddenly he brought his hand 
 down on his leg with a loud smack. 
 
 "Why it's dear sweet little Reggie !" he shouted. 
 
 Joyfully Tom gazed at his intended victim's convul-
 
 78 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 sions. And, when Reggie staggered to a forward hatch 
 and disappeared, he complained as though he had been 
 deprived of a rightful entertainment. 
 
 At this instant someone aft on Tom's own boat let 
 out a screech that startled him. "Fire!" bawled the 
 midshipman. 
 
 Tom left the bridge and darted aft. "Where? 
 Where?" he shouted. 
 
 "There !" the boy replied, and pointed at the Forty-two. 
 
 To his dismay Tom saw the yellowish-white fumes of 
 burning oil issuing in great clouds from her engine- 
 room hatch. 
 
 His heart sank. Not three months before he had seen 
 a sub-chaser blown to atoms ten minutes after the first 
 alarm. Such a vessel carries three-thousand gallons of 
 gasoline!
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 DILEMMA 
 
 TOM'S first impulse was to attempt a rescue by boat. 
 
 "Clear away the dory!" he shouted. 
 
 Only three men were able to answer the call. Two of 
 these did so half-heartedly. They were not seasick, nor 
 did they lack courage. Simply did they realize how 
 slight a chance the tiny shell of a boat would have in 
 the great crashing waves. The sub-chasers themselves 
 were being tossed about like a pair of toothpicks. 
 
 "Get hold of those falls, you sheep!" roared Tom. 
 
 "Not a chance with this match-box," one of the mid- 
 shipmen retorted. 
 
 "Chance with anything," Tom bellowed back, "if 
 you've got the guts to take it!" 
 
 Fully he realized how desperate the risk was to launch 
 the dory. But with equal sureness he grasped the ter- 
 rible predicament of those aboard the burning Forty-two. 
 
 While his men were clearing the tackle he glanced 
 across at her. He saw two blackened figures emerge 
 from the engine-room hatch. Between them they 
 dragged the body of a third. It looked like Lieutenant 
 Ruggles. 
 
 "Explosion !" muttered Tom. And back to him came 
 the dreadful recollection of the other accident he had 
 seen : men torn and scorched ; groaning, screaming men ; 
 men without eyes; men begging for death. 
 
 He saw two midshipmen clear the other chaser's dory. 
 
 79
 
 go WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 He saw it swung out. He saw the chaser itself lift into 
 the air on one gigantic sea till half her keel was exposed. 
 And, to his horror, he watched her drop with a sickening 
 swiftness into the following trough, carry the flimsy dory 
 with her, and crush it to a handful of splinters. 
 
 Tom realized at once he must act quickly or his own 
 boat would share the fate of the Forty-two's. 
 
 He rang up full speed ahead and put the helm hard 
 over. Slowly the chaser gained headway. He swung 
 her up into the wind. Then "full speed astern," he 
 jingled. 
 
 The maneuver placed the running sea on the chaser's 
 starboard bow. On her port quarter was a lee ; not calm 
 by a whole lot. But enough shelter to allow the dory to 
 be launched. 
 
 "Overboard with her! Quick!" ordered Tom. 
 
 With maddening slowness the little rowboat swung out 
 on her single davit. Like the tail of a kite she waved 
 and twisted in the gale. Then with a splash she dropped 
 safely into the water. 
 
 "Here, Cummings," yelled Tom. "Take the wheel. 
 Jones and I will go in the boat." He realized that his 
 leadership was necessary there. 
 
 The Cummings thus addressed spun about with a look 
 of vast relief on his face. In fact, he was so relieved 
 he forgot for a moment to tend the boat painter he was 
 holding. 
 
 At the same instant a huge wave lifted the Twenty-nine 
 to its crest. Cummings was not ready. The painter 
 tautened. The dory was shot into the chaser's side like 
 a catapult just in time to meet the descending hull. It 
 was crushed to kindling. 
 
 "You fool!" roared Tom, "you landlubber!"
 
 DILEMMA 81 
 
 "Better so," was the sullen reply. "Was crazy to 
 think of our going over there in the dory." 
 
 Tom ignored this speech. With a set face he turned 
 again to his engine telegraphs and again rang up full 
 speed ahead. He was desperate. Each chaser carried 
 but one dory for abandoning ship in emergency. Now 
 both chasers had lost them. 
 
 Any moment he might hear the awful explosion of the 
 Forty-two's gas tanks and see both men and chaser 
 scattered in gruesome remnants about the surface of the 
 Bay. 
 
 Again he took his place at the wheel. While the boat 
 
 slowly gained steerageway, he rang up the engine-room. 
 
 "Give her all she's got!" he entreated. "If we don't 
 
 take that crowd off in three minutes, we may never see 
 
 any of them again !" 
 
 The timid Cummings clung to Tom's elbow. "Why 
 can't they jump?" he asked. 
 
 "It's the wounded, you imbecile," said Tom shortly. 
 "If everyone goes over the side and deserts the injured 
 men well, is that your idea of doing a job?" 
 
 "No but if we run into them in this sea we're going 
 to cave in the side of our own ship." 
 
 Tom spun the wheel viciously. "Right you are 
 right as to the chance we stand of being hove square into 
 'em when we pass. But that's where yours truly is going 
 to cross his fingers and spit. It's our one best bet for 
 saving them and I'm here to see it through." 
 
 Meanwhile he steered the Twenty-nine in a wide circle 
 to windward of the Forty-two. The latter was drifting 
 nearly broadside on to the sea. If he went to leeward 
 the drifting boat might ride down on him even in the few 
 seconds it would take him to pass her. Such collision
 
 82 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 would undoubtedly stove in the sides of both boats. 
 They would sink in five minutes with all their heavy 
 engines aboard. And the crews would drown in the 
 wild seas long before any help could come. 
 
 Twenty-nine quivered as she gained speed. "Hoist 
 'stand by to be picked up,' " commanded Tom. The 
 bunting popped in the vicious gusts as it snapped to the 
 yard-arm. 
 
 Men on the Forty-two clustered to the rail when they 
 caught the signal. Three white figures lay helpless on 
 the deck. 
 
 "Down rail and stand by to lend them a hand!" sang 
 Tom, never taking his eye from his jackstaff. Did he 
 miss the exact course by a degree and he would not 
 only fail to rescue the crew on the burning vessel, but 
 likely he would send both craft to the bottom of the 
 Bay. 
 
 Several of the seasick midshipmen roused themselves 
 up. A sense of the tragedy that threatened compelled 
 them to forget for the moment their own misery. 
 
 Tom stood braced and calm at the wheel. His brain 
 was clear and cold. He wasted no misgivings on the 
 boldness of his plan. Never for a moment did he dream 
 of what failing would be like. If death was at hand, 
 one would never have guessed it from his quiet concen- 
 tration on the course. If he stood a little tensely, it was 
 no more than the physical effort any man might make 
 when the deck under him is bucking like a western 
 bronco. 
 
 The Twenty-nine's stem slid even with the smoking 
 stern of the Forty-two. 
 
 "Stand by !" warned Tom.
 
 DILEMMA 83 
 
 No man moved. Each was braced and clinging to 
 some staunch bit of deck gear in order to give all possible 
 aid to those jumping for their lives. 
 
 A touch of rudder toward the other boat; then a hard 
 helm away. And neatly the Twenty-nine swung her 
 main deck to a clean two feet away from her sister. 
 
 The two chasers balanced giddily on the crests of a 
 gigantic sea. Between them the green water was churned 
 into a white froth. 
 
 Someone cried "Jump!" But the word was unneces- 
 sary. First came the three injured men. One was 
 almost flung across. Then simultaneously the dozen 
 others leaped. 
 
 Six seconds later the Twenty-nine swerved clear. She 
 had not so much as touched the Forty-two. Danger was 
 past and all hands safe. 
 
 "Gosh!" was Tom's only comment as he left Cum- 
 mings at the wheel and sought Lieutenant Ruggles who 
 was being deposited in a comfortable bunk below. 
 
 "Good Boy!" sung out the latter, as Tom stuck his 
 head into the stateroom. "Not a man in this bloomin' 
 Navy could have done any better !" 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Tom relieved to find the other's 
 injuries consisted mostly of a twisted ankle got when the 
 flame had burst out. He glanced at the two scorched 
 midshipmen. They too had escaped providentially with 
 but superficial burns. 
 
 "What now, sir ; shall we stand by her ?" 
 
 "Yes," directed the officer. "But keep well clear. 
 She's likely to go up any moment." 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir." As Tom reached the door curiosity 
 overcame him. "What happened anyway, sir ?" he asked.
 
 84 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Ruggles smiled. "Carburetor flooded. Youngster in 
 the engine-room lost Kis head and didn't shut down in 
 time. Backfire naturally caught the waste oil on the 
 bilges. Next time that young idiot Van Brunt gets 
 why what's the matter, Poor?" 
 
 Tom had gone ghastly white. He staggered up against 
 the bulkhead. "Wh why he's not aboard, sir." In the 
 excitement Tom had completely forgotten that he had 
 last seen Reggie disappear down a forward hatch of the 
 other boat. He could swear he had not come aboard 
 the Twenty-nine. 
 
 "Good God !" exclaimed Ruggles. 
 
 "Yes," groaned Tom, "I remember now that I watched 
 him go forward just before we saw the fire. He must 
 have been seasick. And he's probably curled up in one 
 of the bunks this minute entirely unconscious of the 
 danger. No smoke is getting forward. The wind is 
 keeping it aft.'" 
 
 A look of even greater horror came into the Lieuten- 
 ant's eyes. "And the gasoline tanks are just on the 
 other side of the bulkhead. Poor, poor, kid he hasn't 
 a chance in the world!" 
 
 At the word "chance" Tom stiffened as if he had been 
 struck. It brought back his contempt of Cummings' 
 timidity, and how he had condemned Cummings for not 
 being willing to take any sort of chance in order to save 
 the life of another man. 
 
 "He has a chance, sir," snapped Tom, "if you'll let 
 me take it." 
 
 "Of course I will, boy. But is it worth it? Is it a 
 real chance? And can you say you are not selling the 
 lives of many for the sake of one?"
 
 DILEMMA 85 
 
 "Yes, sir ; my word on it ! I promise !" stuttered Tom 
 in his wild desire to save time. 
 
 Lieutenant Ruggles nodded assent. 
 
 Tom sprang up the ladder. He rushed to the pilot 
 house, rang up full speed again, and headed a second 
 time for the blazing ship. 
 
 Flames were darting from her hatches and ventilators. 
 Great clouds of poisonous vapors rolled from her engine 
 spaces and spread upon the stormy waters for half a mile 
 to leeward. Only the bow was plainly visible through 
 the conflagration. High wind swept the angry gases and 
 devouring flames to a point just clear of the hatch down 
 which the fainting Reggie had crawled. 
 
 Tom set his teeth. An uncontrollable nervousness 
 kept him clenching and unclenching his hands. It was 
 not fear. It was the terrific battle of emotions within 
 him: 
 
 He had given his word to save the very man he had 
 set out that morning to destroy! 
 
 And now without warning, his spirit was failing him. 
 His whole soul revolted at the thought. Burning would 
 be a just fate for the coward who had betrayed him. 
 He didn't have to save Reggie. Why couldn't some of 
 the others try it? Why should anyone try it? Wasn't 
 it risking the lives of the whole crowd just as Ruggles 
 had pointed out? 
 
 "Heaven have mercy on me!" exclaimed Tom half in 
 prayer, half in the hopelessness of his dilemma. 
 
 He knew well he would have gone without question to 
 the aid of any other living man. Hadn't he risked his 
 life before for the sake of a companion? But now be- 
 fore him like a demon stood this dreadful hatred of
 
 86 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Reggie ; this inhuman desire to have the revenge of death 
 fall upon the one who had ruined his career. 
 
 "You're the real stuff, Tom Poor!" exclaimed a voice 
 in his ear. 
 
 He turned to find Cummings, the weak and frightened 
 Cummings, staring up into his face with eyes swimming 
 in tears of admiration. 
 
 It may be said that these words saved Reginald Van 
 Brunt's life. To Tom Poor's fevered hesitation they 
 brought instant and unwavering decision. 
 
 But Cummings never knew it. All he got from Tom 
 was a look of such undisguised ferocity that he shrank 
 back bewildered. 
 
 "Right keep her right!" barked Tom to the midship- 
 man he had put at the wheel. "Don't you know she'll 
 go up any minute now?" He smiled grimly. "Go up 
 any minute now," he repeated to himself. A queer 
 sense of triumph was creeping over him. It was as if 
 he had conquered something. 
 
 Opposite the Forty-two and a safe fifty yards to wind- 
 ward Tom slipped off his shirt and jumper and dived 
 into the sea. Wave after wave swept clean over him. 
 But with powerful strokes he drove his lithe young body 
 closer and closer to the flaming derelict. 
 
 All hands came on the Twenty-nine's deck and stood 
 in silent agony. Tom's was a race with death. The 
 burning engine-room must be a fiery furnace. Hotter 
 and hotter were growing the metal casings of the gasoline 
 tanks. Let them once reach the proper temperature and 
 no power in the world could save so much as a stick of 
 timber of the ill-fated craft. 
 
 Tom reached her bow. A sea lifted him and threw 
 him heavily against the deck combing. For a moment
 
 DILEMMA 87 
 
 he hung stunned. Then painfully he crawled up and 
 over. He dashed aft ten feet and plunged down the 
 hatch. 
 
 "He's got him ! He's got him !" cried a dozen voices. 
 
 Tom had appeared again dragging the long limp form 
 of Reggie Van Brunt. With a frenzy of haste he 
 rushed forward and flung himself and Reggie into the 
 very body of an oncoming comber. 
 
 Then came the explosion. Broad tongues of blinding 
 flame shot a hundred feet into the air. Beams and tim- 
 bers, pipes and pistons, deck-gear, sheathing plates, and 
 chain were hurled in a great fountain of wreckage to all 
 sides. 
 
 Miraculously the Twenty-nine was unhit though frag- 
 ments fell all about her. 
 
 Lieutenant Ruggles had dragged himself on deck. 
 "Head her down!" he cried. "We've got to get them 
 out of the oil !" 
 
 He pointed to the yellowish flickers that were springing 
 up all about where the Forty-two had been but a moment 
 before. Floating oil was rapidly catching fire in all 
 directions. If Tom and Reggie were still alive, they 
 must be soon burned to death or asphyxiated in this new 
 terror. 
 
 But even in the very jaws of death, Tom had kept his 
 head. As he went under the surface dragging Reggie 
 after him, he felt the terrific concussions made by the 
 exploding tanks. He knew his safety lay in keeping 
 down. So with bursting lungs he swam under water 
 until Reggie's struggles indicated that he would drown if 
 submerged any longer. 
 
 On reaching the surface, he found he had cleared the 
 danger. A few minutes later Twenty-nine bore down on
 
 88 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 him, backed, made a lee, and picked the pair of them up 
 with heaving lines. 
 
 By noon Tom was in his room again. Outside paced 
 the marine orderly. So far as appearances went, the 
 morning's adventure was but a dream. 
 
 Tom knew that it wasn't a dream though. "Take more 
 than any dream to stop me hating Reggie Van Brunt," he 
 laughed to himself. 
 
 Which was what had happened: for all the thrill and 
 excitement of the explosion, the rescue, the cheers, had 
 none of them seemed as strange to Tom as the fact that 
 when he got back to his room the overpowering and 
 venomous abhorrence he had had of Reggie Van Brunt 
 had evaporated. And in its stead had come a curiously 
 peaceful and contented indifference. 
 
 Tom had met the worst that a man may meet; the 
 necessity to sacrifice himself for an enemy. And he had 
 made good. 
 
 A knock on the door broke into his reverie. 
 
 "Guess I'm not needed any more," grinned the marine 
 guard as he handed Tom a slip of paper. 
 
 On the slip was scrawled in pencil : 
 
 / gave the Admiral a full account of your heroism. 
 As a result he says the service can't afford to lose such 
 material for an officer. He's going to dismiss the charges 
 against you and let you off with fifty demerits and 
 a warning You lucky plebe! 
 
 Ruggles. 
 
 And scarcely had he read the signature than the room 
 was filled with a roar of cheers from the terrace outside.
 
 DILEMMA 80 
 
 "What's the matter with Tom Poor?" Six hundred 
 voices in unison. 
 "He's all right!" 
 "Who's all right?" 
 T O M P OOOOOR!" 
 "Speech! Speech!"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 HAZED 
 
 TEN weeks later, October second to be exact, a strange 
 scene took place in Tom's study. 
 
 A chair had been placed on top of the table in the 
 center of the room. In the chair sat a large and impres- 
 sive-looking man in an extraordinary costume. About 
 his shoulders was draped a white bedspread. On his 
 head was perched at a rakish angle an inverted wicker 
 basket. 
 
 The man drew heavily from time to time upon a large 
 corncob pipe. From this it could be told that he was a 
 first-classman. None of the under classes at Annapolis 
 are permitted to use tobacco. 
 
 Directly in front of the improvised throne and on the 
 floor knelt a line of plebes. Just as one would recognize 
 the first-classman by his pipe, so one could not mistake 
 the plebes by the expression of idiotic helplessness that 
 hung upon their faces. 
 
 Grouped about the room were other upperclassmen, 
 laughing and talking and thoroughly enjoying the per- 
 formance they had been invited to witness. 
 
 It was a trial; a trial of base criminals by the King 
 himself. 
 
 "Salute, O Pieces of Cheese!" commanded the King, 
 adjusting the wastebasket more comfortably upon his 
 royal head. 
 
 The five plebes salaamed until their foreheads touched 
 
 90
 
 HAZED 91 
 
 the bare floor. "Live long, O King; live long!" they 
 chanted together. 
 
 The King stamped angrily on the base of his throne. 
 "More enthusiasm!" he roared, "you you human cob- 
 webs." 
 
 A murmur of approval went through the audience. 
 The King's choice of epithets was amazingly apt. 
 
 "Name the crimes, General," hastily interposed Sam 
 Peabody. Well he knew the possibilities of a scene 
 if the King and his General got started in a private row. 
 
 The General, otherwise known as "Midget," drew a 
 dirty piece of paper from his pants pocket, and proceeded 
 to read in a melancholy voice : 
 
 "George Melville Audrey Johnson, having in his pos- 
 session and continuing to hold in his possession without 
 division or sharing thereof, either to his friends or class- 
 mates, one gigantic chocolate cake." 
 
 "What?" roared the King. "Ah, the baseness of the 
 wretch !" He glared at the kneeling Audrey who, terri- 
 fied, salaamed and murmured his desire for the King to 
 live forever. 
 
 "Has he still got it?" came a raucous voice from the 
 audience. 
 
 "Scum of the Universe, hast still got this cake ?" asked 
 the King. 
 
 "Yes, sir," weakly from Audrey. "I'll get it, sir." 
 
 "Do so at once at once!" commanded His Majesty. 
 And turning proudly to his fellow aristocrats. "The 
 Royal revenue increases, by heck !" he boasted. 
 
 "Reginald Van Brunt," continued the General, "squeal- 
 ing on a classmate, blowing up a man-of-war " 
 
 "It isn't so !" burst the horrified Reggie. 
 
 The King leaped to his feet. "SILENCE!" he bel-
 
 92 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 lowed in a voice of thunder. "What manner of louse 
 is this that would betray his own brother?" 
 
 "Pretty low, if you'd ask me," put in Sam. 
 
 The King majestically waved the General to proceed. 
 "The sentence of death is too mild for such an one," he 
 proclaimed. "Next !" 
 
 "Thomas Poor, tin hero ; swelled head ; becoming great 
 before his time; general rough-neck and thug!" enu- 
 merated the General. 
 
 "Aha!" said the King, "a fitting mate in torture for 
 the previous prisoner." 
 
 "Live long, O King; live long!" chorused the prison- 
 ers, this time with a fervor that brought the flush of 
 satisfaction to him whom they saluted. 
 
 "That's a blame sight better," growled the King. "And 
 now for the document of crime." He glanced about the 
 room. "Where's Sam?" he asked bluntly. "Bet the fat 
 goop's gone to sleep." 
 
 A series of grunts came from one of the little side bed- 
 rooms as the porpoise-like Sam Peabody was dragged out. 
 
 "Aw, lemme 'lone !" he groaned. "You're makin' big- 
 ger fools of yourselves than of the plebes." 
 
 "Hold!" roared the King, ignoring the insult to his 
 royal state. "The Court Orator approacheth." 
 
 He turned viciously to the protesting Sam. "You get 
 up here and do your job, Tubbo, or I'll have you given 
 the watercure by your own classmates." 
 
 Sam grinned. Having thrown off the grip of slumber, 
 he appeared more in spirit with the proceedings. "Got 
 to have a uniform," he said. 
 
 A long dark bathrobe was handed out. This he draped 
 over his ponderous figure after the fashion of a Roman
 
 HAZED 93 
 
 toga. A bath towel he wrapped about his head in a kind 
 of turban. He then mounted the table. 
 
 "What ho, General?" he bawled. 
 
 Whereat there stepped from the rear of the row of 
 kneeling plebes a little fierce-looking man wearing a 
 false moustache and a sword. 
 
 "Sire," droned the General, "me and my intrepid band 
 have captured these here wicked scoundrels." Evidently 
 grammar was not the General's strong point. "We were 
 about to put them to death at once. Then suddenly I be- 
 thought me of the joy their proper torture might bring 
 our beloved King." He shifted his gaze to the King and 
 winked. "How 'bout it, dear King?" he inquired coyly. 
 
 "Cut the sideswipes," retorted the King. 
 
 At this dramatic moment the ringing of bells along 
 the corridor outside announced that seven-thirty had ar- 
 rived. The evening call to study hour echoed from the 
 bugles. 
 
 The King leaped to his feet. "Hey, you plebes," he 
 directed. "Get up and clear out. But don't think it's 
 over with. "You're going to be sentenced and punished !" 
 
 For five minutes a human earthquake shook the gigan- 
 tic catacombs of Bancroft Hall. Midshipmen seemed to 
 have been loitering in every room but their own. From 
 every door there issued groups of rugged-looking young 
 men, talking and laughing. 
 
 On October first, the day before, nearly two thousand 
 upper-classmen had returned from their "September 
 leave." This is the yearly vacation which comes at the 
 end of every summer cruise. 
 
 Tom's class felt swamped. For nearly four months 
 they had practically owned the place,. Despite the rigor-
 
 94 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 ous routine, they had done pretty much as they wished 
 out of hours. 
 
 Now all was changed. Customs and traditions of the 
 Naval Academy handed down for nearly a century 
 hemmed them in with a wall of restrictions. 
 
 Ole and Tom had selected one another as roommates. 
 They were not always congenial. But each had a bigger 
 and broader way of settling differences that made an en- 
 during friendship possible. 
 
 This night they settled grimly to the impressive mass 
 of new books before them. "We'll be raving lunatics 
 inside of a month!" cried Ole in despair. 
 
 "Or bilged !" said Tom in the vernacular, meaning 
 bounced for failure in studies. 
 
 The door opened and a pleasant-visaged older midship- 
 man entered. According to custom the two plebes stood 
 instantly to attention, staring straight ahead. 
 
 The visitor looked from Tom to Ole. "Which of you 
 is Hansen?" 
 
 "Me, sir," replied Ole. 
 
 "Well, carry on." 
 
 The two took their seats. 
 
 "My name is Billings," the stranger introduced him- 
 self. "I'm from Oregon too, Hansen, so I'm going to 
 spoon on you." He held out his hand. "And you too, 
 Poor, as you're Hansen's roommate." 
 
 Having shaken on the pact and thereby wiped out the 
 formality that must hold between an upperclassman and 
 a plebe 'spooning on a man' as it is called Billings 
 went on. 
 
 "While I'm here I may as well give you both a little 
 advice. You're .going to have a tough time these first
 
 HAZED 95 
 
 few months. Grind of studies is enough to wear out a 
 new man till he falls into the swing of it. You see reci- 
 tations start at eight in the morning and the day is not 
 over until four in the afternoon, with but an hour out for 
 lunch. Then there's an extra hour of drill til' five on 
 top of it all." 
 
 "I see my finish!" exclaimed Ole drearily. 
 
 "Don't worry old man," laughed Billings. "You'll be 
 surprised how quick you will become a regular bookworm. 
 In three months you'll be batting the tar out of seven dif- 
 ferent kinds of math." 
 
 "Or the tar'll be dripping out of us," suggested Tom. 
 
 "The greatest danger is this hazing business. Last 
 year we had all that official scandal and the first class 
 knocked off hazing. That is, they agreed not to permit it 
 to go on. But they have graduated now. And, as always 
 happens, the next class takes up where they left off." 
 
 "We've just had a taste of it," said Ole. 
 
 "Well, then you know what I'm talking about. It's 
 a good thing, too. No real harm is possible. And it 
 helps work out the rawness from undesirable boys in a 
 way the authorities could never reach." 
 
 Billings turned to Tom. "You're the kind," he ex- 
 plained frankly, "that is sure to get an extra share of at- 
 tention from the hazers. Your exploits last summer are 
 a matter of common knowledge. It is to be expected that 
 your head is slightly swelled." 
 
 Tom grinned at the insinuation. 
 
 "Naturally, then, steps will be taken to set you down 
 a peg. It will be made clear to you that bravery and 
 courage are nothing to boast about. They are the simple 
 duty of every Navy man. And doing your duty doesn't
 
 o6 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 lift you out of the class of common plebes, any more than 
 the victorious admiral of a fleet would be removed from 
 the conventional routine of his rank." 
 
 "And how about that shrimp who started all the 
 trouble?" asked Ole, slightly peeved at this seeming de- 
 preciation of his roommate's valor. 
 
 "I was coming to him. He is at the opposite end of 
 things. He is the undeveloped kind. He's still tied to 
 the apron strings of his past life. It's up to Annapolis 
 to put some backbone into him. To stiffen up his ideas 
 of what is right and wrong. To make a man out of him 
 or send him back to the kindergarten." 
 
 Tom's jaw clicked. "That's what I tried to do." 
 
 "I know you did," continued Billings gravely. "But 
 your methods were wrong. You've been an enlisted man 
 I believe. You're used to a rough and tumble justice that 
 served its purpose among the tougher natures one is 
 bound to find on deck. A finely-tempered nature like 
 Van Brunt's, which all its life has been protected from 
 the seamy side of life, you know nothing about. You 
 tried to handle him by plain brutality. It wouldn't work 
 in a hundred years. His pride is our only chance to 
 change him. To appeal to the finer instincts in him, 
 even though they are undeveloped, is the only possible 
 means by which we can hope ever to make a naval 
 officer out of him/' 
 
 A step and the clank of a sword sounded in the hall. 
 
 "Crickets ! The O. C. !" exclaimed Billings and darted 
 into Ole's bedroom. 
 
 The door opened. Lieutenant Ruggles stuck his head 
 in. He was nosing about on his evening inspection. 
 
 "Good-evening, gentlemen," he said pleasantly.
 
 HAZED 97 
 
 "Good-evening, sir," replied Tom and Ole stiffly at 
 attention. 
 
 When the officer had left Billings reappeared. 
 
 "Got to be careful," he explained. "Visiting during 
 study hour is five demerits now. My best girl's coming 
 down for the next hop and I've simply got to keep off 
 tfie conduct grade." 
 
 Next afternoon after infantry drill, Tom received no- 
 tice to be at the boathouse at five-thirty. On his arrival 
 there, he found the King and the General with a group of 
 their retainers preparing to get under way in a cutter. 
 'Behind the cutter was fastened a canoe. 
 
 "Ha !" cried the General, "Cfcie of the criminals." 
 
 'Tom eyed the little man. In his mind he was wonder- 
 ing just how many of the gang he could clean out in a 
 free-for-all fight. But he remembered Billings' caution 
 about the brutality of his code and put on the best air of 
 respect he could attain. 
 
 "Take your eyes off me, you dirty plebe!" piped the 
 General. 
 
 Further trouble was avoided by the arrival of Reggie. 
 
 "Oh-ho!" chuckled the King. "Our hero arrives." 
 
 The words "Our Hero" were quickly explained. Sam 
 was permitted to frame the sentence to be imposed upon 
 Tom and Reggie for their crimes against naval tradition. 
 
 "Mister Van Brunt," he announced, "is to have a great 
 and salutary practice in executing the old proverb: 
 'greater love can no man show than to give his life for 
 a friend.'" 
 
 "Ahem," coughed the King. "He's your best friend, 
 now isn't he, mister ?" he inquired of Tom. 
 
 "No, sir!" said Tom savagely.
 
 98 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Haw, make 'em kiss and prove it !" shouted someone. 
 
 Sam seized Reggie in an iron grip. "Hug him!" he 
 commanded. 
 
 Tom submitted to the indignity with a disgusted look. 
 
 "Kiss him," added the King, displeased with Tom's 
 want of reverence. 
 
 Tom touched his lips to the cheek of the boy he de- 
 spised. Down his back he felt his flesh rise. His mouth 
 worked. Only by the greatest self-control was he able 
 to keep from exploding into action. Nothing would have 
 given him greater pleasure for the moment than to wade 
 into the whole jeering crowd and knock them down one 
 after the other. The worst of it was he knew his phy- 
 sical strength was equal to the task. 
 
 The tense moment passed by someone reminding the 
 party that it was getting late and the work in hand must 
 be started. 
 
 "Yes, we must execute the sentences," agreed the King. 
 "Justice," he added in sinister tones, "must not be delayed 
 another hour." 
 
 The expedition embarked and headed out into the river. 
 Reggie and Tom were detailed to the stroke oars at 
 which they could do most of the pulling. 
 
 Halfway across, the gas buoy was reached. This buoy 
 was a new installation and had immediately fascinated 
 the eyes of the midshipmen. Its value as an aid to un- 
 official activity was instantly recognized by all. 
 
 From under a thwart the King pulled out a laundry 
 bag. He handed it to Tom. "Your disguise," he said 
 laconically. "Put it on and shake a leg." 
 
 Not knowing what to expect, Tom dre\v out the con- 
 tents of the bag. They consisted of a woman's skirt,
 
 HAZED 99 
 
 a large hat with several dilapidated plumes rising from 
 its circumference, and a long gauze veil tinted a rosy 
 pink. 
 
 Amid cheers and tremendous laughter Tom clothed his 
 magnificent physique as the gymnasium instructor had 
 described it in the humiliating array of feminine gar- 
 ments. 
 
 "Ready for the shipwreck?" inquired the King, trying 
 vainly to keep a straight face. 
 
 "The what, sir?" asked Tom crossly. 
 
 "Don't what me, young man," was the sharp reply. 
 "You're not a young man anyway, just now. Your hero 
 days are over. You're a beautiful princess " 
 
 "Washerwoman's daughter'd do better!" jeered Sam. 
 
 "... in distress," continued the King. "This" in- 
 dicating the gas buoy "is a desert isle. Upon it you 
 are about to be shipwrecked. After many moons " 
 
 "Fifteen minutes is the most we've got," prompted 
 Sam. 
 
 "... you are to be rescued by this gallant, resolute, 
 audacious, chivalrous, intrepid, er er " 
 
 "White-livered\" growled the General. 
 
 "... er darling knight of the sea."* The King 
 turned and bowed ostentatiously to Reggie. 
 
 Tom was assisted to the rail from which he stepped 
 to the buoy. He tripped on the skirt and almost went 
 overboard. 
 
 The cutter then rowed away about twenty yards. Tom 
 saw Reggie unwillingly hoisted into the canoe. To his 
 waist was strapped a cutlass and a jaunty hat of felt 
 with a duster feather in it perched upon his head. 
 
 In accordance with instructions Reggie paddled away
 
 ioo WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 a little distance. Then he turned and headed for the 
 buoy. 
 
 "Pep up! Pep up!" shouted the King. "Be what 
 you're supposed to be !" 
 
 Whereupon Reggie for the first time entered somewhat 
 into the spirit of the occasion. He rose to his knees in 
 the canoe and, shading his eyes with his hand in best 
 wild-indian style, announced in a feeble voice: "Land- 
 ho! And a princess in distress. I'll save " 
 
 The canoe at this instant gave a violent lurch to one 
 side and Reggie just saved himself from capsizing. His 
 hat flopped off and floated gently with the tide. 
 
 "Save my hat first!" roared Sam. 
 
 "No!" yelled the audience. 
 
 Reggie awkwardly continued upon his valorous mis- 
 sion. 
 
 At the buoy he balanced his craft with one hand and 
 emitted some sort of feeble announcement as to the mean- 
 ing of his fortunate visit to the desert island. 
 
 To the great delight of the audience the Princess showed 
 unmistakable signs of being about to kick her rescuer 
 overboard. 
 
 Reggie heard the snickers in the cutter behind him. 
 And a new kind of resentment was roused within him. 
 It was bad enough to submit to being made a fool of at 
 the hands of upperclassmen who had the whole two- 
 thousand midshipmen behind them. But to sink still 
 lower by suffering the other victim, a plebe like himself, 
 to abuse him was unbearable. 
 
 Then, without warning Reggie put one foot on the 
 buoy, balanced for a second, and dived headlong at the 
 Princess.
 
 HAZED 101 
 
 Tom had no time to sidestep the tackle. His upflung 
 hand caught the pipe by which gas was fed into the lamp. 
 The struggling pair swung like a human pendulum with 
 the rolling of the "desert isle." 
 
 Cheer after cheer rose from the cutter. The upper- 
 classmen's delight was boundless. To draw from the 
 shrinking Reggie some demonstration of true masculine 
 spirit had been their chief aim. 
 
 The summer's work had done wonders for the weak- 
 ling. Constant drill and exercise had put fibre into his 
 muscle and weight upon his bones. Tom was amazed 
 at the tenacity with which his assailant held on. He him- 
 self dared not lose his hold upon the pipe. Did he do so 
 and they would go overboard at once. 
 
 The early October twilight closed in as the pair of 
 plebes struggled on. The audience roared their praise of 
 the battle. 
 
 Suddenly the dark blotch of the two bodies left the 
 buoy. The pipe had broken. And, as they submerged in 
 a great splash, the darkness was lit by a burst of lurid 
 flame that fell like a searchlight upon the white walls 
 of Bancroft Hall, half a mile away. 
 
 The escaping gas had become ignited and blown up! 
 
 Hastily the rather frightened hazers pulled up to the 
 wrecked beacon. Tom and Reggie were hauled in over 
 the side unhurt. Then, lest the law overtake them, the 
 party set their backs to the oars. 
 
 That night was the occasion of a great ceremony. 
 Immediately after supper nearly a hundred first-class- 
 men crammed themselves into Reggie's room. Tom was 
 present in all his ruined finery, the pink veil having run 
 to white with bloody blotches.
 
 102 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "And now," concluded the King after an impressive 
 description of the thrilling rescue, "let me present the 
 brave Sir Reginald with his well deserved reward." 
 
 Amid a tumult of cheers and clapping the King drew 
 from his robe a resplendent medal fashioned from the 
 tin top of a jelly glass and a cast-off garter, and pinned 
 it upon Reggie's heaving breast. 
 
 On the outskirts five less fortunate plebes, secured 
 for the occasion, lifted their hats into the air and pro- 
 claimed in a rather strained chorus : 
 
 "Hail to Sir Reginald! Hail!"
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 "On, you/awfo!" 
 "Put some juice on !" 
 "Heave around! Heave around!" 
 "Now once more all together, and let's see you bite 
 holes in it!" 
 
 "No, Billings. Wait a minute. Now listen to me, 
 plebes. Don't lean too far forward. That just ties knots 
 in your lungs. Keep your bloomin' chests up. Take 
 deep breaths. Use the weight of your shoulders to give 
 volume to the sound. . . All right, Billings." 
 
 "Now once more, all together. Four N yell, one Navy, 
 and three teams!" 
 
 The speaker threw down his megaphone. After the 
 megaphone he threw his cap. With a jerk he unbuttoned 
 his blouse and collar. His hair stood up in a wild ridge. 
 He raised his hands raised himself on tiptoes bal- 
 anced tensely for half a second, then descended to a 
 stooped knot. 
 
 Simultaneously and in rhythmic unison there poured 
 from the throats of six-hundred lusty-lunged young men 
 the following cheer: 
 
 N! N! N! N! 
 A! A! A! A! 
 V! V! V! V! 
 Y! Y! Y! Y! 
 
 N-A-V-Y ! 
 TEAM! TEAM! TEAM! 
 
 103
 
 104 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "That's somewhat better," commented cheer-leader 
 Billings, wiping the sweat from his brow. 
 
 Below the stand at another kind of practice stood 
 Tom Poor. 
 
 Tom went out for football for three reasons: First, 
 he considered it his duty. Second, he saw in athletics 
 success, the road to that fame which every boy dreams 
 for himself from the time he can kick a ball or swing a 
 bat. Third, he liked it. 
 
 There was a fourth reason which Tom didn't know 
 was a reason, but which was the most important of all. 
 This reason was whispered by Coach McGee to Scotty 
 the trainer just after the Army-Navy game the year be- 
 fore. And it was discussed again this very afternoon: 
 
 "Scotty, we lost that Army game for just one rea- 
 son." 
 
 "I think I know, sir." 
 
