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Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 11. Midshipman Pennington's Accident |
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_ CHAPTER XI. MIDSHIPMAN PENNINGTON'S ACCIDENT The stop at the Azores was uneventful. It remained in the minds of the midshipmen only as a pleasant recollection of a quaint and pretty place. Once more the squadron set sail, and now the homeward-bound pennant was flying. The course lay straight across the Atlantic to the entrance of Chesapeake Bay. On the second night out the wind was blowing a little less than half a gale. Darkness had fallen when Dave, Dan, Farley and several other midshipmen gathered to talk in low tones at the stern rail. Presently all of them wandered away but Dave. He stood close to the rail, enjoying the bumping motion every time the descending stern hit one of the rolling waves. Presently, thinking he saw a light astern, he raised himself, peering astern. Another group of restless middies had sauntered up. Pennington, after a swift look at the pacing officer in charge here, and discovering that the officer's back was turned, executed a series of swift cartwheels. "Look out, Pen!" called Midshipman Dwight, in a low, though sharp voice. Just too late the warning came. As Pen leaped to his feet after the last turn, one of his hands struck Darrin forcefully. Dave swayed, tried to clutch at something, then-- "O-o-o-oh!" rang the first startled chorus. Then, instantly, on top of it, came the rousing hail: "Man overboard--astern!" Farley and Hallam were the first to reach the rail. But Lieutenant Burton was there almost as quickly. "Haul back!" commanded the lieutenant sternly. "No one go overboard!" That held the middies in check, for in no place, more than in the Navy, are orders orders. Clack! was the sound that followed the first cry. Like a flash the marine sentry had thrown his rifle to the deck. A single bound carried him to one of the night life buoys. This he released, and hurled far astern. As the night buoy struck the water a long-burning red light was fused by contact. The glow shone out over the waters. In the meantime, the "Massachusetts's" speed was being slowed rapidly, and a boat's crew stood at quarters. The boat put off quickly, guided by the glow of the red signal light on the buoy. Ere the boat reached the buoy the coxswain made out the head and shoulders of a young man above the rim of the floating buoy. Soon after the boat lay alongside. Dave, with the coxswain's aid, pulled himself into the small craft. Recovering the buoy, the coxswain flashed the red light three times. From the deck of the battleship came a cheering yell sent up from hundreds of throats. In the meantime, however, while the boat was on its way to the buoy, a pulsing scene had been enacted on board. Farley went straight up to Midshipman Pennington. "Sir," demanded Farley hotly, "why did you push Mr. Darrin over the rail." Pennington looked at his questioner as one stunned. "I--I did push Darrin over," admitted Pennington, "but it was an accident." "An easily contrived one, wasn't it?" demanded Midshipman Farley, rather cynically. "It was pure accident," contended Pennington, paling. "Until it happened I hadn't the least idea in the world that I was going to send Mr. Darrin or anyone else overboard." "Huh!" returned Farley dubiously. "Huh!" quoth Hallam. Dan Dalzell uttered not a word, but the gaze of his eyes was fixed angrily on Pennington. That latter midshipman turned as white as a sheet. His hands worked as though he were attempting to clutch at something to hold himself up. "Surely, you fellows don't believe, do you--" he stammered weakly, then paused. "One thing we did notice, the other day," continued Farley briskly, "was that, when Darrin was rescued from the sea and returned to us, you were about the only member of the class who didn't go up to him and congratulate him on his marvelous escape." "How could--" "Mr. Pennington, I haven't the patience to talk with you now," rejoined Farley, turning on his heel. At that moment the yell started among the midshipmen nearer the rail. Farley, Dan, Hallam and others joined in the yell and rushed to better points of vantage. Pennington tried to join in the cheer, but his tongue seemed fixed to the roof of his mouth. He stood clenching and unclenching his hands, his face an ashen gray in his deep humiliation. "I don't care what one or two fellows may say," groaned Pennington. "But I don't want the class to think such things of me." He was the most miserable man on board as the small boat came alongside. The boat, occupants and all, was hoisted up to the davits and swung in-board. To the officer of the deck, who stood near-by, Dave turned, with a brisk salute. "I beg to report that I've come aboard, sir," Darrin uttered. "And very glad we are of it, Mr. Darrin," replied the officer. "You will go to your locker, change your clothing and then report to the captain, sir." "Aye, aye, sir." With another salute, Dave hastened below, followed by Dan Dalzell, who was intent on attending him. Ten minutes later Dave appeared at the door of the captain's cabin. Just a few minutes after that he came out on deck. A crowd gathered about him, expressing their congratulations. "Thank you all," laughed Dave, "but don't make so much over a middy getting a bath outside of the schedule." To the rear hung Pennington, waiting his chance. At last, as the crowd thinned, Pennington made his way up to Dave. "Mr. Darrin, I have to apologize for my nonsense, which was the means of pushing you overboard. It was purely accidental, on my honor. I did not even know it was you at the stern, nor did I realize that my antics would result in pushing any one overboard. I trust you will do me the honor of believing my statement." "Of course I believe it, Mr. Pennington," answered Darrin, opening his eyes. "There are some," continued Pennington, "who have intimated to me their belief that I did it on purpose. There may be others who half believe or suspect that I might, or would, do such a thing." "Nonsense!" retorted Dave promptly. "There may be differences, sometimes, between classmates, but there isn't a midshipman in the Navy who would deliberately try to drown a comrade. It's a preposterous insult against midshipman honor. If I hear any one make a charge like that, I'll call him out promptly." "Some of your friends--I won't name them--insisted, or at least let me feel the force of their suspicions." "If any of my friends hinted at such a thing, it was done in the heat of the moment," replied Dave heartily. "Why, Mr. Pennington, such an act of dishonor is impossible to a man bred at Annapolis." Darrin fully believed what he said. On the spur of the moment he held out his hand to his enemy. Pennington flushed deeply, for a moment, then put out his own hand, giving Dave's a hearty, straightforward grasp. "I was the first to imply the charge," broke in Farley quickly. "I withdraw it, and apologize to both of you." There was more handshaking. During the next few days, while Darry and Pen did not become by any means intimate, they no longer made any effort to avoid each other, but spoke frankly when they met. The remaining days of the voyage passed uneventfully enough, except for a great amount of hard work that the middies performed as usual. On the twenty-second of August they entered Chesapeake Bay. Once well inside, they came to anchor. There was considerable practice with the sub-caliber and other smaller guns. On the twenty-ninth of August the battleship fleet returned to the familiar waters around Annapolis. The day after that the young men disembarked. Then came a hurried skeltering, for the first, second and third classmen were entitled to leave during the month of September. _ |
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