A few minutes before nine o’clock, the next morning, Dave and Dan were strolling through Lover’s Lane, not far from the administration building at the United States Naval Academy.

Their instructions bade them report at 9.15.  Dan was for going in at once and “calling on” the aide to the superintendent.  But this Dave vetoed, holding that the best thing for them to do was to stick to the very letter of their orders.

So, as they waited, the young men got a glimpse of the imposing piles of buildings that compose the newer Naval Academy.  Especially did handsome, big, white Bancroft Hall enchain their admiration.  This structure is one of the noblest in the country.  In it are the midshipmen’s mess, the midshipmen’s barracks for a thousand young men, numerous offices and a huge recreation hall.

“That’s a swell hotel where they’re going to put us up for four years, isn’t it?” demanded Dan.

“I fancy that we’ll find it something more ­or less ­than a hotel, before we’re through it,” was Dave’s prophetic reply.

As, at this time in the morning, all of the enrolled midshipmen were away at one form or another of drill or instruction, the central grounds were so empty of human life that the onlooker could form no idea of the immense, throbbing activity that was going on here among the hundreds of midshipmen on duty.

“Here’s some of our kind,” spoke Dan, at last, as he espied more than a dozen young men, in citizen’s dress, strolling along under the trees.

“I guess they’re candidates, fast enough,” nodded Darrin, after briefly looking at the approaching group.

“Cheap-looking lot, most of them, aren’t they?” asked Dalzell cheerfully.

“Probably they’re saying the same thing about us,” chuckled Dave dryly.

“Let ’em, then.  Who cares?” muttered Dalzell.

“Dan, my boy, I reckon you’ll need to put the soft pedal on your critical tendencies,” warned Dave.  “And, if you want my friendly opinion, I’ve a big idea that you’re going to talk your way into a lot of trouble here.”

“Trouble?” grinned Dalzell.  “Well, I’m used to it.”

In truth Dan had been victor in many a hard-fought schoolboy disagreement, as readers of the High School Boys Series are aware.

As the young men in question drew nearer they eyed Darrin and Dalzell with a disapproval that was not wholly concealed.  The truth was that Dave and Dan were recognized as not being boys who had studied at one of the Naval prep. schools in Annapolis.  The assumption was, therefore, that Dave and Dan had not been able to afford such a luxury.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” was Dave’s pleasant greeting.  “You are candidates, like ourselves, I take it?”

This fact being acknowledged, Dave introduced himself and his friend, and soon some pleasant new acquaintances were being formed, for Darrin had a way that always made him popular with strangers.

“Have you two got to go up before the June exams. here?” asked one of the young men, who had introduced himself as Grigsby.

“Part of it,” grinned Dan.  “We’ve already gone through the primer tests and the catechism, and that sort of thing; but we still have to go before the barber and the toilet specialists and see whether our personal appearance suits.”

“You’re lucky, then,” replied Grigsby.  “Our crowd all have to take the academic exams.”

“Cheer up,” begged Dan.  “Any baby can go past the academic exams.  Arithmetic is the hardest part.  One funny chap on the Civil Service Commission nearly got me by asking me how much two and two are, but Darrin saved me, just in the nick of time, by holding up five fingers; so I knew the answer right off.”

Some of the candidates were already surveying Dan with a good deal of amusement.  They had heard much of the severe way upper classmen at the Naval Academy have of taking all the freshness out of a new man, and, like Dave, these other candidates scented plenty of trouble ahead for cheerful, grinning Dan Dalzell.

“Gentlemen,” broke in Dave quietly, “do you see the time on the clock over on the academic building?  It’s nine-fourteen.  What do you say if we step promptly over to the administration building and plunge into what’s ahead of us?”

“Good enough,” nodded one of the new acquaintances.  “Suppose you lead the way?”

So, with Dan by his side, Dave piloted the others over to the administration building, just beyond the chapel.

As they stepped inside, and found themselves in a hallway, a marine orderly confronted them.

“Candidates, gentlemen?  Walk right upstairs.  An orderly there will direct you to the office of the superintendent’s aide.”

“Thank you,” replied Dave, with a bow, and led the way upstairs.

Near the head of the stairs another marine, in spick-and-span uniform, wearing white gloves and with a bayonet at his belt, called out quietly: 

“Candidates?  First two, step this way please.”

He swung open a door.  Dave and Dan stepped into an office where they found a young-looking though slightly bald gentleman in uniform, seated behind a flat-top desk.

“We have come to report, sir, according to our instructions,” announced Dave Darrin, happily.

“You are candidates, then?” asked Lieutenant-Commander Graham, reaching for a pile of bound sheets.

“Yes, sir.”

“Names?

“David Darrin and Daniel Dalzell, sir.”

“Have you your papers, Mr. Darrin?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dave drew an official-looking envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Lieutenant-Commander Graham.

