Examination week - torture of the “wooden” and seventh heaven of the “savvy!”

For the wooden man, he who knows little, this week of final examinations is a period of unalloyed torture.  He must go before an array of professors who are there to expose his ignorance.

No “wooden” man can expect to get by.  The gates of hope are closed before his face.  He marches to the ordeal, full of a dull misery.  Whether he is fourth classman or first, he knows that hope has fled; that he will go below the saving 2.5 mark and be dropped from the rolls.

But your “savvy” midshipman - he who knows much, and who is sure and confident with his knowledge, finds this week of final examinations a period of bliss and pride.  He is going to “pass”; he knows that, and nothing else matters.

Eight o’clock every morning, during this week, finds the midshipman in one recitation room or another, undergoing his final.  As it is not the purpose of the examiners to wear any man out, the afternoon is given over to pleasures.  There are no afternoon examinations, and no work of any sort that can be avoided.  Indeed, the “savvy” man has a week of most delightful afternoons, with teas, lawn parties, strolls both within and without the walls of the Academy grounds, and many boating parties.  It is in examination week that the young ladies flock to Annapolis in greater numbers than ever.

Sometimes the “wooden” midshipman, knowing there is no further hope for him, rushes madly into the pleasures of this week, determined to carry back into civil life with him the memories of as many Annapolis pleasures as possible.

A strong smattering there is of midshipmen who, by no means “savvy,” are yet not so “wooden” but that they hope, by hard study at the last to pull through on a saving margin in marks.

These desperate ones do not take part in the afternoon pleasures, for these midshipmen, with furrowed brows, straining eyes, feverish skin and dogged determination, spend their afternoons and evenings in one final assault on their text-books in the hope of pulling through.

Dave Darrin was not one of the honor men of his class, but he was “savvy” just the same.  Dan Dalzell was a few notches lower in the class standing, but Dan was as sure of graduation as was his chum.

“One thing goes for me, this week,” announced Dan, just before the chums hustled out to dinner formation on Monday.

“What’s that?” Dave wanted to know.  “No girls; no tender promenades!” grumbled Midshipman Dalzell.

“Poor old chap,” muttered Dave sympathetically.

“Oh, that’s all right for you,” grunted Dan.  “You have one of the ‘only’ girls, and so you’re safe.”

“There are more ‘only’ girls than you’ve any idea of, Dan Dalzell,” Dave retorted with spirit.  “The average American girl is a mighty fine, sweet, wholesome proposition.”

“I’ll grant that,” nodded Dan, with a knowing air.  “But I’ve made an important discovery concerning the really fine girls.”

“Produce the discovery,” begged Darrin.  “The really fine girl,” announced Dan, in a hollow voice, “prefers some other fellow to me.”

“Well, I guess that’ll be a fine idea for you to nurse - until after graduation,” reflected Darrin aloud.  “I’m not going to seek to undeceive you, Danny boy.”

So Dave went off to meet Belle and her mother, while Dan Dalzell hunted up another first classman who also believed that the girls didn’t particularly esteem him.  That other fellow was Midshipman Jetson.

“Mrs. Davis is giving a lawn party this afternoon,” announced Dave, after he had lifted his cap in greeting of Mrs. Meade and her daughter.  “I have an invitation from Mrs. Davis to escort you both over to her house.  Of course, if you find the tea and chatter a bit dull over there, we can go somewhere else presently.”

“I never find anything dull that is a part of the life here,” returned Belle, little enthusiast for the Navy.  “It will suit you, mother?”

“Anything at all will suit me,” declared Mrs. Meade amiably.  “David, just find me some place where I can drop into an armchair and have some other middle-aged woman like myself to talk with.  Then you young people need pay no further heed to me.  Examination week doesn’t last forever.”

“It doesn’t,” laughed Darrin, “and many of our fellows are very thankful for that.”

“How are you going to come through?” Belle asked, with a quick little thrill of anxiety.

“Nothing to worry about on that score,” Dave assured her.  “I’m sufficiently ‘savvy’ to pull sat. all right.”

“Isn’t that fine?  And Dan?”

“Oh, he’ll finish sat., too, if he doesn’t sight another craft flying pink hair ribbons.”

“Any danger of that?” asked Belle anxiously, for Dan was a townsman of hers.

