David Darrins Second Year at Annapolis | Page 6

first, second and third
classes, were waiting to be transported out to one or another of the
great, gray battleships.
Several launches were darting back and forth over the water. The
baggage of the midshipmen had already been taken aboard the
battleships. Only the young men themselves were now awaited.
Near-by stood a lieutenant of the Navy, who was directing the
embarkation of the midshipmen of the different classes.
Five minutes after our party arrived a launch from the "Massachusetts"
lay in alongside the landing.
"Third classmen, this way!" shouted the lieutenant. "How many of

you?"
Turning his eyes over the squad that had moved forward, the officer
continued:
"Twenty-two. You can all crowd into this launch. Move quickly, young
gentlemen!"
In another couple of minutes the puffing launch was steaming away to
the massive battleship that lay out in the stream.
Dave stood well up in the bow. Once he barely overheard Pennington
mutter to a comrade:
"The rascally greaser!"
"That means me," Dave muttered under his breath. "I won't take it up
now, or in any hurry. I'll wait until Pen has had time to see things
straight."
As soon as the launch lay alongside, the young midshipmen clambered
nimbly up the side gangway, each raising his cap to the flag at the stern
as he passed through the opening in the rail.
Here stood an officer with an open book in his hand. To him each
midshipman reported, saluting, stated his name, and received his
berthing.
"Hurry away to find your berthings, and get acquainted with the
location," ordered this officer. "Every midshipman will report on the
quarter-deck promptly at five p.m. In the meantime, after locating your
berthings, you are at liberty to range over the ship, avoiding the ward
room and the staterooms of officers."
The latest arrivals saluted. Then, under the guidance of messengers
chosen from among the apprentice members of the crew, the young
men located their berthings.
"I'm going to get mine changed, if I can," growled Pennington,

wheeling upon Dave Darrin. "I'm much too close to a greaser. I'm
afraid I may get my uniforms spotted, as well as my character."
"Stop that, Pen!" warned Dave, stationing himself squarely before the
angry Pennington. "I don't know just how far you're responsible for
what you're saying now. To-morrow, if you make any such remarks to
me, you'll have to pay a mighty big penalty for them."
"You'll make me pay by going to the commandant and telling him all
you know, I suppose?" sneered Pennington.
"You know better, Pen! Now, begin to practise keeping a civil tongue
behind your teeth!"
With that, Darrin turned on his heel, seeking the deck.
This left "Pen" to conjecture as to whether he should report his
misadventure, and, if so, how best to go about it.
"See here, Hallam," began the worried midshipman, "I begin to feel
that it will be safer to turn in some kind of report on myself."
"Much safer," agreed Hallam. "It will show good faith on your part if
you report yourself."
"And get me broken from the service, too, I suppose," growled the
unhappy one.
"I hardly think it will, if you report yourself first," urged Hallam. "But
you'll be about certain to get your walking papers if you wait for the
first information to come from other sources."
"Hang it," groaned Pennington, "I wish I could think, but my head
aches as though it would split and my tooth is putting up more trouble
than I ever knew there was in the world. And, in this racked condition,
I'm to go and put myself on the pap-sheet. In what way shall I do it,
Hallam? Can't you suggest something?"
"Yes," retorted Hallam with great energy. "Go to the medical officer

and tell him how your tooth troubles you. Tell him what you tried on
shore. I'll go with you, if you want."
"Will you, old man? I'll be a thousand times obliged!"
So the pair went off in search of the sick-bay, as the hospital part of a
battleship is called. The surgeon was not in his office adjoining, but the
hospital steward called him over one of the ship telephones, informing
him that a midshipman was suffering with an ulcerated tooth.
Dr. Mackenzie came at once, turned on a reflector light, and gazed into
Midshipman Pennington's mouth.
"Have you tried to treat this tooth yourself, in any way?" queried the
ship's surgeon.
"Yes, sir; I was so crazy with the pain, while in Annapolis, that I am
afraid I did something that will get me into trouble," replied Pennington,
with a quiver in his voice.
"What was that?" asked Dr. Mackenzie, glancing at him sharply. "Did
you try the aid of liquor?"
"Worse, I'm afraid, sir."
"Worse?"
Pennington told of his