These the Naval aide scanned closely, after which he looked up.

“You have your papers, Mr. Dalzell?”

“Yes,” nodded Dan.

A more than perceptible frown flashed across the face of the officer.

“Mr. Dalzell, whenever you answer an officer you will say ’yes, sir,’ or ‘very good, sir.’”

Rather red in the face Dan handed over his envelope.

Mr. Graham examined these papers, too.  Then, pulling a pile of blanks before him, he filled out two, bearing the names of the young men, and signed them, after which he handed one of the signed blanks to each.

“Mr. Darrin, you will inquire of the orderly downstairs your way to the office of the commandant of midshipmen.  You will then at once present yourself before the commandant, handing him this paper.”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” replied Dave, with a slight bow.

“Mr. Dalzell, stick close to your friend and you will find out what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Dan, again reddening.

The orderly below directed the two young men how to proceed to the main entrance of Bancroft Hall, there to turn to their left and inquire again their way to the commandant’s office.

“You see,” lectured Dave pleasantly, as the chums plodded along one of the walks, “you have already received your first lesson.  You answered the superintendent’s aide without saying ‘sir.’  You’ll have to work out of this freshness.”

“That wasn’t freshness; it was ignorance,” protested Dalzell.  “Don’t you worry, Dave; I shall soon get the Naval trotting gait to such an extent that I shall be saying ‘sir’ at every other word.”

This declaration was more prophetic than Dalzell could guess at that moment.

Each lad had a queer feeling at heart as he began to climb the long series of white steps that lead to the main entrance to Bancroft Hall.  What would be the outcome?  Were they hence-forth to find this huge pile “home” for four years to come?  Would they, through all after life, look back upon this great government training school as their alma mater?  It all seemed to depend, now, on the verdict of the examining Naval surgeons!

But there was little time for thought.  Once inside, they were ushered, by a white-gloved midshipman, into the office of Commander Jephson, commandant of midshipmen.

That gentleman, also in uniform, as were all Navy officers on duty at the Academy, looked briefly as the two young men stood before him.

“Candidates, gentlemen?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Dave.

“Your orders?”

Each young man handed over the slip given him by the aide.  Commander Jephson scanned each sheet closely, then made some entries on a set of papers of his own.

Next the commandant touched a button on his desk.  Almost immediately footsteps were heard outside.  Another white-gloved midshipman entered, raising his hand smartly to his cap in salute.  This salute the commandant acknowledged in kind.

“Mr. Salisbury, conduct Candidates Darrin and Dalzell outside.  Ascertain how soon the surgeons will be ready to examine them, and conduct the candidates to the Board Room at the time assigned for their examination.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Midshipman Salisbury, in measured tones.  Again the inter-change of salutes, after which Midshipman Salisbury led Dave and Dan to an outer office.

“Wait here,” directed the midshipman briefly, “I’ll let you know when it’s time to go to the Board Room.”

Five minutes later the midshipman again approached them.

By this time there were seven more candidates in the room.  The aide to the superintendent and the commandant were passing the young men quickly through the mill.

“Mr. Darrin, Mr. Dalzell!” called the midshipman master of ceremonies.  As Dave and Dan started to their feet their conductor added: 

“Follow me to the Board Room.”

Down the corridor and into the Board Room the two chums were led.  There, awaiting them, they found three Naval medical officers, all in their proper uniform and one of them seated at a desk.

“Strip, with the least delay possible,” ordered the senior surgeon.

In a very short space of time Dave and Dan stood forth, minus clothes and, it must be confessed, both very nervous as to what these medical men might or might not find.

Thorough, indeed, was the examination, which began with the heart.  But it went much further, including the hair, scalp, eyes, teeth, the condition of the tonsils, the appearance of the tongue, and so on, by regular stages, down to the soles of their feet.

“If there’s a square quarter of an inch these fellows have missed, I didn’t notice it,” muttered Dan to himself.

“You may dress, Mr. Darrin,” announced the senior surgeon, and Dave went to the chair on which his clothing lay.

“Mr. Dalzell, come here a moment”

Dan began to feel queer.  What had they missed?  On what point was his physical condition doubtful?

“Open your mouth,” directed one of the surgeons.

Then followed some more exploration of his teeth.

“Oh,” murmured Dan, when the medical men gave him a rest for a moment.  “It’s only my teeth, eh?  That’s not a vitally important point, is it, sir?”

“We reject candidates for what might seem very slight defects of the teeth,” replied the senior surgeon, with emphasis.  “Open your mouth again.”

The cold ooze stood out on Dan’s brow this time.  Joke as he might, he did not want to be dropped out of the Navy.  Were these medical officers going to find, in his mouth, the clue his disqualification?

