Each boat was under the direct command of a midshipman who served as crew captain, with thirteen other midshipmen under him as crew.

When the post of crew captain fell to Dan Dalzell he embarked his crew, gave the order to shove off and let fall oars, and got away in good style.

Then, leaning indolently back Dan grinned luxuriously.

“This is the post I’m cut out for,” he murmured, so that stroke-oar heard him and grinned.

Yet, as “evil communications corrupt good manners,” Dan’s attitude was reflected in his crew of classmates.  The cutter was manned badly at that moment.

“Mr. Dalzell!” rasped out the voice of Lieutenant Fenton, the instructor, from a near-by boat.

Dan straightened up as though shot.  But the Navy officer’s voice continued sternly: 

“Sit up in a more seamanlike manner.  Pay close attention to the work of your boat crew.  Be alert for the best performance of duty in the boat that you command.  For your inattention, and worse, of a moment ago, Mr. Dalzell, you will put yourself on the conduct report.”

The next morning, at breakfast formation, Dan’s name was read from the “pap.”  He had been given five demerits.  This was below the gravity of his offense, but he had been let off lightly the first time.

“You’ve got to stick to duty, and keep it always in mind,” Darrin admonished his chum.  “I don’t intend to turn preachy, Dan; but you’ll surely discover that the man who lets his indolence or sense of fun get away with him is much better off out of the Naval Academy.”

“Pooh!  A lot of the fellows have frapped the pap,” retorted Dalzell.  “Demerits don’t do any harm, unless you get enough of ’em to cause you to be dropped.”

“Well, if there is no higher consideration,” argued Dave, “at least you must remember that the number of demerits fixes your conduct grade.  If you want such liberties and privileges as are allowed to new midshipmen, you’ll have to keep your name away from the pap.”

“Humph!  Setting your course toward the grease mark are you?” jeered Dan.

“Think it over!” urged Dave Darrin patiently.

Before August was over the new fourth class men marched “like veterans.”  They had mastered all the work of drill, marching and parade, and felt that they could hold their own in the brigade when the upper class men returned.

On the 28th of August the three big battleships were sighted coming up the bay in squadron formation.  A little more than an hour later they rode at anchor.

It was not, however, until the 30th of August that the upper classmen were disembarked.

August 31 was devoted to manifold duties, including the hurried packing of light baggage, for now the members of the three upper classes were to enjoy a month’s leave of absence before the beginning of the academic year on October 1.

Then, like a whirlwind mob, and clad in their “cit.” clothes, the upper class men got away on that hurried, frenzied leave.