 "Likely. Would you say it was Grimes?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I've figured that by his selfish desire to 
 make himself a star last year he sacrificed the team-work 
 that would have won the game for us." 
 
 "More than that, Scotty. He got the team into a state 
 of mind where they didn't know whether they were to 
 blame me or the system we've got up for them." 
 
 "But what can we do, Mr. McGee? Grimes is a 
 first-classman this year. He's had three years to impress 
 his value on the midshipmen. And they haven't sup- 
 plied us with a single man that can compare with 
 him." 
 
 "You're right. And he's stronger than any fourth 
 classman could possibly be barring a farm hand." 
 
 "Who wouldn't have had the football training."
 
 N! N! N! N! 105 
 
 "Yet he's going to make us lose I am positive of it !" 
 
 "Best player on the squad, sir, and going to make us 
 lose! Wouldn't that jar you?" 
 
 "Well, Scotty, take a look at those plebes this after- 
 noon and let me know what you think." 
 
 So while his class was toughening their lungs for the 
 great day, Tom was entered in a contest for the posi- 
 tion on the Navy team held for three years by Harrison 
 Grimes, the greatest fullback Annapolis had turned out 
 in many a season. And yet, curiously, this Grimes was 
 at the same time the Navy's surest means of defeat due 
 to his stubborn refusal to play any but a one-man game. 
 
 Scotty called the plebe candidates to one side of the 
 field. 
 
 "Now divide yerselves up by positions," he directed. 
 
 Tom joined the group of those who desired to be full- 
 backs. There were four others. Only one was within 
 thirty pounds of Tom's weight. He was too fat to be 
 promising. 
 
 Scotty came at once and studied the fullback material. 
 Grimes was a fullback. Grimes had to be displaced if 
 it were humanly possible. Public opinion would pre- 
 vent the coaches from displacing him. Only a miracle 
 in the shape of a worthy plebe could save the team by 
 driving the older man out of his job. 
 
 "Too lank," muttered Scotty, as he looked at three of 
 the men. "Too fat," he sized up the fourth. "Too 
 short," was on the tip of his tongue for Tom when he 
 realized he must look up to see Tom's eyes. The latter's 
 broad shoulders made him look shorter than he really 
 was. 
 
 "Grown up to that frame ?" was the curt inquiry.
 
 io6 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Doctor once told me we grow till we're twenty-five," 
 laughed Tom. 
 
 "This is no time for foolin'; have ye had any foot- 
 ballin'?" 
 
 "Played half on the Alaska's football team last year." 
 
 Scotty's face brightened perceptibly. "Why that's 
 where our old captain of the 'sixteen went, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes. Lieutenant Rudd coached us." 
 
 "Let me feel ye, laddie." Scotty's hands trembled as 
 he ran them over Tom's stringy arms, well-filled shoul- 
 ders, and solid but not too thick thighs. 
 
 "Will ye trot a pace for me an' back?" He pointed 
 to the goal posts fifty yards across the turf. Tom turned 
 and ran as directed. His long clean stride brought joy 
 into the old trainer's eyes. On the way back he let him- 
 self out a bit. Bits of dirt shot from his cleated shoes. 
 Like a gust of wind he passed the man who knew a runner 
 when he saw one. 
 
 To Tom's surprise, Scotty turned and hastened away as 
 fast as his old rheumatic joints would let him. Not a 
 word of praise or approval for the one he had shown 
 such marked interest in. 
 
 "Mister McGee," panted Scotty a minute later. "I've 
 got him ! I've got him !" 
 
 "Lead me to it," was the doubtful reply. 
 
 On the way across the field the coach picked up Grimes, 
 
 The fullback was tall, well-knit, handsome, and a born 
 athlete. Except for the look of patronizing conceit that 
 never left his face, he was the typical football hero one 
 sees pictured each fall on the covers of magazines. 
 
 "Come on, Grimes. Want you to try out a few plebes 
 for me." 
 
 "Right!" said Grimes. Nothing pleased him better
 
 N! N! N! N! 107 
 
 than to run with the ball while the men tried to tackle 
 him. Not only had he great speed, but he had cultivated 
 a trick of handling his legs that was pretty close to foul 
 play. Few inexperienced men had ever been able to down 
 him without laying themselves up for a week or two. 
 
 Tom had his back turned when the trio arrived. Look- 
 ing suddenly around, he found himself face to face with 
 the "King" who had superintended the hazing. 
 
 "Why hello, Princess," greeted Grimes. "Your head 
 shrunk any yet?" 
 
 Tom was too taken aback to reply. He had never 
 connected the famous Grimes with the hazing crowd, par- 
 ticularly with the King. For that one individual had been 
 petty and mean enough to take advantage of Tom's past 
 every time he met him. He never lost an opportunity to 
 call Tom a "hero" or "princess," or some unpleasant 
 name that insinuated a conceit Tom had never had. 
 
 Scotty nudged the coach. "There he be the one 
 lookin' so mad at Mister Grimes." 
 
 Without further parley the plebes were lined up. 
 Grimes took the ball down the field far enough to give 
 himself a start; and then, on signal, ran at full speed to- 
 ward the plebe whose turn it was to tackle. 
 
 To Tom's great satisfaction his turn came late enough 
 to give him some idea of what the fullback could do. 
 Thus, by the time he was called out, he knew exactly 
 what to expect. 
 
 "Now watch him," whispered Scotty. 
 
 The coach's keen glance measured Tom's apparent in- 
 difference. "Guess he's a bit leery of Grimes," he mut- 
 tered. "These kids always get stage-fright when the 
 first team shows up." 
 
 Grimes gathered speed as he came. Though he
 
 io8 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 weighed nearly two-hundred pounds, his long and rather 
 light legs enabled him to cover the ground like a sprinter. 
 
 The fraction of a second before he reached his adver 
 sary, Grimes caught Tom's eye. Something in the glint 
 of it warned him to look out. So instead of trying to 
 mow the tackier down by sheer momentum as he had the 
 others, he swerved slightly from his path. 
 
 Tom took a quick step. Like an arrow his body left 
 the ground and shot towards the runner. There was a 
 heavy thud and a grunt as the two bodies slammed to the 
 ground. And then, to the amazement of both Scotty ana 
 the coach, the ball went spinning merrily away down tb.6 
 field. 
 
 Tom rose with a smile. By a perfectly legitimate 
 means he had wiped out a personal score that the Annap- 
 olis code did not acknowledge; the occasional advan- 
 tage an upperclassman may take of a plebe. 
 
 Grimes did not rise. For nearly a minute he lay where 
 he fell. Then with a look of real shame and unconcealed 
 anger he sat up. 
 
 "Think you're funny you fresh plebe, don't you?" 
 
 Scotty and the coach betook themselves to cover of the 
 dressing room and embraced. "We've got him!" they 
 claimed in chorus. 
 
 That night Tom received orders to report to Grimes' 
 study after supper. Suspecting that the fullback was go- 
 ing to take his feelings out on him by means of a little 
 private hazing, Tom reported the matter to his friend 
 Billings. 
 
 "It isn't done!" said Billings promptly. "Hazing is 
 hazing, and it has its uses. But we don't stand for any 
 private grudges settled that way. Just don't report and 
 I'll tend to the matter myself."
 
 Nl N! Nl N! 109 
 
 Thus it came about that Tom not only found himself in 
 open competition with one of the foremost athletes of 
 his day, but was forced to be an unwilling antagonist of 
 a competitor that hated him personally and with an open 
 bitterness. 
 
 Naturally, the head coach and Scotty gave Tom what 
 backing they dared. But this was dangerous due to the 
 fact that Grimes might suspect a put-up job. He was 
 strong enough politically to carry almost any point. 
 Furthermore, any advantages that came to Tom only in- 
 creased the fullback's determination to discredit him every 
 chance he got. 
 
 Tom's success dated from his first practice. He ate 
 with the squad on the special training table. He was 
 made a permanent fullback on the second or scrub team. 
 He received the admiration of his class and the greatest 
 attention of the whole corps of coaches. 
 
 "Gee, but you're some notorious character !" Ole told 
 him one night after about a dozen visits from upper- 
 classmen, coaches, trainers, and other interested parties. 
 
 "Yes," admitted Tom. "But that doesn't help me any 
 in the classroom." 
 
 "The heck it doesn't!" said Ole. "Seems to me the 
 profs have their eyes on you to help you out every chance 
 they get." 
 
 "And there's this constant trouble with Grimes," con- 
 tinued Tom. "I never feel safe any more. Regular 
 crook that fellow is." 
 
 "Careful, old man," warned Ole. 
 
 Tom laughed. "Careful I should think I ought to 
 be. Do you know that scoundrel hid my shoes before the 
 Georgetown game the other day when he heard the coach 
 say I was going in after the first half?*
 
 no WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Are you sure of it ?" exclaimed Ole. "That's the most 
 outrageous thing I ever heard !" 
 
 "Yes. The rubber told me he saw Grimes put them 
 behind the towel rack. He thought Grimes wanted to 
 take them to the cobbler's and pulled them out to do it 
 for him. When he found they were mine, he brought 
 them over. I could tell by Grimes' face as he saw me 
 with them that he had meant to cripple me that way." 
 
 Next Saturday came the Princeton -Navy game. Next 
 to the Army contest it was the biggest event of the foot- 
 ball year at Annapolis. 
 
 "You've got an even chance," the head coach told his 
 men. "That Princeton bunch is a bit older than you; 
 but they're not an ounce heavier as a team. As for 
 speed, I'd say we had a shade the best of it." 
 
 One of the alumni coaches stepped up. 
 
 "Excuse me for butting in, fellows," he apologized, 
 "but I've got a point for you you in particular, Grimes." 
 
 Grimes condescended to nod. 
 
 "It's Hale, that big Princeton tackle. You know I 
 went up as scout for the Princeton- Yale game. Hale 
 carried the ball over every third play nearly. He never 
 failed to gain a first down either. I don't know what it 
 is about him. The tacklers simply can't seem to upset 
 him. I remind you, Grimes, especially, because the 
 Princeton interference will smother our ends often 
 enough to make our back field take Hale." 
 
 Grimes nodded again indifferently. Tom, however, on 
 the outskirts of the circle of players drank in every 
 word. He knew what a football tip can mean. 
 
 The game was a sensation from beginning to end. 
 Princeton swept the Navy off her feet in the first quarter
 
 Nl NI N! N! in 
 
 and scored a touchdown. Navy came back with two 
 goals from field in the second. 
 
 The third quarter was a battle royal. Time after time 
 the gigantic Hale was called back of the Princeton line. 
 A few sharp signals and he would be off around the 
 end like a human cyclone. Navy defenses crumbled be- 
 fore the onslaught. Five plays in succession, fullback 
 Grimes alone stood between Hale and the Navy goal line. 
 
 The head coach called Tom. "Warm up, Poor. The 
 Brigade won't stand any longer for the way Grimes is 
 bungling his tackles. He's let that fellow Hale get an 
 extra twenty yards or so on every run." 
 
 Tom threw off his heavy jersey and began to trot up 
 and down. His chance had come. Further, he thought 
 he knew what he was up against: Grimes was simply 
 saving himself. By letting Hale get past him each time 
 he could tackle without risk of crippling his own arms or 
 legs and thus guard his coveted chance of playing in the 
 Army-Navy game. 
 
 Such a play had just come off when Tom got the word 
 to go in. He dashed out to the referee. Having been 
 recognized he turned to the man he was to relieve. 
 
 "Why what the dickens!" exclaimed Grimes. "I 
 suppose you asked to come in, eh?" 
 
 Tom ignored the insult. 
 
 An expression of crafty resolve flashed across the 
 humiliated first-classman's face. 
 
 "I tell you, Poor," he said in sudden friendliness, "the 
 only way to get that bird Hale is to dive for his knees." 
 
 Tom was taken in. With his great and undying loy- 
 alty to Annapolis he could not conceive of a man delib- 
 erately misleading him at such a time as this.
 
 112 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "I'll do it!" he said fervently. 
 
 Two plunges through the Navy center followed. Then 
 Princeton lost the ball on Navy's ten yard line. Rather 
 than risk a rush back, Navy kicked. Tom warmed up 
 thoroughly on the dash down the field. 
 
 Then came the expected attack. Tom was twenty 
 yards behind the line and could not make out the play 
 for a moment. The next thing he knew he saw the tow- 
 ering Hale bearing down upon him, having dodged the 
 whole force of Navy battlers bent on stopping him. 
 
 Tom was cool enough. Also he knew how terrific his 
 responsibility was. If Hale passed him, the game was as 
 good as lost. 
 
 The runner bore towards the sidelines, forcing Tom to 
 trot across to meet him. Then, as Grimes had advised, 
 he plunged his takeoff toe into the soft turf and dived. 
 
 Measured in time the space between the instant Tom 
 leaped and when he struck the ground was about three- 
 fifths of a second. In actual experience it was a matter 
 of hours, even days. 
 
 The exact point his toe dug in for the tackle was just 
 a tiny bit softer than the rest of the field. His toe slipped 
 about four inches. These four inches were sufficient to 
 throw him off his balance. Instead of a clean perform- 
 ance, 'Tom half-whirled in midair and missed his man by 
 nearly a foot. 
 
 In that fifth of a second he saw suddenly the truth. 
 Hale, the unconquered, took a stride of extra length at 
 the moment Tom should have struck him. And in the 
 stride he drove his broad knee upward with the force of 
 a battering ram. 
 
 If Tom had made his tackle as he planned, he would 
 have been knocked completely out !
 
 N! Nl N! N! 113 
 
 Of course the trick was against the rules ! but, if done 
 as skillfully as Hale had learned to, no referee would 
 have suspected the truth. Grimes knew. And Grimes 
 had done his level best to arrange for Tom's obliteration 
 by advising him as he did. 
 
 Tom saved the situation by a superhuman wriggle. 
 He shot one hand out just in time to catch Hale's ankle. 
 The latter tripped. Like a rubber ball Tom was up and 
 on him. 
 
 Next play Hale ran again. Again Tom alone was there 
 between the runner and the Navy goal. This time there 
 was no slip. And the cheers that went up after the per- 
 fect tackle he made echoed against the granite walls of 
 Bancroft Hall. 
 
 Tom had simply met trick by trick. He had tackled 
 high and had turned his shoulder as he struck. It took 
 just two lessons of this kind to hand the famous Hale 
 enough punishment to keep him out of over half the 
 plays that followed. 
 
 In the final quarter Tom placed himself on the roll of 
 fame by carrying the ball over for a winning touchdown. 
 For the second time he heard his name on the lips of 
 the multitude: 
 
 "He's all right!" 
 
 "Who's all right?" 
 
 "Tom P-O-O-R!" 
 
 And for the second time in a month the head coach 
 and trainer silently embraced one another over their pros- 
 pects for getting the fullback they wished.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CATASTROPHE 
 
 THE door crashed open. Billings rushed in, followed 
 by Ole and several other alarmed-looking plebes. 
 
 "Tom 1" exclaimed Billings. 
 
 "Oh, Tom, Tom !" groaned Ole. 
 
 Tom leaped to his feet and with mock desperation 
 placed his hand ovei his heart. 
 
 "Out with it! Tell me the worst! Is she sinking, or 
 is she only afire? Or has the good ship Cuspidor blown 
 her boilers up and scalded the engine force to death; 
 or" 
 
 Ole held up his hand. "Oh, don't be silly ; it's awful !" 
 
 "I know it, Admiral Hansen. That is, I would know 
 it if you and these other pall-bearers would pipe the secret 
 into my waiting ears." 
 
 Billings stepped forward and placed his hand kindly 
 on Tom's shoulder. "I'd rather it be anyone but you 
 Tom," he said sympathetically. "Old Man, you're hung 
 on the skinny tree I" 
 
 "You mean I'm posted unsat. in Physics?" Tom's 
 ruddy cheeks whitened slowly. 
 
 "We've just this minute come from the main office. 
 The list is on the bulletin board. You are down with a 
 one-five for the month." 
 
 Tom made a rapid mental calculation. Marks were 
 on the basis of 4.0. as perfect, and a figure of 2.5. was 
 necessary for a passing grade. With a 1.5. to date and 
 
 114
 
 CATASTROPHE 115 
 
 the poor showing he felt sure of making on the monthly 
 examination, he stood a fair chance of coming out un- 
 satisfactory for the term. As there are no such things 
 as "conditions" in the Naval Academy, this meant he 
 would be dropped. 
 
 But even more grievous was the fact that he was on 
 the ragged edge in one or two other subjects. In con- 
 sequence he would not be permitted to continue his foot- 
 ball. This catastrophe struck at the hearts of every one 
 of the two-thousand three-hundred-and-one young mid- 
 shipmen so set on winning the Army-Navy game. 
 
 "It's rotten!" moaned one of his sympathisers. "Mc- 
 Gee has said in public that your being at fullback would 
 save the game for us !" The speaker didn't add that he 
 himself had saved his official monthly allowance since 
 September to wager on the game. 
 
 "Who did you have last month in Skinny?" inquired 
 Billings. 
 
 Tom scarcely believed his own words when he ans- 
 wered. "Ruggles why I thought he was the best friend 
 I had here !" 
 
 "Go see him at once," urged Ole. "Make it clear to 
 him what your position is on the team." 
 
 "Ought to know it," snorted the plebe, "without hav- 
 ing to be reminded." 
 
 That afternoon when the last recitation was over Tom 
 hunted up his old skipper of sub-chaser days, Lieutenant 
 Ruggles. 
 
 "Hello, Poor," was the quiet greeting; "had a hunch 
 I'd see you soon." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I wanted to find out if there wasn't some 
 mistake about my mark in physics." 
 
 The officer shook his head. "Some day you will realize
 
 n6 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 what duty means, Poor. And I hope, too, you'll some 
 day realize what it means to me to have to put you down 
 as unsatisfactory." 
 
 "But is it necessary, sir?" 
 
 "Absolutely. You have been doing worse and worse. 
 I warned you. I gave you assistance I wasn't giving the 
 others. I knew what it meant to the team, to the mid- 
 shipmen, to the whole Academy. I even couldn't forget 
 For a moment that you saved my life last summer." 
 
 The speaker paused and a look of inexpressible pain 
 came into his face. 
 
 "Tom Poor, you have made an unsatisfactory mark. 
 It is my duty to report exactly the mark you made. If I 
 knew the whole world were to fall in pieces for what 
 I've done, I'd do it just the same." 
 
 "But can't the report wait till next month?" faltered 
 Tom. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Can't I do some extra work this week and catch up?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Do you think it would help if I went to the Command- 
 ant and explained that I had got behind because I was 
 too tired to study nights after the long football practices ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then the Navy can't win just because I one single 
 midshipman haven't soaked up enough force of gravity 
 and such stuff to suit my instructor?" 
 
 "Correct." 
 
 "And you believe that's the way things ought to be 
 run?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 Tom crept back to quarters. And he went through 
 the tortures of soul no man can describe who hasn't been
 
 CATASTROPHE 117 
 
 bounced from a winning Navy team for the sake of a 
 cold 2.5. 
 
 And Tom went to New York with the Brigade. And 
 he sat in the Polo Grounds bleachers; and 
 
 No, he didn't cheer. Something in his throat made 
 him afraid to trust it. 
 
 And he saw the Navy win in spite of Grimes. 
 
 "I've got three more years," he choked to himself 
 when it was all over. "I've three more years. But " 
 
 A fat tear gathered in the corner of his right eye. 
 Before he knew it it had slipped over and down his 
 cheek. Hastily he flicked it off and in a panic of embar- 
 rassment looked around to see who saw.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 
 
 As soon as news of Tom's misfortune got about, a 
 wild scheme to save him formed in Reggie's mind. 
 
 "I don't despise him like I used to, Bob," he announced 
 that night. 
 
 Robert Gary had agreed to room with Reggie despite 
 the latter's unhappy reputation for being a cad. 
 
 "Pretty much of a man, I'd say," was the reply. Bob 
 was the son of an old Baltimore family and could give 
 Reggie tit for tat when it came to recounting luxuries of 
 their past lives. On the other hand he was much broader 
 when it came to judging his fellow men. 
 
 "Powerful brute," agreed Reggie. "But that's not the 
 point. Tom Poor saved my life after I squealed on 
 him. I've told you before I wouldn't have done so had 
 I known what a decent sort he was. Now I want to 
 even up by doing something for him. Till I do, my con- 
 science won't be clear." 
 
 "Didn't know you had a conscience," laughed the other. 
 
 "Haven't, when you come right down to it. But when 
 Tom Poor passes and takes no more notice of me than 
 if I were a tack in the corridor linoleum it makes me feel 
 sort of creepy." 
 
 "Well, what's the game?" 
 
 Reggie rose and began pacing the floor. "Can't say 
 exactly, except that I'm going to pull him out of this hola 
 he's got himself into in Skinny." 
 
 118
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 119 
 
 "Coach him?" 
 
 "No, that wouldn't do. He dislikes me too much. 
 Besides you and I with our previous schooling have got 
 by so easily in our studies that neither of us would know 
 just how best to boost another bird along." 
 
 "How about a few tips on the examination? Think 
 you could pump some out of Ruggles?" 
 
 "Not a chance in the world. Besides I've got a better 
 hunch than that." 
 
 "Shoot." 
 
 But Reggie continued his nervous pacing up and down. 
 "I'm afraid to tell you," he said at last. 
 
 "Oh, go on. Do you think I'd mind anything after 
 I took on a roommate who was in Coventry ?" 
 
 "Well, I'm going to steal the next Skinny exam paper !" 
 
 Bob started. "Great guns, man ! Please don't go and 
 get yourself into another row." 
 
 "Not a chance. I'm simply going over to Mahan Hall 
 tomorrow night during the hop and lift a copy of the 
 paper off the Boss's desk neat as a whistle. My marks 
 are so high that I don't risk my own reputation; and, 
 by slipping the questions to Tom Poor without his know- 
 ing where they came from, I can make sure he'll not 
 bilge on the semi-ans." 
 
 As "bilging" or getting dropped from Annapolis on the 
 semi-annual examination is the fate of a goodly percen- 
 tage of every plebe class, Reggie was thoroughly justified 
 in his concern. 
 
 Despite Bob Gary's protests he made ready to carry 
 out the robbery. 
 
 No plebes are allowed to attend Saturday night hops. 
 Special liberty is granted upperclassmen to visit the town 
 and escort their partners down to the magnificent gym-
 
 120 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 nasium where dances are held. This creates a constant 
 traffic through the grounds on hop nights without involv- 
 ing the fourth class. 
 
 By keeping in the shadows Reggie reached Mahan 
 Hall safely. He brought a bayonet under his coat. 
 Using this as a jimmy he pried open one of the first floor 
 windows. 
 
 He had taken the precaution of wearing rubber over- 
 shoes which made no noise on the carpetless floors. A 
 bunch of skeleton keys which he had secured from town 
 the same afternoon enabled him to reach the offices of 
 the Head of the Department of Physics without any great 
 effort. 
 
 In the darkness he felt his way to the desk. It was 
 locked. He could have used the bayonet. He didn't 
 dare though. Should it be discovered that a copy of the 
 examination were missing, a new one would of course be 
 made out and Tom would be as badly off as ever. 
 
 The top drawer finally answered to one of the keys. 
 A bundle of freshly printed papers lay in front. Reg- 
 gie extracted one; lit a match for a moment to identify 
 it ; then folded it up and placed it in his cap. A midship- 
 man's service uniform has no pockets. 
 
 To restore the desk to its original condition was the 
 work of a few seconds. Another minute and Reggie had 
 reached the corridor. Then his heart missed a beat. 
 
 On the floor beneath he heard a door close! 
 
 He crept to the stairway. Someone with a flashlight 
 was walking below. As the flare passed near the balus- 
 trade he recognized the watchman making his evening 
 rounds. 
 
 The watchman tried two doors while Reggie peered 
 through the railing. Then something happened to his
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 121 
 
 light. It went out. While he stood fumbling with it the 
 idea came to Reggie that he might make the stairs on 
 the opposite side of the building. 
 
 He started. On his second step a loud creak came 
 from the floor. 
 
 "Who's that?" asked the watchman instantly. At the 
 same time his light came on again. 
 
 Reggie held his breath. 
 
 "Sure I heard something," muttered the man. 
 
 As he started up to investigate, Reggie made another 
 effort to pass down the corridor and reach the other 
 wing. To his horror a second time he betrayed himself 
 by stepping on another loose plank. 
 
 "Halt!'* cried the watchman. "Halt or I'll shoot!" 
 
 Reggie wasn't so afraid of gun play as he was of be- 
 ing discovered. His conduct record was already groan- 
 ing under too great a burden of demerits. 
 
 His position was growing more desperate every mo- 
 ment. Either he must make a break for the other wing 
 or risk dashing past the watchman at the moment he 
 reached the head of the stairs. 
 
 Reggie chose the latter plan. He might be headed off 
 if he tried to go around. 
 
 As the watchman put his foot on the landing, Reggie 
 leaped from behind the rail-post and dashed downwards 
 four steps at a jump. 
 
 "Stop ! Stop, or I'll shoot !" bawled the guardian. 
 
 Reggie paid no heed to the warning. He was cov- 
 ering the last flight before the man had a chance to pull 
 his gun. 
 
 As he reached the window by which he had entered, he 
 realized he was not being pursued. The same moment he 
 heard a window above thrown up and a voice shout:
 
 122 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Get that fellow he's going out the side!" 
 
 So they had discovered the window and were on his trail ! 
 Reggie gave one look at the pair of dark figures on 
 guard. 
 
 He took to the basement. By a coal hole he wormed 
 his way into the area in rear of the building. He sped 
 across the side yard. 
 
 "There he goes !" came from the window guard. 
 
 Without hesitation Reggie continued, not in the direc- 
 tion of quarters, but towards town. His retreat was cut 
 off. 
 
 "Anyway, I can get in through the main gate when 
 the big crowd goes back after the hop," he told himself. 
 
 This hope was frustrated soon after. He fell in with 
 two other midshipmen on College Avenue. They were 
 walking ahead of him and talking in tones just loud 
 enough for him to hear. 
 
 "No chance on the gate,'" said one. "They've got word 
 we're out." 
 
 "You mean they'll be watching for anyone that's not 
 had permission to take hop liberty?" 
 
 "Yes; Sam told me there was an extra guard on." 
 
 "All right, we'll go over the wall." 
 
 Reggie slowed down and dropped astern. "Me too, 
 I guess," he muttered. 
 
 But at that moment even the wall was an unhealthy 
 spot for frenching midshipmen. 
 
 Grimes, of football fame, had been the senior mid- 
 shipman on duty that evening when the alarm came that 
 at least three people were out in town without proper 
 authority. Grimes himself had been nearly willing to 
 break the law in the same way due to the presence in
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 123 
 
 Annapolis of a particular young lady. Naturally his 
 humor was at its lowest ebb. 
 
 "Mr. Grimes, here's a little job," announced the Duty 
 Officer about ten p.m. "I wish you to picket the main 
 wall near the Superintendent's office and see if we can 
 catch some of these young scoundrels." 
 
 Grimes shivered with injured dignity as he thought 
 of a personage like himself being selected for such a 
 vulgar detail. 
 
 "May I call upon some of the fourth-classmen as as- 
 sistants?" he asked without enthusiasm. 
 
 "I don't see why not." 
 
 Which of course placed in the hands of Grimes a satis- 
 fying means of taking out a little spite upon certain 
 members of the new class he disliked. 
 
 He chose ten. Tom Poor headed the list. 
 
 "Your duty is to walk post along the main wall," he 
 instructed them. "I will station you close enough to- 
 gether to make it impossible for a man to get through. 
 I'll stay in the main gate office. As soon as one of you 
 catches anybody, sing out for help and the others will 
 close in. And send word to me at once." 
 
 Tom had the blackest and muddiest stretch. Grimes 
 saw to that. Also Grimes took pains to lurk in the cover 
 of the office building to see if he could surprise Tom off 
 his guard. To be able to report him for neglect of duty 
 would be a pleasant little return for some of the foot- 
 ball prestige Tom had robbed him of. 
 
 It happened that at this very moment Reggie was mak- 
 ing his way back to the reservation by a devious route. 
 He planned to reach the wall at a well-shadowed section. 
 
 It is a matter of note that a wind was stirring which
 
 124 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 kept dry overhanging branches of the trees in motion. 
 This caused quite enough noise to hide the footsteps of 
 anyone walking in soft mud on the far side of the wall. 
 
 Reggie carried a long pole. This piece of gear he 
 had lifted from the backyard of a nearby dwelling. It 
 would enable him to gain the top of the wall. 
 
 Another coincidence unfortunately occurred just here. 
 Two officers emerged from a town house facing the spot 
 at which Reggie was making his ascent. Their presence 
 disturbed him. 
 
 He glanced apprehensively over his shoulder, made an 
 extra effort, and reached the top of the wall. Not dar- 
 ing to hesitate he leaped. 
 
 His foot struck something soft almost the same in- 
 stant. His fall was broken by the body of someone just 
 beneath. But so vigorous had been the takeoff that his 
 momentum carried him down on top and left him nearly 
 straddling the man beneath. 
 
 He heard a familiar voice give a stifled exclamation. 
 He saw the glimmer of a duty belt. Then he knew what 
 he had done. Snatching his hat from the ground, he 
 sprang up and was away almost before the alarm could 
 be given. 
 
 Tom sat up half-dazed by the unexpectedness of the 
 assault. Something white lay on the ground beside him. 
 It was a piece of paper, illegible in the darkness. Me- 
 chanically he picked it up and put it in his only pocket, the 
 top of his cap. 
 
 A rough shake of his shoulder roused him to action. 
 
 "Aha, let him break through you ! Thought you could 
 get away with it, didn't you ?" Grimes coarse voice grated 
 in his ear. 
 
 "Why no, sir," said Tom honestly. "Whoever that
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 125 
 
 was landed square on my head and stunned me for a 
 moment." 
 
 "None of your guff/' was the sneering answer. 
 "We'll let the Duty Officer settle that!" 
 
 Shortly afterwards word came that the three culprits 
 had been caught trying to get in the main gate. Grimes, 
 however, was determined to make the most of what he 
 considered Tom's perfidy. 
 
 "There was another one, sir," he told the Officer-in- 
 Charge. "He came over right alongside Midshipman 
 Poor. Poor pretended the man jumped on him and let 
 him escape." 
 
 To Grimes' joy the D. O. commanded that Poor be 
 brought to him at once. 
 
 Tom, who had been told to wait outside, entered and, 
 removing his cap, stood at attention. A white paper 
 fluttered to the floor. In the unfortunate dispute with 
 Grimes he had quite forgotten having picked it up. 
 
 He leaned over to regain the folded sheet. Instantly 
 Grimes' foot shot out. 
 
 "Not so fast, my lad! That paper looks famil'^r." 
 
 Grimes unfolded it and ran his eye over the printed 
 lines. "Well, sir!" he exclaimed to the O,. C. "We 
 have one criminal if we haven't another. You probably 
 know this is the fourth classman who has just been put 
 off the football squad for unsatisfactory marks in Phys- 
 ics. Here, sir, we find in his possession the questions 
 for his next examination!" 
 
 Tom's look was one of utter bewilderment. Even 
 the O. C.'s expression was more surprise than condem- 
 nation. It seemed so utterly unbelievable that a man 
 of Tom's character and reputation should stoop to means 
 so low.
 
 126 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Shall I put him under arrest?" inquired the smiling 
 Grimes. 
 
 The D. O. shook his head. "Just a minute Mr. Poor, 
 haven't you anything to say about this?" 
 
 Something in his enemy's pleasure at his discomfiture 
 brought the bulk of Tom's courage back. 
 
 "I can say, sir, pretty much what I said to Mr. Grimes. 
 But if my word stands for nothing, why bother with 
 explanations ?" 
 
 "Don't be disrespectful, Mr. Poor," warned the D. O. 
 "This business looks pretty disgusting and I want to 
 save you the humiliation of it if there happens to be 
 any mistake." 
 
 "How could there be a mistake," put in Grimes, "when 
 we find the paper right on him? Why you don't even 
 need my report about his neglect of duty." 
 
 "Silence, Mr. Grimes. Mr. Poor, what have you got 
 to say for yourself?" 
 
 Tom set his jaw. "I was standing under the wall, 
 sir, just where I had been posted by Mr. Grimes. I had 
 stopped for a moment to tie my shoe. Suddenly a man 
 jumped on me from above. I was knocked down, al- 
 though I think the man was much lighter than I. When 
 I rose I saw that paper beside me. I picked it up and 
 put it in my cap." 
 
 Grimes here laid back his head and chuckled. The 
 O. C. joined in for a moment; then turned on Tom with 
 almost fierceness. "You young crook!" he said; "it 
 takes just one like you to give this whole place a bad 
 name. Go to your room at once. I'm not even going 
 to put you under arrest. I think the Commandant can 
 handle your case by wire to Washington. You'll be a 
 civilian by noon tomorrow !"
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 127 
 
 Tom turned and walked blindly through the door. 
 Just outside he passed Reggie Van Brunt. He didn't 
 see the strained look on Reggie's face. He didn't even 
 see Reggie. 
 
 Back in his room he turned on the lights and hauled 
 Ole out of bed. "Look at me," he commanded. "Look 
 at me!" 
 
 "Handsome as ever," growled Ole sleepily. 
 
 "Do I appear insane?" 
 
 "A little queer," said Ole, waking up a bit at the 
 strained voice of his roommate. 
 
 "Well, I am. I'm crazy as a bedbug. I see things. 
 I hear things. I am going to be a civilian tomorrow. 
 Think of it tomorrow noon! Ask the D. O. if you 
 don't believe me." 
 
 By this time Ole was thoroughly aroused. He knew 
 Tom had been studying long after taps by a candle hid- 
 den under his bed. No doubt the strain was beginning 
 to tell. He smelled Tom's breath. No, he hadn't been 
 drinking. 
 
 "Turn in, old man," he advised. "Well talk it over, 
 or ask the doctor about it in the morning." 
 
 Silently Tom made his way to his bedroom and threw 
 himself face down on the pillow. The burden of his 
 sorrows was pretty close to the crushing point. 
 
 On the floor below Reggie paced up and down. When 
 Bob Gary offered him some cake he mechanically ac- 
 cepted a huge piece, then forgot to eat it. Twice he 
 took books from the shelf. Once he went into the side 
 room and closely studied his face in the shaving mirror. 
 Then he returned to his pacing. 
 
 "For heaven's sake!" protested Bob. "What kind of 
 nervous itch have you anyway?"
 
 128 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "By noon tomorrow by noon " was the inane and 
 broken reply. 
 
 Then abruptly Reggie left the room. 
 
 "Off his noodle," remarked Bob with feeling. 
 
 About twenty minutes after this Ole Hansen heard a 
 knock at his door, followed by the clank of a sword. 
 "Gosh, what's up now?" he wondered, and rolled over 
 into a pretended slumber. 
 
 He heard the steps of two men pass into Tom's bed- 
 room. 
 
 "Poor?" It was the D. O. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I have come up here to apologize to you. It isn't 
 often the privilege of an officer of the Navy to apologize 
 to an Annapolis plebe. But never has there been a 
 situation equal to the present one. Do you accept my 
 apology ?" 
 
 "Why, sir yes, sir of course," stammered the as- 
 tounded Tom. 
 
 "And Mr. Grimes here wishes to apologize also. 
 Don't you, Grimes?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the sulky answer. 
 
 "The trouble is, Mr. Poor, that we can't explain just 
 why we are apologizing. Rest assured, however, that 
 our recent discussion is cancelled. You will hear no 
 more about the charges I mistakenly laid against you to- 
 night." 
 
 But Ole's bewilderment at what he heard was more 
 than doubled by that of Bob Gary who was also suffer- 
 ing from an attack of insanity in his family. 
 
 Reggie had appeared again after a short absence. He 
 looked as if he had been drawn through a keyhole. He 
 came up to Bob and made a short speech:
 
 A DESPERATE ATTEMPT 129 
 
 "I'm a fool," he said. "A great towering imbecile of 
 a fool. And yet " 
 
 "Oh," said Bob, "it's your plan to help Poor that's on 
 your mind?" 
 
 "To help Poor," echoed Reggie. "No, I didn't help 
 him. I almost finished him. I almost finished myself. 
 Yet I think I did help myself when I told Tern the 
 whole story." 
 
 "You got caught?" 
 
 "No. I surrendered." 
 
 "But what for? What could you get out of that?" 
 
 "Clear conscience about all I can see," faltered Reg- 
 gie. "Only it cost me a hundred and fifty demerits: 
 third conduct grade till the end of the year!" 
 
 Reggie had squealed again, but not on Tom. This 
 time he squealed on himself to save Tom.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 NEARING THE END 
 
 Two plebes sat by the window talking, their feet on 
 the radiator, chairs tilted back. Though it was study 
 hour, one strummed softly on a banjo. From time to 
 time the other took up the refrain in a low whistle. 
 
 "Man, I can't study when the Bay looks like this." 
 
 "Me either." 
 
 "Some month, May is." 
 
 "Yea Bo." 
 
 "With baseball and crew and sailing and hikes." 
 
 "And the cruise; and the next year the hops." 
 
 "And Sundays up the river." 
 
 "Or down to the Point." 
 
 "How's your tennis?" 
 
 "Better. Cleaned up Van Brunt yesterday." 
 
