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Dave Darrin's First Year at Annapolis, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 9. Dan Just Can't Help Being "Touge" |
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_ CHAPTER IX. DAN JUST CAN'T HELP BEING "TOUGE"
As this was the opening day of the first term of the academic year it was a bad time to be "docked for repairs" at the hospital. Merely reading over the list of the fourth class studies did not convey to the new men much idea of how hard they were to find their work. In the department of Marine Engineering and Naval Construction there were lessons in mechanical drawing. No excuse is made for a midshipman's natural lack of ability in drawing. He must draw satisfactorily if he is to hope to pass. In mathematics the new man had to recite in algebra, logarithms and geometry. In addition to the foregoing, during the first term, the new midshipman had courses in English and in French. As at West Point, the mathematics is the stumbling block of the new man at Annapolis. In the first term algebra, logarithms and geometry had to be finished, for in the second term trigonometry was the subject in mathematics. Shortly before eight in the morning the bugle call sounded for the first period of recitation. The midshipmen fell in by classes in front of Bancroft Hall. After muster the classes marched away by sections. Each section contained an average of ten men, under command of one of their number, who was known as the section leader. It was the section leader's duty to march his section to the proper recitation room in Academic Hall, to preserve discipline while marching, and to report his section to the instructor. At the beginning of the academic year the fourth class men were divided into sections in alphabetical order. Afterwards the sections would be reorganized according to order of merit. So, at the outset, Darrin and Dalzell were in the same section, and Dave, as it happened, had been appointed section leader. When the command rang out Dave marched away with his section, feeling somewhat proud that he had attained even to so small a degree of command. It was an interesting sight to see hundreds of midshipmen, split up into so many sections, marching across the grounds in so many different directions, for not all the sections were headed for Academic Hall. Dave knew the number of the room to which his section was bound, and knew also the location of the room. Sections march, in step, at a brisk gait, the clicking of so many heels against the pavements making a rhythmic, inspiring sound. Some of the midshipmen in Dave's section however, felt low-spirited that morning. They had been looking through their text-books, and felt a dread that they would not be able to keep up the stiff pace of learning long enough to get past the semi-annual examinations in the coming January. Dave and Dan, however, both felt in good spirits. They had looked through the first lessons in algebra, and felt that they would not have much trouble at the outset, anyway. They believed that they had been well grounded back in their High School days. On their way Darrin's section was passed by three officers of the Navy. Midshipmen must always salute officers of the Navy. While marching in sections, however, the only midshipman who salutes is the section leader. Three times Dave's hand came smartly up to the visor of his cap in salute, while the other men in his section looked straight ahead. Reaching Academic Hall Dave marched his section mates into the recitation room. Lieutenant Bradshaw, the instructor, was already present, standing by his desk. Darrin saluted the lieutenant as soon as he had halted the section. "Sir, I report all members of the section present." Five of the midshipmen were directed by Lieutenant Bradshaw to go to their seats. The rest were ordered to blackboards, Dave and Dan among the latter number. Those at the blackboards were each given a problem to lay out on the blackboard. Then the instructor turned to the fourth class men who remained in their seats. These he questioned, in turn, on various aspects of the day's lesson. All the time the midshipmen at the blackboard worked busily away, each blocking out phase after phase of his problem. Dave Darrin was first to finish. He turned his back to the board, taking the position of parade rest. Dan was third to finish. "Mr. Darrin, you may explain your work," announced Lieutenant Bradshaw. This Dave did, slowly, carefully, though without painful hesitation. When he had finished the instructor asked him several questions about the problem, and about some other phases of the day's work. Darrin did not jump at any of his answers, but made them thoughtfully. "Very good, indeed, Mr. Darrin," commented the instructor. "But, when you are more accustomed to reciting here, I shall hope for a little more speed in answering." As Dave was returning to his seat Lieutenant Bradshaw marked him 3.8 per cent on the day's work. That was an excellent marking, 4 being the highest. The lowest average in a study which a midshipman may have, and