Two sailboats were now engaged in the work of rescue, and a third was heading for Mr. Salisbury and his engineer.

In almost no time, it seemed, Dave and Page, and their supporters, were hauled into one of the boats.

“Give Mr. Page first aid for the injured—­quick!” urged Dave, almost in a whisper.  “He has gone close to being drowned.”

Hardly had he spoken the words when Darrin’s own eyes closed.  The strain had been too much for him.

When the steam launches came up, Dave and Page, as well as the other drenched fourth class men, were transferred, and fast time was made back to the dock.

Mr. Salisbury and his engineer were also taken back by steam power.  The owner of the launch had a most satisfactory explanation to offer.

He and his engineer had both believed that they had abundant room in which to clear the sailboat.  When, at last, they had tried their helm, it was found that the steering gear had broken.  There was no way in which to change the course of the motor boat in time.  The reversing gear was promptly used, but it was impossible to stop headway and dart back before the collision came.

It was accident, and that was all there was to it.  Yet, had it not been for Darrin’s prompt judgment, and the cool conduct of some of the members of his crew, there might easily have been some fatalities to report among the midshipmen.

As it was, nothing but Darrin’s splendid conduct had saved Midshipman Page from speedy death by drowning.

Dave opened his eyes on his way back to Annapolis.  Page, however though he was “pumped dry” of the water that he had involuntarily swallowed, remained in a stupefied condition all the way back.

An ambulance had been signaled for, and was waiting at the dock.

“I don’t want to go to hospital, sir,” Dave objected weakly.

“You’ll come with me, Mr. Darrin,” responded the Naval surgeon, without argument.  “Of course we can discharge you at any time we find you strong enough for duty.”

So Dave was taken to hospital, stripped, rubbed down, put to bed and dosed with hot drinks.

Midshipman Page was put on the cot next to Dave’s.  Now the surgeons discovered the injury that had been done Page’s head by the falling gaff.

Some four hours later Commander Jephson, commandant of midshipmen, came through the hospital, accompanied by Lieutenant Edgecombe, who had been the sailing instructor of the afternoon.

“Good evening, Mr. Darrin,” was the commandant’s very cordial greeting.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Good evening, Mr. Darrin,” came from Lieutenant Edgecombe, which greeting Dave also acknowledged.

“The surgeon says, Mr. Darrin, that you a fit to do some talking,” continued the commandant.

“I am certain of that, sir,” smiled Darrin.  “In fact, my only trouble is that the surgeon insists on my staying here tonight.”