“Hm!” said the senior surgeon, watching while another medical officer did the probing and the holding of the dental mirrors.

That “hm!” sent a cold chill of dread coursing down young Daniel’s spine.

“Your teeth just about pass,” remarked the senior officer.  “You may dress, Mr. Dalzell.”

It was not long before Dave and Dan both had their clothing on.  As Dan was finishing, Dave turned to the senior surgeon.

“Is it improper, sir, for me to ask whether we have passed?” asked Darrin quietly.

“You have both passed,” nodded the surgeon.  “Mr. Dalzell, however, will do well to take the most wholesome care of his teeth hereafter.”

Just then the door opened and two more candidates were shown in.

“Come with me,” directed the same midshipman master of ceremonies.

Dan was indiscreet enough to range up alongside their conductor, just missing a vigorous nudge that Dave tried to give him.

“Well, we slipped by the drug-store sign all right,” Dan confided to the white-gloved midshipman.  “Now, how soon do we get our messenger-boy uniforms?

“Never, I hope,” replied their conductor frigidly, “unless you can learn to speak of the uniform of the service with more respect.”

Dan fell back abashed.  His style of humor, he was fast discovering, did not seem to make a hit at Annapolis.

Back in the same waiting room the two young men lingered until nearly eleven o’clock.  More than two score of candidates had passed the medical examiners by this time, and some others had failed to pass.  Yet many of these successful candidates had yet to take their scholastic examinations over in Academic Hall, and so did not wait with Dave and Dan, who had now passed in everything.

By eleven there were fully a dozen young men who, like Dave and Dan, were ready to be sworn in.  These were now led to the commandant’s office.  Here each signed a paper agreeing to serve in the United States Navy for a term of eight years, unless sooner legally discharged.  Each also signed a statement to the effect that he took this step with the full permission of parents or guardian.

Then the commandant of cadets ordered them to form in a line facing his desk.  A notary appeared, who administered to them the oath of loyalty and obedience.  These young men were at last actual members of the brigade of midshipmen.

Commander Jephson now delivered a short address to the lined-up dozen.  He pointed out where the lines of their duty lay, and exhorted them to seek their duty and to perform it at all times.  In closing the commandant put emphasis on these words: 

“One word more, young gentlemen.  Until this moment perhaps all of you have been wont to look upon yourself as boys.  That time has passed.  From the moment that you were sworn into the Navy of the United State ­remember ­you became men.  All of your superior officers will now look to you to realize most fully that you are men ­men in word, deed, thought and judgment.”

Now another midshipman, a cadet petty officer, appeared and conducted the new members of the brigade outside.

“Fall in by twos,” he directed.  “When I give the word, move forward as well as you can, in the idea of marching.”

It was, indeed, a busy hour that followed.  The young men were led before the midshipmen’s pay officer, with whom each deposited the sum of two hundred and sixty-four dollars and ninety-eight cents.  This amount from each new midshipman is required by law.  Of this sum sixty dollars is applied to the purchase of books needed by the new midshipman.  The balance of the sum goes to pay for uniforms, articles of equipment, etc.  From this it would seem that an absolutely poor boy had no chance to enter the Naval Academy.  It usually happens, however, that, when a very poor boy is appointed to the Naval Academy, his Congressman, or some of his friends or fellow townsmen will loan him the money, returnable after he enters the service as an officer.

In addition to the amount required by law to be deposited with the Academy authorities each midshipman is ordered to turn over any other money that may be in his possession, this extra amount to be credited to him.  A midshipman, on entering the service, receives a salary of six hundred dollars a year.  Nearly all of this, however, is required to pay his ordinary expenses.  Each midshipman is allowed a very small amount of spending money, with, however, a more liberal allowance when visiting ports during a cruise.

It is forbidden for a midshipman to receive spending money from home or friends.  Midshipmen sometimes disobey this latter regulation, but, if detected, are liable to severe punishment.

Afterwards the new midshipmen were taken to the storekeeper’s, where each was supplied with one of the uniform caps worn by midshipmen.

Thence the young men were marched back to Bancroft Hall and out onto the terrace over the mess hall.

“Halt!  Break ranks!” commanded their instructor, Midshipman Cranthorpe.  “You will now pay close heed and endeavor to learn rapidly.  Mr. Darrin, step over here.”

Dave went forward, Midshipman Cranthorpe placing him.

“The others will form in line of platoon front, using Mr. Darrin as their guide,” directed the young instructor.

Then followed some rapid-fire drilling in dressing, facings, counting fours, marching and halting.  The material in hand was excellent, or Midshipman Cranthorpe might have been in despair.

Presently their instructor gave the order to break ranks, showing the new men where to stand, up against the building, out of the way.  Almost immediately a bugler sounded a call.  Then the new men were treated to a sight that made their blood dance.

