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Dave Darrin's Fourth Year at Annapolis, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 2. Some One Pushes The Tungsten |
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_ CHAPTER II. SOME ONE PUSHES THE TUNGSTEN You don't have to know every blessed thing that I do, do you?" demanded Dan Dalzell, in an almost offended tone. "No; and I have no right to know anything that you don't tell me willingly. Are you ready to give me any explanation of tonight's foolishness? "Seeing that you kept awake for me, and were on hand to let me in, I suppose I'll have to," grumbled Dan. "Well, then? "Dave, for the first time tonight, I struck my flag." "Struck to whom?" "Oh---a girl, of course," grunted Dan. "You? A girl?" repeated Dave in amazement. "Yes; is it any crime for me to get acquainted with a girl, and to call on her at her home?" "Certainly not. But, Dan, I didn't believe that you ever felt a single flutter of the pulse when girls were around. I thought you were going to grow up into a cheerful, happy old bachelor." "So did I," sighed Dan. "And now you've gone and met your fate?" "I'm not so sure about that," Dalzell retorted moodily. "Do you mean that you don't stand any real show in front of the pair of bright eyes that have made you strike your colors?" "I'm afraid I don't." "Dan, is the game worth the candle," argued Darrin. "You're mightily interested in Belle Meade, aren't you?" "Yes; but that's different, Danny boy." "How is it different, I'd like to know?" "Well, in the first place, there's no guesswork in my case. Belle and I are engaged, and we feel perfectly sure each of the other. I'm so sure of Belle that I dream about her only in my leisure moments. I don't ever let her face come between myself and the pages of a textbook. I am here at the Naval Academy working for a future that Belle is to share with me when the time comes, and so, in justice to her, I don't let the thought of her get between myself and the duties that will lead to the career she is to share with me." "Humph!" commented Midshipman Dalzell. "Above all, Dan, I've never Frenched it over the wall. I don't take any disciplinary chances that can possibly shut me off from the career that Belle and I have planned. Belle Meade, Danny boy, would be the first to scold me if she knew that I had Frenched it over the wall in order to meet her." "Well, Miss Preston doesn't know but what I had regular leave tonight," Danny replied. "Miss Preston?" repeated Dave his interest taking a new tack. "I don't believe I know her." "I guess you don't," Dan replied. "She's new in Annapolis. Visiting her uncle and aunt, you know. And her mother's with her." "Are your intentions serious in this, Danny?" Darrin went on. "Blessed if I know," Dalzell answered candidly. "She's a mighty fine girl, is May Preston. I don't suppose I'll ever be lucky enough to win the regard of such a really fine girl." "Then you aren't engaged?" "Hang it, man! This evening is only the second time that I've met Miss Preston." "And you've risked your commission to meet a girl for the second time?" Dave demanded almost unbelievingly. "I haven't risked it much," Dan answered. "I'm in safe, now, and ready to face any discipline officer." "But wouldn't this matter wait until November, when you're pretty sure to have the privilege of town leave again?" pressed Midshipman Darrin. "By November a girl like Miss Preston might be married to some one else," retorted Dan Dalzell. "It was a fool risk to take, Dan!" "If you look at it that way." "Will you promise me not to take the risk again, Danny boy?" "No." "It's a serious affair, then, so far as you are concerned," grinned Dave, though in the dark Dan could not see his face. "For your sake, Danny, I hope Miss Preston is as much interested in you as you certainly are in her." "Are you going to lecture me?" "Not tonight, Dan." "Then I'm going to get in between sheets. It's chilly here in the room." "Duck!" whispered Dave with sudden energy. Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor. It was a noise like a discipline officer. Three doors above that of the room occupied by our midshipman friends were opened, one after the other. Then a hand rested on the knob of the door to Dave and Dan's room. The door was opened, and the rays of a pocket electric light flashed into the room. Dan lay on one side, an arm thrown out of bed, his breathing regular but a trifle loud. Dave Darrin had again found recourse to a snore. In an instant the door closed. Any discipline officer ought to be satisfied with what this one had seen. "Safe!" chuckled Dalzell. "An awfully close squeak," whispered Dave across the intervening room. "What if he had started his rounds ten minutes earlier?" "He didn't, though," replied Dan contentedly. Now another set of footsteps passed hurriedly along the "deck" outside. "What's that?" questioned a voice sharply. "You say that you saw some one entering a room from the upper end of the terrace?" "Oh, by George," groaned Dan Dalzell, now beginning to shiver in earnest. "Some meddling marine sentry has gone and whispered tales." "Keep a stiff upper lip," Dave whispered hoarsely, encouragingly. "If the officer returns don't give yourself away by your shaking." "But if he asks me?" "If you're asked a direct question," sighed Dave mournfully, "you'll have to give a truthful answer." "And take my medicine!" "Of course." That annoying discipline officer was now on his way back, opening doors once more. Moreover, the two very wide-awake midshipmen could hear him asking questions in the rooms further along the "deck." "He's questioning each man," whispered Dave. "Of course," nodded Dan gloomily. "It'll be our turn soon." "D-D-Dave!" "What?" "I---I'm feeling ill---or I'm going to." "Don't have cold feet, old fellow. Take your dose like a man---if you have to." "D-Dave, I wonder if I couldn't have a real sickness? Couldn't it be something so you'll have to jump up and help me to hospital? Couldn't I have---a---a fit?" "A midshipman subject to fits would be ordered before a medical board, and then dropped from the brigade," Dave replied thoughtfully. "No; that wouldn't do." That meddling discipline officer was getting closer and closer. Dave and Dan could hear him asking questions in each room that he visited. And there are no "white lies" possible to a midshipman. When questioned he must answer truthfully. If the officers over him catch him in a lie they will bring him up before a court-martial, and his dismissal from the service will follow. If the officers don't catch him in a lie, but his brother midshipmen do, they won't report him, but they'll ostracize him and force him to resign. A youngster with the untruthful habit can find no happiness at the Naval Academy. "He---he's in the next room now," whispered Dan across the few feet of space. "Yes," returned Dave Darrin despairingly, "and I can't think of a single, blessed way of getting you out of the scrape." "Woof!" sputtered Midshipman Dan Dalzell, which was a brief way of saying, "Here he comes, now, for our door." Then a hand rested on the knob and the door swung open. Lieutenant Adams, U.S.N., entered the room. "Mr. Darrin, are you awake?" boomed the discipline officer. Dave stirred in bed, rolled over so that he could see the lieutenant, and then replied: "Yes, sir." "Rise, Mr. Darrin, and come to attention." Dave got out of bed, but purposely stumbled in doing so. This might give the impression that he had been actually awakened. "Mr. Darrin," demanded Lieutenant Adams, "have you been absent from this room tonight?" "Yes, sir." "After taps was sounded?" "No, sir." "You are fully aware of what you have answered?" "Yes, sir." "Very good." That was all. A midshipman's word must be taken, for he is a gentleman---that is to say, a man of honor. "Mr. Dalzell!" Poor Dan stirred uneasily. "Mr. Dalzell!" This time the Naval officer's voice was sharper. Dan acted as though he were waking with difficulty. He had no intention, in the face of a direct question, of denying that he had been absent without leave. But he moved thus slowly, hoping desperately that the few seconds of time thus rained would be sufficient to bring to him some inspiration that might save him. "Mr Dalzell, come to attention!" Dan stood up, the personification of drowsiness, saluted, then let his right hand fall at his side and stood blinking, bracing for them correct military attitude. "It's too bad to disturb the boy!" thought Lieutenant Adams. "Surely, this young man hasn't been anywhere but in bed since taps." None the less the Naval officer, as a part of his duty, put the question: "Mr. Dalzell, have you, since taps, been out of this room? Did you return, let us say, by the route of the open window from the terrace?" Midshipman Dalzell stiffened. He didn't intend to betray his own honor by denying, yet he hated to let out the admission that would damage him so much. Bang! It was an explosion like a crashing pistol shot, and it sounded from the corridor outside. There could be no such thing as an assault at arms in guarded Bancroft Hall. The first thought that flashed, excitedly, through Lieutenant Adams's mind was that perhaps the real delinquent guilty of the night's escapade had just shot himself. It was a wild guess, but a pistol shot sometimes starts a wilder