hold his place in the Naval Academy, is 2.5. Anything below 2.5 is unsatisfactory, which, in midshipman parlance is "unsat." Taking 4 to represent 100 per cent., 2.5 stands for 62.5 per cent. This would not be a high average to expect, as courses are laid down in the average High School of the land; but as most of our American High Schools go 2.5 at Annapolis is at least as good a marking as 90 per cent would be in a High School. "Good old Dave leaks too slow at the spout, does he?" chuckled Dan to himself, as he waited at parade rest. "When it comes my turn, then, as I happen to know my problem as well as the fellow who wrote the book, I'll rattle off my explanation at a gait that will force the lieutenant to stand on his feet to hear all I say." Dalzell was the fourth man called upon at the blackboard. Taking a deep breath, and assuming a tremendously earnest look, Dan plunged into the demonstration of his problem as fast as he could fire the words out. Lieutenant Bradshaw, however, listened through to the end. "Your demonstration is correct, Mr Dalzell," said the instructor quietly. "However while speed in recitation is of value, in the future try to speak just a little more slowly and much more distinctly. You are fitting yourself to become a Naval officer one of these days. On shipboard it is of the utmost importance that an officer's voice be always distinct and clear, in order that every word he utters may be instantly understood. Try to keep this always in mind, Mr. Dalzell, and cultivate the habit of speaking distinctly." The rebuke was a very quiet one, and courteously given. But Dan, who knew that every other man in the section was grinning in secret over his discomfiture, was quickly losing his nerve. Then, without favor, Lieutenant Bradshaw questioned Dan searchingly on other details of the day's work. Dan stammered, and forgot much that he had thought he knew. Lieutenant Bradshaw set down a mark of 2.9, whereas Dalzell, had he stuck sensibly to the business in hand, would have been marked as high as Dave had been. As the section was marching back to Bancroft Dan whispered: "Dave, did you hear the old owl go 'too-whoo' at me in the section room?" "Stop talking in section!" ordered Dave crisply. "Blazes! There isn't a single spot at Annapolis where a fellow can take a chance on being funny!" muttered Dalzell under his breath. "Dave, old chum," cried Dan tossing his cap on the bed as they entered their room. "Are you going to turn greaser, and stay greaser?" "What do you mean?" asked Darrin quietly. "You told me to shut up in the ranks." "That was right, wasn't it? I am under orders to see that there is no talking in the section when marching." "Not even a solitary, teeny little word, eh?" "Not if I can stop it," replied Dave. "And what if you can't stop it?" "Then I am obliged to direct the offender to put himself on the report." "Great Scott! Would you tell your chum to frap the pap for a little thing like that, and take demerits unto himself?" "If I had to," nodded Dave. "You see, Dan, we're here trying to learn to be Naval officers and to hold command. Now, it's my belief that a man who can't take orders, and stick to them, isn't fit to give orders at any period in his life." "This sort of thing is getting on my nerves a bit," grumbled Dan. "Just think of all the freedom we had in the good old days back at Gridley!" "This is a new life, Dan--a different one and a better one." "Maybe," half assented Dalzell, who was beginning to accumulate the elements of a "grouch." "Dan," asked Darrin, as he seated himself at his desk and opened a book preparatory to a long bit of hard study, "don't you know that your bed isn't the regulation place to hang your cap?" "Oh, hang the cap, and the regulations, too!" grumbled Dalzell. "I'm beginning to feel that I've got to break through at some point." "Pick up your cap, and put it on its hook--do," begged Darrin coaxingly. At the same time he looked us with a smile which showed that he thought his friend was acting in a very juvenile manner. Something impelled Dan to comply with his chum's request. Then, after hanging the cap, with great care, on its nail, the disgruntled one slipped to the study table and picked up a book. Just as he did so there came a knock on the door. Then Lieutenant Stapleton, in white gloves and wearing his sword, stepped into the room, followed by a midshipman, also white-gloved. Lieutenant Stapleton was the officer in charge, the young man the midshipman in charge of the floor. "Good morning, gentlemen," said the Lieutenant pleasantly, as both midshipmen promptly rose to their feet and stood at attention. Dave and Dan remained standing at attention while the lieutenant stepped quickly about the room, taking in everything with a practiced glance. "Everything in order," commented the lieutenant, as he turned to the door. "Resume your work, gentlemen." "Maybe you're glad you hung your cap up just in time," grinned Dave. "Oh, bother the whole scheme!" grunted Dan "The idea of a fellow having to be a jumping-jack all the time!" "A midshipman has to be a