Out of Bancroft Hall hastily poured scores and scores of midshipmen, until nearly six hundred had assembled.  These were the members of the three upper classes.

The brigade of midshipmen is divided into two battalions, each of two divisions, six companies.  The first and fourth companies formed on the right of the first battalion, the seventh and tenth companies on the right of the second battalion.  The divisions formed with intervals of two paces between companies preparatory to muster.  Second call was sounded quickly on the bugle, immediately after which the first petty officer of each company began briskly to call the roll.  Each man answered just loudly enough to be heard.  While roll-call was going on company commanders stepped briskly along inspecting their companies.

As the muster of each company was completed the first petty officer commanded, “count off!”

“One, two, three, four!  One, two, three four!” went the count along each company line.  Then the first petty officer of each company wheeled about, saluted his company commander, and reported: 

“Sir, all present or accounted for!”

Company commanders next corrected the alignment on the right center company of each line.

Battalion commanders, seeing the divisions of their respective battalions aligned, faced about, while the battalion adjutants took post to right and rear.  The brigade adjutant then faced about, saluted the brigade commander, reporting:  “Sir, the brigade is formed.”

Receiving the word from his superior, the brigade adjutant next read the orders, after which he was ordered to take his post.

While this was going on Midshipman Cranthorpe had formed his awkward squad to the rear, behind the first battalion.

Now orders rang out crisply for battalion commanders to take charge.  Thereupon each battalion commander marched his command in column of squads into the mess hall; battalion commanders preceding their battalions, company commanders preceding their companies and the junior officers of each company following the company.  Last of all came Midshipman Cranthorpe’s awkward squad.

And very awkward, indeed, these young men felt.  Each had a burning conviction that he was being watched curiously by hundreds of pairs of eyes.  The new men might as well have saved themselves their worry.  Barely an upper class man in the hall was paying any heed whatever to these self-conscious plebes.

The meal, a mid-day dinner, was an excellent one.  Few of the new men, however, had any notion of what it consisted.

Mess hall was left with almost the same amount of formality.  In the short recreation period that followed the new men, painfully conscious that their caps were the only part of the uniform they wore, were hurried away by Midshipman Cranthorpe.

Now they were quickly assigned to the rooms that they would occupy during their first year at the Naval Academy.

The midshipmen are not roomed by classes.  Instead, each is assigned to a company, and there are three companies to a division.  Each division occupies a floor in Bancroft Hall.  It is not called a “floor” but a “deck.”  Dave and Dan were assigned to the armory wing of the lowest deck, on what was virtually the basement floor of Bancroft Hall, or would have been, but for the mess hall underneath.

As far as wood work went it was a handsome room.  When it came to the matter of furniture it was plain enough.  There was the main or study room.  Off at either side was an alcove bedroom.  There was also a closet in which stood a shower bath.  The one window of the room looked over across the Academy grounds in the direction of Academic Hall.

A cadet petty officer from the first class briefly, crisply instructed them concerning the care of their room, and their duties within its walls.

What followed that afternoon put the heads of the new midshipmen in a whirl.  Afterwards they had a confused recollection of having been marched to the tailor at the storekeeper’s, where they were measured for uniforms, all of which are made to order.  They recalled receiving a thin, blue volume entitled “Regulations of the U.S.  Naval Academy,” a book which they were advised by a first clansman instructor to “commit to memory.”

“In former days, in the old-time academy, there were something more than six hundred regulations,” dryly remarked the cadet petty officer in charge of them.  “In the new up-to-date Naval Academy there are now more than one thousand regulations.  You are all expected to appreciate this merciful decrease in the number of things you are required to remember.”

There were also two periods of drill, that afternoon, and what-not more.

Supper came as a merciful release.  When the meal was over, while many of the upper class men remained outside in the warm June air, the plebes were ordered to go to their rooms and start in making themselves familiar with the thousand-and-more regulations.

“Thank goodness they give us some time for light reading,” muttered Dan Dalzell, as he stalked into his room, hung up his uniform cap and sank into a chair.  “Whew!  What a day this has been!”

“I’ve rather enjoyed it,” murmured Dave, as he sank into the chair on the opposite side of the study table.

“Huh!  You have liberal ideas, then, about enjoyment.  How many hundred rules are you going to commit to memory tonight?

“I don’t know,” returned Dave.  “But I do know that my head is in a big whirl, and that I’m going to rest it for a few minutes.  By the way, Dan, there’s one thing I hope you remember.”

“What is that?” demanded Dalzell.

“What did they tell us this lower deck was named?”

“Dunno,” grunted Dan.  “But I have my own name for it. I call it the pinochle deck.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do to repeat,” laughed Dave.

At that moment the handle of the door was turned.  Five upper class midshipmen entered, closing the door behind them.  Then they stood there, glaring at the two poor plebes in “cit.” clothes.