 "That boob?" 
 
 "Some (player though. Got the build for it.** 
 
 "About all he does, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes; the stuck-up bird won't play around with the 
 gang." 
 
 "Course not. Think's he's a peg higher than most 
 of us." 
 
 "Ha! Remember when Tom Poor took him down?" 
 
 "Sure; but he evened up I heard later. Got himself 
 into a fix trying to boost Poor up on Skinny." 
 
 "And he didn't have the brains to get away with it." 
 
 "There's Poor now. Some build he's got." 
 
 130
 
 NEARING THE END 131 
 
 "Gosh yes! Wish I had his beef." 
 
 "What would you do with it?'" 
 
 "Clean you out for one!" 
 
 "By the way, what'd you make on that last math 
 exam ?" 
 
 "Busted cold ! Got to pull a three or over this month 
 to be sat. for the term." 
 
 "No worse than I am in Dago. Spanish always did 
 get the best of me." 
 
 "French is what I like." 
 
 "Can that stuff! Now when it comes to seamanship 
 you're talking. Real business ! Take mooring ship. 
 The book gives you what you need to begin. Then you 
 go out and do the real thing!" 
 
 "Righto! That's what I hate about all this math and 
 other theoretical stuff. Don't mean anything." 
 
 "Humph! Do you know our math prof last month 
 gave us a spiel on that very point? Said we'd wake up 
 one morning about the middle of next year and find out 
 what it was all about." 
 
 "Wish I'd wake up next Thursday before that exam." 
 
 "Said we'd see how all these formulae fit into a battle- 
 ship like so many nuts and bolts." 
 
 "Oh, gee! Let's talk about something pleasant." 
 
 "All right, how about a canoe party next Saturday?" 
 
 "Can't. Got an aunt coming down." 
 
 "That's tough." 
 
 "Not altogether. She always brings a couple of 
 cakes. Whole turkey last time. And five pounds of 
 candy." 
 
 "What's the big idea? You must have an awful 
 drag." 
 
 "Not quite. It's Captain Waverly. Old Wave's
 
 i 3 2 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 pretty soft on her. She pretends to give him the boot, 
 and that she's just come down here to see her poor little 
 plebe nephew. Only I notice the poor little plebe always 
 passes Cap. Wave when the poor little plebe's liberty 
 is up." 
 
 "Like a woman." 
 
 "Sure. Queer creatures." 
 
 "Holy Smoke! Can't you talk about anything pleas- 
 ant?" 
 
 "Hang it all, I spooned on the picnic idea. It's got 
 to be Saturday after the aunt, that's all." 
 
 "Where'll we go ?" 
 
 "How about that sandspit above the big bend?" 
 
 "Corking! That's where the old road comes in. 
 Chance at that fellow's cherries too." 
 
 "Not for mine. I've got just five demerits to run on 
 for the rest of the year." 
 
 "I'll do it. I got fifty to get before they boost me 
 on to the conduct grade." 
 
 "No joke to miss liberty June Week graduation, West 
 Point game and all." 
 
 "Right you are. How'd you run so many this 
 month?" 
 
 "Beale's fault. Invented that fool electric stove. 
 Said we could cook and blow the smell out of the win- 
 dow with an electric fan." 
 
 "That's what some of the first-class crowd down my 
 way are doing." 
 
 "Well, as an electrical engineer Beale's a fizzle." 
 
 "Wouldn't cook?" 
 
 "Sure, flap-jacks and sausages and all sorts of things." 
 
 "Get caught?" 
 
 "Should say so. The O. C. stuck his head in the first
 
 NEARING THE END 133 
 
 night. The big fan we'd got was sitting on the table 
 pumping air through the room to beat sixty. Just then 
 the fuse blew and the O. C. got all mixed up in the stove 
 and the fan and the sausages. Cost him eight dollars 
 and a half to get the uniform ungreased, the tailor told 
 me." 
 
 "And cost you twenty-five demerits?" 
 
 "Fifty I" 
 
 "Crickets !" 
 
 "For heaven's sake can't you get on something pleas- 
 anter than aunts and demerits?" 
 
 "Your depressing influence, I guess." 
 
 "Well, bounce back to the picnic." 
 
 "Bounce yourself. What'll we eat?" 
 
 "Will you stay the whole day?" 
 
 "Sure thing. How about a chicken?" 
 
 "Right! And a pot of that apple butter the canteen's 
 got." 
 
 "Pie too. Wonderful apple ones there last week." 
 
 "Something in the cake line?" 
 
 "Here, something in the substantial line I'd say first." 
 
 "All right. Dozen ham sandwiches couple of cans of 
 beans." 
 
 "Good. Take the coffeepot, too. I can always get 
 away with twice as much when there's something to wash 
 it down." 
 
 "You talk like an old drunk." 
 
 "Gee, that reminds me. The Aunt always carries a 
 medicine flask of whiskey with her. I'll try to hook it. 
 Ever taste the stuff?" 
 
 "Once or twice. Pretty rotten, I think." 
 
 "Not if you hold your breath. And it makes the party 
 perk up so."
 
 134 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "None for me, thank you." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Sunday-School." 
 
 "That reminds me, I promised the Chaplain I'd see 
 him about the Y. M. C. A. meeting tomorrow." 
 
 "There you go again with your gloom." 
 
 "All right back to the food business. How about a 
 quart of peanuts ?" 
 
 "And a few potatoes for roasting. Say " 
 
 "Gosh ! the D. O." 
 
 "Quick, douse the banjo !" 
 
 A heavy knock thudded on the door. The door opened. 
 Entered the Duty Officer. The two plebes stood at atten- 
 tion. 
 
 "Good morning, gentlemen, I see you don't have to 
 study in this room. Both of you loafing. One of you 
 playing the banjo from -what I heard." 
 
 The D. O. turned to his duty midshipman alongside. 
 
 "Midshipman Smith, playing musical instrument during 
 study hours. Midshipman Riley, wearing non-regulation 
 sweater." 
 
 The officer and his companion left. 
 
 "Golly!" from one plebe. "Five demerits. That fixes 
 me!" 
 
 "Fifty's mine," groaned the other. "Third conduct 
 grade rest of the year." 
 
 "Anyway " 
 
 "Anyway what?" 
 
 "We can eat the grub in here." 
 
 "The heck we can ! I don't hold half indoors what I 
 do out!"
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 EUROPE ! 
 
 "AND then Tom, single-handed, kidnapped forty-eight 
 French midshipmen ! I was there when the French Ad- 
 miral heard about it. I though he'd choke!" 
 
 Ole Hansen laid his head back and roared. The eager 
 group around him pressed closer for continuation of the 
 yarn. 
 
 It is better, though, to tell the crazy story from its 
 beginning. 
 
 First of all, plebe year finally came to an end. The 
 dreadful winter's grind at last culminated in a series of 
 head-splitting examinations, a hectic carnival of June 
 Week drills, and the grand magnificence of the Farewell 
 Ball. 
 
 On June tenth there appeared in the roads off Annapolis 
 a squadron of battleships. These vessels had been desig- 
 nated to take the 'Brigade of midshipmen on their annual 
 three-months' summer cruise. 
 
 Great confusion prevailed in quarters on the day of 
 embarkation. Mountainous piles of laundry bags full of 
 clothing lined the sea-wall. There was a continual dash- 
 ing back and forth, an unending series of shouts and 
 cheers. 
 
 Happiest of all were the plebes: they were no longer 
 plebes. At the moment of exit from the graduation hall 
 they became officially the new third class, or "youngsters." 
 
 135
 
 136 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 And a youngster rates nearly as much as any upperclass- 
 man. 
 
 At last, as in all military movements, order came out 
 of chaos and the great gray men-of-war got under way, 
 their destination Europe. 
 
 "Oh Boy!" exclaimed Tom the third day out. "Ain't 
 this the life?" 
 
 "I'm not so sure yet," said Ole, who had not Tom's 
 previous sea experience to show him all the little incon- 
 veniences of ship life were trifling as compared with the 
 freedom of it. 
 
 The fourteen days across passed swiftly enough. Mid- 
 shipmen were detailed to the engine and dynamo rooms, to 
 lookout and bridge stations, and all the other parts of the 
 ship. Changes were made frequently so that all might 
 have the fullest experience. 
 
 Daily drills were had at the guns, in seamanship, and 
 other professional subjects. Though there was a certain 
 amount of book work, it could not be likened to the un- 
 ending lessons and recitations that made the winter 
 months a nightmare to many midshipmen. 
 
 On the fifteenth morning, there was a cry from the 
 foremost lookout. 
 
 "Land ho!" 
 
 "Where away?" from the bridge. 
 
 "Broad on the starboard bow, sir!" 
 
 Reveille had just gone. In the gray dawn a looming 
 mass ahead marked the point where beautiful France rose 
 out of the sea. 
 
 The squadron's rails were white with excited midship- 
 men. Thrill of new land rouses something in a man's 
 soul like nothing else in life. 
 
 The port was Cherbourg. A roaring gun salute was ex-
 
 EUROPE! 137 
 
 changed with the black fortress. Launches darted back 
 and forth carrying those upon whom fell the duty of mak- 
 ing official visits. 
 
 Just before lunch, the Commanding Officer sent for 
 Tom. 
 
 "Mr. Poor, I understand from Lieutenant Ruggles that 
 you were in the Fleet before you entered Annapolis, and 
 so have had some experience in foreign parts." 
 
 "Yes, sir; but I have never been here before." 
 
 "That's all right. I want you to help me out on a 
 party the American Consul is giving here for the French 
 and American Midshipmen. The French training ship 
 is due here tomorrow." 
 
 After lunch Tom was sent in by special boat to get 
 his instructions from the Consul. 
 
 He was fascinated by the old French town with its 
 queer winding streets, all so roughly paved with cobble- 
 stones. Everywhere he went he was an object of interest 
 to the foreigners. Their curious glances he returned by 
 glances equally interested. 
 
 One pretty French girl shouted: "Vive I 'American !" 
 
 "You bet your boots, Sweetheart!" was Tom's quick 
 and smiling retort. 
 
 Mr. Weatherill, the Consul, greeted Tom with the en- 
 thusiasm one countryman always has for another when 
 met upon foreign soil. 
 
 "It's a great treat, Mr. Poor, to have you lads with us 
 this week." 
 
 "We're just as glad to be here, sir." 
 
 "The French like it, too. You young gentlemen have 
 the reputation of being the finest of your kind in the 
 world. That has to do with what I have asked you here 
 for."
 
 I 3 8 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 He seated Tom in a little window overlooking the 
 street. 
 
 "Over there," he continued pointing to a large stone 
 building, "is the hall in which I am going to give a real 
 American party to the American and French midshipmen. 
 I am sorry to say that only about a hundred of the 
 Americans will be able to come. With half that many 
 French middies from the cruiser L'Aiglon the hall will be 
 crowded." 
 
 Mr. Weatherill drew a slip of paper from his pocket. 
 
 "Here is a chart of the hall. The party is to be held 
 on the first floor. On the right will sit the Americans. 
 On the left will be the French. On the low platform in 
 front will stand the Christmas tree I have arranged for." 
 
 Tom smiled at the mention of Christmas in the middle 
 of June. 
 
 "I know it's out of date," laughed the Consul. "But 
 I thought it was a nice way to distribute some small gifts. 
 At the signal you all may come up and get the packages 
 off the tree. Afterwards there will be refreshments." 
 
 From the Consul's house Tom went to the French 
 cruiser with a note to her Captain. He was received with 
 sideboys and a gracious salute from the officer-of-the- 
 deck. 
 
 Tom presented his note of introduction. Although he 
 had had a year of French in his first winter at Annapolis, 
 he was a little shy at trying it out. 
 
 "Good evening, my dear young man," was the Captain's 
 profuse welcome in excellent English. "And I under- 
 stand you to be the er what you call him ? Oh yes, the 
 chaperon for our boys this evening tonight at the Con- 
 sul's magnificent entertainment." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Tom. "I have been detailed to sit with
 
 HE WAS FASCINATED BY THE OLD FBENCH TOWN.
 
 EUROPE! 139 
 
 your midshipmen and explain to them what to do as the 
 party goes on." 
 
 "It is fine ! It is splendid, my friend ! And such kind- 
 ness shall not be ever forgotten. Now will you permit me 
 to give you a small glass of wine?" 
 
 "I'm sorry, sir," said Tom a little hastily, "but I must 
 hurry back to my Captain and tell him the result of my 
 visit with you." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the Frenchman with a wink. And, 
 putting his finger up, he said, "I understand the point with 
 perfection. It is that M'sieur dare not blow his lovely 
 breath in the Capitaine's face upon hees return." 
 
 That night the hundred American midshipmen selected 
 to attend the Consul's entertainment marched directly to 
 the hall. Tom remained on the dock to meet the French 
 party. 
 
 When they arrived, he introduced himself to the senior 
 middy in charge. Unfortunately, that individual was un- 
 able to understand English. Tom was forced to rely on 
 his rather limited knowledge of the French language. 
 
 For a moment he smiled to himself as he contemplated 
 the situation. His lessons the previous winter had con- 
 sisted largely of fables in French, not unlike the kind of 
 stories he recalled were in the reader of his early school 
 days; certainly just as childish and uninteresting. He 
 wondered what the lively young Frenchmen would think 
 if he started to declaim one of the fables for their benefit ! 
 
 Judging from the convulsions of merriment that met 
 his painful attempts to argue with the leader, even a fable 
 would have amused them. 
 
 "We go now to hall," said Tom, after struggling through 
 his memory for the words. 
 
 "But the officer that is to meet us ?"
 
 i 4 o WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "No officer meet you. I meet you," said Tom awk- 
 wardly. 
 
 "You are not officer." 
 
 "No. But I meet you. I take you to the hall." 
 
 Finally, the Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and 
 beckoned his followers to come. 
 
 "You know what to do on arrival?" inquired Tom after 
 a considerable pause, during which he was occupied try- 
 ing to remember the expression for Christmas tree. 
 
 "No, my friend. But I suppose we eat. The Ameri- 
 cans always eat." 
 
 "You bet your sweet life we do, Froggie !" shot Tom in 
 English. 
 
 "Not so fast. And speak the French, my friend," re- 
 turned the other. 
 
 "I said you sit where I show you after we arrive." 
 
 "Yes. And then it is what?" 
 
 "You wait signal. I give signal. Then all go to the 
 tree and get gifts from the branches." 
 
 The Frenchman stopped, his eyes bulging. "You say 
 we all climb trees for the party? And we have our best 
 uniforms on!" 
 
 "No," laughed Tom, evidently there was something 
 wrong with his French grammar. He tried again, very 
 slowly. By this time the whole crowd had clustered 
 around him. 
 
 His second attempt at explaining the Christmas tree 
 program was even less successful than the first. 
 
 "We will not go then !" exclaimed the Frenchman. "It 
 is wrong that we should be asked to pull down trees at 
 this time of night. Also it is against the law. The 
 mayor will arrest us!"
 
 EUROPE! 141 
 
 Tom sighed. "It is not outdoors. It is all in the hall," 
 he said. 
 
 "Ah, that is better. But the Americans are rough. I 
 am not sure all of us can have the courage to face it," 
 replied the leader. 
 
 He turned and in rapid language made a little speech 
 to the party. There ensued a heated dispute for some 
 minutes, followed by the departure of several for the dock. 
 
 "Holy smoke !" thought Tom. "I've gummed the game 
 now. No telling what they think I've said to them. 
 And here part have lost their nerve and gone home!" 
 
 Afraid of getting himself into deeper water, he waited 
 silently for the discussion to stop. After a few minutes 
 the leader turned with a grim look and motioned Tom to 
 proceed. 
 
 "Gosh!" said Tom to himself. "Looks as if he were 
 going into battle instead of to a party." 
 
 The Americans rose and shouted a noisy welcome when 
 Tom and his party entered. He managed to get them 
 to their side of the hall before a return cheer was given. 
 Immediately afterward, the leader uttered a few words to 
 his men in a tense low voice. 
 
 Tom looked about him for the Consul. If he could 
 only get an interpreter, he might find out what fool ideas 
 had been placed in the foreign midshipmen's heads by his 
 perfectly well meant efforts to instruct them in their own 
 tongue. 
 
 But Mr. Weatherill was at once engaged in making a 
 speech of welcome. He intermingled his remarks in 
 both languages and cleverly brought out the points of 
 several jokes so that both sides were able to understand. 
 
 "And finally," he concluded, "let me say that the friend-
 
 J4 2 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 ships which are starting here tonight will, I feel, be the 
 basis of a stronger future bond between the two great 
 countries you young officers represent." 
 
 A deafening applause met this expression of inter- 
 national good will. 
 
 Mr. Weatherill waited until the noise had subsided. 
 Then, holding out both arms, he announced in loud tones : 
 "The tree, my friends, the tree !" 
 
 It was the signal. Tom turned to the leader of his 
 flock. "The signal," said Tom, "the tree !" 
 
 The Frenchman sprang to his feet. 
 
 "En avant, mes enfants!" he cried. 
 
 Instantly his fifty countrymen were up. Chairs were 
 hurled to the floor. Some fell. Tom himself was thrust 
 roughly to one side in the mad scramble. 
 
 The Americans who had started to rise and approach 
 the tree sank back in their seats bewildered. 
 
 Straight for the tree dashed the foreigners. They 
 cheered loudly as they ran. They swept it from its 
 moorings. Borne upon their shoulders, its green gift- 
 laden branches brushed the ceiling. 
 
 Before Tom could sing out "Stop them!" they had 
 reached the window a great double window which opened 
 level with the street. 
 
 "Stop !" screamed Tom. But his voice was drowned in 
 the clatter of broken glass as the tree's trunk crashed 
 through the framework into the open air. 
 
 Like a flash of terrible truth he realized the cause 
 of the French midshipmen's mad behaviour : they had 
 understood him to say that, on signal, both nationalities 
 were to rush forward and seize their presents from the 
 tree. Tom's violent gestures, made in his effort to im- 
 press his meaning upon them, had been interpreted as a
 
 EUROPE! 143 
 
 description of the struggle. And now he recalled that 
 when one had asked him something about football he had 
 said "yes." He thought he was being questioned as to 
 whether he played or not. 
 
 In reality the French leader had asked him whether 
 the idea of getting the gifts off the tree was not about 
 the same as the American football game! 
 
 Naturally when Tom gave back an enthusiastic "yes" 
 the Frenchman coached his faithful followers to make 
 the best showing they could. On arrival he pointed out 
 the window. When the signal was given, he overcame 
 his disadvantage of smaller numbers by the strategic plan 
 of simply rushing the tree out the window before the 
 Americans could reach it. 
 
 Tom's loud cry and the fact that he started after the 
 fleeing Frenchmen was at once taken as a clever move of 
 leadership. With instant energy the Americans roused 
 into vigorous action. On the heels of the barbarians 
 so they now seemed and not fifty yards behind, tore the 
 Annapolis men. 
 
 Luckily Tom reached the window first. But his shouts 
 of protest were caught in the general tumult only as words 
 of encouragement. 
 
 By a great burst of speed he finally managed to place 
 himself at the head of the galloping column. 
 
 "Stop !" he roared. "It's a mistake I tell you ! A 
 terrible mistake!" 
 
 A man ran into him and pushed him angrily out of the 
 way. 
 
 "Traitor!" bawled the youngster. 
 
 For a moment Tom also lost his head. With a vicious 
 blow on the jaw he knocked the midshipman down. 
 
 This incident caught the wild mob's attention for a
 
 144 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 moment and enabled Ole Hansen to stop them. He knew 
 Tom well enough to realize something was wrong. 
 
 Tom sprang to his side and panted out an order. "Hold 
 them for two minutes !" he cried. "It's a terrible misun- 
 derstanding. I'll come back and explain." 
 
 He then turned and dashed after the fleeing French- 
 men. Over his shoulder he saw Ole haranguing the tem- 
 pestuous and angry Americans. 
 
 Gifts lying scattered along the street provided an 
 excellent trail. Tom overtook the triumphal crowd just 
 around the corner where they were stripping the ruined 
 tree. 
 
 "Quick!" he shouted. "They're coming! They're 
 coming! They're terribly angry they will murder you! 
 Quick follow me and I will explain." 
 
 The desperation in Tom's voice instantly caught the 
 impressionable ear of the French boys. They followed 
 him at a run. 
 
 Tom had no idea where he was going. His scheme was 
 simply to avoid the massacre sure to take place if the 
 enraged American midshipmen overtook the Frenchmen. 
 If he could dispose of the latter long enough to explain 
 matters to his own ship-mates he felt a peaceful reunion 
 were possible. Otherwise how could he ever account for 
 the dreadful outcome of Mr. Weatherill's happy plans ? 
 
 "Here we are !" he cried, as they came to a small build- 
 ing. Its door stood open. Inside was dark, but to all 
 appearances it must have been some sort of warehouse. 
 
 The Frenchmen crowded in. Tom slammed the door 
 shut, and to be on the safe side, snapped the huge pad- 
 lock which hung open upon its hasp. 
 
 When he reached the spot where he had last seen Ole 
 and the Americans, the whole crowd had disappeared.
 
 EUROPE! 145 
 
 Evidently Ole's argument had been successful in convinc- 
 ing the Americans they had best return to the hall. 
 
 Tom hesitated. Had he better release the Frenchmen 
 at once ? Or would it be better to return to the hall first 
 and make sure his own crowd had calmed down? It 
 was a difficult question ; and there was the additional anx- 
 iety of not knowing what sort of place it was he had so 
 impulsively locked the former in. 
 
 Fate decided for him. A carriage turned the corner 
 and came towards him. It stopped. 
 
 "Mr. Poor, isn't that you ?" sung out a familiar voice. 
 
 "Yes, Captain." It was the Skipper of Tom's ship, the 
 Connecticut! 
 
 "Get in," commanded the Captain. "I am on my way to 
 a little reception at the house of the wife of the L'Aig- 
 lon's -Commanding Officer. He says he met you today and 
 asked me to bring you along if I could." 
 
 There was nothing to do but obey. 
 
 Once more Tom received the gracious advances of the 
 French Captain. 
 
 "Ah, M'sieur Poor," said the old gentleman, "I theenk 
 you are the personification of the youth of the new world." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Tom a little vaguely. He could not 
 rid his mind of the nightmare that beset him. He had 
 kidnapped and made prisoners half a hundred young 
 Frenchmen. What dreadful penalty would be his when 
 the crime was discovered? 
 
 In the course of the evening, the hostess became more 
 and more ill at ease. Although there were several other 
 officers as guests besides Tom and his Captain, she seemed 
 to be impatiently waiting for someone else. 
 
 She called the American Captain to her side and whis- 
 pered in his ear. Immediately he came over to Tom.
 
 146 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Mr. Poor, Madame Grielle says that she invited a 
 number of the French midshipmen here this evening. 
 She understands from her husband that they went to the 
 Consul's party first, but with orders to leave early and 
 come here. Do you know anything about them ?" 
 
 "Yes no, sir," stammered Tom. "I mean, sir, they 
 were there. I saw them. But I don't know whether they 
 are on their way here or not." 
 
 Tom's obvious confusion aroused the Captain's sus- 
 picions. 
 
 "Don't beat about the bush, Mr. Poor," said he sternly. 
 
 At once Tom realized there was nothing to be gained 
 by keeping his secret. 
 
 "If you will hear my story, sir," he said after a mo- 
 ment, "I think you will understand." 
 
 Before he could go further there came a sudden con- 
 fusion at the door. At the same instant a strong odor of 
 dead fish pervaded the room. 
 
 "Heaven's!" exclaimed the Captain under his breath. 
 "And I had fish for dinner!" 
 
 To Tom's dismay a dozen of the French midshipmen 
 he had so lately imprisoned filed nervously into the room. 
 They had lost their customary neatness. Some had 
 smudged faces ; others had mussed hair and soiled collars. 
 All bore the marks of their recent experience in some 
 form or another. 
 
 And each smelted frightfully of fish! 
 
 Tom looked about for some means of escape. But, be- 
 fore he could move, the surprised silence in the room at 
 the strange appearance of the motley arrivals gave way to 
 a voluble flood of angry questions and replies. At once 
 the leader of the midshipmen stepped forward. He 
 pointed his finger at Tom. "There is the pig !" he cried.
 
 EUROPE! 147 
 
 As if by Providence, Mr. Weatherill turned up the next 
 moment. He understood perfectly not only the French 
 language but the people. With the utmost gravity he 
 heard the French midshipman's story. 
 
 At its conclusion he turned to the American captain. 
 "It's quite clear sir," he said in French, "that these boys 
 have been the victims of an unfortunate misunderstand- 
 ing. It is, indeed, outrageous and quite unnecessary for 
 Mr. Poor to have locked them up in the fishhouse. But 
 they are magnanimous. They will forgive, provided an 
 apology is presented." 
 
 Tom's captain bowed an acknowledgment of the hint. 
 Turning to Tom he said : "Mr. Poor, you have unwittingly 
 damaged the success of our visit in this port. No official 
 course is open to me to express my disapproval of your 
 failure to execute a truly diplomatic mission. Till we 
 sail you will be restricted to the ship. Now please apol- 
 ogize to those present." 
 
 Tom did so in stumbling French. 
 
 As he turned to go Captain Grielle called him back. 
 "No, no, my dear young friend," he said in a voice loud 
 enough for all present to hear. "Do not so melancholy 
 be. I theenk " he looked over the top of his glasses at 
 his own boys "that if there has been any mistake in di- 
 plomacy, it was on the part of those who first used force." 
 
 He faced about to his wife. 
 
 "Open the windows, my dear," he continued, "I am 
 about to laugh. And when I do I shall the glass break 
 so heartily shall it be." He chuckled and wiped his eyes. 
 "The f eesh-house oh ! the feesh-house of all places !" he 
 cried, and went off into a gale of real sea-going mirth 
 that nearly shook the chandelier from the ceiling.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MAN OVERBOARD ! 
 
 DURING the Squadron's stay in Cherbourg, leave was 
 granted many midshipmen to visit Paris. Chaplains of 
 the various ships organized parties with proper guides. 
 This enabled all to see the places of greatest interest with 
 the least expenditure of time and money. 
 
 "Glad to get back, though," was Bob Gary's tired com- 
 ment the morning after his week in the famous capital. 
 "Museums and art galleries all day and the theatre every 
 night. Exciting, all right; but the old ship seems pretty 
 good after it's all over." 
 
 "Right !" agreed Ole Hansen. "A Navy man certainly 
 is in luck in being able to travel and take his home around 
 the world with him." 
 
 "I should say so !" echoed Bob. "After a few days of 
 hotel grub and worrying about where to go and what to 
 do next, a good deck and our busy routine certainly hit 
 the spot." 
 
 Sharp bugle notes broke into the conversation. 
 
 "All hands up anchor !" bawled the Boatswain's Mate. 
 The cry was immediately taken up by mates of divisions, 
 and their hoarse voices filled the 'tween-deck spaces until 
 men were skurrying from every nook and corner of the 
 great man-of-war. 
 
 "Where are you stationed now ?" asked Bob as the two 
 parted. 
 
 148
 
 MAN OVERBOARD! 149 
 
 "Starboard life-boat crew," sung out Ole over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "I'm port beat you to it this afternoon!" was the 
 prompt reply. 
 
 Bob meant that he was a member of the crew of that 
 whaleboat which swung aft on the other side of the quar- 
 terdeck. Each battleship keeps two of these boats rigged 
 out at all times and ready for instant call in case of acci- 
 dent, In the practise squadron this summer, it had been 
 the Admiral's habit always to have a life-saving drill on 
 the same day that he put to sea. 
 
 As the anchors appeared in sight under the bows, a 
 signal flashed to the Flagship's yardarm. 
 
 "Form column speed ten knots !" 
 
 Slowly and evenly, as if toy boats drawn by an in- 
 visible string, the monstrous craft slid along one after the 
 other and swept clear of the crooked channel. 
 
 Next port of call was to be Wey mouth, England. But 
 instead of standing directly northward an afternoon of 
 maneuvers was held. Bright bunting shot up the ship's 
 halliards every few minutes. When it was hauled down 
 as a signal of execution, the six vessels would steam grace- 
 fully to their new positions and hold them until the next 
 command from the old tactician in charge. Occasionally 
 there would be a signal of commendation. And once or 
 twice a ship had to be told to take her proper position in 
 the formation. But, on the whole, the maneuvers were no 
 more than a silent drill of massive floating dummies which 
 seemed as docile and responsive as a squad of well- 
 trained soldiers. 
 
 "Who'd ever want to be a soldier!" exclaimed one 
 midshipman after watching breathlessly a particularly in- 
 tricate exchange of positions by the ships.
 
 ISO WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Heavens, man," retorted someone at his elbow, "mean 
 to saty you didn't know that soldiers are all those fellows 
 who wanted to be sailors and couldn't and just for spite 
 they joined the Army files?" 
 
 "Whoa there !" laughed a young ensign standing nearby. 
 "Neither of you know what you are talking about. The 
 Army's the best friend we've got !" 
 
 "Except the day of the game," muttered the middy. 
 
 "Then too," continued the officer. "Who'd give us 
 a clean fight like that every November? And what " 
 
 Before he could finish a shout rang out from the bridge. 
 At the same instant a checkered blue and white flag had 
 been released at the Flagship's masthead. 
 
 "Man overboard!" 
 
 Expected as it is at drill, this cry always brings a 
 thrill of real anxiety to everyone. Despite the readiness 
 of life-boats, even in the best of weather, the peril of 
 tumbling into the ocean far from land is great. Almost 
 before the unfortunate man has come to the surface, the 
 spinning propellers are thundering by him with the threat 
 of a terrible death. 
 
 It is the officer-of-the-deck's duty to put his rudder 
 over to swing the ship's stern clear. Also he must stop 
 his engine on that side. And he must drop the life-buoy, 
 man and get away the life-boats, and maneuver the vessel 
 so that he may lower them in safety. But no officer is so 
 efficient that he does not run some danger of being a few 
 seconds too late and seeing the victim throw up his hands 
 for the last time even before the life-boat falls are manned. 
 
 "Away both life-boats!" came the order. 
 
 By this time all ships in the column were sheering out 
 and stopping their engines. 
 
 It was of course only a drill. The Flagship had thrown
 
 MAN OVERBOARD! 151 
 
 overboard a marked buoy to indicate the man. Other 
 ships were expected to lower boats and rescue him. The 
 lucky boat would be reported and its coxswain receive a 
 special bit of praise for his work. 
 
 Bob's crew were in their boat before Ole's. But Ole 
 had been clear enough to station his best men at the 
 cleats to which the boat falls or ropes were made fast. 
 In consequence the boat dropped evenly and with almost 
 giddy speed into the waiting seas beneath. Bob, on the 
 other hand, had to stop his lowering twice to clear the 
 falls of kinks. 
 
 Meanwhile the other ships were getting their boats 
 under way with all possible speed. Five minutes after the 
 first signal had been made, ten whale-boats were foam- 
 ing along over the heavy Biscay swells toward the white 
 slip of a buoy. 
 
 "Give it to her, lads!" roared Ole. 
 
 But he was a boat's length behind Bob, and all the 
 power of his lungs couldn't shorten the distance an inch. 
 Suddenly he saw a pair of feet flung up in the very center 
 of the other crew. 
 
 "Crab in Gary's boat!" he roared. "Now we've got 
 'em!" 
 
 He was right. One of the other oarsmen had forgotten 
 how great care must be used in handling an oar in a 
 seaway and had got his blade snagged in the face of a 
 green comber. 
 
 But the race was lost after all to a boat from the 
 Minnesota. 
 
 "She was closer to the buoy anyway," explained the 
 beaten crews on their return to the ship. 
 
 Half an hour later mess-gear sounded on the bugles 
 and shortly afterwards the midshipmen streamed down all
 
 152 W ON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 hatchways for a good old Navy supper of beans, corn- 
 bread, rice pudding, and coffee. 
 
 "What watch tonight?" sung out Ole to Tom Poor. 
 
 "Eight to twelve. Anything on?" 
 
 "Nope. That is, nothing but a sing-fest on the fore- 
 castle. Come on up after hammocks." 
 
 At seven-thirty the call to hammocks was given and all 
 hands stood by the long troughs where the rolled bedding 
 was stowed. As the mates "piped down" on their whis- 
 tles, each boy took his hammock from its place and swung 
 it to the hook on the steel beam overhead that had been 
 assigned to him for the cruise. 
 
 In the gathering twilight a score or so midshipmen 
 grouped on the upper deck forward and began to sing. 
 The evening was calm, and a new moon made a shiny 
 slit in the western sky. Astern could be seen the red 
 and green running lights of the squadron against the fol- 
 lowing darkness behind. 
 
 "If you want to join the Navy, 
 Just come along with me, 
 'By the light by the light 
 Of the silver-ee moon!" 
 
 sang the voices. And up on the bridge the officer of the 
 watch leaned against the windshield rail to catch another 
 earful of the old song that it might bring back again to 
 him the sweet memories of when he was a midshipman 
 with no more cares or worries than to count the days till 
 the beginning of September leave. 
 
 A touch on his arm interrupted the reverie. 
 "Life-boat's crew all mustered and accounted for, sir." 
 "Oh, hello," said the officer a bit vaguely, his memory 
 still heavy on him. "Hello, Hansen, that you?"
 
 MAN OVERBOARD! 153 
 
 "Yes sir." 
 
 "Very well. And be sure that your releasing gear is 
 all clear and the falls neatly coiled down. Never can tell 
 when some young idiot is going to tumble in." 
 
 Ole had his mouth open for an "aye, aye, sir," when 
 he caught out of the corner of his eye the shadow of a 
 white figure balanced on the rail forward. Apparently 
 the life-line had come loose in some way or had not been 
 properly secured when the ship was getting under way. 
 As he looked the figure toppled and fell. 
 
 "There's one now, sir !" he blurted. 
 
 The officer whirled about in time to see the midshipman 
 throw out his arms in a frantic grasp to save himself, 
 then tumble backwards into the sea. 
 
 "Man Overboard!" And no drill this time! 
 
 He leaped to the engine-room telegraphs. As he 
 thrust them down and up to "stop" with a vicious move- 
 ment, he spun the helmsman's wheel to the right and or- 
 dered : "Right, man, right !" 
 
 In the first second the signal quartermaster had flashed 
 on the electric signals and sounded the whistle for the 
 ship astern to sheer out. 
 
 But Ole had seen none of these things. In the brief 
 interval of time it had taken the midshipman to reach the 
 surface of the water, just one thought had flashed into 
 Ole's mind : the life-buoy. 
 
 Quick as a flash he remembered his instruction earlier 
 on the cruise that the releasing trigger of the patent life- 
 ring was exactly where he was standing. He leaned down 
 and felt the small toggle in the dark. He gave it a vio- 
 lent yank. 
 
 At the same moment he was thrown fiercely against 
 the end of the bridge.
 
 154 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "For God's sake, not that one!" 
 
 The officer-of-the-deck fairly screamed the words in 
 his ear. Then he sprang to the rail and looked into the 
 boiling water below. 
 
 Ole's gaze followed. To his horror he saw how ter- 
 rible a mistake he had made. The patent life-ring, a 
 large copper buoy, had been freed at exactly the proper 
 moment to fall squarely on the head and shoulders of the 
 man overboard. 
 
 "You've killed him, you young fool!" groaned the 
 officer. Then, with a wrench, he came back to his duty, 
 and in long-practised words brought the ship around and 
 passed the word to ease away the lee life-boat. 
 
 One thing he did not see: At the words "you've 
 killed him," an awful desperation had seized Ole. The 
 whole accident, buoy and all, had taken less than three 
 seconds. Yet he had time to think, "well, if I've killed 
 him there's not much use of me being alive." And in 
 the same flash had come the feeling that the boy might 
 be only stunned and would drown before the boat could 
 reach him. 
 
 Without hesitation he vaulted to the rail. For the 
 tenth of a second he balanced there far above the water 
 and took note of the bearing of the buoy light astern. 
 Then he dived. 
 
 Meanwhile Bob Gary had dashed across the quarter- 
 deck and up into his boat. "Tumble up ! Tumble up !" 
 he cried to the others. "Some lubber you are !" was his 
 caustic comment as one of them missed his footing on the 
 narrow rail and nearly went overboard. 
 
 As a matter of fact, to race across a dark deck, leap 
 up two spans of rail, clutch the steel davit and swing 
 dizzily across the blank space between ship and boat was
 
 MAN OVERBOARD! 155 
 
 more in the class of a trained acrobat's tricks than any- 
 thing else. Yet these midshipmen did it with a perfect 
 grace and joy as if they were exercising in a gymnasium 
 instead of racing with death on the high seas. 
 
 "Bear a hand aft !" came roared from the bridge. 
 
 "Shake it up, Spike!" called Bob to the coxswain. 
 Then, "Lower away," he added almost immediately. The 
 boat dropped into the inky black water with a splash. 
 
 "Steady mind your pin!" For a moment it looked 
 as if the tiny craft would capsize from the headway of 
 the ship and the cross-current of the ground-swell. But 
 with as much instinct as skill Bob threw all his weight 
 against the steering oar and with a tremendous effort 
 swung her clear. 
 