jumping-jack, I reckon," replied Dave, "until he learns to be a man and to live up to discipline as only a man can." "See here, do you mean to say--" "Go on with your study of English, unless you're sure you know all the fine points of the language," interrupted Darrin. "I know I don't and I want time to study." Dan gazed steadily at his chum, but Darrin seemed too deeply absorbed in his work to be conscious of the gaze. On the whole studies and recitations passed off rather pleasantly for both chums that day, though both could see that there were breakers ahead. After supper a few minutes were allowed for recreation, which consisted mostly of an opportunity for the midshipmen to chat with each other. Then came the call that sent them to their rooms to study for two solid hours. "I wish the powers that be would let us sit up an hour later," sighed Dave, looking up from his book in the middle of the study period. "I'd rather they'd let us sleep an hour later in the morning," grumbled Dan. "But, really, it would be great to have chance to study an hour more each evening," insisted Dave. "Huh!" "Yes; I begin to feel that we're going to need more study time than we get, if we're ever to pass." At 9.30 the release bell rang. Dan closed his book with a joyful bang, Darrin closing his much more reluctantly. "I'm going visiting," declared Dalzell, starting toward the door. Before he could reach the door, however, there sounded a slight knock and two midshipmen of the third class stepped in. "Mister, what's your name?" demanded one of the visitors. "Dalzell, sir," replied Dan, standing at attention. "What's yours, mister? "Darrin, sir." "Stand on your head, mister." Dave obeyed with good-natured speed. "That will do, mister. Now, on your head, mister." Dan made a grimace, but obeyed. Then the other visitor demanded: "Do either of you fourth class men intend to try to be ratey?" "No, sir," replied Darrin promptly. "Do you, mister?" turning to Dalzell. "No, sir." "Are you both a bit touge?" asked the youngster questioner. "I hope not, sir," replied Dave. "Do you feel that way, mister?"--looking at Dan. "What way, sir?" "Do you feel inclined to be touge, mister?" "I'm willing to be anything that's agreeable, and not too much work, sir," replied Dan, grinning. It is offensive for a fourth class man to grin in the presence of an upper class man. Moreover, two other youngsters had just stepped into the room to watch proceedings. "Mister," commanded the youngster whom Dan had answered, "wipe that grin off your face." Dalzell drew out his handkerchief, making several elaborate passes across his countenance with it. "Touge!" growled his inquisitor. "Very touge, indeed," assented the other three youngsters. "Why did you bring out your handkerchief, mister?" "Just obeying orders," replied Dan, with another grin. "Wipe that grin off your face, sir!--no, not with your handkerchief!" So Dalzell thrust the handkerchief away and applied his blouse sleeve to his face. "Stop that, mister! "Yes, sir," replied Dalzell meekly. "Don't you know how to wipe a grin off your face?" "I'm not sure, sir," Dan admitted. "Mister, you are wholly touge! I'm not sure but that you're a ratey plebe as well." Thereupon Youngster Quimby plunged into a scathing lecture on the subject of a plebe being either touge or ratey. At first Dan listened with a becoming air of respect. Before long, however, a huge grin began to illumine Dalzell's face. "Wipe that grin off, mister!" commanded Mr. Quimby sternly. "I--I simply can't!" gasped Dan, then began to roar with laughter. "Why can't you?" insisted Quimby. "What's the matter? "It's--it's your face!" choked Dan. "My face?" repeated Quimby, reddening "What do you mean, sir?" "I--I--it would be a shame to tell you!" sputtered Dalzell between spasms of laughter. Truth to tell, Midshipman Quimby did look funny when he attempted to be over-stern. Quimby's face was one of his sensitive points, anyway. Yet it was not, strictly speaking, the face, but the look of precocious authority on that face which had sent Dan, with his keen sense of humor, off into spasms of laughter. But the youngster didn't propose to see the point. "Mister," spoke Midshipman Quimby, with an added sternness of look that sent Dan off into another guffaw, "you have been guilty of insulting an upper class man. Your offense has been so serious--so rank--that I won't accept an apology. You shall fight, mister!" "When? Whom?" asked Dan, the big grin still on his face. "_Me_, mister--and as soon as the thing can be pulled off." "Oh, all right, sir," nodded Dalzell. "Any time you like, then, sir. I've been accustomed, before coming here, to getting most of my exercise out of fighting. But--pardon me, if I meet, I shall have to hit--pardon me--that face." "Call this plebe out, Quimby, and trim him in good shape," urged one of the other youngsters present. "He's touge all the way through. He'll need trimming." "And he'll get it, too," wrathfully promised Midshipman Quimby, who was rated high as a fighter at the Naval Academy. _ |
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