"I'm talking only
to to-night's submarine squad."
The six midshipmen found many an envious look shot in their direction.
"Those extremely youthful officers seem to have a bad case of spoons
on you six," remarked Peckham almost sourly.
"Show some nearly human intelligence, and maybe you'll get a chance
at one of the Saturday cruises, Peckham," called back Farley, as he
began to towel down vigorously.
Dave and his friends were the first men of the team to be dressed
and ready to leave.
"Give our best regards to Davy Jones!" shouted one of the football
men.
"If you go down to the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, and can't get
up again, don't do anything to spoil the fishing," called another
middy.
By this time Dave Darrin and his mates were outside and on their
way to the basin.
Lieutenant Jack Benson was the only one of the "Dodger's" officers
on view when the midshipmen arrived alongside. They passed aboard,
saluting Benson, who returned their salutes without affectation.
"All here?" said Benson. "Mr. Somers, tumble the crew on deck!"
"Shall we go below, sir?" inquired Dave, again saluting.
"Not until so directed," Benson replied. "I wish you to see every
detail of the boat handling."
At Lieutenant Jack's command the crew threw the hawsers aboard and
soon had them out of the way.
Benson gave the starting signal to Eph Somers.
No sooner had the "Dodger's" hawsers been cast aboard than the
submarine torpedo boat headed out.
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