 "Now give 'way and bust her!" he bawled. But the 
 words were unnecessary. All realized that this was the 
 real thing; that out there in the chilly black water some 
 classmate or friend was struggling to make himself seen 
 or heard above the wash of the sea. 
 
 Searchlights soon flashed from the nearest ships. Their 
 white beams swept back and forth across the area be- 
 tween and finally came to rest at a point about a quarter 
 of a mile from where the Connecticut had been brought 
 about. 
 
 "I see it !" proclaimed Bob. He meant the buoy. On 
 either side of the metal ring, automatic lights were fitted 
 in small tubes that stand up in the water and burn with a 
 glare which is visible for a long distance. 
 
 But only on the crest of the seas was he able to head 
 directly for it. Deep in the valley-like troughs he could 
 only guess his course by the glare of the searchlights 
 overhead. Also the enthusiasm of his crew made steer- 
 ing more difficult than usual. Before he knew it he
 
 156 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 caught a glimpse of the glare off to one side. He had 
 nearly passed it. 
 
 "Easy starboard," he ordered. "Give away port. 
 Mind your stroke now, men, we've passed the blooming 
 thing." 
 
 "Yes," growled the stroke oar, "and time may mean a 
 lot to that poor devil out there." 
 
 Two minutes later the buoy was just ahead. The bow 
 oarsmen manned the boathooks. Then, abruptly, in a 
 voice of dismay one shouted: 
 
 "He's gone!" 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Bob. "Hook her in. He must 
 be there !" 
 
 But the bow men were right. When the dripping ring 
 was hauled into the boat, it gave no sign of there ever 
 having been anyone even near it. 
 
 "He's drowned !" groaned Bob. "And we're to blame. 
 We didn't row fast enough." 
 
 But he would not give up yet. With practically no 
 hope left he had the boat pulled about with a vague idea 
 that he might find the body floating. 
 
 For fifteen minutes the search continued. Then one 
 of the crew aroused him. 
 
 "Hey, Gary, they're recalling us." 
 
 Bob looked up at the ship. "One-two-return," flashed 
 the blinker. 
 
 "Given him up, I suppose," he commented sadly and 
 put about. 
 
 If he lives to be a hundred Bob will never forget that 
 pull back to the ship. He had had his chance to do a big 
 thing, to save a man's life. And now, he felt, he had dis- 
 mally failed. 
 
 "Stand by to hook on," bellowed the deck officer.
 
 MAN OVERBOARD! 157 
 
 Bob could detect a terrible condemnation in the tones. 
 
 Slowly the life-boat came up. In silence its crew 
 clambered over the rail and coiled their long falls down. 
 
 "Good work, Bob," called a voice in the dark so sud- 
 denly that the one addressed jumped a foot. 
 
 "Tom? What why " 
 
 "Yes, it's me," said Tom Poor. "Haven't they told 
 you yet?" 
 
 Bob's heart leaped. "Was he saved after all?" he ex- 
 ploded, hope flooding back into his heart. 
 
 "Sure thing. Ole Hansen beaned the poor devil with 
 the life buoy and then jumped in after him." 
 
 "But why didn't he make the buoy?" 
 
 "Said the fellow was unconscious so he couldn't swim 
 with him. Minnesota's boat picked them up together." 
 
 Bob tried to speak but his voice failed him. 
 
 "I meant to tell you, though," concluded Tom, "that 
 the Skipper took time out on praising Ole to say that he 
 liked the way you got your boat out. Congrats !" 
 
 "Thanks," murmured Bob weakly.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 NECK AND NECK! 
 
 WHEN the practice squadron reached Weymouth the 
 following afternoon, it anchored and exchanged cour- 
 tesies not only with the British commander ashore but 
 with the British battle cruiser Inexorable lying further 
 up the roads. 
 
 After the bustle and confusion of getting away boats 
 and landing parties, things settled down once more about 
 the deck for the regular port routine. Then it was an old 
 boatswain named Merrill called a council of war near 
 the forward 12-inch turret of Tom's ship. 
 
 "Fellows," he explained, "over there is one of the 
 crack ships of the British Grand Fleet. She has a well- 
 deserved reputation of being the leading athletic star of 
 her class. Last year I was over here on the Nevada and 
 she pretty well cleaned us up. I'd like now to take a fall 
 out of her if I could." 
 
 "How about our cutter crew?" suggested Bob Gary. 
 
 "Exactly what I had in mind. If we can collect a fair 
 squad and get her to accept a challenge, I know a sure 
 way of winning." 
 
 For a moment the listeners looked dubious. It wasn't 
 quite in keeping with Annapolis athletic traditions 
 to enter any contest where the outcome was a sure 
 thing. 
 
 "Oh, don't be worried," laughed the old boatswain. 
 
 158
 
 NECK AND NECK! 159 
 
 "It's fair enough. The Limeys invented it years before 
 a Yankee used it." 
 
 However, just what the trick was he refused to dis- 
 close. 
 
 "I'm a little leery," confessed Tom later. "It would 
 be great stuff to beat a British crew all right. But I wish 
 I knew just what Merrill means by his plan to make it a 
 sure thing." 
 
 Finally Tom mustered up courage enough to inquire. 
 
 "Come out with us after supper," agreed the Boat- 
 swain, "and I'll show you. I am anxious for you to 
 take an oar if you really haven't any objections. But 
 right here and now I want you to understand that this 
 strategy of mine is something that is practised the world 
 over. If we get away with it, our luck is good, that's 
 all." 
 
 Just before sundown the racing cutter was lowered and 
 dropped aft to the gangway. It was one of a long sharp- 
 nosed type common to all navies, and thus particularly 
 well fitted for international races. 
 
 A crew of husky midshipmen had been selected not 
 only for their strength but for their experience and 
 training on the regular crew squad back at the Academy. 
 
 "Cast off," commanded Merrill. "Stand by your oars 
 out oars !" 
 
 As the boat drifted away from the ship, Tom caught 
 sight of the huge gray battle cruiser nearly a mile away 
 across the harbor. The red rays of the low sun painted 
 her queer rectangular fire-control masts with a dull glow. 
 She looked the part of a conqueror and he thrilled to 
 think of her glorious record in the late war. 
 
 The Boatswain's voice interrupted his thought. "See 
 this, fellows?" He held up an ordinary deck bucket.
 
 160 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 In its bottom were bored a number of holes. By a line 
 he dropped it over the side and attached it to the boat's 
 stern. 
 
 "Works as a drag," he explained. "When a base-ball 
 player is about to face a pitcher he swings an extra bat 
 for a moment or two. Then when he goes to the plate 
 the single stick in his hand feels lighter than it really is. 
 The bucket is our extra bat." 
 
 The speaker held up his hand. "Stand by!" he or- 
 dered sharply. "Give 'way together!" 
 
 Twelve powerful backs swung into the stroke. The 
 lean boat quivered, rapidly gathered headway, then plowed 
 along with a foaming bow-wave shot from either side. 
 
 "Oars!" 
 
 The dripping blades cut one deep sweep, then hung 
 exactly horizontal to the surface of the water. 
 
 The Boatswain leaned over and drew in the bucket. 
 Then once more he set the boat in motion. This time 
 there was a marked increase in speed. Smiles flitted 
 across the oarsmen's faces. Each felt the relief of having 
 the drag lifted from his burden. 
 
 "Oars!" again sung out Merrill. "Now do you see 
 the point?" he asked. "If you train with the bucket 
 trailing astern you can develop a good stroke and good 
 muscles. Then, if you pull in a race without it, the re- 
 lief is so great as to make the job seem half as hard." 
 
 He turned to Tom who was sitting beside him. "Isn't 
 that fair enough?" 
 
 "Splendid idea!" exclaimed Tom. 
 
 Tom then took an oar near the bow and the boat was 
 started off with a good long practise stroke. And al- 
 though the bucket was once more overboard encouraging 
 progress was made.
 
 NECK AND NECK! 161 
 
 Merrill steered them directly toward the Inexorable 
 and along her port side about fifty yards away. Just 
 under her bow he gave the command to cease rowing and 
 toss oars. The latter is simply that each rower raises 
 his oar to a vertical position with its handle resting in the 
 bottom of the boat. 
 
 "It's the signal of a challenge," the Boatswain told his 
 men. "Gives them a chance to look us over and size up 
 our speed." 
 
 On the warship's deck a crowd of officers and sailors 
 collected. Near the rail stood a group of British mid- 
 shipmen talking earnestly among themselves. 
 
 "They've got us!" suddenly sang out Merrill. And 
 giving the order to put out oars and row he brought his 
 boat around the bow and down the other side of the ves- 
 sel. 
 
 "Pull up !" he snapped. "Show 'em what you can do." 
 
 Oars crackled and the rush of water was like that under 
 a motor-boat's bilge. A babel of shouting broke out 
 across the space that separated them from the battle 
 cruiser. It died away, then exploded into a concerted 
 cheer for the American midshipmen. 
 
 "Great!" commended the old Boatswain when he had 
 brought his crew to a stop for breath nearly a mile astern. 
 "Couldn't you see how keen they were on the prospects 
 for a race?" 
 
 "But what a shame to have the bucket on," protested 
 Tom. "They couldn't see us at our best." 
 
 "Yes," added 'Bob Gary, "I hate to have them think 
 that was the fastest we could pull." 
 
 But Merrill only laughed and muttered something 
 about a midshipman's vanity. 
 
 That night a visiting party was permitted to go to the
 
 162 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 British ship after evening drill. A minstrel show was 
 being given on deck and an invitation had been sent to 
 the American Squadron for fifty midshipmen from each 
 battleship. 
 
 Tom and Bob were lucky enough to be among the 
 number. A sub-lieutenant of about their own age took 
 them in charge on arrival and escorted them down to the 
 midshipmen's mess aboard. 
 
 "Our lads come in earlier than you do," he explained. 
 "Some of them are just past twelve years in age." 
 
 "But they go to a naval school later, don't they?" in- 
 quired Bob. 
 
 "Yes. The advantage as we see it is in having a boy 
 grow up with the sea. If he finds he can't stand for a 
 navy life, he is still young enough to go into something 
 else." 
 
 He went on to explain that he meant no reflection on 
 the American system. "Only you may have four years 
 of finest training and then discover that you don't want 
 to be a naval officer." 
 
 "Right, in a way," stoutly contended Bob. "But that 
 is what our summer cruises are for. And, after all, it 
 is good for the naval service as a whole to have as many 
 graduates of Annapolis as possible out in civil life. It 
 tends to increase the country's sympathy and under- 
 standing of our Navy." 
 
 Suddenly Tom had an idea. "Bye the bye, sir, did 
 you know we gave you a challenge this afternoon?" he 
 asked. 
 
 The officer laughed. "Should say I did. I wasn't on 
 the topside when you came by, but I heard talk of it all 
 about." 
 
 "I ask," Tom went on, "because I've an oar in the
 
 NECK AND NECK! 163 
 
 boat. All of us would like you to understand it is a 
 midshipman crew." 
 
 The Sub-lieutenant gave Tom a keen glance. He 
 opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head. 
 Suddenly he spied one of the other officers. "I say 
 there, Conrad," he called, "who did you tell me was cox- 
 swaining that American boat this afternoon?" 
 
 "Why, old Merrill. Don't you remember him at 
 Scapa?" 
 
 The Sub turned again to Tom. "Might as well make 
 a breast of it," he said. "If you don't know it already, 
 your Boatswain has the reputation of being one of the 
 cleverest raceboat men in any navy. When our gang 
 saw him in charge of your crew this afternoon, they 
 were delighted. Knew it was the real thing, and all 
 that." 
 
 "Really, I don't quite follow you," Tom put in with 
 a bewildered look. 
 
 "That's because you haven't been about much yet," 
 said the Englishman kindly. "You know boat racing is 
 the one game in which sailormen of every nationality 
 can meet on common ground. They bet extravagantly 
 on results. They win and lose as if the races meant life 
 and death. Old defeats are remembered for years. 
 And, provided the rules are kept in the actual race, no 
 scheme is too intricate so long as it encourages the other 
 fellow to put his money up." 
 
 An expression of sudden understanding spread over 
 Tom's tanned features. "Now I see it !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "You probably do," agreed the officer. "The usual 
 stunt is to row by the other fellow's ship with a great 
 pretense at speed. He times you as you go by. He dis- 
 covers you are pretty slow and puts up all his savings
 
 164 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 on the race. But the truth is you've fooled him by not 
 rowing your best, so the outcome may be quite unex- 
 pected." 
 
 The truth then dawned on Tom. Merrill's bucket was 
 less a device to strengthen the oarsmen than to deceive 
 his competitors into believing his crew was slower than 
 they really were. 
 
 Announcement of the entertainment put a stop to the 
 conversation. Aft had been rigged a full-size stage with 
 regular scenery. An orchestra was seated in front. 
 Nearly a thousand men and officers composed the aud- 
 ience, filling the decks and turrets clear to the funnels. 
 
 For nearly two hours the fun continued. Moving pic- 
 tures and a boxing bout occupied the intermission. At 
 ten the program came to an end and refreshments were 
 served. 
 
 It was at this moment Tom happened to glance for- 
 ward in time to observe several men in rowing costume 
 come in over the boat boom. Surprised, he turned to 
 his friend the Sub-lieutenant. But before he could ask 
 his question the latter laughed and said : 
 
 "There you are the little game I told you of. See 
 that blonde giant ? He's stroke oar." 
 
 Next afternoon at five Tom understood. The British 
 came over to accept the challenge. They rowed under 
 the Connecticut's bow and tossed oars. Then they pulled 
 by with a great show of energy. Tom gave two looks 
 and one grunt. "Not them," he announced. "The blonde 
 giant isn't aboard." 
 
 "Not who?" asked Bob Gary. 
 
 "Their regular crew." Tom drew Bob aside. "Look 
 here, man, this is a crazy game. The Limey tells me it's 
 played this way all over the world. Maybe it is. But
 
 NECK AND NECK! 165 
 
 I'm not going to stand for it. We're no professionals." 
 
 Bob frowned and made a face. "Gosh! What's up, 
 Tom?" 
 
 "Just this: We're fooling them by rowing around 
 with a bucket tied to our tail. They're fooling us by 
 practising their regular crew at night and sending a fake 
 boat over to show how slow they are. All of it just to 
 stir up a lot of bets we aren't interested in at all." 
 
 So the upshot was that Tom went to the Boatswain 
 and declared the midshipmen would stand for no more 
 "bucket games." The old fellow took this attitude in 
 good grace, though, and agreed to use his experience to 
 get the crew into shape. 
 
 "Guess we don't need the bucket after all," he 
 chuckled. 
 
 And he was nearly right. 
 
 For a week, twice a day, the crew pulled over a three- 
 mile course laid across the harbor. Though the race was 
 to be but a mile-and-a-half, the midshipmen wished to 
 bring their endurance to the point it had been after the 
 period of spring athletics at Annapolis. 
 
 The day of the race dawned clear with a brisk breeze 
 from the north. Towards noon the wind dwindled. By 
 three the course was like glass. Everywhere lay clean 
 reflections of the glistening warships. Stake-boats with 
 their red finish flags were doubled in the blue mirror in 
 which they lay. 
 
 "Now remember, ten fast ones on the get-away!" the 
 Boatswain cautioned his men. "Then settle. Watch 
 my count. Count with me." He went on talking more 
 to steady the nervous oarsmen than to explain what they 
 had heard a thousand times before. 
 
 The Connecticut's boat jumped ahead at the start.
 
 166 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Merrill's ten fast strokes did the work. But, like the 
 traditional British bulldog, the other cutter hung on with 
 her bow just opposite the tiller clenched in Merrill's 
 gnarled old hand. 
 
 Inch by inch the English cutter gained. As she reached 
 the first British man-of-war, such a burst of cheering 
 greeted her that she pulled up nearly a fathom. 
 
 Finally the boats lay neck and neck! 
 
 "Save it, lads, save it !" cautioned Merrill in a low but 
 tensely audible tone. "Save it till the end," 
 
 He knew the game, that old Boatswain, as an old 
 Boatswain should. Well he realized that if only he could 
 hold his own to the finish the youth of his midshipmen 
 would assure a spurt that must win. 
 
 A hundred yards from the stake-boat lay the Connecti- 
 cut. Her rails were crowded with a mass of white-clad 
 sailormen. Their roars would have drowned a dozen 
 saluting guns. 
 
 Merrill leaped to his feet. Raising his fists in the 
 air he bellowed the last word to win : 
 
 "Now g'we it to her!" 
 
 Tom shut his eyes and threw his last ounce of burning 
 muscular strength into the heavy oar. It fairly crackled 
 with the strain. The boat sprang ahead as if released 
 from the bucket used the first day. In a matter of sec- 
 onds it crossed the line less than a yard ahead of the 
 Britisher. 
 
 The race was won. 
 
 Back at the ship a signal boy handed Tom a signal. 
 "From the Inexorable," he explained. 
 
 Tom seized the bit of paper. "Congratulations," it 
 read. "Better a lot without buckets, isn't it?" The sig- 
 nature was that of the Sub-Lieutenant.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MISSING 
 
 WHEN the day came for the Connecticut to leave Wey- 
 mouth, a disquieting rumor flew about the decks. A 
 midshipman was missing. 
 
 The Skipper sent for his Executive Officer. "What 
 have you learned ashore?" he asked. 
 
 "Absolutely nothing, sir. Midshipman Van Brunt is 
 listed on yesterday's liberty list. Quite a number of 
 witnesses remember seeing him land. 'But not a single 
 one can I find who will state what course the lost boy 
 took after entering the town." 
 
 The Skipper drummed nervously on his desk. Only 
 a few days before, he had boasted to the Admiral about 
 his men. To date not a single midshipman from the 
 Connecticut had got into serious trouble. 
 
 "I make it impossible for them," had been his ex- 
 planation. "Before we reach port I begin a series of 
 talks and printed pamphlets about the country we are 
 going to visit. I provide maps of the battlefields and 
 details to go with them. I secure the names and ad- 
 dresses of the best theatres. I list the museums that 
 ought not to be missed, with accounts of the mummies 
 and other freaks they contain. In short, I plan to make 
 the midshipman ashore so busy he won't have time to 
 tangle himself up with police or anyone else." 
 
 And now he was going to have to report to the Ad- 
 
 167
 
 1 68 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 miral his plan had failed at last. The Connecticut must 
 remain in port to make a search for the missing boy. 
 
 "No other way out," he told his Executive Officer. 
 
 The latter did not reply. He was staring through the 
 open port above the SkippeY's head. 
 
 "Good heavens, sir!" he ejaculated. 
 
 The Skipper looked up sharply, then rose and peered 
 out. "Merciful Heavens !" he snorted, going the Execu- 
 tive one better. 
 
 Then*, without further parley, the two officers snatched 
 their caps, dashed from the cabin, and appeared on deck 
 just too late to give a dozen orders that should have been 
 given fifteen minutes before. 
 
 The reason, of course, was Reggie Van Brunt. His 
 knack of getting himself and other people into trouble 
 had once more been hitting on all six cylinders. 
 
 At noon the day before he had joined the liberty party. 
 "Where to, Reggie?" Bob had asked him. 
 
 "Oh, just wander about a bit." 
 
 Which wasn't the exact truth at all. Reggie had long 
 been fascinated by aircraft of every sort. He had quite 
 made up his mind to apply for the naval aviation corps 
 just as soon after graduation as he would be permitted 
 to enter. 
 
 On this particular day, the Weymouth morning paper 
 contained a brief mention that the R-34, the giant British 
 dirigible which had crossed the Atlantic, was due in 
 Bournemouth that same afternoon. Thus it was natural 
 that Reggie could be seen boarding the one o'clock train 
 for Bournemouth just as it pulled out. 
 
 One hour later, precisely on schedule, the great gas 
 bag appeared. Reggie first caught sight of it as a longish 
 silvery moth in the north. Rapidly it grew in size as it
 
 MISSING 169 
 
 approached. The body swung beneath was soon plainly 
 visible. Giant propellers whirled and the broad hori- 
 zontal and vertical rudders spread out aft like webbed 
 feet of some gigantic water bird. 
 
 "Some little bag, what?" 
 
 Reggie turned to find himself looking into the eyes of 
 a young English flying officer. "Certainly is, sir," he 
 replied enthusiastically. 
 
 "You must be from the American Squadron, aren't 
 
 you 
 
 "Yes, sir. Just ran up here to see what this big fellow 
 looked like. Of course you know we are buying one 
 from you for our own Navy." 
 
 "I do indeed," laughed the Britisher. "My brother 
 is one of the turnover crew. R-38 is her designation, 
 y'know. Whale too. Carries thirty passengers and has 
 something like six thousand miles cruising radius. Able 
 to cross the ocean and back in less time than one of the 
 big liners could make it one way!" 
 
 Reggie's jaw dropped open at the wonder of such 
 achievement in the air. It was difficult to believe how 
 rapid progress was being made. 
 
 "By the way, my name is Calvert." The Englishman 
 held out his hand. 
 
 "Van Brunt is mine," said Reggie promptly. "Do 
 you think it would be possible for me to see some of 
 your planes?" 
 
 "Not a bally reason why you shouldn't. I'm a bit in 
 love with the American Navy myself. Saw a lot of 
 your fellows at one of the air stations during the war. 
 I liked the spirit they had ; always ready for a go any- 
 thing from poker to a bombing party. Action was all 
 they asked for."
 
 170 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 To Reggie's enormous delight the officer led him out 
 of the crowd to a trim roadster bearing the Royal Air 
 Force insignia. 
 
 "We'll run over to the blinkin' meadow," he explained, 
 "and see what the Custards can do for us." 
 
 The "blinking meadow" turned out to be the aviation 
 field; the "Custards" were simply mechanics in work- 
 suits of an egg-yellow material. 
 
 "Like a hop?" 
 
 Reggie hesitated. This was probably an invitation to 
 fly. But he had never flown before. The danger of it 
 rushed suddenly upon him and gave him a queer empty 
 feeling about the region of his belt-buckle. On the other 
 hand, what a wonderful opportunity to get some real ex- 
 perience ! And there was the adventure he might re- 
 count to the gang when he got back abroad ship. 
 
 This last decided him. "You bet!" was his emphatic 
 acceptance. 
 
 By this time they had reached a broad field that con- 
 tained not only the offices, machine shops, and storage 
 sheds, but had at least a thousand acres of gently rolling 
 grassy plain. Near the edge of the field stood a series of 
 queer fence-like signals for machines aloft. Here and 
 there were visible the sunken pits for night landing 
 lights. 
 
 After a short conference with some of the "Custards" 
 the officer telephoned headquarters and reported his in- 
 tended flight. "One passenger," he concluded. "Ameri- 
 can midshipman observation flight." 
 
 Reggie thrilled. Doubtless the incident would be re- 
 ported in the press and he would have himself "on the 
 map" as the Annapolis saying goes. 
 
 Two "Custards" helped him into his flying suit.
 
 MISSING 171 
 
 "Cold up there," Calvert explained. "Went up for 
 an altitude last week and got twenty-six below zero." 
 
 "Not going to try that today, arje you sir?" asked 
 Reggie nervously. 
 
 Calvert laughed. "Not with that old crock." He 
 pointed to a large biplane being wheeled out into the field. 
 "No, I want to give you a look at your ships and the 
 general layout of Portland Harbor." 
 
 The speaker's face suddenly went serious. "There's 
 something else," he said slowly. "Something I can't 
 quite explain unless you know it already. 
 
 Reggie's expression was becomingly blank. 
 
 "One reason I am giving you a lift is to start you off 
 right towards England. Some people in America are 
 always trying to stir up ill-feeling against us. Yet dur- 
 ing the war we fought elbow to elbow. Your battleships 
 and ours put in month after month in the gloom of 
 Scapa Flow, No truer test of friendship could there 
 have been than the dreary grind of that endless monot- 
 ony. We shan't forget it soon. We don't want you to. 
 And you personally I'd like to have understand that we 
 Englishmen are just about the same as anyone else. 
 We're queer sometimes just as Americans are queer. 
 But there's no real reason for either of us ever letting 
 our queernesses go so far that we have to pile out and 
 kill a few millions of each other to prove who's the 
 queerest." 
 
 Reggie smiled pleasantly. He didn't know exactly 
 what to say to this long speech. But he made up his 
 mind that if ever he got the chance he was going to be 
 equally hospitable to an Englishman. It made the world 
 somehow seem much bigger and pleasanter to feel that 
 foreigners could be friends.
 
 172 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 A loud explosion behind him nearly split his eardrums. 
 He jumped and dodged sideways. 
 
 "Just warming up," chuckled Calvert. 
 
 The big engine fired again, then suddenly broke into 
 a continuous roar that made speech of any kind impossible. 
 
 Calvert motioned Reggie up the ladder a Custard had 
 leaned against the body. A moment later the machine 
 began to glide forward, slowly at first, then faster and 
 faster, until without perceptible jerk it cleared the grassy 
 sod. 
 
 Reggie's heart beat like a snare-drum. He glanced over 
 the side. The green earth was dropping swiftly away. 
 Never had it looked so beautiful. Would he ever see 
 it again? 
 
 For a while the plane circled the flying field. The 
 dirigible lay like a mammoth slug at its mooring tower. 
 Around it were visible clusters of black ants that joined 
 and separated with slow movements. A curious sense 
 of unreality came over Reggie as he realized these ants 
 were the crowds of people he had struggled through earlier 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 At an altitude of about 5000 feet, Calvert ceased to 
 climb and lengthened out on a course due south. The 
 sea was now visible as a deep blue bank of color below the 
 lighter-hued and cloud-flecked horizon. 
 
 Weymouth passed beneath them as a mottled smear on 
 the landscape. "Looks as if someone upset a bucket of 
 paint down there," thought Reggie. 
 
 The ships looked more like toys in a bath-tub than like 
 weapons of sea-warfare. Tiny patches of white showed 
 where the crew stood about the decks. 
 
 Reggie nudged the aviator. "There's mine." He 
 framed the words with his lips to make himself under-
 
 MISSING 173 
 
 stood despite the deafening roar of the motors. 
 
 Calvert nodded and smiled. For a moment he appeared 
 to be contemplating a descent, but finally shook his head 
 and turned about. He pointed toward the penitentiary on 
 the summit of Portland Hill and made Reggie look over 
 again as the wreck of a war victim passed beneath. Then 
 he brought the plane to a course back home and settled 
 down for the drive. 
 
 Up to this point Reggie's afternoon had been unusual 
 and exciting. 'But there was no suspicion in his mind that 
 anything might happen in the way of real adventure or 
 actual danger. 
 
 The first event of the series that were to delay Ms 
 return to the ship occurred not long after Weymouth had 
 disappeared astern. Suddenly the roar of the motors 
 ceased. The plane tilted sharply downward, then length- 
 ened out on a long spiral volplane to earth. Fortunately 
 there was an open field almost directly beneath. When the 
 machine had come to a jolting stop Calvert turned to his 
 passenger with a word of apology. 
 
 "Sorry to dump you here, old top. Tank must be leak- 
 ing again. We seem to be entirely out of gas." 
 
 Examination proved the Englishman was right. He 
 cautioned Reggie that the best thing to do was to stay 
 by the plane while he went and got enough fuel from 
 the village just ahead to take them back. He started off 
 at a fast walk. 
 
 At the end of an hour Calvert was still absent. Reg- 
 gie began to be worried. His liberty was up at midnight 
 and the ship was due to sail at ten the next morning. 
 To overstay leave was serious enough in itself. To miss 
 the ship in a foreign port involved so many difficulties that 
 the very thought of them made him miserable.
 
 174 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Just at dusk the lights of an automobile swung along 
 the road by the field. Thinking it must be Calvert, Reg- 
 gie trotted over to meet him. As he stood in the way, 
 the car slowed and stopped. But instead of Calvert there 
 stepped out a British naval officer wearing the uniform of 
 a commander. 
 
 "Hello," he greeted Reggie. "What's up?" 
 
 Reggie explained the situation. "And I'm due back to- 
 night absolutely have to get back !" he almost wailed. 
 
 The commander smiled. "Cheer up. Been there my- 
 self." He paused. "Tell you what we'll do," he went 
 on after a moment. "Leave a note for Calvert. I know 
 him and will explain next time I see him. I'm going to 
 stop for the night just outside Wey mouth. Have a date 
 for dinner, but I can put you up. I know your Admiral 
 and will make it all right for your having stayed over 
 until tomorrow morning." 
 
 The officer spoke with such assurance that Reggie took 
 him at his word and consented to be taken to a pleasant 
 little country inn several miles further on. There his 
 benefactor left him to gorge a delicious dinner. As there 
 were no other guests, the inn-keeper sat down with him 
 and regaled him with all manner of tales about the country 
 thereabouts, the war, and other matters of interest. 
 
 Next morning, as planned, the Commander returned for 
 Reggie. Though he was friendly enough, there seemed 
 to be something he was concealing. Reggie couldn't quite 
 make out whether he was to be the victim of a practical 
 joke, or whether the officer was simply laughing up his 
 sleeve at the plight of an American midshipman wandering 
 around in a strange country trying to get back to his ship. 
 
 "We'll put off at ten," said the Commander. 
 
 "But the ship is due to sail then," protested Reggie.
 
 SOME SORT OF EXCITEMENT 
 SEEMED TO BE GOING OK.
 
 MISSING 175 
 
 The Commander gave another queer smile. "Don't 
 worry about that," he said. 
 
 At Weymouth, Reggie found himself embarked aboard 
 a beautiful little motor-boat that might have been a small 
 cruising yacht. It was manned by a crew of unbelievable 
 cleanliness. Its fittings shone like gold in the morning 
 sunshine. And on its bow, its cushions, its pennant staff, 
 and other parts were placed a curious inscription or coat- 
 of-arms like nothing Reggie had ever seen before. 
 
 Promptly at ten the Commander appeared on the deck 
 with a nice-looking British naval captain. To Reggie's 
 surprise the captain appeared a great deal younger than 
 the commander. And, although he didn't catch the of- 
 ficer's name when he was introduced, he found him so 
 friendly and so interested in American ships that Reggie 
 almost forgot the immense difference between their ranks. 
 
 On the way out the conversation was general, but mostly 
 on naval topics. Several times Reggie had a feeling that 
 he had seen the youthful captain somewhere before. But 
 he couldn't quite place him. 
 
 When the Connecticut was close aboard, Reggie glanced 
 ahead to see if anyone was watching his approach. With 
 sinking heart he saw not only the Skipper and the Execu- 
 tive Officer on deck, but nearly all the other officers. 
 Some sort of excitement seemed to be going on. Bugles 
 were blowing and men were dashing about in every direc- 
 tion. There certainly must be a fire. 
 
 As the motor boat came alongside, there was a piping of 
 whistles and the "attention" was sounded on deck. 
 
 The Commander got out and went up the gangway 
 followed by Reggie. The young English captain ex- 
 plained that he was not going aboard but wished Reggie 
 a pleasant voyage, hoped soon to meet him again.
 
 176 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "We kept one of your young men over last night," Reg- 
 gie heard the Commander saying to the Skipper. 
 
 "Perfectly all right, sir," came the amazing answer. 
 "But the Prince will he come aboard?" 
 
 "Oh no, sir. Just an informal look about the harbor 
 he's having," explained the Englishman. 
 
 "The Prince/' repeated Reggie to himself. "Why that's 
 who it was the Prince of Wales!" He turned quickly 
 and craned his neck to get another look. 
 
 "Get off that gangway, Mr. Van Brunt," ordered the 
 Executive Officer in a fierce whisper.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 CLASS SPIRIT 
 
 ON the night of October fifth, first-classmen at the 
 heads of mess tables in Bancroft Hall knocked for silence 
 and announced : 
 
 "Meeting of the third class in Memorial Hall imme- 
 diately after supper!" 
 
 Tom Poor moved uneasily in his seat. A sense of 
 impending conflict stole over him. It was as if the first- 
 classman's announcement had been a challenge to fight. 
 
 In a way it was ; but not to fight the first-classman. 
 
 "What's that for?" asked the youngster next to Tom. 
 
 "Don't know," was the reply. Then, realizing this was 
 not the exact truth, he added : "Unless it's to elect a new 
 class president." 
 
 "Good thing," returned the other. "Stiles behaved all 
 right in a way. Trouble was we elected him too soon 
 after entering Annapolis. The crowd who had been in 
 the Washington prep school simply picked this man and 
 shoved him through." 
 
 "Funny," mused Tom, "when you come to think of it. 
 Here we are from every state and territory in the Union, 
 even Hawaii and Porto Rico. And just let a small part 
 of us have two months together in a prep school and a 
 regular gang is formed." 
 
 "That's what I mean by saying it's a good thing," agreed 
 the other. "We've now had a year and a cruise to get 
 
 177
 
 178 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 acquainted with each other. And after that came Septem- 
 ber leave to think ourselves over in." 
 
 The speaker turned suddenly to Tom. 
 
 "I've thought it over and I'd pick you!" 
 
 Again Tom squirmed uneasily ; and the sense of coming 
 battle quickened his pulse unpleasantly. This was nearly 
 the twentieth time this evening the same hope of his elec- 
 tion had been suggested by a classmate. 
 
 "And all because Si Stiles happened to fall from his 
 barn and break his leg," thought Tom, "which crippled 
 him and puts him back a class; and puts me ?" 
 
 "Where'd you spend your leave?" broke in the voice 
 next him. 
 
 "West," said Tom absently. "Went up to Ole Hansen's 
 place in Oregon. His father is the biggest wheat man 
 in the state." 
 
 "Have a good time?" 
 
 The question was never answered. Three tables down 
 Tom caught the eyes of a man who sat facing him, study- 
 ing him, measuring him. 
 
 It was Reggie. His chin was cupped in his hand, his 
 elbow on the table ... a new luxury since becoming a 
 third-classman. Plebes must never dare take hands or 
 arms from their laps except to place food into their 
 silent mouths. 
 
 As Reggie stared at Tom, his lips moved. Tom saw 
 the boy next him nod reply. Each time Reggie spoke the 
 other nodded his head. 
 
 "What's hit Van Brunt trying to stare me out of 
 countenance?" blurted Tom. He was used to Reggie's 
 original timidity. This poised self-assurance that enabled 
 him to return Tom's fierce look so calmly was a new de- 
 velopment.
 
 CLASS SPIRIT 179 
 
 "Probably feels a little bloated over being a youngster," 
 continued Tom, answering his own question. 
 
 But he misjudged his rival. Indeed he had not yet 
 fully grasped the fact that Reggie was his rival. 
 
 "Bob," Reggie was saying at this moment, "do you real- 
 ize that the class is divided into two camps ?" 
 
 "I realize that you are getting a leadership you don't de- 
 serve," laughed Bob Gary. "Your highbrow manner, your 
 air of being just about the finest thing on deck, is grad- 
 ually attracting to you all the men who fall for that sort 
 of thing. The curious part of it is that just this kind 
 of weak and silly snobbishness made all the trouble for 
 your plebe year." 
 
 "Is still making trouble," corrected Reggie. "The 
 bunch who were so contemptuous of my early physical 
 weakness and my selfishness all the more bitterly resent 
 my getting pretty good in gym work as well as my few 
 late signs of popularity." 
 
 "Why not take a crack at this election ?" suggested Bob. 
 
 "Not a chance in the world. Fellows like Tom Poor 
 with a football career ahead of them have too much weight 
 of public opinion on their side." 
 
 "But all hands still talk of the killing you made last 
 summer the time you captured the stolen money." 
 
 "Pish! They'll forget that soon enough." Reggie 
 lowered his voice. "I've got a scheme though. You 
 realize that we you and I were gentlemen when we 
 came to Annapolis?" 
 
 "Better go easy on that line," warned Bob. 
 
 "All right. But for the sake of argument call it so. 
 Anyway we've all got to be gentlemen when we graduate 
 because we've got to be naval officers. So why not shove 
 someone across for president who has the makings of a
 
 180 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 gentleman in him, who will understand our gang the 
 'elite,' I believe they call us yet will have the kind of 
 bucko brawn that appeals to the rougher element." 
 
 "Have you a man in mind?" 
 
 "Ole Hansen." 
 
 For a moment Bob did not reply. He wondered why 
 on earth the class should choose a farmer's son as presi- 
 dent. Even though the farmer were wealthy he still 
 was a farmer, a crude product of the western prairies. 
 
 "Can't you see he's both?" continued Tom. "Got the 
 back of an ox, the brain of a profiteer, the polish a 
 generation of wealth can give?" 
 
 "Reggie!' exclaimed Bob, "you're a political genius! 
 I see it all now. Tom Poor is a good fellow in his way. 
 But he's not the all-around man to represent the class. 
 So you've picked one who not only will appeal to both 
 sections of us, but who also is the one person that could 
 defeat Tom Poor !" 
 
 "And Tom Poor is going to take some defeating !" con- 
 cluded Reggie. "Believe me!" 
 
 As the brigade poured out of the vast mess-hall, six- 
 hundred of the blue-clad midshipmen withdrew to the 
 great east chamber known as Memorial Hall. 
 
 About the gray limestone walls were inlaid tablets of 
 bronze dedicated to various naval men who had died in line 
 of duty. Simple inscriptions on each recounted the brief 
 careers of the men who had given their lives for love of 
 country. And in each case was added : "Erected by his 
 classmates." 
 