guess. Out into the corridor darted Lieutenant Adams. He did not immediately return to the room, so Dave Darrin, with rare and desperate presence of mind, closed the door. "Get back into the meadow grass, Danny boy," Darrin whispered, giving his friend's arm a hard grip. "If the 'loot'nant' comes back, get up fearfully drowsy when he orders you. Gape and look too stupid to apologize!" Lieutenant Adams, however, had other matters to occupy his attention. There was a genuine puzzle for him in the corridor. Just out, side the door of Midshipmen Farley and Page there lay on the floor tiny glass fragments of what had been an efficient sixty-candle-power tungsten electric bulb. It was one of the lights that illuminated the corridor. Now one of these tungsten bulbs, when struck smartly, explodes with a report like that of a pistol. At this hour of the night, however, there were none passing save Naval officers on duty. None other than the lieutenant himself had lately passed in the corridor. How, then, had this electric light bulb been shattered and made to give forth the sound of the explosion? "It wouldn't go up with a noise like that," murmured the lieutenant to himself. "These tungsten lights don't explode like that, except when rapped in some way. They don't blow up, when left alone. At least, that is what I have always understood." So the puzzle waxed and grew, and Lieutenant Adams found it too big to solve alone. "At any rate, I've questioned all the young gentlemen about the window episode, and they all deny knowledge of it," Lieutenant Adams told himself. "So I'll just report that fact to the O.C., and at the same time I'll tell him of the blowing up of this tungsten light." Two minutes later Lieutenant Adams stood in the presence of Lieutenant-Commander Henderson, the officer in charge. "So you questioned all of the midshipmen who might, by any chance, have entered by a window?" asked the O.C. "Yes, sir." "And they all denied it?" "Yes, sir." "Did you see signs of any sort to lead you to believe that any of the midshipmen might have answered in other than the strict truth?" continued the O.C. "No, sir," replied Lieutenant Adams, and flushed slightly, as he went on: "Of course, sir, I believe it quite impossible for a midshipman to tell an untruth." "The sentiment does you credit, Lieutenant," smiled the O.C. Then he fell to questioning the younger discipline officer as to the names of the midshipmen whom he had questioned. Finally the O.C. came to the two names in which the reader is most interested. "Darrin denied having been out after taps?" questioned Lieutenant-Commander Henderson. "He did, sir." "Did Mr. Dalzell also deny having been out of quarters after taps?" "He did, sir." Lieutenant Adams answered unhesitatingly and unblushingly. In fact, Lieutenant Adams would have bitten off the tip of his tongue sooner than have lied intentionally. So firmly convinced had Adams been that Dan was about to make a denial that now, with the incident broken in two by the report of the tungsten bulb, Lieutenant Adams really believed that had so denied. But Dan had not, and had Dave Darrin been called as a witness he would been compelled to testify that Dan did not deny being out. The explosion of the tungsten bulb was too great a puzzle for either officer to solve. A man was sent with a new bulb, and so that part of the affair became almost at once forgotten. Dan finally fell into a genuine sleep, and so did Dave Darrin. In the morning Dave sought out Midshipman Farley to inquire to whom the doughface should be returned. "Give it over to me and I'll take care of it," Farley replied. "Say, did you hear a tungsten bulb blow up in the night!" "Did It" echoed Darrin devoutly. Then a sudden suspicion crossed his mind. "Say, how did that happen, Farl?" demanded Dave. "If anyone should ask you-----" began the other midshipman. "Yes-----?" pressed Darrin. "Tell 'em---that you don't know," finished Farley tantalizingly, and vanished. It was not until long after that Darrin found out the explanation of the accident to the tungsten bulb. Farley, during Dan's absence, had been almost as much disturbed as had Dave. So Mr. Farley was wide awake. When he heard Lieutenant Adams receive the message in the corridor Farley began to wonder what he could do. Presently he was made to rise, with Page, stand at attention, and answer the questions of the discipline officer. Soon after Dave and Dan were called up, Farley, listening with his door ajar half an inch, slipped out and hit the tungsten burner a smart rap just in the nick of time to save Dan Dalzell's Navy uniform to that young man. _ |
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