“Not judging by the company that Dan is keeping to-day,” smiled Darrin.

“Who is his companion to-day, then?”

“Jetson, a woman hater.”

“Really a woman hater?” asked Belle.

“Oh, no; Jet wouldn’t poison all girls, or do anything like that.  He isn’t violent against girls.  In fact, he’s merely shy when they’re around.  But in the service any fellow who isn’t always dancing attendance on the fair is doomed to be dubbed a woman hater.  In other words, a woman hater is just a fellow who doesn’t pester girls all the time.”

“Are you a woman hater?” Belle asked.

“Except when you are at Annapolis,” was Dave’s ready explanation.

That afternoon’s lawn party proved a much more enjoyable affair than the young people had expected.  Belle met there, for the first time, five or six girls with whom she was to be thrown often later on.

When it was over, Dave, having town liberty as well, proudly escorted his sweetheart and her mother back to the hotel.

There were more days like it.  Dave, by Thursday, realizing that he was coming through his morning trials with flying colors, had arranged permission to take out a party in one of the steamers.

As the steamer could be used only for a party Darrin invited Farley and Wolgast to bring their sweethearts along.  Mrs. Meade at first demurred about going.

“You and Belle have had very little time together,” declared that good lady, “and I’m not so old but that I remember my youth.  With so large a party there’s no need of a chaperon.”

“But we’d immensely like to have you come,” urged Dave; “that is, unless you’d be uncomfortable on the water.”

“Oh, I’m never uncomfortable on the water,” Belle’s mother replied.

“Then you’ll come, won’t you?” pleaded Dave.  Belle’s mother made one of the jolly party.

“You’d better come, too, Danny boy,” urged Dave at the last moment.  “There’ll be no unattached girl with the party, so you’ll be vastly safer with us than you would away from my watchful eye.”

“Huh!  A fine lot your watchful eye has been on me this week,” retorted Midshipman Dalzell.  “Jetson has been my grandmother this week.”

It was a jolly party that steamed down Chesapeake Bay in the launch that afternoon.  There was an enlisted man of the engineer department at the engine, while a seaman acted as helmsman.

“Straight down the bay, helmsman,” Dave directed, as the launch headed out.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the man, touching his cap.

After that the young people - Mrs. Meade was included under that heading - gave themselves over to enjoyment.  Belle, with a quiet twinkle in her eyes that was born of the love of teasing, tried very hard to draw Mr. Jetson out, thereby causing that young man to flush many times.

Dan, from the outset, played devoted squire to Mrs. Meade.  That was safe ground for him.

“What’s that party in the sailboat yonder?” inquired Mrs. Meade, when the steamer had been nearly an hour out.  “Are the young men midshipman or officers?”

Dave raised to his eyes the glasses with which the steamer was equipped.

“They’re midshipmen,” he announced.  “Gray and Lambert, of our class, and Haynes and Whipple of the second class.”

“They’ve young ladies with them.”

“Certainly.”

“Isn’t it rather risky for midshipmen to have control of the boat, then, with no older man along?” asked Mrs. Meade.

“It ought not to be,” Dave replied.  “Midshipmen of the upper classes are expected to be familiar with the handling of sailboats.”

“Those fellows are getting careless, at any rate,” muttered Dan Dalzell.  “Look at the way that sail is behaving.  Those fellows are paying too much attention to the girls and too little heed to the handling of the craft!”

Even as Dalzell spoke the helm was jammed over and the boat started to come about.

“Confound Lambert!  He ought to ease off his sheet a good bit,” snapped Midshipman Dalzell.

“Helmsman, point our boat so as to pass under the other craft’s stern,” spoke Darrin so quietly that only Dan and Belle overheard him.

“Aye, aye, sir,” murmured the helmsman, in a very low voice.  Dave signaled the engineman silently to increase the speed.

“There the boat goes, the sail caught by a cross current of air!” called Midshipman Dalzell almost furiously.

The girls aboard the sailboat now cried out in alarm as they felt the extreme list of the boat under them.  All too late Midshipman Gray Sprang for the sheet to ease it off.

Too late!  In another moment the sailboat had capsized, the mast nearly snapping in the blow over.

“Make haste - do!” cried Mrs. Meade, rising in the steamer.