 "The one true clique in the Navy," it has been called, this 
 class spirit which develops through the four hard years 
 at Annapolis. Bound by memory of infinite toil, not a 
 little hardship, and a common spirit of defense, each
 
 CLASS SPIRIT 181 
 
 Naval Academy class carries it through the long years 
 of wandering as a brotherhood which never dies. 
 
 "Am I the man to lead them?" Tom asked himself on 
 the flagstone steps. "Can they all be my classmates, my 
 friends, my brother officers, and more ?" 
 
 He caught sight of Reggie Van Brunt, noted the boy's 
 unconscious grace of bearing, which for all his lack of 
 physical strength made him a marked figure. 
 
 Tom shook his head. The old resentment, the old 
 jealousy of social standing, boiled up within him. "I 
 doubt it I doubt it," he murmured. "Never could I 
 like Van Brunt, or even those who are his friends." 
 
 The Class Secretary called the meeting to order. 
 
 "Fellows," he began, "it is my painful duty to an- 
 nounce that our former Class President, Stiles, will not 
 be able to rejoin our class owing to the accident he met 
 with on leave. He will return sometime next spring and 
 become a member of the present fourth class." 
 
 Little feeling was displayed at these words. More 
 and more had the class felt the indignity of the means by 
 which Stiles had been elected. Each man was now deter- 
 mined to put up a strong fight for his own particular 
 friend or hero. 
 
 "It has been suggested," he continued, "that we nom- 
 inate our candidates here tonight. We can take a week 
 to carry out campaigns for those put up. Then, next 
 Monday, we can have the final election." 
 
 Instantly several men in different parts of the audi- 
 ence held up their hands. 
 
 "I nominate Tom Poor!" they shouted simultaneously. 
 There was great applause. 
 
 "Any other nominations?" asked the Secretary. 
 
 Then came, one by one, the lesser stars, men backed
 
 182 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 by smaller groups of friends. Among these names was 
 that of Ole Hansen. Only a scattered clapping met the 
 calling of it. Ole was popular enough, but somehow no 
 one ever thought of him as a hero. He was too reserved, 
 too slow to impress his will or personality on those around 
 him. 
 
 Even Reggie's name went down to the tune of many 
 jeers and shouts of : "Oh, you John D. Rockefeller !" 
 
 "Wish I were!" laughed Reggie good-naturedly. He 
 had already lost much of his first sensitiveness about his 
 father's fall from grace. 
 
 For seven days the campaign raged. At meals the 
 youngsters talked little else. 
 
 If a section marching to recitation was heard to buzz, it 
 was known as a youngster section, and its exasperated 
 leader cried unceasingly: "Here, knock off talking in 
 ranks!" 
 
 Notes were passed in classrooms. Whispers were 
 passed at drills. In little knots in the corridors, along the 
 walks, on the athletic field, even under the bleachers, the 
 third class gathered and debated with heated words, some- 
 times violence, the possibilities of their favorite. 
 
 "Swell chance your friend Hansen's got," said Bob 
 to Reggie on the second day. 
 
 "Not if my plan works out," replied the latter. 
 
 "But I hear everybody agreeing on Tom Poor." 
 
 "Not so fast, Bob, old top. Let me put a question to 
 you. Suppose we were going to have two presidents, one 
 for each faction: what kind of men would they be?" 
 
 "Well," replied Bob, "The Rough and Readies, as they 
 call themselves, would have a good physical fighter. We 
 Social Lions, as they term us, would have something of 
 a a"
 
 CLASS SPIRIT 183 
 
 "Knight Errant ?" suggested Reggie. 
 
 "Sounds like what I mean," agreed Bob. 
 
 "Very well," said Reggie mysteriously, "you're go- 
 ing to have them one a physical fighter, as you call him, 
 the other a Knight Errant." 
 
 "But we can't have two," objected Bob. 
 
 "We won't. One man in two characters one man 
 named Ole Hansen." Reggie left them, whistling hap- 
 pily. 
 
 Between lunch and first recitation next day Ole Han- 
 sen was seen by several people walking in Lover's Lane 
 with a rather pretty girl. After drill an even greater 
 number of his class noted him at the same occupation. 
 
 "Funny," commented one ; "I thought Ole Hansen was 
 a woman hater. And he was to be captain of the class 
 football team. Now he's skipping practice for a skirt! 
 Queer how the best men fall for a flounce !" 
 
 Shortly before dark the girl left Ole at the main gate. 
 But even then he shirked his football duties. He hastened 
 to the gymnasium. 
 
 Here another and equally unaccustomed kind of behav- 
 ior marked Ole's presence near the physical instructor's 
 office. He let himself become engaged in a heated and 
 noisy dispute with Buck Mangin, the assistant for wres- 
 tling. 
 
 "What's the world coming to?" asked a youngster at 
 supper. "Saw the Big Swede fussing a Jane and shooting 
 his face all in one afternoon !" 
 
 Others agreed that the combination of woman-hater 
 and clam like Ole Hansen must have been drunk or crazy 
 to spend his time so. 
 
 Next day he again paced the walks with the same girl. 
 A delegation from the class football squad lay in wait
 
 184 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 for him when she left. They were determined to know if 
 he had deserted them for good. 
 
 But Ole eluded the delegation. He got to the gym by 
 a back walk. And in five minutes after his arrival he had 
 called Buck Mangin a liar loud enough for pretty nearly 
 everybody present to hear. 
 
 On the last day in the week, after steady attention, 
 Ole ceased to walk with the girl. He followed her all 
 over the grounds twenty paces in her rear. 
 
 At six P. M. he again visited the gym and picked a quar- 
 rel with Buck Mangin. After two minutes of vigorous 
 conversation he planted a short arm jab on the point of 
 Mangin's jaw. The latter took the count, but recovered 
 sufficiently to put Ole on the report for "fighting," "un- 
 gentlemanly conduct," and several other items he didn't 
 think of at first. 
 
 Just before supper formation, Reggie met Bob in the 
 corridor. He threw his arms about his roommate and 
 started a turkey-trot down the corridor. 
 
 "Stop it, you monkey!" cried the outraged Bob. 
 
 "She's a jewel ! A pippin ! A lollypaloosa !" sang Reg- 
 gie. 
 
 "Who's the girl ?" asked Bob, breaking away. 
 
 "No girl. My scheme, I'm talking about," said Reggie 
 in a hoarse whisper. "It's worked to a f are-you-well !" 
 
 "First I've heard of it," returned Bob suspiciously. 
 
 "You mean to say you haven't heard our crowd pipe 
 their admiration for the way Ole has copped the Governor 
 of Maryland's oldest daughter?" 
 
 "I've seen him trailing a girl all week," admitted Bob. 
 
 "And you haven't got the unofficial results of the au- 
 tumn strength tests, saying Ole is the best all-around de- 
 veloped midshipman in the Naval Academy?"
 
 CLASS SPIRIT 185 
 
 Bob grunted without enthusiasm. "I know Ole is on 
 the pap for calling Buck Mangin a liar and knocking him 
 down." 
 
 Reggie's gaiety remained undamped by his friend's re- 
 fusal to admire the progress of his candidate. 
 
 "Can you keep a secret?" he asked. 
 
 Bob nodded. 
 
 "Well, I framed the whole thing up on Ole. He's 
 the next class president sure as sunrise ! It cost me five 
 pounds of candy every week from now till June to buy 
 the Governor's daughter. Buck Mangin came through for 
 twenty-five dollars though he may want more after this 
 rumpus. He simply faked a report on the tests." 
 
 "You bloomin' idiot !" gasped Bob. "What on earth do 
 you mean?" 
 
 "Only that we got the girl to meet Ole and tell him she 
 had been insulted by a midshipman. Asked him to stick 
 around all week and clean the villain up as soon as she 
 could identify him." 
 
 "Gosh!" was all Bob could say. 
 
 "And Buck Mangin simply started the rumor that Ole 
 was to stand one on the strength tests. We thought it 
 was a failure because Ole happened to get different dope 
 from the real record. But, when he swung on Mangin, 
 he showed up just the caveman stuff we were after to 
 impress the Tom Poor supporters." 
 
 Bob Gary gave Reggie a long and solemn look. 
 
 "Mister Van Brunt," he declared, "either you're the 
 cleverest political manager in Annapolis, or the biggest 
 lunatic at liberty. If you give me till Monday night I'll 
 tell you which." 
 
 Monday night election came. Bob accompanied Reg- 
 gie to Memorial Hall. He wished to give Reggie his
 
 186 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 decision before he had any chance to excuse himself. 
 
 The two approached a group of midshipmen known to 
 be friendly to Tom Poor. One lanky individual who 
 would make the varsity crew this year was holding forth 
 on Tom's long list of virtues. 
 
 "And as for that other kind, Hansen," he concluded, 
 "I haven't got anything really against him, but " he 
 lowered his voice, "did any of you deck-hands see him 
 hang to that bunch of ruffles all last week?" 
 
 Reggie's face fell. 
 
 "It worked, old dear," said Bob in mock praise. "But 
 wasn't the girl stunt meant to help Ole ?" 
 
 "It was," grieved Reggie. 
 
 Across the hall they joined another group. Here at 
 least should be voiced a proper approval of a man who 
 could charm the winsome daughter of a governor. 
 
 "Can you stand the thought of it?" questioned a low, 
 well-modulated voice. "Can you imagine having for a 
 class president a common thug like the one who started 
 that riot in gym this Ole Hansen?" 
 
 Reggie took Bob's arm. 
 
 "I give up," he said dolefully. "Let's don't stay." 
 But Bob held back. "Oh, be a man. Stick around and 
 take your punishment like a sport!" 
 
 The Secretary called the meeting to order. 
 
 "While not necessary," he announced, "in view of the 
 large number of candidates, we should have a written bal- 
 lot." 
 
 Cries of "No ! No !" came from all parts of the class. 
 
 "What would you have then?" 
 
 "Only one man has a chance !" yelled someone in back. 
 
 "Sure!" another took up the cry. "I move we elect 
 Tom Poor by acclamation !" Roars of applause greeted
 
 CLASS SPIRIT 187 
 
 this suggestion. To all appearances Tom was as good as 
 elected. 
 
 But Tom himself had not been consulted. He stood a 
 little back and to one side. Again he was watching Reg- 
 gie Van Brunt, and the friends like Bob Gary who stood 
 near Reggie. And again he knew in his heart that never 
 could he endure so much as the acquaintance of such a 
 man. There was no use pretending. 
 
 He had his ideals and standards. These other fellows 
 like Reggie had theirs. They stood for money and what 
 money could buy. He stood for the strength in a man's 
 back, the honesty in a man's soul. So far as his experi- 
 ence went these society lovers had neither. 
 
 While these thoughts raced through Tom's head the 
 applause grew in volume. 
 
 "Tom Poor speech! President Poor! Speech!" 
 roared the multitude. 
 
 Tom clenched his hands. His mind was made. He 
 would be true to himself at least. He mounted the 
 speaker's table. 
 
 "Fellows," he said when the tumult had died away, "I 
 appreciate the way you've shown your feeling about me. 
 I wish I had some words for telling you how much I 
 appreciate it." 
 
 Cries of "Bet your boots we do!" and "You said a 
 mouthful, Tom !" interrupted him. 
 
 "But I can't take the honor." 
 
 "The heck you can't!" and "Why not?" from all sides. 
 
 "Some day, maybe, I'll explain. It's a private, per- 
 sonal reason though. And I'd rather you wouldn't ask 
 me." 
 
 Silent amazement held the audience. Surely Tom 
 Poor of all people had nothing to hide.
 
 1 88 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "There's one thing I wish to add," he went on. "From 
 some talk I heard tonight I don't believe one of the other 
 candidates is being appreciated by you men. That's Ole 
 Hansen." 
 
 Tom glared somewhat defiantly about him. Then, rais- 
 ing his fist for emphasis, he shouted two questions : 
 
 "How many of you people know that Ole Hansen stuck 
 by a girl for a week in order to get the hound she told 
 him had insulted her?" 
 
 Not a trickle of sound escaped the six-hundred listen- 
 ers. 
 
 "How many of you know that when Ole Hansen 
 knocked down Buck Mangin he was dealing out the only 
 kind of punishment a bribe-taker and a liar deserves in an 
 institution like this?" 
 
 Then in a brief but eloquent way Tom laid bare the 
 two chief objections against the Big Swede this evening. 
 
 Possibly it was Tom that did it. For he kept his place 
 on the table and took the vote himself. 
 
 "All in favor of Ole Hansen," he cried, "right hands 
 up!" 
 
 He didn't stop to count them. 
 
 "Contrary !" he shouted. 
 
 Not a single solitary hand. Ole Hansen was elected ! 
 
 "Well," said Bob a little later, "I'll take it all back, Reg- 
 gie, old skeesicks. You'll be putting 'em in the White 
 House next !" 
 
 Then, because he couldn't stand his roommate's grow- 
 ing conceit, he added : "If there's a Tom Poor around to 
 help you out !"
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 IN SECRET 
 
 A FEW nights after the election there occurred the first 
 of a series of incidents that gave Reggie his greatest 
 chance to serve the class. It was probably the most sen- 
 sational use to which he put his remarkable imagination 
 during his whole four years at Annapolis. 
 
 Through the whole evening study hour, Bob Gary had 
 bent his entire energy on the problems in electrical engi- 
 neering for the ensuing day. "Juice," as the course was 
 called, promised to be a stumbling block. How to apply 
 abstruse mathematics to an invisible current which shot 
 like lightning through a solid wire painfully perplexed 
 him. 
 
 Reggie was absent. The whole two hours from 7.30 
 p. M. to 9.30 P. M. he had been in his little side room 
 tinkering away at some sort of apparatus. 
 
 "Got your probs worked out for to-morrow?" sung out 
 Bob, when finally his brain refused to function any longer. 
 
 An exasperated mumble came from the bedroom. 
 
 "What in Sam Hill are you up to anyway ?" 
 
 Again Reggie gave vent to an inarticulate sound. Bob 
 determined to investigate. 
 
 He found his roommate on his stomach reaching under 
 the radiator. From the window ran a network of wires 
 and strings. On the sill was clamped a small wooden box 
 containing an alarm clock connected by a series of tiny 
 
 189
 
 ipo WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 pulleys and threads both to the window and to some invis- 
 ible mechanism behind the steam coil. 
 
 "Good heavens, Man !" exclaimed "Bob. "Are you go- 
 ing in for infernal machines?" 
 
 For reply Reggie rose triumphantly to his feet and an- 
 nounced : "Wait, Impatient One, and thou shalt see." 
 
 Whereupon he removed the alarm clock carefully from 
 its refuge, wound it, and set its warning bell. Next he 
 opened the window. Which done, he proceeded to get into 
 bed, shoes and all. 
 
 "We shall now assume it is that sad minute before re- 
 veille," he explained. "I am dreaming of of, let us say, 
 interminable ranks of chocolate cakes. Now watch." 
 
 Bob patiently eyed the machinery. The minute hand 
 reached the hour for which the alarm was set. Instantly 
 there arose from the vitals of the radiator a strange buzz- 
 ing noise. Miraculously strings and wires moved. The 
 window shuddered. An invisible force was compelling it 
 to move, to break from its lifeless trance. 
 
 Then, so suddenly that Bob himself jumped, the win- 
 dow leaped from its seat and closed with a crash that 
 shook the washstand. Splintered glass flew dangerously 
 into the room. Then the entire pane tumbled out of its 
 frame and clattered upon the iron radiator below. De- 
 struction was complete. 
 
 Sharply Reggie rose from his bed. For a moment he 
 eyed the wreckage. Ten demerits it stood for : "dam- 
 aging government property," the regulations listed it. 
 
 "It worked !" he said at last. 
 
 "It sure did," agreed Bob with enthusiasm. "How 
 much, may I ask, do you expect to make out of this 
 noble window-closing device?"
 
 IN SECRET igi 
 
 Reggie opened his mouth to answer. 
 
 BANG! 
 
 A sudden sharp explosion like a pistol shot rattled the 
 glass door. 
 
 "What's that?" For a moment Reggie forgot his own 
 devastation. 
 
 Bob had already reached the door. "Across the hall !" 
 he cried, and rushed out. Two plebes lived opposite. 
 Several other midshipmen had preceded Bob in reaching 
 them. The plebes stood at attention. 
 
 Their room was a mess. Ink splattered the walls, the 
 ceiling, the occupants, the one remaining electric lamp. 
 Blood ran from cuts on the cheeks and hands of the 
 plebes. 
 
 An upperclassman at once began the investigation. 
 
 "Who did this?" 
 
 "Don't know, sir," from the plebe. 
 
 "Don't know you've got to know !" 
 
 "Guess the ink bottle blew up, sir." 
 
 "How ?" 
 
 "Somebody put a lithia tablet or something in it." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "A third-classman, I think, sir." 
 
 "You think do you know?" was the angry question. 
 
 "Yes sir, it was a third-classman." 
 
 The upper-classman turned to Bob and Reggie who 
 had recognized him as Bradley of the second class. 
 
 " 'Bout time you youngsters learned when and where 
 to stop !" he blurted ; then stalked out of the room. 
 
 The next incident that bore heavily on Reggie's future 
 occurred two weeks later. It was hop night. Reggie 
 had no girl. But the unaccustomed privilege of attend-
 
 192 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 ing hops which he had been denied as a plebe made one 
 almost an adventure. 
 
 Music and lights, swirling couples, gay laughter, and 
 subtle perfumes combined to make an atmosphere of 
 brilliant social activity which struck at the roots of Reg- 
 gie's romantic soul. 
 
 "Most beautiful place for a dance !" exclaimed a fem- 
 inine voice at his elbow. 
 
 "Nothing like it on the Atlantic coast!" agreed her 
 partner with geographical abandon. 
 
 Reggie shuddered. Could there be any pleasure in 
 talking such namby-pamby stuff when the very air was 
 surcharged with deepest human emotions? 
 
 "Go easy, you ham!" in a tense whisper behind him 
 broke into his reverie. He turned to find that a rather 
 stern looking young lady had been backed up against him 
 by the movement of the crowd. 
 
 To his astonishment this most unladylike remark ap- 
 peared to have come from her. For at once her escort 
 replied in quite a different and far less exasperated 
 voice: "Excuse me, dearie, I couldn't help it." Then 
 he snickered and winked. 
 
 There was something so uncouth in the whole per- 
 formance that Reggie followed the couple with his eyes. 
 Even when they took the floor their dancing was not en- 
 tirely what could be expected of the dignity of an An- 
 napolis hop. 
 
 As the girl left her coat at the door to the ladies' 
 dressing-room Reggie determined to discover her identity. 
 He soon found her partner, one of his own classmates, 
 waiting in the passageway. 
 
 "Say, Smythe," he asked as pleasantly as he could, 
 "who's that goodlooker you've got?"
 
 IN SECRET 193 
 
 Midshipman Smythe turned a stern gaze on Reggie. 
 "What's it to you?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, nothing," replied Reggie, taken aback. "But I 
 rather liked her looks and was interested; that's all, I 
 promise you." 
 
 Abruptly Smythe broke into a chuckle that shook him 
 first, then made him speechless. 
 
 "It's Beverly!" he gasped finally. "Beverly, with his 
 sister's clothes on and a wig and real corsets and all! 
 And you didn't recognize your own classmate ! Oh, that's 
 rich !" 
 
 Reggie tried to laugh. When he found he couldn't 
 laugh he tried to say something. Speech failing, he 
 turned and hurried away. He was of half a mind to re- 
 port the outrage. "Low mucker stuff !" he thought to 
 himself. 
 
 The climax of his growing sense of class humiliation 
 came on the following Monday. Due to a strained knee 
 from too much flying ring work he had been excused 
 from marching to recitation with the regular section. In 
 consequence he reached the chemical laboratory slightly 
 ahead of the others. 
 
 Outside he removed his rainclothes and overshoes, the 
 uniform of the day. Within stood the two instructors, 
 lieutenants. Said one lieutenant loud enough for Reggie 
 to hear : "Who's next ?" 
 
 "Youngster class in chemistry," replied the other. 
 
 "Oh, that fresh bunch!" 
 
 "Fresh is right." 
 
 "Haven't got over being plebes yet, have they?" 
 
 "Or else not into being officers and gentlemen." 
 
 "Let's throw the hooks into them, what do you say?" 
 
 "Hooks is right."
 
 194 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Reggie lost the rest. With burning cheeks he turned 
 and walked out of earshot. 
 
 As soon as the afternoon drill was over, he got hold of 
 Bob Gary. "Something important I've got to tell you," 
 he explained. By one of the great portico pillars he 
 bared his secret. 
 
 "You mean our class is getting in bad?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Exactly. And a very few are responsible for the 
 whole thing. They're up to tricks that can't be covered 
 either by hazing or regulations. Yet so long as we wear 
 the same number of stripes on our arms, and are known 
 as belonging to the same class here, we've got to share 
 the mortification of being partners in the fool stunts 
 they're pulling off." 
 
 "Agreed. But what are you going to do about it?" 
 
 "Don't know, except in a general way." Reggie waved 
 one hand as if reaching for some invisible object. "Do 
 you remember," he continued after a moment, "how they 
 used to do out west before the law got on its feet?" 
 
 "Shoot 'em on sight?" suggested Bob. 
 
 "Not entirely," grinned Reggie. "No, they used 
 to organize a sort of secret gang who could be depended 
 upon to hate all sorts of lawlessness. This gang was 
 called the Vigilance Committee. That's what we need 
 to bolster up the rep. of our youngster class." 
 
 Bob looked serious. "I agree with you. I'm just as 
 ashamed as you of being a youngster these days. But 
 I'm hanged if I can see my way clear to any such scheme 
 as yours. Clubs or fraternities are not allowed at An- 
 napolis. Also we don't know who'd stick by us." 
 
 "Watch me !" said Reggie with the same sort of swag- 
 ger he had used on the occasion of promising Ole Han- 
 sen's election.
 
 IN SECRET 195 
 
 "I am, you bet!" Bob was looking with growing ad- 
 miration upon the singular genius of his friend who could 
 figure out things the other fellows never even saw till 
 they were all over. 
 
 Next morning Tom Poor received a typewritten let- 
 ter in the mail. It read: 
 
 DEAR POOR / address you as an influential member of 
 the third class. Your class needs jacking up. They 
 can't be hazed. And the law doesn't cover all the crimes 
 they are committing. In a word they're too fresh. 
 Such a thing as a midshipman attending a hop disguised 
 as a girl is outrageous! I suggest you do something about 
 it. If you don't the authorities will. Signed AN IN- 
 TERESTED SPECTATOR. 
 
 He read it a second time to Ole. "Now what do you 
 know about that!" 
 
 "I know it's true," said Ole promptly. "It'd be truer 
 if we knew some of the other things that are going on 
 around here. First time I ever heard of the girl busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "I suppose one of the officers wrote it." 
 
 "Of course," agreed Ole. "An upperclassman would 
 have come to us direct." 
 
 "How about one of our own class?" 
 
 "Don't believe any of them realize how bad we're get- 
 ting in with those above us." 
 
 For two days Ole worried over the problem. As class 
 president it was up to him to discover a remedy. On the 
 third day Bob Gary stopped him on the terrace. 
 
 "Hansen, some of our class are playing that 'inkwell- 
 bomb' game again. I don't like to tell tales, but it's a
 
 196 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 dangerous trick. Some day a plebe is going to lose an 
 eye. As a class we're getting in bad over it." 
 
 "What would you suggest?" Memory of the anony- 
 mous letter leaped to Ole's mind. 
 
 "A sort of Vigilance Committee," advised Bob, just 
 as Reggie had coached him to. Reggie felt his own posi- 
 tion was too delicate for him to approach Hansen. So 
 after he had sent the anonymous letter, he simply 
 watched Hansen for signs of its effect. Having given 
 him two days of anxiety, he now sent Bob with the sug- 
 gested scheme for a way out. 
 
 Ole took the bait, hook, sinker, and all. 
 
 "Just the hunch I am looking for!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "But how are you going to pick them?" Even Reg- 
 gie was in doubt about this point. 
 
 "On the representative basis, of course. One from 
 each company in the brigade. Also one athlete and one 
 fusser. Would you be sore if I put you down for the 
 fusser ?" 
 
 Bob laughed. "You couldn't make me sore, old man. 
 I'll take the appointment even if it's half an insult." 
 
 Ole put his hand on the other's shoulder. "You know 
 what I really mean, don't you? You're the best one to 
 represent the crowd that does go in for girls and that 
 stuff more than Tom Poor and I." 
 
 "Look here, Hansen," burst in Tom, "let's cut this 
 idea that the class is divided. The sooner we realize that 
 we're third-classmen, everyone of us, the sooner we'll 
 make life here the best it can be." 
 
 Ole held out his hand. "Right you are! And, if 
 what Lieutenant Ruggles says is so, this class spirit is 
 going to follow us around the world. And further, he 
 claims that it is at the bottom of the wonderful way
 
 IN SECRET 197 
 
 Navy men hang together no matter what their class. 
 From New York to Melbourne, Australia, when one 
 officer meets another, each knows the other has a whole 
 blooming class behind him and always will have!" 
 
 Bob's face glowed. "Think of the years we've got!" 
 he cried. 
 
 "I do," said Ole. "Is there a job to beat it?" 
 
 On the following evening fourteen men met after 
 evening study hour in Ole's room. In low and earnest 
 tones he explained the reasons for which he had called 
 them together. He emphasized the absolute need for 
 secrecy. He also described the necessity for him, as 
 class president, to be kept out of the society. 
 
 "And finally," he said in conclusion, "this must never 
 be considered as any sort of spy system. This is not 
 Russia. It is the United States Naval Academy. We 
 are bonded together to protect the honor and good name 
 of the class." 
 
 "But we can act, can't we?" asked one. 
 
 "I should suggest you punish an offender against the 
 class in such a way that everyone will know it. Let the 
 news get about that we won't stand for such behavior 
 as a few dubs have been guilty of." 
 
 "We can meet here, can't we, and let you in on the 
 cases ?" 
 
 "I'd rather you wouldn't," said Ole with some regret. 
 
 "It isn't that I'm not all for you. But if the class 
 loses faith in me, it will do as much harm as some of 
 the low tricks I've told you about." 
 
 After the taps inspection, Bob got quietly out of bed 
 and went into Reggie's room to relate the progress of 
 the plan. 
 
 "Man," he told him, "you're a highbrow of the high-
 
 198 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 browest type! Why the way this scheme is working 
 makes me think you'd carry off a Central American rev- 
 olution with one hand tied behind you!" 
 
 Reggie held up his hand. "Off with the slush," said 
 he. "There's a job on hand this very moment." 
 
 "Not tonight !" 
 
 "Pretty nearly. Ought to be planned tonight." 
 
 "Shoot what is it?" 
 
 "Chemical job." 
 
 "Gee! Are we able to handle anything as deep as 
 that?" 
 
 " Tisn't deep it's high. Highest stink that ever 
 stunk!" 
 
 Reggie held his nose and waved an expressive hand in 
 the semi-darkness. Then leaning close to Bob, he whis- 
 pered: 
 
 "It's that same crowd who go in for the inkwell game. 
 I saw them after chemistry class this morning. They 
 mixed a pot of the foulest stinkerino that ever tanned a 
 morgue. One winked at the other and said something 
 about guessing this would make 'em roll over and flop !" 
 
 "You mean these youngsters are going to haze with 
 poison gas?" 
 
 "Can't tell yet what they're up to. You have got to 
 have one of the committee watch them close. Stand 
 by to nab them and lay 'em out for such a rotten trick." 
 
 "I'll do it first thing in the morning." 
 
 With a vast pride at his roommate's mental superior- 
 ity, Bob crept back to his little iron bedstead.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 TRAITORS ! 
 
 NEXT morning's recitation of the third-class selections 
 in chemistry were the same as usual except that the 
 instructor gave a brief talk on the nature of the mole- 
 cule beforehand. 
 
 "Take the most infinitesimal particle of water known 
 to man," said he. "Break it up into smaller particles 
 quite invisible. Then divide these into ten-thousand even 
 tinier particles. And still you would fall short of the 
 ultra-microscopic form of the molecule itself." 
 
 Silence of intense interest pervaded the room. 
 
 The officer turned to his blackboard. With a piece of 
 chalk he drew a circle. "Take this as the molecule," he 
 continued. "Imagine " 
 
 But his back was turned. Imaginations didn't have to 
 work so hard when not under the direct eye of the master. 
 
 One midshipman watched him intently. Two more 
 midshipmen tiptoed quietly to one side. When the in- 
 structor faced about from time to time the watcher 
 snapped his fingers lightly. At which signal the other 
 two came instantly to a halt and assumed an air of the 
 most rapt attention. 
 
 A fourth midshipman, partially concealed by an inter- 
 vening desk, watched the antics of the other three. It 
 was Reggie. The other three were the "ink-well" gang. 
 
 The two moving midshipman reached a cabinet which 
 
 199
 
 200 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 was locked. One inserted a key that fitted with strange 
 ease. The cabinet door opened without attracting the 
 attention of the instructor. From it the midshipmen 
 took several bottles. Each bottle was secreted on their 
 persons by means of slipping them in the slack portion of 
 each sock. 
 
 Socks make excellent pockets on occasion. 
 
 At noon Reggie cornered Bob. "They hooked the 
 bottles of reagents and brought them back to quarters," 
 he said. 
 
 "Who did? What reagents?" Even Bob had trouble 
 keeping up with Reggie's extraordinary sleuth work. 
 
 "That inkwell gang. I told you they were concocting 
 some sort of stinkerino yesterday. Well, today they 
 carried off enough of the ingredients to make a quart or 
 more of the stuff." 
 
 "What stuff?" 
 
 "Don't know, unless it's something like potassium iso- 
 cyanide, I believe they call it, a mixture of several chem- 
 icals that makes the most frightful stench when poured 
 out and allowed to evaporate." 
 
 "You think they're going to use it around here?" 
 
 "That's what we've got to find out !" 
 
 "But what if they should? They may not get caught 
 and it won't hurt anyone." 
 
 Reggie shrugged his shoulders. "Gosh, but you're 
 hopeless, Bob. Don't you know that it's only the young- 
 ster class that has a chemical course this time of the 
 year? If such a stunt were pulled, say in a public place 
 like the auditorium, everybody in Annapolis would know 
 it was one of us that did it. It wouldn't be a practical 
 joke with any real humor in it. Simply we get in worse 
 and worse with all hands and the ship's cook. It's
 
 TRAITORS! 201 
 
 just this sort of ruffianism we're out to put an end to." 
 
 Bob lost no time reporting the conspiracy to Ole. 
 
 "But where would they try such a thing?" Ole was 
 skeptical. 
 
 "Some public place," said Bob, using Reggie's own 
 words. 
 
 "Theatre you mean ?" 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 Ole shook his head. His faith in his classmates some- 
 how couldn't be killed with the ease these would-be de- 
 tectives killed theirs. 
 
 "The only thing to do is to shadow them," he finally 
 agreed. "You and Tom live nearest them. Suppose 
 you two keep your eye on them." 
 
 Tom assented at once. His sense of public welfare 
 induced him to snap at any weapon to use against a com- 
 mon enemy. 
 
 "But suppose we do catch them," he said after thinking 
 for a minute, "will that help any? If they pour out a 
 bottle of stink and we land on their necks even a second 
 later, won't that just make four third-classmen instead 
 of two involved?" 
 
 This view of the problem was too much for the three. 
 Bob returned to Reggie in some discouragement. But 
 when he explained the weakness of the scheme, Reggie's 
 only retort was, "use your bean!" 
 
 "I have." 
 
 "It's a poor quality bean," chuckled Reggie. 
 
 "Go on," growled Bob. "What's the catch?" 
 
 "Why lead the mob away of course. It's a trick we 
 used to get off at prep school. Gilbert has flashlight pel- 
 lets for sale in his drug store. Take some with you 
 when you are trailing the villains. Soon as they drop the
 
 202 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 stinko, light a pellet and yell 'fire.' All hands will get 
 out of the way long enough for you to throw some am- 
 monia on the stinko and neutralize it." 
 
 "Sounds crazy certainly sounds insane!" returned 
 Bob. "But so do all your other ideas." 
 
 Tom took longer to convince than Bob. Stubbornly 
 he clung to the idea that throwing the flashlight pellet 
 was just as bad as what the other rascals were doing. 
 
 "But by the time everyone finds out it isn't serious we 
 shall have dumped on ammonia and killed the odor." 
 
 "Too deep for me," protested Tom; "but I'm game, I 
 will say that." 
 
 By Saturday noon Tom and Gary representing the 
 Vigilants, were equipped with half a dozen flashlight 
 pellets and a pint bottle of household ammonia. 
 
 They came to dinner with their best uniforms on pre- 
 pared to follow the suspects out in town if necessary. 
 The minute the meal was over they rushed to the main 
 entrance of 'Bancroft Hall and waited. 
 
 Not till nearly an hour later did the three "inkwell" 
 criminals appear. They passed without noticing their 
 classmates Poor and Gary, lurking behind the massive 
 bronze doors. 
 
 "Did you see that one carried a package?" whispered 
 Bob. "Bottle of the stuff, I guess." 
 
 The three youngsters took the main walk, not towards 
 the town gate, but exactly bound for the Superintendent's 
 quarters. 
 
 "Thundering Cats!" ejaculated 'Bob. "They're going 
 to the Supe's!" 
 
 Then he remembered the football game had been called 
 off for that afternoon, and a reception was being given at 
 Admiral Treadwell's house.
 
 TRAITORS! 203 
 
 Attendance at such affairs is by no means compulsory 
 to any midshipman. But it is desirable that members of 
 the brigade take advantage of their privilege to call 
 upon officers and to be present at certain afternoon func- 
 tions. In no better way can early social training be dis- 
 tributed among the boys. Thus is laid the foundation of 
 a future social poise that shall be called into service in 
 the courts of all lands. 
 
 The large and well appointed house was crowded with 
 officers and their wives, midshipmen and their visiting 
 girls, and just plain stags. To the latter belonged the 
 small group who were in course of making Annapolis 
 history. 
 
 Bob and Tom entered a few minutes later than the 
 other three. They didn't wish to appear to be following. 
 Also there was no sure evidence that this was to be the 
 scene of the coming crime. 
 
 "Think of the outrageousness of it !" exclaimed Tom in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "Unspeakable !" agreed Bob. 
 
 They spoke to the Superintendent's wife within sixty 
 seconds of the others' presentation. When the others took 
 ice and some punch, Tom and Bob took the same ice and 
 the same punch. 
 
 The three "Inkwellers" gathered in a corner. Instead 
 of politely mingling with the guests, they stood together 
 and whispered. Then one left and slipped through the 
 door into the hall. 
 
 "Quick," directed Bob. "Stand by with your pellet at 
 this end of the hall, and I'll chase down with the ammonia. 
 I've got it in my sock." 
 
 By the time Bob reached the vestibule, the man he 
 sought was fumbling in his coat pocket. A paper parcel
 
 204 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 suddenly slipped to the floor. Bob dived for it. It 
 must be the bottle. He might yet save the situation if he 
 could prevent its horrible contents from spilling. 
 
 "Hands off!" snapped the owner. 
 
 He snatched for the parcel and tore part of the wrapper 
 off. Through the hole was visible the toe of a shoe. 
 
 "Just trying to be decent," growled Bob, as the best 
 excuse he could invent. 
 
 "Excuse me, too," said the other with a silly grin. "I 
 thought it was another package I have. One I couldn't 
 afford to drop!" 
 
 Bob turned away quickly to hide the satisfaction he 
 knew must be in his face. He nearly collided with Tom. 
 
 "I lit it!" exclaimed the latter. "Ought to go in a 
 moment." 
 
 Without replying Bob dashed for the end of the hall. 
 He realized that Tom had seen the parcel drop and, think- 
 ing the "stuff" must be out, had lit his pellet. Bob's 
 only chance was to douse the flashlight before it exploded 
 and created a scandal that would involve the innocent 
 ones instead of the guilty. 
 
 He dived for it on his hands and knees. By sheer 
 good fortune the pellet's fuse had gone out. 
 
 "About enough of that behavior!" said a stern voice 
 above him. 
 
 Bob turned to find himself face to face with Lieutenant 
 Ruggles. 
 
 "You may leave at once !" commanded the officer. "We 
 shall discuss this matter later." 
 
 Crestfallen and discouraged, Bob sought Tom and told 
 him what had happened. Luckily, the three villains 
 were also taking their leave so the pursuit could be con- 
 tinued.
 
 TRAITORS! 205 
 
 "I haven't much heart for it now," confessed Bob. 
 "We've got ourselves in pretty nearly as wrong for 
 running races up and down the Supe's front hall as if 
 we had let off a stink bomb." 
 
 At the gate one of the three in front said good-bye 
 to the others. The midshipman who had practically ad- 
 mitted to Bob his having the bottle of "stuff" in his pos- 
 session continued with his companion into town. 
 
 At the Colonial theatre they bought tickets to the 
 afternoon movies. Bob and Tom entered a moment later. 
 
 The two ahead took seats on one side of an aisle near 
 the front. Shadow of an overhanging box nearly con- 
 cealed them from the audience. An exit door opened 
 within a few feet of them. 
 
 Bob and Tom dropped silently in the next seat to the 
 rear. 
 
