It was a most critical moment in the life histories of several young men who had grown to consider themselves as future officers in the United States Navy!

Such a man as Midshipman Bender was certain to report any form of hazing he detected.

Now, the usual punishment meted out to hazers at either Annapolis or West Point is dismissal from the service!

True, this was not brutal hazing, but merely the light form of the sport known as “running” the new man.

Nevertheless, “all hazing looks alike” to the public, when posted by the newspapers, and the Naval Academy authorities deal severely with even “running.”

So, for all of the “youngsters,” or third class men, who had been conducting the evening’s festivities, all the elements of trouble, and perhaps of dismissal, were at hand.

But Dave Darrin had been the first to hear the soft approach of footsteps, and somehow, he had guessed at the meaning of it all.

Just in the fraction of a second before the knock had sounded at the door Dave had made a fine handspring that brought him from his topsy-turvy attitude to a position of standing on his feet.  And, at the same time, he held the washbowl in his hand without having spilled a drop of the water.  Like a flash Dave few across the room, depositing the bowl where it belonged.  With a towel he wiped his hair, then swiftly mopped his face dry.  Hair brush and comb in hand, he turned, saving: 

“Why, I suppose, gentlemen, Dalzell and myself were very fair athletes in the High School sense of the word.  But it’s a long jump from that to aspiring to the Navy football team.  Of course we’ll turn out for practice, if you wish, but ­”

At this moment, Lieutenant Bender, the “duty-crazy” one, thrust the door open.

Here Dave, on his way to the mirror, hairbrush and comb in hand, halted as though for the first time aware of the accusing presence of Bender, midshipman in charge of the floor for the day.

“Uh-hum!” choked Midshipman Bender more confused, even, than he had expected the others to be.

“Looks like rather good material, doesn’t he, Bender?” inquired Mr. Trotter.  “Green, of course, and yet ­”

“I didn’t come here to discuss Navy athletics,” replied Midshipman Bender.

“Oh, an official visit ­is that it?” asked shipman Hayes, favoring the official visitor with a baby-stare.  “As it is past graduation, and there are no evening study hours, there is no regulation against visiting in the rooms of other members of the brigade.”

“No,” snapped Mr. Bender, “there is not.”

Saying this the midshipman in charge turned on his heel and left the room.

An instant after the door had closed the lately scared youngsters expressed themselves by a broad grin, which deepened to a very decided chuckle as Mr. Bender’s footsteps died away.

“Mister,” cried Midshipman Trotter, favoring Darrin with a glance of frank friendliness, “do you know that you saved us from frapping the pap hard?”

“And that perhaps you’ve saved us from bilging?” added Midshipman Hayes.

“I’m such a greenhorn about the Navy, sir, that I am afraid I don’t follow you in the least, sir,” Darrin replied quietly.

Then they explained to him that the “pap” is the conduct report, and that “to frap” is to hit.  To “frap the pap” means to “get stuck on” the conduct report for a breach of discipline.  A “bilger” is one who is dropped from the service, or who is turned back to the class below.

“I judged that there was some trouble coming sir,” Dave confessed, “and I did the best that I could.  It was good luck on my part that I was able to be of service to you.”

“Good luck, eh?” retorted Midshipman Trotter.  “Third class men, fall in!”

As the “youngsters” lined up Mr. Trotter, standing at the right of the line, asked coaxingly: 

“Mister, will you be condescending enough to pass down the line and shake hands with each of us?”

Flushing modestly, but grinning, Dave did as asked ­or directed.

“Mister,” continued Midshipman Trotter impressively, “we find ourselves very close to being ‘spoons on’ you.”

For a youngster to be “spoons on” a new fourth classman means for the former to treat the latter very nearly as though he were a human being.

“Now, you green dandelions may go,” suggested Mr. Trotter, turning to the four “visiting” plebes.

As soon as this had come about Trotter turned to Dave Darrin.

“Mister, we humble representatives of the third class are going to show you the only sign of appreciation within our power.  We are going to invite you to stroll down the deck and visit us in our steerage.  Your roommate is invited to join us.”

Dave and Dan promptly accepted, with becoming appreciation.  All of the youngsters escorted Dave and Dan down the corridor to Midshipman Trotter’s room.

In the course of the next hour the youngsters told these new midshipmen much about the life at the Naval Academy that it would otherwise have taken the two plebes long to have found out for themselves.

They were initiated into much of the slang language that the older midshipmen use when conversing together.  Many somewhat obscure points in the regulations were made clear to them.

Lest the reader may wonder why new fourth class men should tamely submit to hazing or “running,” when the regulations of the Naval Academy expressly prohibit these upper class sports, it may be explained that the midshipmen of the brigade have their own internal discipline.

A new man may very easily evade being hazed, if he insists upon it.

His first refusals will be met with challenges to fight.  If he continues to refuse to be “hazed” or “run,” he will soon find himself ostracized by all of the upper class men.  Then his own classmates will have to “cut” him, or they, too, will be “cut.”  The man who is “cut” may usually as well resign from the Naval Academy at once.  His continued stay there will become impossible when no other midshipman will recognize him except in discharge of official duties.

The new man at Annapolis, if he has any sense at all, will quietly and cheerfully submit to being “run.”  This fate falls upon every new fourth class man, or nearly so.  The only fourth class man who escapes bring “run” is the one who is considered as being beneath notice.  Unhappy, indeed, is the plebe whom none of the youngsters above him will consent to haze.  And frequent it happens that the most popular man in an upper class is one who, while in the fourth class, was the most unmercifully hazed.

Often a new man at the Naval Academy arrives with a firm resolution to resist all attempts at running or hazing.  He considers himself as good as any of the upper class men, and is going to insist on uniformly good treatment from the upper class men.

If this be the new man’s frame of mind he is set down as being “ratey.”

But often the new man arrives with a conviction that he will have to submit to a certain amount of good-natured hazing by his class elders.  Yet this man, from having been spoiled more or less at home, is “fresh.”  In this case he is called only “touge.”

Hence it is a far more hopeful sign to be “touge” than to be “ratey.”

The new man who honestly tries to be neither “touge” nor “ratey,” and who has a sensible resolve to submit to tradition, is sometimes termed “almost sea-going.”

Dave Darrin was promptly recognized as being “almost sea-going.”  He would need but little running.

Dan Dalzell, on the other hand, was soon listed as being “touge,” though not “ratey.”