But the steamer was already under increased headway, and the helmsman had to make but a slight turn to bear down directly to the scene of the disaster.

Three midshipmen could be seen floundering in the water, each steadily supporting the head of a girl.  But the fourth, midshipman was floundering about wildly.  Then he disappeared beneath the water.

“That young man has given up and gone down!” cried Mrs. Meade, whom Dave had just persuaded to resume her seat.

“No,” Dave assured her.  “Gray isn’t drowning.  But his girl companion is missing, and he has dived to find her.”

“Then the girl is lost!” quivered Mrs. Meade.

“No; I think not.  Gray is a fine swimmer, and will find Miss Butler before she has been under too long a time.”

Then Dave rose, for he was commander here.  “Danny boy, throw off your shoes and blouse and cap.  The rest stand by the boat to give such aid as you can.  Ladies, you’ll excuse us.”

Thereupon Dave Darrin doffed his own cap, blouse and shoes.  He and Dalzell were the two best swimmers in the party, and it looked as though there would be work ahead for them to do.

In another moment the steamer was on the scene, and speed was shut off.  Lambert, Haynes and Whipple, with their girl companions, were speedily reached and hauled aboard.

Then Gray came up, but alone.

“Hasn’t Pauline come up?” he gasped in terror.

“No,” Darrin replied shortly, but in a voice laden with sympathy.

“Then I’ve got to down again,” replied Gray despairingly.  “I’d better stay down, too.”

He sank instantly, a row of bubbles coming up at the spot where he had vanished.

“The poor, unfortunate fellow!  He won’t really attempt to drown himself, will he, if he doesn’t find his young woman friend?” inquired Mrs. Meade.

“No,” Dave answered without turning.  “And we wouldn’t allow him to do so, either.”

Dave waited but a brief interval, this time.  Then, as Midshipman Gray did not reappear, he called: 

“Danby!”

“Yes, sir,” replied the enlisted man by the engine.

“Hustle forward and rig a rope loop to the anchor cable.  How long is the anchor?”

“About three feet, sir.”

“Then rig the loop two feet above the mudhook.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hustle!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Gray trying to stay under?  Trying to drown himself as a sign of his repentance?” whispered Wolgast in Dave’s ear.  But Darrin shook his head.  An instant later Gray shot up to the surface - alone!

“Come aboard,” ordered Dave Darrin, but he did not rely entirely on coaxing.  Snatching up a boat-hook he fastened it in Gray’s collar and drew that midshipman alongside, where many ready hands stretched out and hauled him aboard.

Two of the rescued young women were now sobbing almost hysterically.

“If you won’t let me stay in the water, won’t some of the rest of you do something?” demanded Midshipman Gray hoarsely.

“We’re going to,” nodded Dave.  “Danby!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let go the anchor.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Follow me, Dan,” directed Dave.  The anchor went overboard while the two midshipmen were hustling forward.

“I’m going down first, Danny,” explained Dave.  “Follow whenever you may think you need to, but don’t be in too big a hurry.  Use good judgment.”

“Trust me,” nodded Dan hoarsely.

With that Dave seized the visible part of the anchor cable and went down, forcing himself toward the bottom by holding to the cable.  It was a difficult undertaking, as, after he had gone part of the way, the buoyancy of the water fought against his efforts to go lower.  But Midshipman Darrin still gripped hard at the cable, fighting foot by foot.  His eyes open, at last he sighted the loop near the anchor.  With a powerful effort he reached that loop, thrusting his left arm through it.  The strain almost threatened to break that arm, but Dave held grimly, desperately on.

Now he looked about him.  Fortunately there was no growth of seaweed at this point, and he could see clearly for a distance of quite a few yards around him.

“Queer what can have become of the body!” thought Darrin.  “But then, the boat has drifted along slightly, and Miss Butler may have sunk straight down.  She may be lying or floating here just out of my range of vision.  I wish I could let go and strike out, but I’d only shoot up to the surface after a little.”

Many a shadow in the deep water caused Darrin to start and peer the harder, only to find that he had been deceived.

At that depth the weight of the water pressed dangerously upon his head and in his ears.  Dave felt his senses leaving him.

“I’d sooner die than give up easily!” groaned the young midshipman, and he seemed about to have his wish.