 For ten minutes the criminals made no move that in 
 any way could be connected with the suspicions of the 
 watchful pair behind. 
 
 Then one glanced at his watch. "A quarter past three," 
 he whispered. "By twenty after it'll be time and we can 
 get out right here." 
 
 Bob and Tom caught the words. They were on their 
 toes at once. Tom drew one of the pellets and his 
 matches from his pocket. 
 
 Twice more the midshipman in front studied his watch. 
 Then, "Now, it's all right," he said in a low voice. 
 
 Instantly both leaned over for their hats. A clinking 
 sound came from under the seat. Both rose quickly and 
 strode through the exit into the air. 
 
 "They've done it !" exclaimed Bob. "I heard the bottle 
 break." 
 
 Without wasting time to reply, Tom dived low, struck
 
 206 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 a match to the pellet, and sailed it under the seats ahead 
 where it landed with a slight thud against the orchestra 
 rail. 
 
 "Puff!" 
 
 A blinding flash of light filled the hall. Clouds of 
 smoke rolled up across the screen, obliterating the pic- 
 tures. 
 
 "Fire!" screamed a woman. 
 
 Instantly the lights were turned on. The audience 
 leaped to their feet. There was every evidence of a serious 
 panic. 
 
 "Silence !" thundered a voice. Tom sprang to the backs 
 of two seats. "Slowly out slowly women first slowly 
 ' lots of time " 
 
 He called the words in the heavy well-controlled tones 
 he had learned two years before when heaving the lead 
 from a battleship's deck, while the whipping gale did 
 its best to snatch his voice from his very throat and toss 
 it far from the anxious navigator on the bridge above. 
 
 "Slowly" 
 
 And, to the amazement of those who feared the greater 
 danger of a terrified mass of people, the audience took 
 heed. 
 
 "Slowly lots of time " here and there were saner 
 minds who took the cry up. 
 
 Suddenly a civilian stepped up to 'Bob. "Who is that 
 fellow?" 
 
 "Tom Poor, third-classman," replied Bob, before he 
 realized what he was doing. His only thought at the time 
 was in praise of the great presence of mind and command 
 of voice his friend was displaying in the emergency. 
 
 Then it was all over. The crowd were out. The 
 stranger had disappeared. The volunteer firemen that ar-
 
 TRAITORS! 207 
 
 rived had voiced their disgust and disappointment. 
 
 "Better make the side door," suggested Bob. Before 
 he went he looked under the seat ahead of him. On the 
 floor, instead of the bottle of chemicals as he had ex- 
 pected, he found an empty candy jar! 
 
 The bomb had never been sprung! 
 
 "Heaven help us!" groaned Bob on the way back. 
 
 "Take more than Heaven to clear us out of this after- 
 noon's work!" was Tom's dismal reply. 
 
 "You don't know the worst yet," continued Bob. "I 
 was fool enough to tell a stranger your name. I thought 
 he was going to thank you for your sense in quieting 
 the audience." 
 
 "And instead," supplied Tom bitterly, "you just let 
 him know who set the opera house on fire!" 
 
 With a heavy heart Bob went up to his room. He 
 hoped Reggie wouldn't be there. At this moment he 
 hated his roommate. The whole plan had been so im- 
 practicable, so silly, from the very beginning he felt 
 ashamed for having let the other drag him into it. 
 
 "It's just I'm so stupid that when a simp like Reggie 
 busts out with an idea I fall for it at once, no matter how 
 imbecile it may be!" 
 
 Having delivered this self-denunciation, Bob threw him- 
 self upon the bed and fell asleep. 
 
 He was awakened by the bugle call for supper forma- 
 tion. He had just time to throw on his uniform and dash 
 down the four flights of steps. 
 
 Near the Duty Officer's room he saw the crowd break- 
 ing up. By the time he reached the point where they had 
 been standing he caught a sniff of a dreadful stench. He 
 stopped dead. 
 
 "Not here!" he exclaimed.
 
 208 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 He stepped up and, opening the door a crack, peeped 
 in. The room had been lately swabbed out. A uniform 
 suit was hung over the back of a chair. It was streaked 
 and burnt with what looked like acid. Despite that all 
 windows were open the odor that filled the room was suf- 
 focating and horrible. 
 
 Bob stepped into ranks just as the "late bugle" blew. 
 He was conscious of a queer sense of unreality. The 
 bomb had been sprung. But all the trail that he and Tom 
 had followed so faithfully had led to nothing! 
 
 An awful suspicion crossed his mind. Could it be pos- 
 sible that Reggie had put them on it on purpose to con- 
 ceal the villainy in quarters? 
 
 At the table he leaned across to Reggie. "Look here, 
 you fool," he whispered fiercely, "how about all that dime 
 novel stuff you hung on Tom and me ? Didn't you know 
 the game was to be played right here in Bancroft Hall ?" 
 
 The insult missed its mark entirely. "Keep your shirt 
 on," returned Reggie calmly. 
 
 After supper third-class meeting was published for 
 seven-fifteen. 
 
 Tom and Bob went silently and with the gloomiest 
 forebodings to the hall. 
 
 Ole took the table. "Fellows," he announced, "the 
 Duty Officer, Lieutenant Ruggles, asked me to have you 
 all up here tonight. He has something to say to you. 
 Here he is now." 
 
 The officer climbed up and faced his audience with the 
 pleasant smile that had made him so popular with them. 
 Every midshipman well knew this smile, and how it was 
 worth a square deal on every occasion. Not that Ruggles 
 wasn't as strict as the strictest. But somehow he hadn't 
 entirely forgotten his own midshipman days, and he made
 
 TRAITORS! 209 
 
 an effort to see the midshipman's point of view in every 
 difficulty. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he began, "I have got you here for a 
 purpose that cannot be covered in any possible way than 
 by an informal talk. The talk will be brief. It has to do 
 with class spirit." 
 
 Tom and 'Bob heaved sighs part relief, part anxiety. 
 
 "Yesterday," continued the speaker, "one of your 
 chemistry instructors, a classmate of my own by the way, 
 informed me that he suspected a certain three midship- 
 men of making what I believe you call a 'stink pot/ 
 He had no basis for making an official report. Yet he 
 felt that not only the third class but the whole Academy 
 would suffer by the perpetration of such a nasty and 
 pointless joke in some public place. I agreed with him." 
 
 "Me too," echoed a score of youngsters under their 
 breath. 
 
 "Today I spotted the three scoundrels on their way 
 to the Superintendent's house. This was in the nature 
 of an alibi. Two of them went on out to the theatre 
 for still further evidence that they were in no way con- 
 nected with the crime. Then, between three and three- 
 thirty, when it was known I would be on inspection, 
 the third man, who had remained behind, sneaked into 
 my room in quarters and smashed the bottle against the 
 wall. I caught him red-handed." 
 
 For a moment there was silence. Then, with one ac- 
 cord, the class broke into a storm of honest applause. 
 
 Ruggles smiled and held up his hand. "Thank you," 
 he said, "for feeling that way about it. I truly believed 
 that the class as a whole was against such behaviour." 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a paper. 
 
 "One more thing. Just to show you how the actions of
 
 210 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 one or two may reflect upon the whole class, let me read 
 you this. It is a note the Admiral just received from the 
 owner of the Colonial Theatre. 'In the name of my 
 clients permit me to thank you, Admiral Treadwell, for 
 the remarkable action of one of your midshipmen in sav- 
 ing us from a disastrous panic this afternoon. He is a 
 third-classman named Poor, I think.' " 
 
 " 'Ray for Tom Poor !" yelled someone. 
 
 "Don't cheer him," laughed the Lieutenant. "Any one 
 of you would have done the same I think. The main 
 point is that the Admiral said when he handed me the 
 note: 'Why I thought that was the class giving us 
 so much trouble. Guess I'm mistaken.' " 
 
 " 'Ray for the Youngster Class !" came from the back. 
 
 "Now you're talking sense !" retorted the officer. "And 
 I'll leave you to cheer it if you'll just let me say for the 
 benefit of one midshipman " he looked sharply at Bob 
 for an instant too short for anyone to notice "that a 
 small unpleasantness at the Superintendent's this after- 
 noon has completely slipped my mind !" 
 
 Amid the cheers of their jostling classmates and quite 
 unseen by even the men jammed closest, Bob's hand 
 went out to Tom's, then met, gripped, and dropped.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 PIRATES 
 
 "I'VE got to get away!" complained Tom. 
 
 "Me too," agreed Ole despondently. 
 
 "And have my own ship." 
 
 "And sail where we please !" 
 
 "No one around to tell us what to do and when to 
 doit!" 
 
 "You bet!" 
 
 This conversation was the beginning of the most haz- 
 ardous and yet most nearly naval adventure that befell 
 Tom during his midshipman days. 
 
 Football season had been succeeded by basketball, wrest- 
 ling, and other gym sports. The semi-annual examina- 
 tions with all their terror were forgotten in the excite- 
 ment of crew baseball, and track. June week had come 
 and gone. 
 
 And then, instead of the cruise, a plan was put in 
 effect to keep a small number of the new second class, to 
 which Tom belonged, at Annapolis for the purpose of 
 helping in the instruction of entering plebes. 
 
 "Three months of drill, drill, drill!" Tom described 
 it after it had finally come to an end. 
 
 "Or else grinding back and forth over Chesapeake Bay 
 trying to make a lot of farmers' and bankers' sons find out 
 which end of an oar ought to be put into the water," con- 
 tinued Ole. 
 
 Now both were in a mutinous mood. 'Both felt it 
 
 211
 
 212 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 necessary to break away from the galling discipline long 
 enough to blow off steam at least. 
 
 "How about a cruise of our own ?" suggested Tom. 
 
 "No boat," growled Ole. "The first-classmen have al- 
 ready put in for the big sloop. They expect to go as far 
 as Hampton Roads." 
 
 The same hot August afternoon both boys wandered 
 down to the harbor front of the old town for a mess of 
 Pinkney's softshell crabs. Pinkney was one of the old- 
 time darkies who had been a slave as a boy. His whole 
 life he had spent in oyster or crabbing boats running in 
 and out of the ports of Baltimore and Annapolis. 
 
 "The trouble with hiring a boat is the cost of it," con- 
 tinued Tom, as they seated themselves at the little round 
 table. 
 
 Pinkney cocked up his ear. "Does you gemmen wish a 
 sailing vessel, suh?" he asked showing his white teeth 
 in a broad grin. 
 
 "We certainly do," said Ole quickly. "We've decided 
 to turn pirates, Pinkney, and we're looking for a ship." 
 
 The old darkey scratched his head. "I'se got a boat 
 what would be the very thing, suh." He stepped to the 
 door and pointed to a little two-masted schooner lying 
 at anchor near the sea-wall. 
 
 "Exactly what we want !" exclaimed Tom. 
 
 "You kin have him, suh," continued the proprietor, 
 "on one condition." 
 
 "Name it." 
 
 "An' dat is, suh, that you give him a coat of paint when 
 you-all's finished an " he cleared his throat "an 
 kinda boost up old Pinkney's shop next winter." 
 
 Both midshipmen laughed. "Easy enough," agreed 
 Tom. "And I'm glad to advertise you all I can. You've
 
 PIRATES 
 
 213 
 
 got the best oyster house in Annapolis right now. These 
 new and flossy places are stealing your trade just be- 
 cause they happen to be up in the more fashionable part 
 of town and burn electric lights." 
 
 On Thursday of the following week, September leave 
 began. The two pirates took a third man into their crew 
 in order to lighten somewhat the routine work of keeping 
 the boat in shape and cooking. He was an old retired 
 quartermaster known as Jimmie Reeftackle. He had 
 joined the Navy back in the days of square riggers and 
 still loved a little taste of salt air. 
 
 Provisions for three weeks were put aboard and enough 
 gasoline for the little auxiliary engine which was installed. 
 This "kicker" was not powerful enough to cruise with, 
 but enabled the boat to pull out of the glassy calms which 
 always precede a summer gale on the Bay. 
 
 "Where to, Jimmie?" asked Ole when the harbor en- 
 trance light dropped out of sight. 
 
 "Depends upon what you're after," was the slow reply. 
 "I've knowed some as was bound to fetch gold and others 
 what was after good and proper cargoes of merchandise. 
 There's still others what takes to the sea for the fun of 
 it. Them last is what we'd call fresh-water sailors, an' 
 they make for the inside places when it starts to blow." 
 
 Tom followed this recital without a smile. He knew 
 the old fellow was half joking. 'But he also knew that 
 there was a great deal of truth in his words. 
 
 "Jimmie," he said after a moment, "suppose you had 
 been in jail for nearly a year ; in jail at hard labor. And 
 you suddenly found yourself out. You found yourself 
 aboard a ship and could do anything you wanted. What 
 would you do?" 
 
 Jimmie's eyes glistened. He was over sixty, but his
 
 214 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 mind was still young. He knew Tom meant the Naval 
 Academy when he spoke of jail. And he well knew how 
 the pair longed for something exciting after twelve months 
 of mental hardship that was far worse than any kind of 
 rock-breaking a convict might do. 
 
 "I tell you, sir," his face solemn as a preacher's, 
 "if 'twere me as was loosed from the pen, and if this 
 were the ship, I'd know exactly what I'd do." 
 
 "Name it," said both listeners in a single voice. 
 
 "Bootleggers!" was the whispered reply. 
 
 "Pish !" laughed Ole. "There aren't any." 
 
 Jimmie took a turn around the tiller with the main 
 sheet. "There aren't?" he echoed. "Did you ever see 
 a fisherman who couldn't show you a bank where they'd be 
 fish?" He paused for the question to sink in. "Well, 
 did ye ever know an old sailorman who couldn't say as 
 where they was a bootleg full of liquor ?" 
 
 And then he told his story. 
 
 A fresh afternoon breeze filled the sails. The craft 
 was what is known as a "Bugeye," a type peculiar to 
 Chesapeake Bay. Few small sailing vessels in the world 
 are speedier. The warm sunshine beat down on the two 
 tanned midshipmen stretched out on the narrow deck in 
 their undershirts. 
 
 It seemed that vessels were coming from Europe with 
 cargoes of wine. Under cover of the fogs off the eastern 
 shore of Maryland, the shore open to the Atlantic Ocean, 
 these cargoes were being landed. The cases were carted 
 across the Bay side and picked up by a variety of boats 
 which transported the forbidden stuff to Baltimore and 
 Annapolis. 
 
 "There's ye chance," concluded the old tar, "to make 
 yerselves famous."
 
 PIRATES 215 
 
 "But the risk of it I don't mean I'm afraid, because 
 I brought along our revolvers isn't there a chance of our 
 seeming to be implicated in it?" Tom recalled the stink- 
 bomb experience and shuddered to think how close 
 to serious trouble perfectly honest work may bring a 
 man. 
 
 "Only that they'll take a pot shot at you," said Jimmie. 
 "But on the other hand the Government's offered a re- 
 ward of a thousand dollars for the arrest of any boat's 
 crew dealing in this business." 
 
 "Big George" broke in Ole; "if that spindleshanks of 
 a Van Brunt could pull off the stunt he did last year in 
 Prance and come out with a pocket full of coin, certainly 
 two he-men like us ought to." 
 
 So by sun-down the plans were made to cruise off a 
 series of small inlets which Jimmie Reeftackle had pointed 
 out on the chart as the most likely place for heading off 
 one of the smugglers' boats. 
 
 Neither midshipman realized how seagoing he had be- 
 come. Of course Tom had been in the fleet long enough 
 to have collected a smattering of nautical information. 
 But the winter's course in navigation, in piloting, in sea- 
 manship, in engines, even in meteorology or weather con- 
 ditions, all lent their aid in making such a cruise as this 
 a matter almost of natural habit with the two boys. 
 
 "Can we make that bight before dark comes on ?" asked 
 Jimmie. He had a guess of his own on his tongue, but 
 wished to try out the young sailors. 
 
 Tom glanced at the chart. "We have to clear a couple 
 of shoals," he mused. "Then we're making about four 
 knots and can count on at least two reaches after we 
 tack." 
 
 Ole picked a logarithm book from the little shelf near 
 the companionway. "Just a minute," he asked, and ran
 
 216 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 his finger down the columns of figures. A short computa- 
 tion and the answer was ready: "It'll take us two hours 
 and five minutes, working the traverse by trigonometric 
 solution of the triangles," said he. 
 
 The weatherbeaten face beside him crinkled with good 
 humor. "Triggernumbertry, sir," he remarked, "is very 
 fine I admit. I seen it used to hit a target on the other 
 side of a hill in Cuba once. But I've a dollar bill in the 
 pocket of my other pants what says we won't reach that 
 place you've picked for as much as four hours." 
 
 "Take you !" laughed Ole, his professional reputation at 
 stake. 
 
 Four hours later Jimmie Reef tackle added a second 
 dollar bill to the one he had wagered. "Mathematics is 
 all right in their place," he explained sagely. "But even 
 on a man-o'-war there's a sight you lads oughta have 
 learned to make her safe on the sea." 
 
 As the two boys rolled into their blankets that night 
 Tom turned and with a sleepy voice remarked to Ole: 
 "Does it ever occur to you that we're learning our trade 
 just about every minute of the time we spend in Annapolis 
 or around it?" 
 
 "Sure," was the grunted reply. "Only this kind of 
 learning don't hurt the way the chalk and blackboard 
 does." 
 
 For nearly two weeks the buccaneers wandered up and 
 down the broad blue waters of Chesapeake Bay. Unin- 
 habited harbors and islands they explored with all the thrill 
 of discovering new land. They fished and swam and 
 crabbed. Several heavy blows drove them to race for 
 shelter. Once the little gas engine went on the blink and 
 all their book knowledge failed to put it right again.
 
 PIRATES 217 
 
 They took it apart and cleaned it and fitted the intricate 
 nuts and valves and screw together again. But still she 
 sputtered and refused to move. 
 
 By this time Jimmie Reeftackle was getting interested. 
 He had never seen the inside of an engine before. But 
 he realized that with the low supply of fresh water and no 
 wind in sight he should be uncomfortable before many 
 hours had passed. 
 
 He determined to try a little experiment of his own. 
 He got a glass and filled it with gasoline from the tank. 
 Then he chuckled. 
 
 "See here, Mister Poor," he said, holding out the glass. 
 "If thet stuff ain't floatin' on water I'll eat me bonnet !" 
 
 He was right. Water had got into the tank and was 
 getting into the engine so that nothing more than a snort 
 and a wheeze could be produced. 
 
 "Once more does commonsense win over the highbrow 
 bookworms," announced Ole. "We're learning faster 
 right out here than ever we did in Mahan Hall." 
 
 "A certain kind of knowledge," admitted Tom. "Which 
 is the reason a naval officer has got to be a jack of all 
 trades." 
 
 Next morning Tom was awakened by Jimmie tugging 
 at his shoulder. "They've come out !" the old fellow ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Who's come out? Where?" Tom had forgotten that 
 the true purpose of the expedition was to capture an 
 enemy. 
 
 "Them bootleggers!" 
 
 He shook Ole and dashed up on deck. The sun was 
 not up yet. Way over by Kent Island in the crimson glow 
 of the dawn rode the white hull of a small trim craft at 
 anchor.
 
 218 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "It's them, all right!" agreed Ole excitedly. 
 
 Through the glasses could be seen several men on the 
 deck of the suspicious craft. Soon after sunrise a boat 
 pulled ashore from her and returned an hour later. Dis- 
 tance was too great to show whether any contraband was 
 taken aboard or not. 
 
 "We'll have to run in closer," suggested Tom. 
 
 So anchor was got up and the Bugeye swung in to- 
 wards the yacht. Care was used to take a course that 
 would indicate that she was a fishing boat and had no 
 interest in any other vessels. 
 
 Very soon it was evident that the yacht was a bootlegger 
 without a shadow of a doubt. Every time her boat re- 
 turned the men on deck could be plainly seen carrying 
 aboard a dozen or so cases. 
 
 "Gosh! And they do it in broad daylight!" Tom's 
 convictions about criminals were that they did the main 
 part of their dirty work under the cover of the night. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Jimmie. "We're supposed to be a 
 bunch of ignorant fishermen who ain't got any idea what 
 goes on in this here Bay besides the fishes we're after." 
 
 Near sunset the Bugeye was brought to anchor around 
 a little sand spit low enough for a watch to be kept upon 
 the bootlegger. As she was evidently going to spend 
 the night there, the two boys determined to slip aboard and 
 look her over. Surely in this deserted spot there would 
 be no question in the criminal's mind about the foolishness 
 of keeping a watch. 
 
 By ten o'clock all cabin lights were out on the yacht. 
 Only a dim anchor lantern marked the spot where she 
 swung easily to the tide. 
 
 Tom and Ole lowered the little dory with which they 
 were equipped and rowed softly toward her.
 
 PIRATES 219 
 
 "Brought my gun along to be on the safe side," said 
 Tom. 
 
 "Me too," said Ole. "But for heaven's sake don't 
 start anything like that unless you're sure we're on the 
 right trail." 
 
 "But there's not the shadow of a doubt," Tom replied 
 "Why we even saw them putting their stuff aboard." 
 
 Still Ole was skeptical about the identity of the sus- 
 pects. He was until the dory was brought silently along- 
 side and he slipped on deck. There before his eyes and 
 piled to the rail were several dozen cases. He put his 
 hand down in the darkness and felt the contents. 
 
 "Bottles!" he whispered. "Guess you're right." 
 
 "Guess we'd better have a look forward and see how 
 many there are," was the low reply. 
 
 The two started a stealthy tiptoeing towards the pilot 
 house. In the utter darkness except for the dimmest 
 starlight objects about the deck were practically invisible. 
 
 Suddenly Tom put his foot down on something soft. 
 Before he could remove it his ankle was grasped in an 
 iron grip and a harsh voice cried, "Who's that?" imme- 
 diately several other sleepers about the deck stirred and 
 grunted. 
 
 In the fraction of a second Tom realized how small was 
 his chance of escaping. But he took what chance there 
 was and acted. Throwing his entire weight upon the 
 imprisoned foot he swung savagely with the other. His 
 toe encountered what felt like a human jaw. There was 
 a groan and a thud, and the hand on his foot fell limp. 
 
 "Quick! Overboard!" he hissed to Ole. Already the 
 crew were awake. Cries of "Stop them! Thieves!" 
 rang in their ears as they plunged over the rail. 
 
 Tom swam under water as long as he could. Then
 
 220 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 he came up easily so as to avoid a splash. Ole was 
 nearby. "Make for the spit !" he told him. Then dived 
 under. The whine of a rifle bullet sang past his ear 
 and plunked into the water not five feet away. 
 
 By the time the pair had made the beach, lights were 
 all about the yacht's deck. Clank of her chain could be 
 heard. She was getting under way. Ole and Tom raced 
 across the sandy neck and reentered the water. 
 
 By the time they clambered aboard the Bugeye, the 
 yacht was standing out. Then they stood down in their 
 direction., 
 
 "Slivering bullropes!" cursed Jimmie Reeftackle. 
 "And now haven't you young pirates let yerselves in for 
 a mess !" 
 
 Ole and Tom followed his bony finger. The yacht had 
 broken out her mainsail and jib and was crowding on 
 all speed. A small searchlight swept the water. 
 
 "They're after ye !" yelled Jimmie and rushed forward 
 to the anchor gear. 
 
 While Tom and Ole frantically loosed the sails, the 
 Bugeye was set adrift by freeing her anchor. As she fell 
 away into the wind the men aboard the yacht opened fire. 
 All three of the pirates immediately took cover behind 
 their tiny deckhouse. Jimmie managed the lines by lead- 
 ing them to a cleat near the mast. 
 
 In order to pass clear into open water, the Bugeye had 
 to run within a few hundred yards of the entrance. For- 
 tunately, however, the smugglers, in their haste to over- 
 take them, cut the spit too close and ran aground. 
 
 The fire slackened while all hands worked to get her 
 off. Meanwhile, the Bugeye fled like a bird before the 
 wind. As she wore no lights she soon disappeared in the 
 <iarkness.
 
 PIRATES 221 
 
 "Say," breathed Ole when the yacht was well behind, 
 "I'm of no mind to go on with this fool game. Guess 
 we're able to get through Annapolis without capturing 
 any bootleggers." 
 
 "Or needing any rewards," agreed Tom. 
 
 Jimmie Reeftackle chuckled over their change of heart. 
 "Guess you're right," he said. "But I'd liked to have had 
 some real old rum for myself." 
 
 "You old scoundrel !" gasped Tom. "So that's why you 
 put us up to this job. Just for punishment I sentence 
 you to get us up the Severn River and home by morn- 
 ing." 
 
 And he did. Sleepy as the two boys were, they stayed 
 awake and watched their companion renew the skill of his 
 windjamming days. Hour by hour the wind increased. 
 Yet not an inch of canvas did he take off. The lee rail 
 was out of sight in the foaming water for minutes at 
 a time. 
 
 By eight o'clock they had turned over the Bugeye to 
 her owner and were safely back in quarters changing into 
 civilian clothes for leave. 
 
 Near the main gate Lieutenant Ruggles stopped them. 
 "Just the lads I can use," he said. 
 
 "At your service, sir," said Tom and saluted. 
 
 "An old friend of mine has just arrived and he wants 
 me to bring two people out to lunch." 
 
 "Out where to lunch, sir?" asked Tom with a sudden 
 sinking of his heart. 
 
 "To his yacht. He's Marbury Jackson, the New York 
 capitalist. Was a graduate of Annapolis back in the sev- 
 enties and went out into civil life after a few years at 
 sea. Made a fortune in oil." 
 
 Thus, to their dismay the two pirates found themselves
 
 222 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 a few hours later boarding the very yacht they had so 
 barely escaped the night before. 
 
 Would they be recognized ? And what about the cases ? 
 Could it be possible the respectable Marbury Jackson 
 would descend to any such crime against the laws of his 
 country. But then it was a well-known fact that men who 
 had been accustomed to liquor for years would go to 
 almost any length to get it now. 
 
 The cases had disappeared from deck! And, to Ole's 
 and Tom's great relief, there was no sign they had been 
 recognized. 
 
 "Strange he doesn't say anything about it," whispered 
 Tom as they descended to the beautiful panelled mess 
 room. 
 
 "Guess he doesn't wish it known that he's a smuggler," 
 replied Ole. "That's the way I size the thing up." 
 
 But the facts were sufficient to clear both middies' 
 minds : 
 
 "One of the reasons I wanted you aboard," explained 
 the old gentleman, "is connected with a little unpleasant- 
 ness we had last night. I always stop down there at 
 Piny Point for some of that sulphur water the springs 
 there give. Got ten cases of it yesterday." 
 
 Tom's foot touched Ole's under the table. In the 
 language of feet it said: "Gosh, what a whopper!" 
 
 "And last night," continued the capitalist, "we were 
 attacked by a gang of thieves. We chased them away and 
 would have caught their craft, a small Bugeye, and had 
 them all hung if my fool of a navigator hadn't put us 
 on the beach." 
 
 "Hung !" gasped Ole, unconscious that he spoke. 
 
 "Yes, hung !" The owner brought his fist down fiercely. 
 "And that's why I felt the need of your company today.
 
 PIRATES 223 
 
 I wanted to realize that we are developing the very men 
 who will make piracy, even such as I met last night, ab- 
 solutely impossible!" He glared first at Tom and then 
 at Ole. 
 
 After lunch he led the boys to a storeroom for- 
 ward. Without explanation he unlocked the door and 
 opened it. "It would please me," he said, "if you young 
 gentlemen would examine these bottles and see if they 
 contain anything but water." 
 
 Tom took one out with a worried look. He wasn't 
 thinking of bottles. 
 
 "On the other hand," continued the speaker, "I have 
 a bottle of scotch whiskey in my cabin. Or I did have. 
 Jimmie Reeftackle my old friend Jimmie drank the 
 most of it. Took half a bottle this morning before he 
 would tell me who the pirates were I didn't catch." 
 
 "We thought we were right, sir," ventured Tom. 
 
 "So did the Kaiser!" was the stern reply.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE HOP 
 
 SECOND-CLASS winter which followed was severest of 
 all. New branches of professional studies developed in 
 nearly all of the academic departments. New lines of 
 engineering and mathematics cropped up. Even the 
 "star" midshipmen, those standing highest in their class, 
 were worried. 
 
 "And on top of it all, I've got to have still more trou- 
 ble!" groaned Tom. 
 
 "Go on, you grouch," commented Ole, his nose buried 
 in a calculus. 
 
 Tom remained silent. Commander Rudd, the Com- 
 mandant's aide, had called him in just before supper and 
 added the final burden to his already overwrought nerves. 
 
 "Says he's got a girl for me!" Tom shook his fist at 
 his roommate. "Can you beat that?" 
 
 Ole dodged in mock terror. "Well, don't punish me," 
 he protested. 
 
 Tom rose and began to pace the floor. He faced a new 
 problem. His ill-humor was not really directed at the 
 Commander or the girl, but at himself. In the past two 
 years he had from time to time encountered a number of 
 the nice girls about Annapolis. And he had in a quiet 
 way made friends with some of the ladies of the station 
 on occasions of the infrequent official receptions. But 
 always had he been supported by safe numbers of other 
 midshipmen present. 
 
 Now for the first time he was charged with the re- 
 
 224
 
 THE HOP 225 
 
 sponsibility of actually taking a girl to one of the winter 
 dances, or "hops" as they are called. And he was morti- 
 fied to feel so unequal to the occasion. Commander Rudd 
 had been very reasonable in his request. 
 
 "Poor," he said, "you won't mind having dinner next 
 Saturday night at my quarters, will you?" 
 
 "Why certainly, sir," assented Tom with undisguised 
 delight. Very fresh was his memory of Maryland fried 
 chicken the Commander's cook was famous for. 
 
 "And, another thing," continued the crafty Commander. 
 "My niece is down for the week-end. It would please 
 me if you took her to the hop afterward. I know you 
 will like her." 
 
 "Thank you, sir, for choosing me," Tom managed to 
 say. His voice sounded dry and unnatural to himself, 
 but he had a dim feeling of pride that he could manage to 
 produce such a reply when in truth he would much rather 
 have said : "It is an honor, sir, but really girls are not in 
 my line. They're nice enough. Sometimes I wish I 
 knew more of them. But it has just happened that I have 
 never had the opportunity to get used to their ways and 
 I well, I'd rather not tackle this job if you would just 
 as soon let me off." 
 
 And now to Ole he was trying to lead up to asking for 
 help. Before he could go on, the door opened and Bob 
 Cary entered. 
 
 "Hello, men !" The newcomer waved a card. "Got a 
 treat for you both." 
 
 Ole laid down his pencil and looked Bob Cary steadily 
 in the eye for about ten seconds. Then he said : 
 
 "Stack of bibles, Bob, is she as pretty as that?" 
 
 "Cross my heart and the royal yard!" promptly swore 
 the gallant midshipman. "She's the daughter of a Con-
 
 226 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 gressman. He is one of the big men in the government. 
 Probably in line for the next cabinet." 
 
 Tom drank in the rapid words. It was a new game 
 to him, this dance card business, and here was exactly 
 the training he needed. 
 
 "That's what you told me about Miss What's-Her- 
 Name's father, King Pin of the Nation and all that," said 
 Ole grimly. "But how about this girl herself ? I'm not 
 going to dance with her father." 
 
 Bob advanced to the table and leaned over confiden- 
 tially. "A single word about her is sufficient," he ex- 
 plained in a low tone. "It is rumored that she is to be 
 Harrison Fisher's model for the Navy Christmas calen- 
 dars this year. Now will you have one or do I and my 
 lady stand insulted by your quibble?" He drew him- 
 self up dramatically. 
 
 Tom didn't wait to hear more. In a step he reached 
 his desk, drew out a small blank dance card, and abruptly 
 left the room. 
 
 "Is he sore because I didn't ask him ?" asked Bob. "I 
 thought he didn't go in for this hop gag." 
 
 "He doesn't. But tonight he's in the same boat with 
 you, old man. Lovely girl with a famous father; never 
 set eyes on her, but got to escort her to the gym and see 
 she has every dance taken. Guess he's caught a hint 
 from your line." 
 
 Ole was right. By the time he finished speaking Tom 
 had reached the room of a certain "Pip" Colby who from 
 time to time had given evidence of his admiration for all 
 Tom said or did. 
 
 "'Evening, Pip." 
 
 " 'Evening, Tom. What's up, you look busy as a 
 merry little hive?"
 
 THE HOP 227 
 
 "Nothing much, except everybody's chasing me for a 
 dance with a girl I've got down for this week's hop. Just 
 wanted to be sure you didn't lose out." 
 
 "Why thanks, old top. Sure is decent of you to think 
 of me." 
 
 "Yes, Pip. She's the niece of Commander Rudd. 
 Father's got a yacht or something like that up in New 
 London. Shall I put you down for two?" 
 
 "You bet. Say, man, do you think the old skate might 
 be in port when the practice squadron is up there next 
 summer ?" 
 
 "Like as not." 
 
 Again in the corridor Tom stood still for a moment and 
 mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. He could 
 scarcely believe the ease with which he had been able to 
 palm off two dances on his friend. 
 
 It never occurred to him to picture the girl exactly. 
 He recalled vaguely all those he had met in the past, how 
 they had stared at him with a kind of chilly curiosity as 
 if he had been some sort of animal out of the zoo. With- 
 out exception they had always made him feel as if he 
 ought to hunt up a mirror as soon as possible and find 
 out whether it was his hair standing on end or his collar 
 upside down that was making them look so secretly 
 amused at his appearance. 
 
 Not till years afterwards did he realize that in the first 
 instant of encounter the girls had felt exactly the same 
 doubt and discomfort that he did. But when they quickly 
 discovered that Tom Poor lacked the experience or the 
 social poise to do anything but stand silent and embar- 
 rassed, they immediately had the fun of making the best 
 they could of his discomfiture. 
 
 So now it was natural that Tom should have in mind
 
 228 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 one of those superior creatures who might wear pretty 
 clothes and have plenty to say, but not for a moment 
 miss the chance to make him as uncomfortable as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 "I'm game," he told himself through his teeth. "And, 
 after all, it's the naval officer's duty to take part in things 
 like dances and receptions. On the other hand I cer- 
 tainly am going to give the gang a chance to help me 
 out." 
 
 And he did. In the space of half an hour he had filled 
 every single line on the dance card. He could hardly be- 
 lieve it except that he had made each midshipman write 
 his name opposite the dance numbers as a sort of receipt 
 for the agreement. 
 
 "Guess I'm pretty good at talking up a thing," he 
 mused on his way back to his room. But he would have 
 thought differently if he could have heard what went on 
 behind him in each study he had visited. It was some- 
 thing like this: 
 
 "Well, what do you know about Tom Poor taking a 
 girl to a hop !" 
 
 "Thought he was a woman-hater." 
 
 "Woman-hater nothing. That's where you don't un- 
 derstand his kind. Has sense enough to stand back and 
 wait till he can get a pippin for a partner. I jumped at 
 the chance. Would have taken five if he had let me !" 
 
 Poor Tom. He had yet to learn the lesson that a mid- 
 shipman's reputation for taking pretty girls to hops is 
 almost as delicate as his reputation for honor. Let him 
 lug in one single "gold-brick" and forever afterward his 
 friends are leery of his taste. His only hope then is to 
 trade dance for dance with another man, knowing that
 
 THE HOP 
 
 229 
 
 sooner or later the other man will palm off his "brick" 
 as well. 
 
 Two days later a note from the Commander warned 
 Tom that the young lady was due on the afternoon train 
 from Washington and suggested that she might like to 
 see the Academy grounds. The Commander himself 
 would be absent on duty, but Tom would find her pleas- 
 ant company and would certainly oblige his superior 
 officer. 
 
 "Pleasant company!" growled Tom. "Wonder what 
 he thinks I am?" 
 
 Tom found out soon enough what he was : "Plain, 
 simple, undecorated idiot!" were his own words. 
 
 This was the way it came about: At three he was at 
 the station. His face was long, gloomy, doleful, and 
 cross. His expression was exactly as if he had given up 
 a date to see the Army-Navy football game in order to 
 be a pall-bearer at a funeral. 
 
 The train came to a grinding stop. It was nearly full 
 of girls down for the evening festivity. There were tall 
 girls and short girls, fat ones, skinny ones, and in-be- 
 tween-ones. All wore their trimmest hats and suits. 
 The array of brightly colored headgear roused even Tom 
 from his misery. 
 
 "She will wear a brown suit," Commander Rudd had 
 told him. "And is about medium height and medium 
 looks." 
 
 Tom counted eleven girls that answered exactly to that 
 description ! 
 
 He thought he spied a twelfth when suddenly some- 
 one said : "You're Tom Poor, aren't you ?" 
 
 Tom spun around to find himself looking into what
 
 230 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 he thought were the brownest and shiniest eyes he had 
 ever seen. It was a girl in a blue hat. And she was 
 smiling. But she somehow wasn't grinning in that high- 
 and-mighty way that all the other girls had. 
 
 "But he said a brown hat," faltered Tom, taking off 
 his own bonnet. 
 
 "Oh, I just told him that," chuckled the girl, "because 
 I wanted to have a first look at the man who was to have 
 charge of me. I wanted to see exactly how full of grief 
 he would be over the prospect of taking a strange girl to 
 a hop!" 
 
 To his surprise Tom found speech came easily. 
 "Grief is the word !" he exclaimed. "Did you ever try a 
 dark horse yourself?" 
 
 "Hitched to one now," was the prompt reply. She 
 took his arm as a signal for him to plow through the gay 
 multitude. 
 
 At Commander Rudd's quarters the girl insisted on 
 having a bite to eat. Tom detested tea but took a cup 
 for company. From somewhere his companion dug up 
 half a huge chocolate cake. While he ate she talked. 
 
 "I like midshipmen," she said as simply as if she were 
 remarking that it was going to rain next day. 
 
 "Do?" popped Tom between bites. 
 
 "Yes. You're different from the men at other col- 
 leges. You know my brother is a junior at Princeton." 
 
 Tom looked at her. He had suddenly remembered that 
 he had absolutely forgotten her name. 
 
 "Yes, they are so much older than you midshipmen are. 
 I mean they always seem to know exactly what to do and 
 what to say, and how to do it and say it." 
 
 "Jones, Smith, Crosby, Robinson," Tom was repeat-
 
 THE HOP 231 
 
 ing to himself. For the life of him he couldn't bring 
 back that name. 
 
 "Of course I realize the reason for it," went on the 
 girl. "Uncle Ruddy has told me about it. He says they 
 teach you to be gentlemen here, to dance and have proper 
 manners. But the system is too mathematical. It's too 
 military. All day, every day, but Sunday you work and 
 study. Then a cruise for more work and study all sum- 
 mer long with maybe a few days here and there for 
 small afternoon parties ashore. And then but a month 
 to go back home to Maine or Texas or wherever you come 
 from. That's what keeps you young and different." 
 
 "Holmes, Hammond, Rogers, Butler," ran Tom's mind 
 in time with his cake-filled jaws. 
 
 Suddenly he waked up to two facts : First, he could 
 eat no more cake; second, this girl was easy to talk to. 
 She was the kind who probably wouldn't mind being 
 asked what her name was. He tried her. 
 
 "Elsie Pepper," she laughed. "I was wondering when 
 you were going to identify me." 
 
 "By George!" was Tom's prompt thanks, "you're the 
 first girl I ever met in my life whom I would dare ask 
 her name." 
 
 Miss Pepper rose. "Now I know you're a sailor, 
 sir," she declared, "because you have begun to blarney 
 me." 
 
 This was the one stroke necessary to create a new 
 self-possession in Tom. He had at last fooled a woman 
 into believing he had the courage to flatter! At least so 
 he thought. It never entered his mind that Commander 
 Rudd had written his niece: 
 
 "Poor is a nice chap. A bit too much of an athlete
 
 232 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 and a man's man though. If you are nice to him 1 be- 
 lieve he will be good company. Jolly him along. He is 
 going to be a leader when he becomes a first-classman next 
 year and you will help him by bringing him out a bit. 
 Some day he will thank you for it." 
 
 Thus Tom, all unconscious that he was receiving an 
 essential part of his education, led the girl through the 
 grounds. When he discovered his friends looking hard 
 at the girl and not at him, he began to give her a few 
 sidewise glances himself. He found that he had not half 
 appreciated how pretty she was. The thought of it gave 
 him a glow of satisfaction. He realized that none would 
 see him without being inclined to compliment the taste 
 of Tom Poor in girls. 
 
 "Guess they will realize now why I don't take the 
 trouble to bother with the usual kind," he thought com- 
 placently. 
 
 He took her back just in time for him to reach supper 
 formation. Soon as ranks were broken he dashed up and 
 jumped into his dress uniform. For an unusual length 
 of time he worked over his hair. Never before had he 
 realized that there was a cowlick behind that persisted in 
 sticking straight into the air. Finally, with the aid of 
 Ole's mirror and a cake of soap, he managed to plaster 
 the lock in place. 
 
 When he reached Commander Rudd's house, Miss 
 Pepper had not come down stairs. 
 
 "Like her?" asked the officer. 
 
 "Yes indeed, sir," exclaimed Tom with more enthusi- 
 asm than he meant. He could feel his face getting 
 hot. 
 
 The Commander kindly looked aside and continued : "I 
 knew you would, Poor. She's a good sort. I have no-
 
 THE HOP 233 
 
 ticed that you don't attend many hops. You should. 
 Possibly girls don't appeal to you much. I can remember 
 the time when I thought they were silly bores. But you 
 will find as time goes on that you will be thrown a great 
 deal with women in the social life the Navy brings. It 
 is necessary for you to understand them not only to be 
 able to entertain them, but because there are times when 
 women have a considerable hand in the destinies of both 
 men and governments." 
 
 A light step sounded in the hallway. The curtains 
 parted and a vision in white satin stood before the two 
 men. "Aha!" laughed the lady, "lecturing the young 
 sailor on the wiles of women?" 
 
 "Pretty nearly," agreed the Commander. "He may 
 have to buy a million dollar gown like that one of these 
 days!" 
 
 The girl put her head on one side and looked gravely 
 at Tom. "Let's see," she said slowly, "you are some- 
 thing of a mathematician, aren't you, Mr. Poor?" 
 
 "Finished calculus, and just starting mechanics," re- 
 plied Tom, quite off his guard. 
 
 "Then tell me, please sir, how many times the pay of 
 an ensign in the Navy goes into a million dollars?" 
 
 But the jibe didn't hurt. Somehow nothing she said 
 did hurt. Tom joined heartily the laugh that followed. 
 Then dinner was announced. 
 
 A week later he tried to remember whether it was 
 chicken or turkey he had to eat that night. He couldn't. 
 Miss Pepper was the only image that remained. 
 
 Which explains the real tragedy of the evening: At 
 nine he and she started for the gymnasium where the hop 
 was held. As they approached the great granite build- 
 ing and the strains of the magnificent Annapolis marine
 
 234 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 band floated out over the dark campus, he began to wish 
 they still had ten miles to go. 
 
 Tom left his partner at the door of the dressing-room. 
 As he turned to give his hat and coat to the attendant 
 he found himself confronted by about a dozen midship- 
 men. 
 
 "Any dances left?" asked one. 
 
 "Don't forget those two of mine!" warned another. 
 
 "Just one more, Tom," pleaded a third earnestly. 
 
 Then the horrible truth flashed over him: He had 
 bargained away every single dance with the girl. In his 
 cocksure opinion that all women were alike Tom Poor 
 had not only arranged to treat this one with rudeness by 
 not dancing with her himself, but he had deprived him- 
 self of what he would at that moment have given the 
 friendship of every man he faced for. 
 
 But the code held. He had parcelled out the dances. 
 He had to stand by and take his medicine. He took it. 
 Through the whole sad evening he stood in the stag line 
 and watched Miss Pepper dance and talk and sit, and 
 dance again without his help. If she thought anything 
 of this queer arrangement she made no sign. 
 
 Only on the way home she once took his arm for a few 
 steps and said: "Really, Tom Poor, wasn't it just that 
 I was a dark horse that made you so foolish?" 
 
 "Please forgive me," begged Tom. It was all he could 
 say. "Aren't you coming again?" 
 
 "Next year," was the regretful answer. 
 
 "I'd wait a million!" 
 
 "Sailor talk again?" 
 
 "Oh, I am a fool!" groaned Tom.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 
 
 TOM'S chance came at the beginning of first-class year. 
 
 The day the brigade reported back from September 
 leave, all hands clustered around the bulletin boards to 
 see who had got the coveted appointments as cadet officers. 
 
 The Annapolis brigade is divided into four battalions, 
 each battalion in from four to eight companies. The 
 Brigade Commander as well as commanders of battalions, 
 are chosen from the first class. These 'honors are based 
 upon the midshipman's all around record. The "Five 
 Striper," as the Brigade Commander is called from the 
 five stripes on his arm, is usually an athlete, a man of 
 the highest academic standing, and popular both with the 
 midshipmen and the officers. 
 
 Tom and Reggie each got three stripes; that is, each 
 was appointed a company commander. Each had some 
 popularity and each had an athletic record. But Tom's 
 standing in the class studies was not high enough to 
 warrant a higher rank; Reggie's limited athletics and 
 one-sided popularity were against him. 
 
 The two room-mates were even more pleased than the 
 honored ones. Said Ole Hansen: 
 
 "Fine byzonis, Tom old scout ! Now you will be abie 
 to give 'em a man's work when it comes to drill. You've 
 got the endurance to lead 'em to Chicago and back on 
 the same march !" 
 
 Bob Cary was less extravagant, though equally en- 
 
 235
 
 236 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 thusiastic. "It may be silly," said he, "but, Reggie, I'm 
 hanged if I don't envy the way you'll be able to bust out 
 there at dress parade and march up and down where all 
 the girls can see you !" 
 
 "Piffle!" returned Reggie. "Is that the kind of am- 
 bition you've got?" Reggie tried hard to forget he'd 
 had exactly the same ambition for three years. 
 
 Tom probably got the hunch about his chance first. 
 
 "How about this company competition?" he asked Ole. 
 
 "Same as usual. Just another way to make it impos- 
 sible for any midshipman to escape athletics of some 
 sort." 
 
 "I know, but what are the chances this year ?" 
 
 Ole thought for a minute, then got out a pencil and 
 paper and began to figure. He shook his head. 
 
 "Looks like the tenth company's got the prize. They 
 have more of the star athletes with them than any other." 
 
 "Who's the three striper?" 
 
 "Van Brunt." 
 
 "The heck he is !" Tom sprang to his feet. "And just 
 for that I'm going to show him where to get off !" 
 
 "Just for that " chimed in Ole, "he didn't pick his 
 company. It was assigned to him. It's up to him to 
 make what he can out of it." 
 
 "Which is what I'm driving at," was the enthusiastic 
 response. "Here am I with the fourth company and not 
 an athletic star among 'em, save possibly myself. We 
 haven't got the spirit and we haven't got the men." 
 
 "You haven't got a show is what I'd say," growled 
 Ole. 
 
 Tom rubbed his hands. "That's the very finest fix I 
 could be in. I swore I'd beat Van Brunt at his own 
 game. This is exactly the kind of game he's a top-
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 237 
 
 notcher in : the kind where it takes brains instead of beef, 
 the kind where a fellow has to be a strategic sort of cuss 
 to win out!" 
 
 Tom sat down and began to figure himself. He laid 
 out a list of all the items that count in the year's company 
 competition. First were the teams. Company champ- 
 ionship in football, baseball, swimming, track, and all 
 the other games each counted ten points for first place, 
 seven for second, and five for third. 
 
 "It'll be the same as other years," he told Ole. "Nearly 
 every company will have its specialty. One gang will 
 turn out a cracker- jack company football team; another 
 a first-class baseball team; another a cutter's crew. But 
 none of them will take the trouble to try for more than 
 one or two lines of sport, certainly not all." 
 
 "Too much work for the company's commander," 
 commented Ole. "He's the bird that has to organize 
 and put through all the teams." 
 
 "Well, I'm going to skin that Van Brunt aggregation 
 if I have to stay up nights to do it !" vowed Tom. 
 
 Reggie was equally certain about his own victory, though 
 far from putting the same determination into it. 
 
 He did some adding himself. He did it in h :r ; head 
 which was the kind of a head he had, instead of the slower 
 but surer brains of Tom Poor. 
 
 "Like taking candy from a child!" he told 'Bob Gary. 
 "The chief things that count when you add them all up 
 together are the athletes. Each man on a varsity team 
 counts five for the company; each on a second team 
 counts three." 
 
 "But suppose some company works up a lot of good 
 company teams?" 
 
 "Not a chance. Too much trouble, besides the brains
 
 238 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 required. Even Tom Poor himself couldn't pull a stunt 
 like that. And when you add all the stars I've got 
 Calkins and Bullock on the varsity football, Gerard and 
 Hope on baseball, Faraday crew, and at least five others, 
 they stand for a score that can't be beat." 
 
 Tom let his company have a week to get used to him. 
 There were over eighty midshipmen in it of the four 
 classes. Yet despite the company occupied one floor of 
 one wing of Bancroft Hall, there was a diversity of in- 
 terests among the eighty that made Tom's task a well- 
 nigh impossible one. 
 
 One night he called them together. 
 
 "Fellows, we're gojing to win the company colors," he 
 announced. 
 
 "You bet, Tom !" agreed one of his own class, a "clean 
 sleever," one who was denied the privilege of wearing 
 any stripes because he had received no rank in the bri- 
 gade. 
 
 Tom shook his head. "No, we're going to win with- 
 out depending on me except in a general way." 
 
 "But places on the varsity teams count a lot!" pro- 
 tested a second classman. 
 
 "I know they do. And that's just the reason I am 
 anxious to clean up without taking the velvet a few stars 
 stand for." 
 
 The clean-sleever pushed forward. "Don't be stub- 
 born, Tom. There are at least three companies who have 
 twenty points or more just to start with." 
 
 "Yes, and suppose you were out for the heavyweight 
 boxing belt as I believe you were. And you figured 
 you could win it every year because you weighed thirty 
 pounds more than anyone else. Suppose you counted 
 on those thirty pounds so much that you didn't take the
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 239 
 
 trouble to train. And then someone came along whom 
 you hadn't heard of, who weighed about as much, and 
 had trained besides. Then, where'd you be?" 
 
 The company laughed. Tom's point was a good one. 
 But where did his outfit come in? He soon told them. 
 
 "My plan is simple," he continued. "But it must be 
 kept quiet. We're going to be like the fellow who weighs 
 pretty nearly as much as the champion but does extra 
 training on the side to win out." 
 
 "But we haven't got the makin's of a team of any 
 sort!" 
 
 "You're wrong," returned Tom stoutly. "Every man 
 here has had from one to three years of good hard drill, 
 clean living, best sort of food, sea cruises, and actual 
 gym and field instruction in at least one branch of ath- 
 letics. That's the Annapolis course alone. Now what 
 is the difference between you people and the varsity 
 teams ?" 
 
 "Fifteen million miles, I'd say," muttered the clean- 
 sleever. 
 
 "Just where you're wrong," laughed Tom. "The dif- 
 ference except for a few pounds here and there is chiefly 
 in training. Why, when I used to be in the fleet, we'd 
 have divisions aboard ship who couldn't have touched 
 this company. Yet they used to go out and clean up the 
 championships at Guantanamo regularly as clockwork. 
 What made 'em do it? Simply that here and there was 
 a divisional officer who recognized what real training 
 meant. He could have made a high-class football team 
 out of a lot of boarding-school girls so long as they'd 
 do exactly what he said." 
 
 Though unconvinced, the company liked Tom well 
 enough to try the scheme he had suggested.
 
 240 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Prove it with a football team," suggested Ole, "and 
 they'll be docile for the other lines." 
 
 "Exactly what I'm going to do," declared Tom. 
 
 First of all he measured up and weighed the eighty-five 
 midshipmen. One at a time he got a line on their speed 
 and other physical qualities. 
 
 His own varsity football duties he had been made 
 captain of the team kept him from handling the prob- 
 lem personally. He divided the company into four sec- 
 tions and appointed leaders instead. Each leader was 
 given the job of turning out a certain number of football 
 men. 
 
 Word soon got about that certain companies were go- 
 ing in for football. This discouraged many other com- 
 panies from trying that line. 
 
 "Captain of the Navy team ought to have a company 
 team," was Reggie's personal consolation. 
 
 "But he's not playing himself." Bob felt somehow 
 that it was possible to take too much for granted. 
 
 Late in the season on a Wednesday afternoon, the 
 championship was played off. The eighteenth company 
 had real talent in it. It had heavy men and fast men, 
 men whose football training had put them on the regular 
 squads. They had easily won all the games up to date. 
 
 Tom's team was much smaller. Some had never 
 kicked a football over a goal post in their lives up to the 
 present year. But they had speed. Their plays were 
 smooth-oiled as clockwork. And some of their forward 
 passes and other specialties would have done justice to 
 the Navy team itself. 
 
 'By sheer merit they also had won up to date. And 
 they faced the far heavier eighteenth-company team with 
 a feeling of collected confidence.
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 241 
 
 The eighteenth-company team won. But it barely won. 
 And when the game was over there two kinds of public 
 opinion : 
 
 The brigade said: "That team Tom Poor made out 
 of his company just shows what an expert football man 
 can do with poor material." 
 
 Tom said and a good many in the fourth company 
 agreed: "If we could make a football team out of this 
 motley crowd, there's no reason why we can't make a 
 basketball team and a lacrosse team, and maybe even 
 some of the other kinds of teams !" 
 
 Which was pretty nearly what happened. And, because 
 the company did what Tom asked and kept pretty tight- 
 mouthed about the scheme, the Brigade didn't notice what 
 was going on. The fourth company won first in only 
 one sport in swimming. That was pure luck too. But 
 in every other line it pulled down a quiet second or third. 
 
 And the points kept mounting slowly but surely. 
 
 Late in the spring Bob happened to be in conference 
 with Lieutenant Ruggles over some baseball work. He 
 had been elected baseball manager by his class. Lieuten- 
 ant Ruggles was the Navy Athletic Association repre- 
 sentative for baseball. 
 
 "By the way, Gary," said the officer, "have you noticed 
 how the company competitions are going ? Most surpris- 
 ing thing you ever saw." 
 
 "In a general way," replied Bob. "I know we've got 
 the prize pretty well cinched in the tenth company with 
 all the varsity men we've got. Then there's the 
 eighteenth who have pulled down the football and track 
 firsts, as well as boxing and wrestling championships." 
 
 Ruggles smiled. "What do you think about the fourth 
 company, Poor's aggregation?"
 
 242 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Not a whole lot," laughed Bob. "He's gotten trimmed 
 in everything he's gone after. First there was football, 
 the eighteenth won that." 
 
 "But the fourth got second." 
 
 "Yes," assented Bob without noticing the other's 
 look. "And then he lost the basketball series by a bad 
 beating towards the end." 
 
 "But he won third place." 
 
 Bob looked up suddenly. "Why, come to think about 
 it, he's pulled down second or third in just about every 
 series that's come off to date !" 
 
 "Correct!" said the officer. "And what is more, he 
 is now twelve points ahead of the nearest company." 
 
 "It can't be so!" exclaimed 'Bob. He seized the list 
 of records. "Well, by George! If that wouldn't gol- 
 swizzle you !" 
 
 "Van Brunt's second still," the other reminded him. 
 "If he wins the company drill and the baseball series he 
 will beat Poor. Otherwise Poor will win. And just be- 
 tween you and me, the man who has got the brains to 
 develop a high average in a crowd, whether it's a ship 
 or a college or a company of midshipmen, is the one who 
 deserves to win." 
 
 Bob hurried back to Reggie and told him the ex- 
 traordinary news. 
 
 "Just waked up to the facts myself," was the unex- 
 pectedly calm reply. Bob himself was not surprised to 
 hear his roommate say he'd discovered the truth without 
 help. That was Reggie's way: he was always using the 
 "inside of his bean" as Bob called it. 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do about it?" 
 
 Reggie grinned confidently. "I've got him yet. Don't 
 know but what it's more fun to let him come so close to
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 243 
 
 winning after all. I have a hunch that this company 
 competition is his idea of beating me at my own game 
 as he calls it. It is too," he went on a little vainly, "in 
 that it is a matter of brains to carry off as complicated 
 a campaign as this." 
 
 "Swabo on the highbrow stuff !" commented Bob, "and 
 let's have some proof that you've got a chance." 
 
 "The baseball is cinched," was the prompt reply. "I've 
 got the regular varsity coach to handle our company team 
 by tipping him off to a prep school job for his brother." 
 
 "That still leaves the company drill to be won." 
 
 "Right. And it's going to be won by yours truly. 
 But, though it grieves me to say it, my handsome friend, 
 I must conceal from you the great device by which I in- 
 tend to rub Tom Poor's nose in the dirt at the company 
 drill." 
 
 Bob was delighted. "Gosh !" he cried ; "I don't care 
 what it is you're going to do it with so long as you do it. 
 Fact, it's more exciting just to have it a secret." 
 
 The word got about just as Reggie expected. His 
 company, the tenth, was going to have the big coach 
 train it in baseball. This quickly made most of the other 
 companies drop out. The fourth, Tom's, hung on till 
 the end and managed to scramble out with a third, the 
 tenth winning first in the series by a large margin. 
 
 Final victory now . lay between the fourth and the 
 tenth, with only one competition to decide which was to be 
 the best company in the brigade, which was to be the color 
 company for the ensuing year, which was to be marched 
 up in front in June Week and receive the plaudits of the 
 multitude, which the privileges seemed innumerable. 
 
 The whole brigade took sides. 
 
 "Poor can handle his men best," claimed some.
 
 244 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "But Van Brunt is the quickest thinker can get an 
 order off in half the time Poor can. And he understands 
 the theory of the game better." 
 
 Others thought Tom's popularity with the officers 
 would tend to make them favor him. "Got a stand-in 
 for his work in the Army-Navy game," most people ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 "But Van Brunt is the best appearing cadet officer on 
 parade the Supe once said so in public." 
 
 So it went. No one was willing to bet very much of 
 their monthly money on either company. And yet, de- 
 spite the sensational crew races, baseball games, hops, 
 and all the other thrilling features of the Annapolis spring 
 the contest grew in public interest as the time went on. 
 
 It was something nearer home than outside games; 
 something that all hands had participated in through the 
 year. "Like a couple of your own brothers having a 
 scrap!" one man described it. 
 
 "Or a civil war," added a more serious-minded lad. 
 "Going out and mow down your own kind, and all that." 
 
 When the great day came for the competitive drill 
 each company was like an armed camp. Its own territory 
 was guarded from outsiders or anyone who might be a 
 spy for the other side. 
 
 Three especially selected officers were detailed by the 
 Superintendent as judges. Said one: 
 
 "It's going to be the same as every other year. The 
 company that looks the best and keeps the best time is 
 going to win." 
 
 He was half right at any rate. When the brigade 
 came on the big parade ground and the first cheering 
 had ceased, the competing companies had dwindled to 
 four within fifteen minutes. These four were Tom's
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 245 
 
 and Reggie's and two others. The two others were in 
 chiefly because their company commanders had not yet 
 made any mistake in handling them and their appearance 
 was good. 
 
 Then they fell out on some flaw or other leaving only 
 the two rivals. 
 
 "Splendid!" declared the Commandant to his aide. 
 "Both those lads have certainly got their men in apple- 
 pie order !" 
 
 He was right. Reggie and Tom well realized that their 
 year's work in the company fight would depend on today's 
 contest. Each midshipman in each company wore a new 
 cap, freshly pressed uniform, shoes polished till they 
 shone. Each midshipman in the two companies looked 
 as if he had just stepped out of the show window of a 
 uniform tailor. 
 
 The band played. Two airplanes swooped overhead. 
 The grandstands were crowded cheering waving. It 
 was one of those days those events that live forever 
 in the memory of a Navy man, or the girl he's brought 
 to thrill at the gorgeous life he leads or seems to. 
 
 Even the experts could detect no difference in the 
 two companies. Like automatons the blue lines ad- 
 vanced and retreated, swung into fours and sections, and 
 did all the other amazing evolutions possible to an in- 
 fantry troop. 
 
 "It's a tie!" muttered one of the judges. 
 
 "Right!" agreed the second. 
 
 The third was silent. "No look!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Tom's company was just ahead of Reggie's near the 
 end of the field. The band was at the other. A 
 stirring march was being played. It was the best tune 
 known for keeping time to.
 
 246 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Can't you see?" cried the judge. "The fourth com- 
 pany is losing step !" 
 
 He was right. As Tom approached the quarters he 
 began to get an echo from the granite cliff formed by the 
 terrace wall. Two music times were then apparent: one 
 from the wall and one from the band. His men began 
 to get out of step half one time, half the other. 
 
 "Van Brunt wins!" exclaimed the first judge. "He's 
 still in step !" 
 
 "The tenth wins !" someone took up the cry. 
 
 Signal was hoisted to this effect. Instantly the crowd 
 broke into a roar of applause. Even the band was 
 drowned out. 
 
 The winning company swung gaily down past the 
 grandstand. "By George!' ejaculated the third judge, 
 "They're still in step. And they can't possibly hear the 
 music in all this uproar." 
 
 Suddenly the speaker sprang from his seat and rushed 
 down the aisle. He leaped the fence and, to the amaze- 
 ment of the brigade, pushed himself squarely into the 
 marching column. For a moment the company wavered. 
 Then it lost step to a ragged humpety-hump that brought 
 laughter in place of the cheers of the moment before. 
 
 The intruding officer tucked something like a small tin 
 can under his arm and rushed back to the judges' stand. 
 
 "Here's the secret !" he panted. And held out a sort of 
 small drum, a tom-tom that could be carried unseen in 
 ranks. 
 
 "Well, I'll be hanged ! It's a Filipino thumper or I'm 
 a liar !" exclaimed the second judge. 
 
 Whereupon the third judge came to life and cried: 
 "So he kept his own time drummed it right in ranks ! 
 That's against the rules of the competition, isn't it?"
 
 AT HIS OWN GAME 247 
 
 "No, but it's to be next year. And it's enough to 
 make him lose this by such skulduggery. What do you 
 say?" 
 
 The other two nodded, and a moment later a fresh 
 burst of cheering brought Tom out of the trance of dis- 
 couragement into which he had fallen. 
 
 "It's us!" yelled Ole. "They've reserved their deci- 
 sion! We win!" 
 
 The crestfallen Reggie shrugged his shoulders and 
 turned away. 
 
 "Who wants to be a soldier anyway!" he was re- 
 ported to have remarked.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 LIEUTENANT RUGGLES sprang the idea in the officers' 
 mess. His first thought was how good a joke it would 
 make. But a little discussion brought out the possibili- 
 ties of a great and even thrilling event. 
 
 "Let's make them fight it out!" he announced. 
 
 "But they did. Poor's fourth company won the 
 colors," was replied. 
 
 "Sure. 'But they tell me Van Brunt sneered at Poor 
 for being a tin soldier. Said he could only drill. Would- 
 n't be able to make use of his ability when it came to the 
 real thing." 
 
 "And now what?" 
 
 "Why the Admiral is having Hill and me arrange this 
 sham battle for the last day in June week. Wants a lot 
 of action real guns firing and men dying, and all that. 
 Finest chance in the world to let Tom Poor show his 
 adversary that he can bring home the bacon on the firing 
 line as well as at drill." 
 
 "You're a genius, Ruggles !" 
 
 So it came about that when the Five Striper called 
 in all his company commanders and explained that the 
 brigade was to be divided into two armies, he startled 
 Tom and Reggie by saying: 
 
 "The fourth and tenth companies are to have the most 
 spectacular job. They were picked because they stood 
 
 248
 
 THE BATTLE 249 
 
 highest in company competition for the year. They are 
 to battle for the capture of Hill Number Five, other- 
 wise known to Anne Arundel County as Spinelli Farm." 
 
 "A little more detail," demanded Reggie with alacrity. 
 Possibly this was going to be his chance to get even. Tom 
 had beaten him at his game. It was now his turn to beat 
 Tom at the game of force. 
 
 Reggie never knew till years later that Ruggles had 
 planned the show entirely for Tom's benefit. 
 
 "It's like this" the Five Striper held out a map. 
 "The main armies are to fight on the ridge back of the 
 old marine barracks. Whoever gets to the top of the 
 ridge first will of course win. The rules forbid either 
 force from starting up till the other force is out of cover. 
 This information can be got only by holding a spot that 
 commands both sides of the Ridge." 
 
 The speaker pointed to a black circle on his map 
 marked "Hill No. 5." 
 
 "The fourth and tenth companies under Cadet Lieu- 
 tenants Poor and Van Brunt will command the troops 
 which will fight for this vantage point." 
 
 Next day Ole and Tom took a look over the ground. 
 Though Tom was of course not in the joke, he had 
 sense enough to realize that he was to have his chance 
 to get back at Reggie for the taunt which had gone 
 through quarters : "Tom Poor, the Tin Soldier !" It 
 was a bitter reward for having won the competitive drill. 
 
 "Sure is a simple outlay!" exclaimed Ole. 
 
 "Got to be," replied Tom. "These visitors down to 
 see the exhibition are not militarists. They want to hear 
 the noise and see the smoke. That's about all." 
 
 "I get you. And the way I understand the plan is that 
 the long ridge is the main battle field. Us two companies
 
 250 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 are simply going to have a little private scrap of our 
 own to see who gets the honor of sending the signal for 
 his own forces to go over the top." 
 
 "Correct. And we're going to be the ones to signal 
 because this is the very sort of business Van Brunt can 
 never get through his head. He doesn't think physical 
 strength counts for much of anything." 
 
 "But what chance have you to use hand to hand fight- 
 ing?" Ole himself had always been a little doubtful of 
 Tom's point of view. "If you start a free-for-all brawl 
 up here, no one will be able to signal and the sham battle 
 won't come off. Furthermore, one of your company 
 commanders is likely to hit the pap for gumming the 
 game." 
 
 Then briefly Tom sketched his plan to capture Reg- 
 gie's scouts. "Of course he'll send out his best men, 
 that varsity team gang one at a time to reconnoitre. I'll 
 have a strong arm gang to capture them one at a time and 
 tie them up. When the final rush comes his pillars of 
 strength will have all been tied up and hove in the bushes." 
 
 Within an hour Reggie and Bob were also wandering 
 about on the same mission. 
 
 "Got to snoop about a bit," explained Reggie. "Time 
 has come when I've got to beat Tom Poor or leave An- 
 napolis feeling he has put it over me on every public oc- 
 casion." 
 
 Bob yawned. "What's the sense of that fighting stuff 
 anyway. You lammed the nail on its bean when you said 
 you didn't intend to be a soldier. Here we've been 
 studying to be naval officers for four years and still we 
 have to trot around on land and pull a lot of Army 
 foolishness till we're so full of dust and chiggers there's 
 no fun living!"
 
 THE BATTLE 251 
 
 Reggie turned with a serious look. "Man, have you 
 never heard of the battles the Navy's fought on land? 
 Never has it come to your donkey ears how our gallant 
 gobs took Vera Cruz? Why, it would have been six 
 months before the Army could have packed their trunk 
 and got there. That's half the fun of being in the 
 Navy: variety every minute of the time! First a fleet 
 action at sea, then an expeditionary party ashore!" 
 
 But for all his great ideas, Reggie took little interest 
 in the details of the battle. His one engrossing desire 
 was to "hang it on to Tom for having skinned him earlier 
 in the week." 
 
 At ten A. M. of the day set, the brigade was divided 
 and established half on each side of the main ridge on 
 which the action was to be fought. Infantrymen were 
 armed with Springfield rifles. The artillery had three- 
 inch field pieces. Sufficient blank ammunition had been 
 served out to destroy a goodsized army had there been 
 lead in the shells instead of pasteboard wads. 
 
 The immense crowds of spectators were kept back of 
 the danger line by an extra force of watchmen. Hun- 
 dreds swarmed over the hospital grounds and even the 
 bridge over the College Creek. The Marine band occu- 
 pied the bandstand and kept up a gay martial serenade 
 through the whole morning. 
 
 The fourth Company approached Hill No. 5 direct 
 *rom the armory. The Tenth under Reggie had their 
 instructions to make their way through the town of Annap- 
 olis. 
 
 On West Street Reggie encountered a parade. Unlike 
 his own, its members were not in military uniform. Yet 
 they wore their best clothes and colored ribbons, and 
 some had hats with plumes in them.
 
 252 WON FOR THE FLEET. 
 
 "What's that?" Bob inquired of a bystander as he 
 passed. 
 
 The civilian shook his head. "Don't know exactly, 
 except it's some kind of wedding over at Spinelli Farm. 
 Armenians I believe." 
 
 Bob passed the news along to Reggie as a matter of 
 interest. 
 
 "Armenian wedding?" echoed Reggie. "Seems to me 
 I saw one once. I wonder " He slapped Bob on the 
 back, a most unmilitary procedure. "By heck ! I've got 
 an idea!" 
 
 "You usually do sooner or later," admitted Bob. 
 "Though I can't say it always works. Not another 
 Filipino Tom-Tom I hope." 
 
 "No a bride and groom!" 
 
 'Bob spent the rest of the march trying to worm Reg- 
 gie's brainthrob from him, but without success. 
 
 Having reached the little valley on the far side of 
 Hill No. 5. Reggie gathered his men about him and 
 pointed to the cluster of farm buildings above him. 
 
 "Fellows," he said, "there's an Armenian, or some 
 kind of 'enian, wedding going on up there. We're sup- 
 posed to capture the hill itself and the Supe has got per- 
 mission for us to use the pasture at one side of the house 
 for our war game." 
 
 "Don't forget the time," warned Bob. 
 
 Reggie glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes yet 
 keep your shirt on," he retorted. "Now my idea is 
 to send some of you big bugs up as scouts. Soon as 
 the wedding starts butt in on it. Throw mud, or do 
 anything not too rough to attract their attention. When 
 they get good and sore at you, beat it. Naturally 
 Poor's fourth company will come along about the same
 
 THE BATTLE 253 
 
 time. The Armenians will see their uniform and think 
 they're us. Then there will be a big row. We won't 
 even have to show up. While the Armenians are demol- 
 ishing Poor and his gang, one of our signalmen can 
 sneak up and send the signal." 
 
 This clear happy plan met the company's approval 
 at once. Considerable applause broke out. 
 
 "Time now for a scout!" announced Reggie. "You 
 first, Calkins." 
 
 The husky varsity football tackle unslung his rifle 
 and started up the hill. With the caution of a trained 
 Indian he took advantage of every bit of cover. Near 
 the top he paused. No one was in sight. From the 
 barn came sounds of music and revelry. The wedding 
 had started. Now was the time for him to excite the 
 foreigners against any midshipmen that might appear, 
 particularly those of the unsuspecting fourth company. 
 
 Through an open door of the barn he could see the 
 dancers and merry makers. A mud ball or two through 
 this space and the sight of his uniform would be suffi- 
 cient. He leaned over for a missile. 
 
 At the same instant a step sounded behind him. A 
 heavy body threw itself upon his back. He was borne 
 to the ground. There was a short sharp struggle. De- 
 spite his great strength, Calkins had no chance from the 
 first. Five men were against him. And the fifth was 
 Tom Poor himself. 
 
 "Tie him," ordered Tom. "And gag him," he added 
 when the captive opened his mouth to yell. 
 
 When Calkins failed to return with any news Reggie 
 sent his next best man, Bullock, half-back on the team. 
 Surely he could handle any sort of foul play that his 
 predecessor might have met.
 
 ^54 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Three minutes later he also lay trussed and gagged, 
 'Tom's strong-arm gang were certainly getting in their 
 ^work! 
 
 In quick succession Reggie expended the remaining 
 men whom he felt could cope with any defense Tom's 
 crowd might be putting up. The last two he sent to- 
 gether and armed with clubs cut from the young oaks 
 growing about. 
 
 Still none returned. And there were no joyous signs 
 of rage from the wedding party that were supposed 
 to be incited to murderous actions against any and all 
 midshipmen. 
 
 Time was flying. If no signal were sent in ten minutes 
 both sides of the main forces in the battle could start 
 off together. Those depending upon Reggie would have 
 lost all the advantage he had promised them. 
 
 "Guess I'll take a look myself," said Reggie. "There's 
 something wrong going on up there. I don't know but 
 what the fourth company may have taken possession al- 
 ready. Though I'm hanged if I can see where they'd 
 get cover enough to hide themselves !" 
 
 "Better not," cautioned Bob. "If you get nabbed, 
 we'll never hear- the end of it." 
 
 But Reggie had better sense than to risk himself sin- 
 gle-handed. "Here, Gerard and Hope," he called. "I 
 want you two to go up there as if you were scouting. 
 I'm going to take a side course and watch what hap- 
 pens." 
 
 The same thing happened as before. Only this time 
 from a nearby tree Reggie watched the performance, saw 
 his scouts overpowered and disposed of with the other 
 helpless ones. 
 
 He looked at his watch. "Four minutes," he mut-
 
 THE BATTLE 255 
 
 tered. "Guess Poor'll take his company up in force and 
 capture the place." 
 
 At this instant a door near the end of the barn opened. 
 One of the foreigners came out and went towards the 
 house. He carried a milk pail. Through the open en- 
 trance Reggie saw a line of stalls. 
 
 Then he realized that this end of the barn was separate 
 from the remainder of the building in which the wedding 
 was being held. 
 
 "That's the stunt!" he exclaimed aloud, leaped to the 
 ground and dashed back to his company. 
 
 "Fall in !" he shouted. "We've got just three minutes 
 to win this battle, fellows! Follow me and do exactly 
 what I say or we won't have the ghost of a show!" 
 
 He turned and started off around the hill at a trot. 
 "Come on, and make as little noise as possible!" he 
 shouted. Also he told off three more scouts to go up 
 the same place as the first ones. "Bait !" he explained to 
 Bob as he ran. 
 
 Just below the house he dodged off into the woods and 
 up the hill. At the summit the company came out into 
 the open yard. 
 
 "Speed now!" yelled Reggie. 
 
 The midshipmen dashed pell mell and without thought 
 of military formation across the treeless space. 
 
 By the time the breathless company had reached the 
 back end of the barn a shout was heard from the bottom 
 of the hill at the other side. 
 
 The fourth company had seen them. Tom was absent ; 
 he was busy with his strong-arm gang. A minute and a 
 half more he personally could leave the tying-up gang 
 and send the wig wag to his "army." 
 
 Ole, second in command, took charge at once. He
 
 256 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 realized that Reggie had thrown caution to the winds and 
 was willing to risk an open battle in the farmyard. 
 
 "Don't like it though," thought Ole. "We had partic- 
 ular instruction not to go on the farm except in the 
 pasture." 
 
 He raised his sword. "Forward, double time!" he 
 shouted. And the fourth company leaped into stride 
 with him. They all saw now the enemy tenth waiting 
 near the barn. 
 
 Reggie gauged the oncoming mob. "Quick, Bob!" he 
 commanded. "Slip the crowd round the corner and into 
 that open door. I'm going to leave a squad of plebes 
 here to be captured." 
 
 So as the charging company swept up the slope Reg- 
 gie's men swiftly made their way around the corner of 
 the barn and into the space of the cow stalls. Reggie 
 entered last, pulled the door to, and bolted it after him. 
 
 "Here, Booth," he called to the company signalman, 
 "beat it up through the loft and signal our forces to 
 attack." 
 
 The midshipman scrambled up the loft ladder, floun- 
 dered through the dusty hay, and in another moment was 
 flashing the call to victory to the waiting army half a 
 mile away. A distant cheering swept faintly back 
 and brought a cool thrill up and down his spinal 
 column. 
 
 . 'By this time Ole and his winded troopers had reached 
 the building. Roughly they surrounded the waiting dis- 
 mal plebes and made captives of them. 
 
 "Where're the rest of the company?" roared Ole. 
 "Tell us at once or we'll string you up to the nearest 
 trees!"
 
 THE BATTLE 257 
 
 "In the barn, sir," replied the plebe promptly as he 
 had been told. 
 
 "Get 'em, fellows send the signal here you, go tell 
 Mister Poor to come back at once !" The orders tumbled 
 hurriedly from his lips. 
 
 Almost before he had ceased speaking, the company 
 had dashed around the corner of the barn. Not even 
 noticing the closed door behind which Reggie and his 
 silent men stood grinning, the armed rioters galloped 
 toward the main entrance. In a single rush they entered. 
 
 "Listen!" commanded Reggie sharply. 
 
 Came through the board partition a sudden ending to 
 the music. Women screamed. Heavy thumps, loud 
 cries, angry imprecations, sounds of a more real battle 
 than even that planned on the Academy grounds re- 
 sounded across the rafters of the great building. 
 
 Reggie held up his hand. "Men," said he, "there is 
 a moment in every great campaign when to retreat is 
 the only safe and sane procedure. That moment has ar- 
 rived for the noble Tenth!" 
 
 "And, for the love of Mike, don't make any noise!" 
 added Bob. 
 
 Reggie pointed over his shoulder. "Like to know 
 how we'd ever disturb that din in there," he said. 
 
 With broad smiles of satisfaction the victorious com- 
 pany slipped quietly out and down the hill in the direc- 
 tion of the Naval Academy. Not a lad but would have 
 hugged himself for thought of the mess to which he had 
 abandoned his own schoolmates. 
 
 Dress parade had just begun when the Tenth marched 
 triumphantly on to the field. In a few minutes the news 
 had got about that this was the company responsible for
 
 258 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 the master stroke which won the battle for for no one 
 knew nor cared which army. 
 
 A gay rattle of handclapping ran down the line of 
 visitors. 
 
 After the parade the company commanders were called 
 over to be congratulated by the Admiral for their work. 
 The Fourth was still absent. 
 
 Reggie stood nearest the Admiral. Just then the Aide 
 stepped up and saluted. 
 
 "Beg your pardon, sir, but a report has just come 
 from police headquarters in Annapolis." 
 
 "Good heavens! What's up?" exclaimed the Admiral. 
 
 "Can't quite make out, sir. Sounded like there was 
 an Armenian massacre or something like that taking 
 place at the Spinelli Farm!" 
 
 Reggie bit his lip till the blood came. If he could 
 only go down under the bleachers and have the kind 
 of terrific laugh that was threatening to burst his ribs.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE TURRET 
 
 Two days before graduation the second squadron of 
 the North Atlantic Fleet arrived in the Roads off Annap- 
 olis. Ships and men were scheduled to take part in 
 the June Week exercises. 
 
 Ole received a note from his old friend Billings, three 
 classes ahead of him. Billings was now an ensign on 
 the Pennsylvania. 
 
 "Dear Mr. President," it ran "I've got a turret aboard 
 this battleboat and I want to recruit some of your bunch 
 in the Gunnery Department. We won the trophy last 
 year and we hope to this provided we can rake in a 
 few of the right kind of men. I'll send a boat in for 
 you and five more. Suggest Poor, Van Brunt, and Cal- 
 kins. You can pick the others. Yours for the Fleet 
 Bill." 
 
 Tom who had been listening, burst out laughing. 
 
 "The nerve of him wanting to mix Van Brunt in 
 with us!" Tom was still smarting under the jeers his 
 men had received on their return from the so-called 
 "Armenian massacre." 
 
 "Oh, piffle!" said Ole. "You had more fun out of 
 that 'massacre' than Reggie did. You had all the excite- 
 ment of the actual scrap!" 
 
 Tom shook his head. No real trouble had come from 
 the escapade. But it was a doubtful glory to have been 
 outwitted by an acknowledged inferior. 
 
 259
 
 260 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 At nine the midshipmen stepped from the sea-wall into 
 the battleship's fast picket boat. Out to the gray line 
 of mammoth vessels of war they travelled silently. In 
 the minds of each was thought of how soon he should 
 become an integral part of one of these great fighting 
 machines. 
 
 "Hello, you kids!" Billings greeted them. 
 
 "Good morning, sir." The dignity of the first-class- 
 man was not lost on the young officer who had already 
 passed into the new mill, having entered at the bottom 
 for a long climb to rank and command. 
 
 "Just wished you to have a look around the old craft," 
 continued Billings. 
 
 "Not very old," muttered Tom, running a practised 
 eye along the white decks and glistening guns. 
 
 "Old enough to be the best," was the quick retort. 
 "Which is why I wanted you here. You know you can 
 get orders to the Pennsylvania if the Skipper asks for 
 you. The gunnery officer and I thought you'd be the 
 very crowd we want." 
 
 As they walked about for a glimpse through the quar- 
 ters, engine-rooms, and bridge, Billings and Ole fell back 
 a bit. 
 
 "How's the old Navy School?" asked the former. 
 
 "Same as ever," was the absent reply. Then, realiz- 
 ing that now was the chance to unburden himself, Ole 
 spoke his mind: "Bill, don't you know it won't do to 
 have Van Brunt and Poor on the same ship?" 
 
 "Oh, chuck that scuttlebutt stuff and talk sense!" 
 
 "True, Bill. They're almost as bad as the day they 
 entered." 
 
 "I don't believe it. Tell me now and be fair haven't 
 they both been through the mill for four years mentally
 
 THE TURRET 261 
 
 and physically? Haven't they had one scrap after an- 
 other fists wits- studies? And now haven't they got 
 a certain respect for the wits of each other?" 
 
 Ole thought for a moment. "Yes, I guess they have. 
 But that doesn't prevent each from thinking the other 
 is a pretty weak fish, and behaving accordingly on every 
 occasion." 
 
 Billings stepped up to Ole and banged him heavily on 
 his back. "Just the opportunity!" he cried. 
 
 A bugle sounded. Men came running from hatches, 
 up ladders, from galleys and gangways and decks. The 
 morning turret drill was on. 
 
 Billings directed the five visiting first-classmen to 
 follow him into the forward turret. They squeezed 
 up through the little hole in the overhanging armor 
 plate and found themselves in a closed box-like space. 
 This was the protected room in which the crews worked. 
 Gaping breeches of three fourteen-inch guns stood ready 
 for their meal of nearly a ton of powder and projectile. 
 Through each breech down the sixty-foot barrel could 
 be seen the distant target at which the mammoth guns 
 were trained. 
 
 Lieutenant Strake, the turret officer and boss of Bill- 
 ings, bustled in a few minutes later. He glanced over 
 the waiting men, stripped to their waists, and asked 
 sharply : 
 
 "Ready, Billings?" 
 
 "Ready, sir." 
 
 "Dummy charge, you know; bean bags in place of 
 powder, of course. How is that elevating motor this 
 morning?" 
 
 "Pretty good, sir. Not sparking so much." Billings 
 didn't add that he and the turret captain had been up
 
 262 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 half the night working over the wiring and armatures, 
 and computing the losses that weakened the powerful 
 mechanism just enough to disable the turret. He had 
 long since come to realize that on a battleship of the line 
 once a difficulty arises it must be fought and conquered 
 with no thought of food or sleep. 
 
 A bell rang. "Stand by!" shouted the Lieutenant. 
 
 Men leaped to their stations. Motors and hoists were 
 switched into rumbling buzzing action. The whole struc- 
 ture began a slow sure movement upon the exact line of 
 the target nearly four miles away. 
 
 A second bell rang. "Load!" roared Strake. 
 
 Instantly fifty brawny sailormen sprang into action. 
 The half -ton shell appeared from a yawning hole under- 
 foot. With a crash it fell automatically upon a brass 
 table. A mechanical rammer shot it with tremendous 
 speed into the hungry gun. Four ponderous bags of 
 smokeless powder followed without a moment's delay. 
 Smash! Bang! The huge steel breech-plug swung 
 shut. 
 
 "Thirteen seconds !" announced Strake from his stop 
 watch. "You can do better than that." 
 
 Again the gun team braced. And again the gigantic 
 charge issued from the lower regions of the battleship. 
 The projectile rumbled upon the table. The rammerman 
 shot forward his operating lever. 
 
 But this time the steel missile failed to hit its mark. 
 To the amazement of the tensely watching midshipmen it 
 trembled for an instant, wobbled sidewise, then shot 
 with a terrific concussion against the solid wall of the 
 gun's body and fell into the pit beneath. The rammer- 
 man had pressed his lever the fifth of a second too 
 soon.
 
 THE TURRET 263 
 
 A man screamed in pain. He had been struck a 
 glancing blow and, unbalanced, was flung to what seemed 
 certain death. 
 
 "Silence!" roared Strake. 
 
 To a man the crew stood stock still. 
 
 "Motors off!" 
 
 Whirring gears and wheels came to a dead stop. Then, 
 from the blackness could be heard the cries and groans 
 of the two victims. One was stunned and helpless. The 
 other lay pinned by the mass of metal that had fallen 
 upon both legs, crushing them to a pulp. 
 
 "Overhead tackle," snapped the officer. "Stand by 
 your chain hoist and lift. Here, Tomkins, call the sick- 
 bay. Say send two stretchers." 
 
 Except for snapped "aye, aye, sirs!" the men jumped 
 without a word to obey. 
 
 The turret captain brought a portable electric lamp. 
 By its light it could be seen that the man pinned down 
 could be freed only when the projectile was lifted. To do 
 this a clamp must be put around the projectile's body. 
 And to put the clamp on required that the i4OO-pound 
 mass be raised an inch. 
 
 Strake swiftly saw the danger. "Men," he said in 
 quiet but incisive tones, "that clamp's got to go on. The 
 shell is caught so that the slightest movement may dislodge 
 it. The man who holds the clamp may be caught with 
 poor McGregor. Will any of you volunteer to try it 
 while I run the motor ?" 
 
 At once there was a chorus of "I wills!" 
 
 "You understand that no one but myself and McGregor 
 can run this motor that I am not asking any of you to 
 do what I myself wouldn't do?" 
 
 The instant response was a joy to hear.
 
 264 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 By this time Billings had reached the upper level. 
 He had sprung down immediately to the wounded man 
 and administered first aid with a hypodermic injection 
 to stop the pain. 
 
 "I believe I had better take the job, sir," he interrupted. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I have been in this turret longer than any of 
 these other men. I know the sound of that hoist motor 
 to the finest note. Not one of this bunch can tell as well 
 as I just exactly when to slip that clamp on." 
 
 There were several muffled protests about this not be- 
 ing an officer's job. But Strake shut them up with a 
 curt: 
 
 "You realize the danger, Billings?" 
 
 "I do, sir." 
 
 "Very well then, stand by." 
 
 Billings lowered himself again beside the stricken man, 
 now quiet from the opiate. The heavy shell clamp was 
 passed down. He balanced it opposite the middle of the 
 the projectile. To do this it was necessary for him to 
 place his own hip directly beneath. If the mass slipped, as 
 it threatened, he too would be caught, crushed, maimed. 
 
 "Ready, sir!" 
 
 Not a tremor or hesitation in the voice of the young 
 officer. Not the slightest indication of the awful risk he 
 was taking. Not a flicker of an eye to show what he 
 knew as well as the dread-stiffened audience, that he had 
 even chances of coming out a whole man. 
 
 "Here she goes!" Strake might have been tossing a 
 pebble into the sea, so calm his words sounded. 
 
 The lever went forward half an inch. Nothing stirred. 
 
 "Touch her again, sir," came cheerily from the death- 
 pit below.
 
 THE TURRET 265 
 
 Again the lever crept toward the spot at which it must 
 move the motor a hair and decide the fate of two men. 
 
 One of the midshipmen leaned faintly against the steel 
 bulkhead. He could stand the strain no longer. The 
 others were pale. Beads of perspiration stood out on 
 Tom's forehead. Reggie's face looked exactly as if he 
 were holding his breath. 
 
 Suddenly there was a slight metallic clink. The chain 
 leading to the clamp tautened. "Now !" sang Strake, and 
 shoved his lever to the furthest notch. 
 
 Something slammed. The thud of a body striking 
 a metal surface sounded. Then : 
 
 "Got her, sir!" cried Billings. And half a minute 
 later the pinned man was freed. Helping hands lifted 
 him gently and passed him to the stretcher bearers who 
 had arrived. 
 
 When the injured man had been cleared, Strake pulled 
 out his stop watch. "Stand by to load !" he ordered. 
 
 "Not again!" groaned Tom. "And after what's just 
 happened ! How can they have the stomach for any more 
 of it this morning?" 
 
 But to the visiting midshipmen's great astonishment, 
 not only did the drill go on, but it continued for so long 
 that they became tired just watching. 
 
 "Strake did it on purpose," Billings told his visitors 
 when it was all over. He had taken them down to the 
 junior officers' mess room and ordered up some ginger ale 
 from the Filipino boy in charge of the canteen stores. 
 
 "But why?" asked Ole. "Seems to me after that nasty 
 mess of an accident he would have called things off for the 
 day." 
 
 "Yes," continued Billings, "but that is just where Strake 
 gets his hold on his men. If he had let them go at the
 
 266 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 time when they were shaken and nervous, he would have 
 encouraged them to stop whenever any accident hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "But you don't have those often, do you?" 
 
 "Practically never. We haven't so much as cut a man's 
 finger for the past year in the turret. But suppose we 
 were on the target range, even in battle, and there was 
 real powder being bounced about. Suppose a man got 
 laid out and the others fell into a panic. Then where'd 
 we be?" 
 
 The truth suddenly dawned on the midshipmen. 
 Though the drill had been but that of the usual routine, 
 they had seen the truest test of an officer : Strake had held 
 his men under his thumb in a crisis; and he had carried 
 them through to further work as if nothing had happened. 
 
 "The thing we're meant for I see it now !" exclaimed 
 Reggie suddenly. 
 
 Billings glanced toward the speaker. His face lighted 
 as if suddenly remembering something. Then he turned 
 to the others. He did not wish to seem to address Reg- 
 gie. 
 
 "By the way, fellows, let's get down to business. If 
 you are willing to come to the Pennsylvania, let me know at 
 once and I can speak to the Skipper." 
 
 "I am," said Ole promptly. 
 
 "You bet !" chimed in two of the others. 
 
 Reggie and Tom remained silent. All present half- 
 expected they would. Despite the remarkable change 
 four Annapolis years had brought to each, there still re- 
 mained that old resentment and dislike which dated from 
 the day Reggie spoke of Tom as the "common sailor" and 
 Tom called him a "sick cat" back. 
 
 "And you, Tom?" inquired Billings.
 
 THE TURRET 267 
 
 Tom shook his head. "Don't much care where I go," 
 he said gruffly. 
 
 Billings smiled. Tom had played right into his hands. 
 
 "That's pretty near right, old man," he said. "I came 
 to the Pennsylvania not knowing who was here. The 
 night I arrived Lieutenant Strake had the deck. I nearly 
 fainted when I saw him. He was the last man in the 
 Navy I wanted to go to sea with. My plebe year he was 
 a second-classman. He tried to haze me in a way I 
 didn't like and we had a fight. I got the better of the 
 scrap. So the rest of the time at Annapolis he hated 
 me for licking him. And I hated him for what he had 
 tried to put across under the guise of hazing." 
 
 At this moment the mess-room door opened and Strake 
 himself walked in. "Hello," he called, "have they made 
 up their minds yet, Bill ?" 
 
 "Not yet, sir. Maybe they will though after I tell 'em 
 about how you and I got along that first few weeks. In 
 fact that's why I took them into the turret this morning." 
 
 "Great stuff!" returned the Lieutenant. "I'll just 
 stick around and help you out." 
 
 "Well," continued Billings, "we looked each other up 
 and down. I guess if it hadn't been for the quartermaster 
 and the boatswain's mate we'd have busted loose right 
 then and there and fought it out." 
 
 "Agreed !" said Strake heartily. 
 
 "But we didn't. And then the Skipper somehow got 
 wind of the feeling between us and put us in the same 
 division. 'Believe me, we were like a pair of roosters. 
 Of course Strake was the boss because he was the senior. 
 But I never took my eye off him for suspicion of the 
 dirty tricks I was sure he'd play on me sooner or later." 
 
 "Never told you I had one, did I ?" interrupted Strake.
 
 268 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "No, sir, but I guessed it all right. Well, as time went 
 on the whole ship got to watching us. The wardroom 
 wanted us to fight it out and the loser get detached. Said 
 such a plan would be better for the ship than all this 
 hate business." 
 
 Tom and Reggie both began to get a little uneasy. 
 There was a bit too much similarity between this tale 
 and their own feelings. 
 
 "The end came down there at Vera Cruz. We'd put a 
 landing party ashore and our division had to capture a 
 bunch of armed rioters outside the town. I didn't like 
 Strake's plan and I told film so." 
 
 Strake leaned across the table. "And I asked you to 
 make a suggestion of your own, didn't I ?" His eyes nar- 
 rowed. 
 
 "You did," agreed Billings. "And I told you I was go- 
 ing to clean you up then and there. And you said : 'Mis- 
 ter Billings, you're on. We will settle this knuckle-wise 
 when we get back to the ship. But till then we're going 
 to fight elbow to elbow with our gang here. Why? be- 
 cause we're one of them and the Navy !' " 
 
 Billings stopped. He looked a little ashamed at the 
 memory of his trouble. And he recalled vividly how his 
 senior officer should have reported him and had him 
 court-martialed for such behavior. 
 
 "Tell the rest," said Strake. "It's worth these young- 
 sters' time." 
 
 Billings lowered his voice. "I got back to the ship. 
 I went to my room to make ready for the fight. I even 
 taped my wrists and hands. Then suddenly the truth 
 came bang into my head ; Strake had played the man ; he 
 had kept his head. Didn't we both love the Navy? 
 Didn't we both have the same interests, go in for pretty
 
 THE TURRET 269 
 
 much the same games ?" The speaker stopped and looked 
 across at his former enemy. 
 
 Strake concluded the tale: "And he came to me and 
 said he guessed he wouldn't fight," he chuckled. "Said 
 he thought we might try out a plan of being friends for a 
 week or two just for the old ship's sake." 
 
 "And we've been getting better friends every day since !" 
 exclaimed Billings. "By gosh, fellows, you don't know 
 what it means to go through the strain and worry of a 
 target practice !" 
 
 "And win !" added Strake. 
 
 A pause followed. Billings looked at Reggie, then at 
 Tom. Both lads studied the deck. 
 
 "I haven't heard from you two," he remarked. 
 
 Suddenly Tom stood up. He turned on Reggie with set 
 jaws. "Van Brunt," he said. "It looks as if there is a 
 meaning to all this. Bill wants the two of us to come 
 here. He" 
 
 Reggie looked up with a smile that was almost a sneer. 
 
 "Poor," he broke in, "I'm willing to chance a cruise 
 with even you provided a certain difficulty can be 
 cleared up. And you know what that is you 
 
 Ole sprang to his feet. "Oh, cut it, you bantams ! Is 
 this another fool misunderstanding." 
 
 The two rivals glared at each other. Tom spoke first : 
 
 "Van Brunt, that matter will be decided tomorrow 
 morning. If it is a misunderstanding I'm willing to try 
 being friends. If it isn't I'm " he stopped and doubled 
 up his fists "I'm going to give you the beating of your 
 life!" 
 
 Strake and Billings gazed for a moment admiringly at 
 the pair before them. Tom had always been a splendid 
 physical specimen. Now Reggie, with his four hard years
 
 270 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 behind him, had grown to a man's size too. And his extra 
 height, his clear-cut features, gave him a look of strength 
 that even matched Tom's thicker back and shoulders. 
 
 "They're off !" cried Billings. 
 
 "Like us !" shouted Strake. 
 
 "And I bet a ten spot they help us win the pennant 
 next October !" 
 
 Strake and Billings shook hands heartily and with con- 
 fidence. 
 
 Ole and the other two midshipmen, however, stood a 
 little apart. The mystery and fierceness of this new row 
 between their classmates just at graduation was almost 
 too much to bear.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THEIR LAST FIGHT 
 
 To understand the final barrier that threatened once 
 and forever to ruin the possibility of Tom and Reggie be- 
 ing friends, it is necessary to go back a few weeks. 
 
 As first-classmen, and each in command of a company, 
 one of their many duties was the instruction and drill of 
 the lower classes. Their own work still continued. But 
 a final touch of practical application of all their book 
 learning was necessary before they could go aboard a bat- 
 tleship and take command of men. 
 
 One evening just before taps, a plebe friend of Reg- 
 gie's named Harbin came to his room and complained 
 about Tom. 
 
 "Gave me the devil at drill today." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Said I read all the signals wrong." 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 "Don't see how I could. The flagboat was close by 
 and her hoists were slow enough." 
 
 "Did he say anything special?" 
 
 "Called me down before the whole section. Asked me if 
 I thought I ought to be in the Navy when my eyes 
 wouldn't tell me any more than they did this afternoon." 
 
 "Ever had any trouble with them?" 
 
 "Not a bit. Now Poor has not only given me a low 
 mark for the afternoon, but claims he is going to report 
 me to the doctor." 
 
 271
 
 272 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 Reggie studied the problem for a moment. He had 
 learned the disadvantage of jumping to conclusions too 
 quickly with Tom Poor or any one else. If there was any- 
 thing the matter with this midshipman's eyes he would 
 have to leave Annapolis anyway. Eyes meant too much 
 on a man-of-war's bridge for any weak ones ever to slip 
 through the Naval Academy. 
 
 "Don't we have spotting tomorrow?" asked Reggie 
 finally. 
 
 "Yes. In the armory, I think." 
 
 "I'll settle the trouble then. That's about as good 
 a test of a man's vision as I know." 
 
 The plebe glanced up with a shrewd look. "Did you 
 realize Poor knows you spoon on me?" 
 
 Reggie gripped the table. "You mean he's rotten 
 enough to take his dislike of me out on you ?" 
 
 "Don't see why not," craftily suggested the plebe. 
 
 Reggie frowned. Tom Poor was a rough sort still in 
 that he was outspoken in all that he said or did. Yet, in 
 the past four years, Reggie had never once had permanent 
 cause to believe that he was not perfectly honest. 
 
 "Anyway, we can settle it tomorrow," he said finally. 
 
 Next afternoon, Reggie marshalled a section of under- 
 classmen at one end of the mammoth hall where the brig- 
 ade was formed. Overhead the great steel arches sup- 
 ported a roof of dizzy height. Rifle racks lined the walls 
 holding thousands of small arms in glistening rows. 
 
 "Here is the spotting gun," explained Reggie, laying 
 his hand on a small mortar-like cannon. "At the other 
 end of the building you can see the target. The object 
 of this drill is to train you men for spotting, that is, the 
 control of fire from the fighting tops of a warship."
 
 THEIR LAST FIGHT 273 
 
 For illustration he lay flat on the floor. The gun was 
 pointed at the target and discharged. A dummy projec- 
 tile shot across the intervening space and landed with a 
 thud near the distant screen. An attendant placed a 
 white tuft of cotton where it fell in imitation of the 
 splash. 
 
 "There," said Reggie, "to my eye near the floor that 
 splash looks just about the way a splash at sea would look 
 if I were firing at a range of ten miles." 
 
 The sights on the spotting gun were adjustable. Reg- 
 gie directed one of the midshipmen to change them "up 
 five-hundred yards" was the way he put it. Then he fired 
 again. 
 
 "There ! I shot over that time, showing I aimed too 
 high. Another correction on my sights and I would prob- 
 ably hit." 
 
 When it came Harbin's turn to spot, Reggie watched 
 him closely. If the man couldn't see the signals, he cer- 
 tainly would be unable to estimate or even see the pigmy 
 target way at the other end of the building. 
 
 "Fire!" sung out Harbin. The projectile whistled 
 through the air and fell what corresponded to a thou- 
 sand yards short. 
 
 "Up nine-hundred," he directed. "Fire!" 
 
 "Good work!" came from a dozen of the bystanders. 
 The cotton splash showed the plebe's guess had been nearly 
 exactly right. 
 
 Five times Reggie tried his man before he was con- 
 vinced. And on each trial the plebe proved beyond a 
 shadow of a doubt that, if anything, he could see consid- 
 erably farther and more distinctly than any of the others. 
 
 Tom had an artillery drill the same afternoon. When
 
 274 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 he had done an hour of dragging the heavy field piece all 
 over the parade ground he felt his men had had enough. 
 He handed the company over to Ole the second in com- 
 mand and turned back to Bancroft Hall. 
 
 He had a hunch. The hunch had to do with the plebe 
 Harbin. For nearly a week he had been struggling to 
 teach the lad signals. Instruction of this sort had proved 
 so easy with the others that he was surprised to find this 
 single midshipman stupid beyond belief. 
 
 Then, to Tom's astonishment, Harbin proved he knew 
 the signals well enough by memory. He could recite the 
 meaning of the flags as rapidly as any other boy. 
 
 But he couldn't read them when hoisted on another 
 vessel ! 
 
 It was evident at once that the fellow's eyes were bad. 
 He simply couldn't see far enough to distinguish which 
 flag was which. 
 
 "Ought to have your eyes examined," Tom told him. 
 
 "Don't need to, sir. I can see as far as any of the 
 others." 
 
 But he couldn't, and Tom told him so. And also Tom 
 openly pointed out that dismissal for defective vision was 
 Harbin's fate unless he improved. 
 
 Harbin's roommate seemed more impressed by the pos- 
 sibility of disaster than Harbin himself. This Tom no- 
 ticed. Also the very next day the roommate went on 
 the sick list. He got permission to stay in his room dur- 
 ing drill. 
 
 The room opened out on the side of the sick bay, as the 
 hospital part of quarters is called. From the drill ground 
 Tom could see the roommate sitting in one of the win- 
 dows. This gave him an idea.
 
 THEIR LAST FIGHT 275 
 
 Could it be possible that the roommate was going to save 
 Harbin by dishonest means? 
 
 Midshipmen's eyes are tested by having them read let- 
 ters of various sizes printed on large cardboards. If a 
 man could secure a list of the letters and memorize them, 
 he would be able to pass the eye test by simply identify- 
 ing the card and repeating the letters as he had learned 
 them. 
 
 He would pretend to see them ! 
 
 Tom gently opened the door to Harbin's room. There, 
 as he had suspected, sat the roommate with a pair of 
 binoculars. On the floor above, not a hundred feet across 
 the open court some man was getting an eye test. As 
 each card was held up the roommate would read the let- 
 ters through his binoculars and copy them. Thus would 
 he save his friend Harbin. 
 
 Tom closed the door gently. Time for action had not 
 yet come. 
 
 He found Reggie waiting for him in his room. 
 
 "Hello," said Tom a little distantly. 
 
 Reggie eyed his man with cool estimation of \nhat his 
 problem was. No longer did the broad shoulders and 
 thick arms awe him as they had in earlier years. Now 
 he realized he ran no more danger of being struck by one 
 of Tom Poor's famous sledge-hammer blows than he did 
 of being run down by an automobile at a street-crossing. 
 It was simply a case of watching his step. 
 
 "Poor, I came to see you about a friend of mine. Har- 
 bin is his name." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "He tells me you are reporting him for inefficiency in 
 signals as well as defective sight."
 
 276 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Yes?" Tom himself had learned the waiting game. 
 He long since knew that until the other man showed his 
 hand there was nothing to be gained by flying up and start- 
 ing a row. 
 
 "I would like you to know that I gave him an eye test 
 of my own this afternoon. Harbin proved to be the best 
 spotter in the company. Only the strongest eyes could 
 do what his did." 
 
 "Yes?" It still wasn't time to fight back. 
 
 "And furthermore, I tried him out on signals and dis- 
 covered that he knew them almost better than I did my- 
 self a plebe, mind you !" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 Reggie's face slowly reddened. The other's calm and 
 inquiring tone angered him. This was a new develop- 
 ment of Tom Poor's. In the past, Reggie had usually held 
 the upper hand by the very composure with which he 
 faced Poor's uncontrollable bursts of temper. 
 
 "Well," he snapped, "what are you going to do about 
 it?" 
 
 "Report him for inefficiency and weak eyes," returned 
 Tom quietly. 
 
 Reggie stiffened. "Do you realize that if you do, Poor, 
 I shall go down the same day and report that your state- 
 ment is false and that I can prove the opposite ?" 
 
 Tom smiled. "Van Brunt, I wonder if you think I 
 waste my perfectly good time trying to hunt up ways of 
 getting even with you?" 
 
 "It looks very suspicious when I realize you know this 
 man is my friend; and when I know that you are " 
 
 Reggie hesitated. He had no intention of calling Tom 
 a liar. But he wished to make sure that Tom under- 
 stood he thought Tom was a liar.
 
 THEIR LAST FIGHT 277 
 
 Tom smiled again. Two could play at this game of 
 wits. In the old days he would have leaped on Reggie and 
 pummeled him for the insinuation of dishonor. Now he 
 was playing a far more subtle game. 
 
 "You know, Van Brunt," he observed pleasantly, "if 
 I wished to have a fight I'd go down into the gym, put 
 on the gloves, and pick a man my own size. If, on the 
 other hand, I was hankering to prove my honesty or the 
 truth of what I had said I would take the matter before a 
 referee and argue it out. That's what a court is for. 
 AnoV, if it were a good close dispute, there is no reason 
 why it shouldn't be as much fun as a fist fight." 
 
 Reggie controlled his feelings with difficulty. He saw 
 that at last Tom Poor had ceased to be the bully he had 
 been once. If Tom was to be beaten he must have con- 
 vincing evidence against him. 
 
 "And, incidentally," went on Tom, "it may interest 
 you to know that Harbin's roommate is planning to play 
 the old and crooked game of memorizing the eye cards 
 to get him through." 
 
 Reggie started. "He is?" 
 
 "Just came by and saw him getting them." 
 
 "What do you make of it then?" Reggie's bewilder- 
 ment at the case was getting the better of his emotion. 
 
 Tom then and there laid the difficulty squarely out : "I 
 think, Van Brunt, that you and I are near the crisis of 
 our acquaintanceship. I am positive that Harbin has no 
 right to remain at Annapolis. And I have the most ex- 
 cellent proof. You are apparently convinced of just the 
 opposite ; and you tell me you have proof equally strong. 
 There is a motive for each of us to be dishonorable: 
 you and Harbin are friends; you and I are enemies. I 
 give you my word- that if I prove my case against you,
 
 278 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 I shall leave no stone unturned to have you put out of 
 the naval service. Is that clear?" 
 
 "Perfectly," agreed Reggie. "And let me add that I 
 am prepared to boost you to exactly the same fate if, as 
 I have good grounds for thinking, you are misrepresent- 
 ing Harbin just to get even with me." 
 
 Reggie glared for a moment then stalked out. 
 
 Thus while they had not actually come to blows, Reg- 
 gie and Tom, school and classmates, had on the eve of 
 their graduation sworn to see that one or the other of them 
 was forced out of the profession they had struggled four 
 hard years to master ! It was deplorable. 
 
 Both made their reports to the authorities, then each 
 resigned himself to his fate. Each felt confident. 
 
 On the day of their visit to the Pennsylvania no word 
 had been received of any action taken on the matter. 
 Neither midshipman had been called to testify. It began 
 to look as if the authorities had got wind of the struggle 
 between the two and had determined to arrange matters 
 so that both might be saved to the Service. 
 
 Graduation morning came and still no word. 
 
 The great event of graduation exercises was held as 
 usual in the armory. The graduating class sat in front. 
 Behind, standing at parade rest was the entire 
 brigade. The galleries were crowded with parents and 
 friends. 
 
 The Secretary of the Navy made the presentation 
 speech. Once he paused and glanced keenly over the 
 upturned faces before him. 
 
 "One thing above all I pray you shall remember," he 
 pronounced with impressive solemnity. "And that is 
 this: no matter what you have been in the past, have 
 thought or done or said in the past, from now on you are
 
 THEIR LAST FIGHT 279 
 
 brothers in a common cause: the defense of our great 
 Republic 1" 
 
 But down in Tom Poor's heart a small voice whispered : 
 "True for you, Tom Poor except for one man, Van 
 Brunt. Isn't there some -way out?" 
 
 And Tom, with set teeth, inwardly replied : "Yes, there 
 is. Prove he's a liar and dismiss him !" 
 
 So, though Graduation Ball that night was gay, Tom 
 Poor was not. Neither, if truth were known, was Reg- 
 gie. Despite the magnificent beauty of the spectacle 
 each man wandered listlessly about, longfaced and un- 
 happy. Each had won honors. Each had triumphed over 
 every obstacle that professor and drillmaster could set. 
 Each was an officer every inch. 
 
 Yet each had one black shadow on the day's success: 
 the fact that one man hated him, had cause to believe 
 him crooked, and would prefer to see him flung from the 
 Navy's lists! 
 
 Tom was standing near some decorative palms when he 
 saw Dr. Morris, the senior surgeon, approaching. 
 
 "Good evening, Poor," said the older officer. "I have 
 been looking around for you this evening. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Tom feebly. He had no desire to add 
 to the evening's melancholy by being forced to fight the 
 battle even though it must come sooner or later. 
 
 "It's about a report that you put in against a fourth- 
 classman." 
 
 "Just a minute, sir," Tom interrupted. "I would 
 much prefer that Van Brunt be present if you have any 
 real news about the case." 
 
 As the surgeon assented, Tom set out after Reggie. 
 He found him equally disconsolate at the far end of the 
 hall.
 
 280 WON FOR THE FLEET 
 
 "Van Brunt, Surgeon Morris has some news about our 
 reports and I asked him to let me get you before he dis- 
 closed the result." 
 
 Reggie nodded and followed Tom back. 
 
 "It looks personal," laughed the Surgeon, "the serious 
 way you two lads take the matter. I suppose you have 
 quarrelled over the business. Well you might, too, be- 
 cause you were both right." 
 
 "But we couldn't be, sir!" exclaimed Tom. "A man 
 can't fail to read signal flags at a hundred yards, as I 
 found, and then be the best spotter in his class as Van 
 Brunt reported !" 
 
 "Ho ! Ho !" roared the Surgeon. "He certainly can ! H ' 
 
 Tom and Reggie stared with flabbergasted faces at the 
 speaker. 
 
 "But how?" stammered Reggie. 
 
 "By being color blind," explained the Surgeon. "Har- 
 bin has perfectly good eyes. He can see as far and clearly 
 as any other midshipman. But he can't read signals any 
 more simply because he can't distinguish the different 
 colors in the flags. Naturally he will have to be dropped." 
 
 Just then a lady signalled the Surgeon and he dashed 
 away leaving the two bewildered young naval officers 
 standing looking vacantly after him. 
 
 Suddenly Tom turned to Reggie. 
 
 "Say, old man, do you suppose that you and I could 
 be a little color-blind about each other?" 
 
 Reggie returned the other's keen look for a long min- 
 ute. Then he held out his hand. 
 
 "Tom Poor," he said, "when the Secretary told us 
 this morning we were brothers in a common cause, I 
 made a mental reservation that I'd never be a brother to 
 you. I take it back. Will you shake on it?"
 
 THEIR LAST FIGHT 281 
 
 Tom gripped the other's hand. "I'll shake, you bet! 
 And I'll put in for the Pennsylvania tomorrow. I've 
 been wondering which of us would win the chance of go- 
 ing to her." 
 
 "We've both won!" exclaimed Reggie. 
 
 "No," amended Tom. "We've been won won for 
 the Fleet!"
 
 University of California Library 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 UH 
 
 JUN 121 
 
 \J(jtZ Wr 
 
 UCLA U 
 
 't^l LO-i i 
 
 JUL031997 
 
 rtL 
 
 97 
 > 
 
 tKECEIVED
 
 Hill lllllll 
 
 A 000 040 467 3